#the tears were actually kinda hard for some reason

[coconut530]

panel that hurt me so much I redrew it ✨

[gyuswhore]

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom. 

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin. 

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice. 

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly. 

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands. 

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers. 

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter. 

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands. 

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her. 

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?” 

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.” 

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future. 

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt. 

“Sure, yeah. What is it?” 

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all” 

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway. 

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring. 

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-” 

“I have class tomorrow.” 

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.” 

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now” 

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night” 

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building. 

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically. 

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down. 

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process. 

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding, 

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed. 

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself. 

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids. 

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” 

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.” 

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.” 

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted. 

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done. 

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation. 

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand. 

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way. 

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express. 

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display. 

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you. 

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night. 

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew. 

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head. 

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.” 

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe. 

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines. 

You deserved to wallow in this pit. 

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath. 

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds. 

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock. 

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name. 

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond. 

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.” 

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears. 

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut. 

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call. 

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response. 

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.” 

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over. 

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows. 

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?” 

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further. 

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands. 

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.” 

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.” 

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh. 

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot. 

The doorbell rings. 

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling. 

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!” 

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door. 

Mingyu’s brought a girl. 

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later. 

“This is my sister” 

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky. 

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit. 

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge. 

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her. 

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.” 

There it is. 

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence. 

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance. 

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over. 

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you. 

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister. 

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from. 

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun. 

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”. 

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder. 

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression. 

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already. 

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?” 

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!” 

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going. 

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect,  “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away. 

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.” 

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you. 

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity. 

“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you. 

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.” 

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice. 

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.” 

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination 

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice. 

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion. 

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?” 

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter. 

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances. 

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles. 

“What? Is it bad?” 

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?” 

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?” 

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face. 

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside. 

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later. 

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her. 

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight. 

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside. 

There’s no Nayeon in sight. 

But there is Mingyu. 

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both. 

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears. 

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him. 

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?” 

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?” 

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?” 

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.” 

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny. 

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest. 

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck. 

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up. 

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.” 

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream. 

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.” 

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral. 

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see. 

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure. 

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting. 

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality. 

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school. 

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner. 

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner. 

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose. 

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand. 

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself. 

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?” 

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!” 

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland. 

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit. 

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does. 

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.” 

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form. 

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart. 

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear. 

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed. 

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite. 

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.” 

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again. 

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet. 

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door. 

“Where’ve you been?” 

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.” 

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.” 

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus. 

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…” 

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.” 

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation. 

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses. 

“Especially when it’s none of my business.” 

“Charming.” 

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major. 

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.” 

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.” 

“Are we getting paid?” 

“You get to say you modeled for me.” 

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans. 

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you. 

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh. 

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?” 

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices. 

“I am,” You confirm. 

“For what?” He sputters. 

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?” 

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question. 

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?” 

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks. 

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.” 

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.” 

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.” 

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-” 

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika. 

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk. 

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.” 

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that. 

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table. 

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch. 

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.” 

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.” 

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers. 

“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause. 

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in. 

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face. 

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”  

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face. 

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it. 

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort. 

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points. 

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!” 

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor. 

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat. 

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over. 

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite. 

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?” 

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes. 

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.” 

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.” 

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar. 

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance. 

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last. 

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time. 

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all. 

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers. 

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity. 

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence. 

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week. 

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information. 

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone. 

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins. 

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.” 

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name. 

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you. 

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t. 

—Kim, Mingyu. 

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes. 

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was. 

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him. 

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here! 

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off. 

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true. 

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up. 

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him. 

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand. 

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus. 

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously. 

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.” 

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually. 

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything. 

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin. 

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you. 

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?” 

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back. 

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?” 

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour. 

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?” 

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly. 

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.” 

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.” 

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?” 

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.” 

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.” 

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.” 

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod. 

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared. 

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.” 

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing. 

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling. 

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is. 

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry. 

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat. 

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake. 

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human. 

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on. 

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash. 

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness. 

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch. 

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice. 

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard. 

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to. 

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else. 

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh. 

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help. 

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention. 

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor. 

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her. 

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house. 

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more. 

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.  

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked. 

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down. 

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention. 

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel. 

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car. 

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further. 

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns. 

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.” 

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard. 

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended. 

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister. 

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.” 

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don���t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat. 

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride. 

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.” 

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought. 

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip. 

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results. 

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.” 

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair. 

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done. 

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you. 

“What?” 

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation. 

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?” 

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.” 

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes. 

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.” 

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years. 

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night. 

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there. 

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing. 

He’s probably fine. 

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu. 

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos. 

“Oh, hey,” he says normally. 

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room. 

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.” 

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.” 

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway. 

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.” 

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you. 

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round. 

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour. 

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.” 

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself. 

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?” 

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it. 

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff. 

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.” 

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.” 

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch. 

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night. 

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car. 

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest. 

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip. 

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!” 

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks. 

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants. 

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak. 

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.” 

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.” 

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise. 

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried. 

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them. 

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room. 

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked. 

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you. 

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping. 

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it. 

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room. 

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry. 

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls. 

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots. 

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn. 

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces. 

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break. 

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time. 

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts. 

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.” 

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?” 

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.” 

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out. 

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.” 

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights). 

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away. 

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.” 

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood. 

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare. 

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine. 

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.  

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today. 

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera. 

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it. 

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound. 

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket. 

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see. 

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?” 

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.” 

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least. 

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off. 

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route. 

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing. 

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.” 

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?” 

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it��s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.” 

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting. 

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends. 

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day. 

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home. 

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little. 

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!” 

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here. 

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in. 

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.” 

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm. 

“Ah, I see.” 

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?” 

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.” 

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.” 

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.” 

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.” 

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection. 

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”  

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.” 

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation. 

“When does your shift end?” 

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that. 

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously. 

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.” 

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.” 

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.” 

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.” 

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.” 

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement. 

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible. 

Truly. 

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention. 

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?” 

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial. 

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.” 

“Seok!” 

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!” 

Beep. 

The bastard hung up. 

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu. 

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle. 

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy. 

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night. 

“Babe?” 

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?” 

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long. 

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word. 

“Fifteen.” 

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected. 

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it. 

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.  

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?” 

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.” 

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.” 

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.” 

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.” 

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms. 

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her. 

“What now?” she groans. 

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!” 

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours. 

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally. 

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy. 

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up. 

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.” 

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.” 

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past. 

It doesn’t. 

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.”  Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully. 

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice. 

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated. 

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!” 

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place. 

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!” 

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it. 

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!” 

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.” 

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done. 

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it. 

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project. 

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful. 

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card. 

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece. 

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

[ellecdc]

✋🏻 i have a request

so i’m a loudmouth, a D1 yapper if you will. could you maybe please write something with a yapper reader who just gets quiet and flustered in regulus’s presence?

like she’ll be going on about the randomest thing and regulus walks by and her mouth snaps shut and her face gets bright red.

hiiiii! I decided to pair this with two anonymous requests for our dear reggie too! prompt 2: I was thinking maybe a Potter! Reader who is in the same year as Regulus and has a huge crush on him, she just kind of watches him from a distance, here comes James and Sirius noticing and they try to set her up with Reggie prompt 3: I was wondering if I could get a regulus x reader where regulus is like close to the marauders and then Reggie gains like a crush on reader and the marauders find out and like kinda spy on them but like not well and maybe it ends in Reggie asking reader out

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who has a 'big fat crush' on Reggie

CW: sibling squabbles, this was hard for me to write for some reason so I'm sorry if it reads awkwardly!

“I’m just saying, if you didn’t want your essay to go up in flames, maybe you should have spent less time talking about which of your classmates were ‘filthy blood traitors’, and more time making sure I couldn’t point my wand at your parchment, you know?” You asked rhetorically as James and Sirius roared with laughter. 

“How far along was he in his essay?” Peter asked with a low chuckle before taking another bite of his lunch.

“Oh, he was done. He probably should have handed it in instead of running his mouth.” You said with a proud smirk as your brother roughly patted you on the back, letting out another bark of laughter. 

“I would have paid good money to see the look on his face.” Sirius said as he wiped fake tears away from under his eyes. 

“Find me a pensieve, Black, and I’ll show you.” You offered with a wink before remembering something.  “Oh! James, I meant to tell you; I heard from Janey who heard from Cromwell who heard from Collins whose sister works at Honeydukes that they’re having a sale on those caramel sugar quills that-”

“-Lily likes so much!” James finished for you. “My hero! Thank you!” He said as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of your head.

You feigned disgust and rubbed it off before continuing. “If you want, I can ask Janey to ask Cromwell to ask Collins to ask his sister to put some aside for you?”

“I’d owe you my life.” He responded solemnly. 

“Chocolate frogs will suffice.” 

“Consider it done.” 

“I’d like chocolate frogs too, Prongs.” Remus offered then.

“What have you done to help me win over the girl of my dreams, Moony?” James countered. 

“I’ve not told her about the time you screamed like an ickle little first year when you found Fenwick’s toad in your shoe.” Remus replied plainly.

“Why do they have to have warts!?” James groaned miserably as he remembered his toad assault. 

“The bumps aren’t actually warts, Jamie; they’re glands. They contain a toxin that they will secrete if they feel threatened.” You explained.

James blinked at you owlishly before shaking his head in disgust. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“Hello, Sirius.” Regulus’ voice interrupted then, standing stiffly behind Sirius as he looked around the group of you. “Lupin, Pettigrew…Potter’s.” 

“‘Sup, Reggie?” Sirius responded easily.

“‘Lo, baby Black! What brings you to the red side of the Great Hall?” James asked then, earning him a glare from the younger Black brother.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well that just makes me want to call you that even more.” James admitted.

“What brings you to the Gryffindor table?” Remus repeated with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t I just come say hello to my brother?” He asked defensively. 

“You could, but would you?” Sirius asked sceptically then.

Sirius and Regulus stared at each other in silence before Regulus finally sighed. 

“Potter, erm… Y/N, I was wondering if you’ve finished Professor Sprout’s essay about the proper propagation of venomous tentacula’s?” 

At the following silence, James turned to notice you staring at Regulus in what appeared to be abject horror before you slowly nodded your head. 

“How, uhm… how many feet of parchment did it end up being?” Regulus continued awkwardly; his eyes flitting between you and his brother. 

The group watched as you opened your mouth a few times only to close it again - not unlike some socially awkward fish - before clearing your throat. 

“Erm…I think it’s about four feet.”

Regulus seemed relieved by your answer and nodded in understanding. “Good, mine is about that as well.”

James looked between his friends, his sister, and his best friend’s little brother after a few moments when it became clear that no one was going to say anything else.

“Was…was that all, Regulus?” Peter asked then, clearly agreeing with James that lunch had quickly become painfully awkward. 

Regulus seemed to look at you first, only responding when you kept your gaze down at the wood grain of the table. 

“I suppose so. I’ll see you lot around.” 

And with that, the Slytherin boy hurried back to his side of the Great Hall.

James’ eyes only left Regulus’ form when he heard a miserable groan escape your lips as you let your head fall to the table with a thunk.

“What the fuck was that?” Sirius and James questioned at the same time.

“I’ve gotta go.” You muttered miserably as you gathered your bag and stood from the Gryffindor bench.

“Where?!” James called after you. 

“To run away with the fucking centaurs at this point!” You called back before disappearing through the doors. 

“Since when does Regulus come to say hi to you, Pads?” Peter asked then, still watching Regulus from across the hall who now had his eyes glued to the door. 

Sirius, who up until that point looked just as bemused as Peter did, had a look of understanding dawn on his face. 

“Merlin’s beard.” He hissed as he smacked James in the arm from across the table.

“Ow! What? What? Why are you hitting me?” James called as he rubbed his arm protectively. 

“When was the last time you saw Y/N be reduced to awkward silence?” He asked then.

“At mum and dads fundraising gala when that wizard from Witch Weekly attended.” James answered quickly; knowing that one of his sister’s greatest strengths was her ability to talk (especially when it helped get them all out of trouble). “Though she’s been doing it an awful lot lately.”

“Like when you coerced Regulus into joining us at the Three Broomsticks last weekend.” Remus offered.

James nodded. “And when I made her come with me to scout the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin game last Monday.” 

“And when Regulus just happened to be looking for a Herbology textbook when she was studying in the Herbology section of the library.” Remus continued.

“Godric’s balls.” Peter breathed out, looking towards Sirius incredulously. “You’re not suggesting-”

“-that our littlest Potter has a big fat crush on the littlest Black? I sure am.” Sirius said smugly. 

“I don’t think she’s the only one with a ‘big fat crush’.” Remus added, nodding towards Regulus who was chewing aggressively on his lip, still looking in the direction you just went.

“Oh my Godric.” James hissed as he turned towards Sirius excitedly. “Oh my Godric, Pads! We’d be real life actual brother’s-in-law!” 

“I’m going to walk Reggie down the aisle.” Sirius added wistfully as he clutched at his chest. 

“Merlin and Morgana. They can’t even make it through a sodding conversation; stop planning their wedding.” Remus muttered as he turned a page in his book. 

James let out an incredibly dramatic gasp as he looked at Remus. “You’re right. We have to do something!” 

“What do you say, boys? Up for some mischief for the greater good?” Sirius asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

“Operation turn Potter Black!” James cheered to the group, causing the three boys to look at him in various levels of bemusement and discomfort.

“Erm, Prongs…” Peter started.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Remus added.

“We can’t call it that.” Sirius agreed. 

“We’ll circle back to it.” James said as he stood from the table.

Sirius shared a slightly panicked look with the other two Marauders before standing as well. “No…no James, we really can’t call it that.” 

“It’ll be a placeholder until you guys think of something better!”

“Anything would be better.” Peter whined as they all trailed out of the Great Hall in the name of mischief. 

。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。.。:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+*ﾟ

“Quick! You’ve got to see what we’ve planned.” James had said to you as he grabbed you roughly by your arm outside of Transfiguration and hauled you in the direction of the library.

You allowed him to nearly drag you through the courtyard and into the central haul; apologising to students that you nearly collided with in his haste. 

“But…what did McLaggen do? Why are you pranking him?” You asked breathlessly as the two of you made it to the library doors.

“The bloke’s a prick, Trouble, do keep up.” Sirius called as you met up with him. 

The two boys ushered you through stacks of books towards the end of the library that held private study rooms when Remus and Peter materialised from a row of shelves.

“He’s coming!” Peter squeaked as Remus quickly redirected the three of you. 

“That way, quickly.” 

Knowing better than to question Remus, you allowed James to guide you by the shoulder towards one of the private study rooms in order to hide from McLaggen as he walked into their trap. 

Except…

Except no sooner had Sirius opened the door did James bodily shove you into the room before they slammed the door behind you.

“Wha- James!” You shouted as you heard him cast a locking charm and a muffliato around the door. 

“What are they up to now?” A tired voice sounded from behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you realised what they had done, praying to every deity that the voice didn’t belong who you thought it belonged to. 

But of course, the deities didn’t give a bowtruckles arse about you, so you turned on the spot to see Regulus Black sitting at the end of the table looking at you with a sceptical expression and one perfectly arched brow. 

Godric, he was beautiful.

“Making my life hell.” You answered despondently. 

Regulus offered you a tight lipped smile as he nodded in understanding. “Ah, so, regular brother stuff then?”

You breathed out a chuckle as you nodded, trying once more at the door before giving up in your efforts to escape. 

“What did you do to get yourself locked in a room with me?” He asked then, fiddling with the tomes and notes in front of him.

“Had the audacity to be born into the Potter family, I guess.” You muttered.

Regulus made a non-committal sound as he considered you. “I’m sure a lot of people would have loved the honour.”

Your face softened as you looked at the Slytherin boy. “I know they’ve asked you already, but you should come, you know? I know Sirius would love it if you did, and my parents would too.” 

Regulus nodded slowly at you, though he never moved his gaze from your eyes. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

Regulus smiled ruefully then. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t get the impression that you like me very much.”

You stood there with your mouth agape like some mute opera singer. “Okay, I’ll correct you then; you’re very wrong Regulus Black.”

“Oh, I’m very wrong, am I?” 

“Horribly so, I’m afraid; I can’t believe you’d even say such a thing.” You continued haughtily; finally sitting down in a chair across from him. 

“Well, you see, everyone is always telling me how much of a chatterbox you are, yet you never seem too keen on chatting with me. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve exchanged more words with Mulciber at this point.” He teased.

“The most I ever talk to Mulciber is to tell him to go fuck himself!”

A divot formed between his brows as he tilted his head in confusion. “Is that not just your love language? I’ve heard you say the exact same thing to Potter and my brother.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him as you leaned back in your chair. “Touche” 

Regulus smirked at you then. “So, why don’t you talk to me?”

You let out a heaving sigh and looked to the ceiling. 

You were trapped, and you knew why you were trapped, and you figured there was no use in pretending that you didn’t. 

“I suppose I find you a little…nerve wracking.” You settled for, figuring that telling him you thought he was so handsome that even standing within his vicinity seemed to short circuit not only your brain but somehow your entire nervous system would perhaps be a little much. 

“Oh good.” He responded, sounding truly relieved by your answer. “I thought it was only me.”

What? You thought stupidly.

“What?” You asked stupidly. 

“I find you a little nerve wracking too.” He responded.

“Me?” 

“You.”

“Why?” You nearly shrilled before remembering yourself and feeling immediately embarrassed for your theatrics.

“Well, I suppose for the same reasons you find me nerve wracking?” Regulus offered. “You’re really quite pretty, Y/N.” 

You swear to all of the gods that your brain made an audible record scratch sound at that moment as you tried to compute what he had said to you. 

He called you pretty, that much went without interpretation. But did he just insinuate that he knew you thought he was pretty?

“You do know that, right?” He asked, shaking you from your internal spiralling. 

“Know what?”

Regulus smirked then. “That you’re pretty?”

You scoffed and crossed your arms petulantly. “Of course I knew that; I just wasn’t aware that you did, too.” 

“Ah,” He started with a smile. “My apologies, I’ll make it more obvious that I find you attractive going forward.”

“Thank you.” You huffed.

“You’re very welcome.”

The two of you allowed a semi-comfortable silence to lap as he continued watching you and you continued looking anywhere else but him.

“So,” He interrupted eventually. “What now?” 

You tapped your arms in thought. “Now I figure out how to get back at my meddlesome brother.” 

Regulus hummed as he nodded his head. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Yeah…hey, do you happen to know where I could find a toad or two?”

“Yes, actually. I’m quite certain Evan and Barty are breeding some in the dungeons.” He answered with a look of ill-hidden discomfort at the thought.

“Do you think they’d let me borrow some?”

“Well that depends; would they be used for chaos and/or destruction?”

“Yes.” You responded quickly.

“Oh, well then absolutely.” He quipped back.

He smiled and held your gaze before leaning on his arms against the table. “How about this? I’ll ask Barty and Evan for some of their toads, if you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend.”

You narrowed your eyes as you pretended to think about it before extending your hand across the table. “Deal.”

He shook your hand as he offered you a crooked smile before leaning back into his seat.

The door popped open just enough for your brother to poke his traitorous head in. “Are you guys in love yet?”

He barely had time to pull his head out of the frame and shut the door as you hurled your book bag at him; the blunt force instrument you had hoped would at the very least incapacitate your brother simply thudding against the wall before falling to the ground in a sad heap.

“You know he’s just going to keep you locked in here longer for that, right?” Regulus asked you then.

You made a non-committal sound as you settled back into your chair. “Perhaps that isn't such a bad thing.”

[tyunniez]

converse high... bttm male reader

!!.. this has to be my worst work yet,, uhh rough sex, creampie, kinda vanilla ngl, not proofread idfk also bts ref borahae 💜

you jumped around in excitement to see one of your favorite group is finally going on tour! and they're coming to your city!

you immediately rushed to check the tickets, choosing the vip standing seat. " wait, how much money do I have left? " you stopped yourself before making a bad decision.

you looked at your bank account and almost passed out. you're broke as hell.

" why the hell am I so broke? " you questioned yourself, trying to find a genuine reason.

you scanned throughout your room till your eyes landed on your closet. " ah. that's why. "

multiple articles of clothing brimmed your closet causing it to overfill, making you slightly grimace at how your clothing rail was holding on for its dear life.

you recently went on another shopping haul after seeing your favorite idol adorning a new collection that was released by your favorite fashion brand.

you just had to get it.

yeah, maybe you had a bit of a spending problem..

your parents have spoiled you since birth because you're their one and only child. no, you weren't wealthy. you had to take on jobs multiple times, but hey hard work pays off!

you were currently on your break, and you intended to spend it going shopping till you went broke but unfortunately, due to you blowing your money to buy another vip standing ticket, that money mysteriously vanished.

" hmm.. is there any job I can do right now? " you rolled around in bed while scrolling through your phone, trying to find any quick gag you could do to earn some cash.

you ended up throwing your phone to the wall, groaning aloud when you could find none.

" i'm so lazy! not to mention my piles of assignments... " you sighed to yourself, opting to go downstairs instead to eat your sorrows away.

you were greeted by both of your parents downstairs, your mom already getting started on making lunch. " oh dear, what's wrong? you look stressed. "

you go to stand beside her, washing your hands in the process to help her cook. " I'm looking for a job to buy a ticket for a concert. my fav group is coming here you know! " you complained to your mom.

you grab the onion and began slicing it, shedding a few tears meanwhile. your mom thinks to herself, turning to you with an idea.

" you know our neighbor is actually looking for someone to babysit her kid. the pay is quite good since her kid is quite.. naughty. " you stared at the soup you were stirring and hummed.

" i can send you the details if you're interested, dear. " you nodded and decided to see how much would the pay be, who knows it might be enough.

a bonus is the kid has a total hottie as her brother!

you took one look at the pay and were sold immediately. you did the math and doing this for the amount of time needed will be more than enough.

i mean, babysitting can't be that hard, right?

⊹₊⋆

you sighed nervously as you finally approached the front door, your tote bag on your shoulder with everything you needed inside. you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for the mom to greet you.

instead, you were greeted by someone else. " you the new babysitter? "

you stuttered, brain short-circuiting. instead of answering, you stared at the man in front of you.

the red-haired cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to answer with a raised brow. " hello? you there? " he asked in an annoyed tone.

" oh, oh yeah sorry. y-yeah, i'm the new babysitter. " you gripped the strap of your tote bag, trying your best to maintain eye contact with the man in front of you.

he hummed and opened the door wider for you to come in. you excused yourself and stepped into the house.

you walked up to ms. moore to greet her but before you could say anything she rushed towards you, her bag already in her hand.

" oh yn dear! i was just about to leave! thank god you're here. so there's money on the counter in case maya wants anything to eat. you can ask my son for any help. i'll be back before one so i hope you can withstand.. "

before you could ask any questions, she already rushed her way out towards the door. " jason, you better help the babysitter this time! thank you again and i'll see you when i get back, dear! "

with a slam of the door, she was gone.

you stood there, trying to process the information she just dumped on you. in your shocked state, jason gave you a pat on the shoulder. " she always does that. good luck dealing with that devil. ", was all he said before leaving you alone.

" maya, go easy on him! " he shouted upstairs.

you turned to the kid staring at you from the couch, a little concerned about what he just said. you've dealt with kids before, this will be easy.

⊹₊⋆

god, you regretted even thinking that.

there was a reason why babysitters kept dropping out like flies. this kid might as well come straight from hell!

you let out a long sigh as you crashed onto the sofa. you finally managed to put maya to sleep. though you couldn't really relax, still scared she might pull something with you thinking she was asleep.

" don't worry she's asleep. " you looked to the side to see jason slipping next to you on the couch, remote in his hand as he scrolled through various movies.

you let out another sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest and closing your eyes. you crossed your legs over one another, inspecting your slightly dirty converse high.

you peered over next to you, silently admiring jason.

you observed how his grown-out wolf cut, his red-haired that was now washed out is slightly messy, making it look like he just rolled out of bed.

your eyes were especially glued to his piercings. from his industrial to his snake bite, god he has so much.

you were more so drawn to his lips, that you could see his tongue-piercing. he purposely toyed with it, flicking his tongue out to tease you.

he licked his lips ever so slowly, his pink tongue grazing over his lower lip, not forgetting to graze over his snake bite. you gulped and looked away to try to get your mind on something else.

you didn't want to pop a boner in someone else's house!

" had enough already? " his sultry voice suddenly asked. you whipped your neck to look at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in a headlight, did he catch me staring..?

you cleared your throat and grabbed a nearby pillow to try to cover your growing hard-on.

" w-what're you talking about? " you glued your eyes towards the tv, trying to seem as unbothered as you can, thou the stuttering clearly gave it away..

jason rolled his eyes and discarded the pillow you were clinging onto, " oh come on, don't play dumb now. "

he pinned you down on the couch, caging you in leaving you no choice but to look at him.

" don't tell me you didn't notice at all.. "

you tried your best to look at him in the eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about. well, he was really touchy.. his hands always found their way to touch you no matter.

he always knows just where and when to linger his touches to make you slightly flustered, the way he held your waist earlier still not leaving your eyes.

he also never took his eyes off of you ever since you stepped into his house. his eyes always trailing over to wherever you are, observing whatever the hell you are doing.

your cheeks got redder as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide from his gaze. " see i know you were a smart boy, now how far are you willing to go, bunny? "

you clasped your hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back to the back of your head. this is all too lewd!

you peeked down to look at him and the view below you was breathtaking.

jason's messy hair was now slicked back with his sweat, his big hands holding your legs open as his tongue worked its way on your dick. you could feel his tongue piercing along it, the added sensation making your thigh quiver.

you slowly released your hold on your own mouth, breath shaky. " jason, i-i'm close.. " your meal voice was shaky from the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

he hummed and just continued to suck you, his hand now fondling your balls, massaging them as if to coax you to release.

you gripped the bedsheet below you, the warmth of his mouth mixed with the occasional cold feeling of his piercing was driving you over the edge. with a loud moan, you finally released in his mouth, eyes closing in bliss.

jason swallowed it all, making sure not to leave any drop behind. you didn't know whether to feel grossed out by it or not.

" ready to move on now bunny? " jason asked you while grabbing a bottle of lube, squirting a glob of it on his fingers. you silently nodded and watched as he squirted another glob on your hole.

" cold.. " you whined at him, feeling the chilliness of the lube. " don't worry, i'll warm you right up bunny. " he smiled.

he first inserted one finger into you slowly, letting you get used to the feeling. he began slowly moving it, occasionally grazing over that spot that made you see stars.

he then inserted another and another, steadily picking up his pace and getting more rougher as time went on. your eyes shoot back open as you kept your lips as tight as you could.

you were close and jason seemed to know this too.

before you could reach your climax, he swiftly pulled his fingers out. you looked up at him in confusion, dumbfounded as to why he stopped. " w-why'd you stopped? "

he took off his boxer, tossing it somewhere else. " don't tell me you were gonna cum just from that. the real fun begins now, bunny "

you watched as jason stroked his own dick, pouring lube on it. he was big. maybe too big for you. " are you sure it'll fit.. " you asked him while your eyes still trained on it.

" don't worry.. " he aligned himself with your hole, " i'll make it fit. "

with that, he shoved himself into you, the student action made you let out a loud moan. your eyes instantly teared up from the sudden stretch. you bit your lips to make sure no other noise escaped from you.

he was so big and you felt so.. full. his tip perfectly kissed your prostate, almost as if you were molded just for him.

" look at you taking it so well.. i knew i should've stuffed you full the moment i saw you. "

you stifled another incoming moan. your hands both covered your face, trying to hide your flushed face. two hands suddenly held onto your wrist, effectively prying your hands off of your face.

" don't hide this gorgeous face from me now. "

his own fingers intertwined with your own as he pounded into you roughly, going fast and aggressive from the start. a string of moans left your lips, your voice shaky due to how fast he was.

soon, one of his hands sneaked its way onto your thigh, hoisting it up. you almost screamed from how much deeper he was inside you. you didn't think it was even possible.

" jasonn, i'm near.. " you whined. your own dick bounced and twitched begging for release. " i'm close too, bunny.. cum with me, yeah? "

you nodded while jason held onto your ankles, his fingers digging into the fabric of your converse high. he somehow began speeding up, chasing his own climax.

you closed your mouth with your own hand, knowing damn well your moans were echoing throughout the house already.

with no warning whatsoever, you felt the warm liquid soon filling your inside, dropplings of it escaping from your hole. the feeling of being filled with jason's thick cock mixed with his own cum running down your ass caused you to also release.

you shut your eyes as your release painted your stomach white, some of it landing on jason's.

after a few moments of silence, he then let go of your ankles, slowly pulling out. you winced at the feeling of emptiness. you rolled to the side, jason also crawling next to you.

you soon almost lull yourself to sleep before remembering that tomorrow you have to babysit maya. oh god maya. you prayed she was sleeping like a baby and didn't hear anything.

" shit.. i honestly can't feel my legs and i still have to babysit maya tomorrow... " you groaned out loud next to him, trying to brainstorm an idea on how to babysit that devil in your current state.

jason only laughed next to you. talking about how he'll figure out a way to deal with her tomorrow. you hope he will since you can't miss the pay...

[lieutenantfloyd]

My Red Thread - Gambit x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: After being sent to the Void alongside your chaotic companions Deadpool and Logan, the very last thing on your mind is the rarity of a soulmate bond. That is, until yours snaps into place. (Soulmate! AU)

Warnings: Fluff, mutant! Reader (undefined powers), a bit of romantic tension, attempts at humor, Wade Wilson ruining The Moment™️

Authors Note: For some reason editing this took way longer than actually writing it did. I’m still getting a feel for the characters, so I apologize if anything is kinda ooc! :)

Read on AO3

Laying with your back against a mostly broken couch, you have a view of the full room, including a set of stairs that allow streams of sunlight to cascade in. Your eyes shift lazily between Logan—who's taking the opportunity to drink himself into oblivion— and Deadpool—who's closing out his second straight hour of snooping through drawers and cabinets.

When the three of you awoke in this new location hours ago, you almost instantly flew into a fit of arguing. First about how and why you were here, then about who would be the first to go up the stairs. After a much heated debate, the consensus became that an unknown person—agreed to be either the ghost of Johnny coming back to avenge himself or the vengeful, forgotten sister from earlier—brought you here for reasons that probably didn't end with any of you walking out of here alive.

Whoever it was most likely got the drop on you first, seeing as how you decided to try your luck at hitchhiking through the void instead of sitting around and watching your two companions tear each other, along with your only ride, to shreds. As for the situation with the stairs, a rare moment of agreement was shared when you decided to stand and fight whatever possible threat was lurking. Once that was decided you all assumed the positions you currently found yourselves in.

With each tick of the dusty clock on the wall, you were growing more and more impatient, You'd been fighting for your life, quite literally, from the moment Wade got you sent to the void. Now your adrenaline had all but crashed, leaving your body to scream in agony over being brought to the brink of death more times over the last twenty four hours than you’d ever care to count. It was at the point now that you honestly began to wish that whoever had brought you here would muster up the cajones and come finish you off for good.

As if on cue, you and Logan sat upright as you sensed movement outside. You rolled off the couch and joined Wade in the middle of the room, taking up fighting stances while Logan simply sat back in his chair and continued nursing the bottle of whiskey he found without a care in the world.

Prepping for yet another fight, you were left feeling as dumbfounded as Deadpool looked when Elektra descended into the room. Your hands stayed raised but your mind began to run with possibilities. Wade began a refreshed round of incessant rambling, not missing a beat as Blade followed Elektra into the room only seconds later.

Your eyes shoot over to Logan in an effort to ensure that someone a bit less prone to hallucinations than you and Deadpool were seeing this too. His eyes flash confirmingly to yours. You swallow hard, having a brief internal battle with the childhood version of you who apparently thinks that now is the best time to start fangirling.

Tuning out Wade's awkward banter, you try and piece together the situation unfolding in front of you together. You were well aware of how people got sent to the void, but you realized then that you never thought any deeper about who exactly you could run into during your stay.

With fatigue setting deeper into your bones, you lean your hip onto the dusty wood table beside you. You fall halfway out of your defensive stance and let Wade command the room as usual, tuning back into the conversation just in time to hear him make an oddly pointed quip about some man named Ben Affleck.

Picking up on more movement from above, your attention shifts across the room. Your eyes lock on the stairs as if glued there. You to watch on silently as a shimmery purple card floats into the room and a man follows closely behind. You barely have enough time to register the flashes of purple dancing away from his hands before a force you have never felt before—and have absolutely no interest in feeling again—slams so solidly into your chest that it sends you flying over the table you were leaning against.

"Fuck!" "Merde!"

You yell out in unison. Instinct has you pulling yourself up off the floor as soon as you hit it, albeit slowly, as you try to call the air back into your lungs. Using the table for support, you manage to raise up on shaking feet. The once busy room has now fallen deadly silent. Quiet in a way you hadn't experienced since joining up with Deadpool several months ago. You suck in a few intentional breaths before letting your head rise up from its hanging position.

"What the hell was tha-" you start, only to fall silent as you take notice of everyone's eyes flashing between you and a man who looks just as confused and winded as you do.

Time seems to slow as your eyes lock with his. A smaller blow hits you somewhere deep beneath your ribs, though this time you only stumble.

"Ho-ly shit!" Wade gasps, bringing his gloved hands up to his face and flicking his head back and forth dramatically between the both of you, no doubt starting to pick up on what's happening.

A second thrumming blooms in your chest then. It's equal parts similar and different from your own. Your mind nearly starts to panic, but it's silenced by something buried in your chemical makeup coming alive.

Wade drops his hands from his face, only to end up pointing at you like an old Spiderman meme.

"You two are-"

"Soulmates," you breathe out.

Absentmindedly, your hand rises to your chest. The feel of your soulmates' heart beating in time with yours is oddly comforting, in a way not unlike finally coming home after a long, difficult mission.

Soulmates were a rare but well documented phenomenon back in your reality. Most people would go their entire lives without meeting someone who was lucky enough to bond, let alone experience it themselves. You silently cursed all of those articles and accounts you read as a hopeful tween for failing to mention just how sudden and violently the bond snapped into place.

"Say something! Suck each other's faces off! Maybe even-"

"That's enough," Logan hisses, slapping a large hand down onto Deadpool's shoulder.

You laugh awkwardly at the absurdity of this entire situation. Unsure of what to say or how to go about any of this. Bonded or not, you and the upsettingly handsome man in front of you were still strangers.

"I've been lookin' for you a long time, mon amour." He drawls. And fuck if his sultry cajun drawl isn't something you'd be happy to hear for the rest of your lifetime.

'Well, It's good to finally meet you, um..." you stammer out, only to remember that you hadn't even learned his name yet.

"Remy!" Elektra whispers to you excitedly.

You repeat his name under your breath, somehow feeling like you miss it as the syllables roll off of your tongue.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Remy," you try again.

Logan takes the opportunity to introduce you like Elektra did for Remy. He sends you a soft smile as he learns your name, though it shines so bright and warm that you can't decide if you want to fall back against the table or leap into his arms.

You step towards him, happy to feel both of your heartbeats pumping in your chest as you both move to close the distance between you. When you're only a mere inches away from each other, his hand rises into view, silently asking permission to caress your cheek. You wait with bated breath to feel his touch, only for it to fall short when a certain red and black clad anti-hero steps between you—acting as if your entire world wasn't just flipped on its axis.

"Sorry to interrupt this precious little love session you two have going on, but I feel that I must remind you of the very pressing matters still at hand," Wade says with a look that is anything but sorry.

You look to Remy, whose face says only that he's ready to explode Deadpool with his mind and reach around Wade to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. You smile up at Remy, and watch as an unmistakable look of complete adoration flashes across his eyes.

You use your powers to send the mercenary flying backward through the air, leaving him screaming as you finally close the gap between you and Remy.

He brings you into his arms without hesitation. A stray tear slips from your eye as you realize just how right his touch feels against your skin. His nimble fingers wipe away the tear that fell onto your cheek, already coming into tune with the thousands of different emotions flowing through you.

"Don't cry chéri, Gambit's gotcha."

His words bring a fresh new crop of tears to your eyes. You savor the contact for several long moments before reluctantly pulling away. You waste no time in reaching over to interlock your hands, pulling him back a few steps.

A chorus of stifled laughter sounds throughout the room as you spot Wade stumbling back onto his feet. You squeeze Remy's hand when you hear him mutter "couyon," disapprovingly, something that earns another round of poorly dampened laughter from the group.

"Wade,” You call over to him, "Are you done being an asshole for the time being?"

"Never!”

"Can you idiots focus for five seconds?" Logan asks from the corner while taking a swig of whiskey. The rebuttal you’d prepared for Wade does in your throat, but you still give him a disapproving eye roll. Deadpool, unable to have someone speak up before him, pushes his way past Logan.

"Yeah, like I know the writer needs to hit their word count and all, but we've still got a baldheaded bitch to kill."

Getting out of the void has always been your top priority, but with your newfound bond, it felt all the more pressing.

Stepping aside to let Wade through, he begins to command the room as always. Ideas intertwine with his usual self deprecating jokes. You and Remy stand next to each other on the sidelines, as tensions begin to lower.

As the night drug on, the conversation began to buzz with urgent anticipation. Everyone takes a shot at pitching an idea or strategy that plays to some of their strengths. Logan had retreated outside while Blade, Electra, and Wade stood and paced around the room, focused on the task at hand.

With guards lowered and tensions gone, you and Remy retreated to a nearby couch. You both gave out the occasional opinion or bit of intel, but your minds never strayed far from each other.

The conversation slows, and you felt Gambit's hand brush against yours. You reach out and intertwine your fingers with his before he can back away. His fingers tighten against yours gently before letting up. You mirror his squeeze instantly, a thousand words passing in the silence hanging between you. You lift your eyes and meet his gaze, giving him a soft, barely perceptible nod. You can the low kinetic current coursing through his touch. It serves as yet another reminder of how strong your bond already feels.

Your head drops onto his shoulder, earning a low hum. Just above a whisper, and with a smile playing on your lips, you both promise that no matter what lies ahead, you are ready to face it—simply because you now have each other.

[chillian-murphy]

Let Your Big Brother Take Care of You

SUMMARY: While visiting your stepbrother at college, you have a hard time falling asleep after some drunken mishaps. He helps you out.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut 🔞, dubcon, stepcest, intoxication, fingering, comfort sex kinda??, gratuitous mention of Taco Bell

Beta read by @sasybanana

Actually visiting with your step-brother had been the last thing on your mind when you told your parents that you would be visiting him this weekend. Sure, you got along fine, but you barely knew each other and it felt like he was moving out for college as soon as your families joined. Instead, you were hellbent on finding the best partying and hooking up opportunities his film school had to offer. Framing it as a sisterly visit and a chance to learn about campus life was purely an excuse to convince your parents to let you travel on your own, which they seemed to buy as you were headed off to school yourself next year. Besides, Neil had an off campus apartment you could crash at, which would be cheaper than a hotel.

He greeted you with a hug as you entered and set your stuff down, instantly being assaulted by the scent of unwashed laundry and old weed smoke. Still, it was comfortable enough, and was a nice taste of freedom from your mom’s house.

“So, my baby sister wants to visit me for the weekend, for reasons not at all related to my school’s reputation as a party campus?” He smirked as you situated yourself.

“Of course! Just like how my big brother spends all the money he gets from our parents on textbooks and tuition.” you shot back.

“Touché. Well, whatever trouble you’re determined to get into, fuck, I dunno, be smart about it. Use condoms, don’t get drugged. Don’t drink so much that you puke, or at least, try to puke somewhere other than carpet.”

“Wow… so caring.” you rolled your eyes as you headed to the bathroom to get ready for the evening. You snatched a flyer off of a phone pole for a house party, and the directions you got off google said it was only a few blocks away. As soon as you had your heels and your lashes on, you were off.

**********************************************************************************

Stumbling back to Neil’s apartment with your heels in your hand, the night had been a bust. You finished too many mystery drinks too fast and ended up puking in the lap of the one guy who was interested in you, locked yourself in the bathroom to cry for the better part of an hour, and bolted for the door as soon as you pulled yourself together. Thank fuck Neil had the first apartment on the first floor, otherwise you might not have been able to find it in your impaired state.

The door was unlocked, and Neil hadn’t moved from his place on the couch in the hours that you had been gone, presumably wrapped up in whatever it is that he does in his spare time (Watch movies? Play video games? Jerk off? You really didn’t know). This was fine, you really didn’t need him noticing you at the moment. You tried to enter quietly, but tripped over yourself as you moved.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

Neil rushed over to you to make sure you weren’t hurt. Unable to form words, you started crying again when you met his gaze, big fat mascara tears rolling down your cheeks. Even as he helped you to stand, you wobbled on your way up and had to lean on him for support.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Dunno… a lot.” It was true, you had chugged whatever you were handed and helped yourself to a variety of half-finished cups that were abandoned by their owners. You had never drank this much before, and had no idea how much was too much until it was too late.

“Shit, um, let’s get you to the bed. The room is yours tonight, don’t worry about it. Do you think you can walk that far?” There was genuine concern in his tone, even if he was a bit panicked and clueless. He looped an arm around your waist and guided you as best he could to the tiny room. Your flop onto the twin bed wasn’t exactly graceful, but landing on a mattress was about a thousand times more comfortable than landing on the floor.

As soon as Neil turned to leave, you began fighting your way out of your tight, itchy dress. Unfortunately, the zipper was stuck (damn cheap clothing) and the garment was too fitted to pull over your head. Refusing to spend any more time stuck in scratchy fabric hell (Seriously, Forever 21, who sells unlined sequined dresses?), you continued wrestling with the zipper and wiggling to find a better angle until you rolled off the bed and landed with a thud. Not knowing what else to do, you shouted for your stepbrother.

The worried look on his face quickly turned into an eye roll as he entered the room and saw you on the floor again.

“So are you like… determined to spend the whole night down there? Undeniably attracted to shitty carpeting? Horny for the floor?” Having a laugh at your drunken expense might not have been the nicest thing for Neil to do, but you were being such a handful tonight.

“I can’t get my dress off,” you sheepishly mumbled as you avoided his gaze. “The zipper’s stuck and I need your help.”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” Neil soothed as he knelt down to meet you on the floor. “If anything, I’m flattered… Usually I have to buy a girl dinner before she even thinks of asking me to undress her.”

You shot him an unamused glare, but nonetheless turned and leaned towards him so he could reach the zipper. His touch was warm and gentle as he fiddled with the impossibly tiny hook-and-eye clasp atop the zipper, one hand gently pressed against your upper back to steady you while the other went to work. Before you knew it, the dress slackened and you were able to free yourself from its confines, modesty be damned.

“A tiny little dress and no bra? You really were planning to have fun tonight.” You were still turned away from Neil and couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

“It has built-in cups, pervert!” you huffed as you rushed to cover yourself. You groped around for a t-shirt or something before remembering that you were in an unfamiliar room and not at home. “Get out, I just wanna sleep.”

“That doesn’t explain the little lacy panties, though.” Neil let his eyes trail over you before tossing you one of his own shirts. It was true, you had gone out partying with the hope of hooking up as quickly and anonymously as possible, but you weren’t going to admit that. All you wanted was to gain a little sexual experience of your own before heading out to college, but now the only boy to see you naked was your weird stepbrother. “And I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You can’t even stand and I’ve had to help you up twice. You’re too much of a mess to be alone.”

He helped you onto the bed again, only this time he climbed in behind you after hitting the light. The bed was small enough that there was almost no choice but to snuggle up to him, using his shoulder as a pillow. As weird as the whole situation was, it felt nice having him there, like a grounding tether against the spinning sensation in your head.

“For what it’s worth, I thought you looked really cute tonight. Before all the puking and crying and falling, I mean.” He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. As sweet as the gesture was, you couldn’t ignore the growing gurgle in your stomach.

“Neil… I want Taco Bell.”

“I’ll buy you all the Taco Bell in the world tomorrow if you settle down and go to sleep.”

“Okay…” you buried your face into the crook between Neil’s neck and shoulder as he pulled you closer and idly rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but moan softly at the sensation, which Neil tried his hardest to ignore.

Had you been a little more awake or a little more sober, you might’ve noticed the hitch in Neil’s breath as his hand trailed up and down your back, or the way his hand soon opened into a flat palm and started exploring lower, dangerously close to the waistband of your panties. Instead, you continued to lay silently, dozing off as his hand inched lower.

Eventually, his hand made its way to your ass and cupped the supple flesh. Feeling emboldened by your lack of response, Neil began to squeeze and knead. This made you squirm away, but in doing so, you were met with the perfect amount of friction as your clothed pussy rubbed against Neil’s thigh. Neither of you had realized just how closely you were snuggled together until now, when it dawned on you both what was happening.

Part of you panicked, part of you realizing that this was wrong through your drunken haze, but another part of you only cared that you were being touched, and it felt pleasurable. That was the whole reason you made this trip, right? you rationalized to yourself as you attempted to grind against your stepbrother’s thigh a second time. 

Instead of being met with the delicious friction, you felt Neil shift beneath you. Did you fuck this up? Were you just imagining his hand on your ass? But before you could worry any further, he was rolling you onto your back with his thick, firm leg pressing between your thighs and spreading them, and the unmistakable poking of his erection against the spot where your hip met your belly. He pushed his thigh against you, inviting you to grind it.

“Is this what my horny little sister needs? Can’t fall asleep without coming?” His voice was low and husky, in equal parts from being half asleep and his obvious arousal. You were starting to transition from drunk to hungover, feeling more drowsy and dizzy than anything else, and the most you could answer with was a pathetic little whimper as he nudged you.

You rubbed yourself against him as best you could, unable to find just the right angle from the new position you were placed in. In a fit of frustration, you tried pushing Neil off of you so you could rub yourself with your hand, but he was deceptively strong and had you pinned.

“Neeeeeeeeeiiiillllll” you whined, once again wondering if this was all a mistake, maybe you should just try to fall asleep and forget this ever happened. Forget the whole night ever happened. Change your name, move across the country, and never talk to anyone who witnessed tonight ever again.

“Shhhh, it’s alright, just lie there and let your big brother take care of you.”

Just lying there was about all you could do as Neil snaked one of arms between your legs, stroking your folds through your panties a bit aimlessly before gathering the courage to reach beneath the cloth and explore further. After a bit of awkward poking around, he found your clit and began circling it gently with his fingertips, eliciting another whimper, this time of pleasure.

“See? I know exactly what you need. M’gonna play with your little pussy until you relax and fall asleep, like a good girl.” His fingers began teasing your slit, tracing up and down its length without daring to breach inside. It never would have occurred to you that Neil would know his way around pussy, he never brought any girls home when he lived with you. He must’ve gotten a lot of practice after moving out, because the way his fingers were just barely ghosting over you was driving you crazy in a way you couldn’t understand. You wanted him to stop, you wanted him to continue exactly what he was doing, you wanted him to start giving you more. All you knew was that you wanted him, and for him to keep touching you.

As if he could read your mind, he spread your innermost lips and plunged two of his fingers inside. The stretch was sudden, but not at all unwelcome. You were wet enough for him to thrust his fingers in and out of you easily, spreading your slick wherever he touched. As soon as he began alternating between fucking you on his fingers and roughly toying with your clit, you started seeing stars.

“You like that? You like me finger fucking your tight little pussy? I wish I could see it, I bet it's all pink and cute, like your nipples. I bet you’ve never even taken a cock before."

Too drunk, too horny, and too tired to form words, the most you could do was shyly squeak in affirmation.

“Next time I’ll have you bounce on my cock so I can watch your face as you come. Or maybe I’ll eat you out so I can really get to see how cute your pussy is. Or maybe you’ll just want to pay back the favor I’m doing you now and suck me off.”

Next time? You hadn’t considered something like this happening again, or even the fact that you’d have to see him again. In mixed company. With your parents around. Would he fuck you in your childhood bedroom while everyone else was downstairs cooking dinner? Or would he keep your liaisons a dirty little secret that only happened away from home?

You didn’t care. You were coming from your stepbrother’s touch, in your stepbrother’s bed, far away from anyone else you knew. You felt your stomach tighten and your toes involuntarily curl, much stronger than you ever felt sneakily rubbing yourself in the shower. Thank fuck you were in a dark room, because you swore you could feel your face going all stupid.

You must not have realized how much you were panting and clenching around his fingers, because Neil seemed to know exactly how close you were and began whispering in your ear, encouraging you to come. You could barely register what he was saying, you were so lost in the sensation of his breath on your neck and his hand on your cunt.

Your orgasm finally took hold, and you could hear yourself babbling in pleasure but had no idea what you were saying, if you were even forming coherent words, as the pleasure ripped through your body like an electric shock. After the initial burst, you felt your body relax in a way you didn’t know was possible, releasing tension you didn’t even know you were holding. You swore you could feel yourself melting through the mattress before realizing that no, that was just sweat.

Noticing that you were lying there like a limp noodle and no longer squirming and moaning, Neil rolled off of you, withdrawing his hand from your panties. His fingers were completely soaked with your wetness, and while his initial instinct was to wipe them off on his shirt, roll over, and go to sleep, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was rock hard. In a stroke of genius that would soon lead to literal stroking, he realized he had the perfect lube on hand.

He shoved his drenched hand down his boxers and began tugging his desperate member, softly grunting in rhythm with his pumping fist. Part of you felt bad that you weren’t helping, you had kinda forgotten that Neil was a complete person with desires of his own and not just a machine to get you off, but you were cozy and half asleep and he seemed to be handling the situation well enough on his own. At least, well enough that he was coming all over the front of his shirt.

He carefully pulled his soiled shirt over his head and wiped off his hand and what was left of his mess before tossing it on the floor and reaching for the blanket that had been kicked to the bottom of the bed amidst all the excitement. You felt yourself being tucked in as you gently dozed off, snuggling into Neil’s side as soon as he laid down beside you.

Yeah, you were going to visit your step brother a lot more often now.

[hyuuukais]

Hiii!! I saw ur requests were open but if this makes u uncomfy for any reason no worries. I was skating home from work today and kinda got scraped up pretty bad so I was wondering if you'd write a Skz reaction to reader getting hurt by skating(I was skateboarding but if you want separate scenarios you can use roller skates or ice skates too I think that would be cool) and maybe nursing reader back to health idk just something fluffy? I was kinda discouraged from skating after I got all scraped up today :/

Ps. I love ur blog and I hope you have a great day/night 🩷

-🔮(if u have emoji anons I'd like to be this one)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

pairing : ot8 x reader

notes : hi !! i didn't know if you wanted texts or written, so i did a mix, i hope that's alright with you! and i actually don't have any emoji anons rn, you'd be my first, which is so exciting!! and i love love love the one you chose. i took your advice and did a variety of different types of skates :) oh! and this doesn't make me uncomfortable, little injuries/sick fics like this is okay :33

warnings : injuries (scraped knees/hands/face/arms, sprained wrist/ankle/concussion), blood mention, nausea, mentions of passing out/blacking out, reader called pet names (baby, honey, love), food mention

CHAN (wc: 561)

There's a knock on your door exactly eleven minutes later, and you trudge across your living room to open it. Chans face is etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he takes in the light bruising starting to appear on your cheekbone, a few red scratches from the tough asphalt accentuating the purple.

Without a word, he enters your living space and sets a small bag down on the coffee table. Chan takes some things out, then gestures you to move down the hallway to your bathroom. Suppressing a groan, you do as he says, trying not to wince every time you step. Another, much worse scrape paints your knee, stinging with every movement. By the time you're sitting on the edge of the tub, your eyes have watered in pain.

Chan kneels in front of you, looking up to into your watery eyes, but you avoid his gaze. With a soft sigh, he takes the bottle of peroxide and dampens a cloth, gently pressing it down on your bloody knee. You hiss at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut hard as he continues to pat the wound and surrounding flesh. It hurts so bad, and you swear you can feel your knee throbbing. What feels like hours is mere minutes, Chan taking the cloth away from your skin to reach for a nearby bandage. He takes care in wrapping the wound, placing a small kiss on the top of your knee once he's done.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours." Chan joins you on the edge of the rub, bringing a hand up to gently turn your face to his. "Doesn't look as bad as I thought, but it still needs to be cleaned... you're doing so good for me, baby."

He smiles at you, wiping a stray tear that's managed to escape from the corner of your eye. Your jaw clenches as he brings the cloth, freshly dampened in peroxide, to your skin again, patting in the same motion he did your knee. The sting isn't as bad, the cuts smaller and quicker to clean. As soon as Chan is done placing the smaller bandage on your cheekbone, he places a kiss over it. His palm comes to rest on your lower cheek and jaw, resting your foreheads together. Naturally, your eyes flutter shut as you relax under his touch, the pain and embarrassment forgotten almost completely in his presence.

"I love you," You whisper, sighing contently.

"I love you too," Chan smiles, backing his face away from yours. "How about you change into some comfy clothes and we put on that show you've been on about? Sound good?"

A smile breaks out on your face at the mention of the show, nodding excitedly at his suggestion. "We'll have to start at the beginning! I've been dying to show it to you."

He laughs, his eyes almost shutting from how wide his smile has gotten watching you grab his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. You're still talking as you change, but Chan just leans back on the bed listening, not daring to interrupt. He loves it when you're like this, gushing about your interests to your hearts content. It seems like a flip has switched from your dim mood, and Chan is glad he could do something to make you feel better.

MINHO (wc: 526)

And he does, he marches right to you despite the protests of the coaches spread on the chilled ground, one of which is making their way toward you. Slipping and sliding all the way to you, Minho makes it to your side first and tries to assess the situation.

"What happened?" Minho demands, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You've managed to sit up on your butt, feeling the cold ground seeping through your bottoms as you curl into yourself. Keeping your wrist close to your chest, you take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Staying calm is the only way you'll get through the throbbing pain in your wrist.

The coach stops just short of you, kneeling on the opposite side of Minho. "Y/n! Are you alright? That was a really bad fall."

All you can do is shake your head, eyes unmoving from the spot between your knees. With the nausea you're feeling, the only thing keeping you from jumping to the conclusion you've broken a bone is the fact you never heard a crack.

One minute, you were gliding on the ice, acing your practice jumps and having fun. The lessons you're doing have been going on for a few months now, and you've been getting better with each one. Knowing you've always wanted to try learning to skate, Minho had paid for a full year of lessons for your birthday, and you'd almost cried when he told you.

Yet, here you are, once again close to tears for a completely different reason. You knew not to put your arms out the way you did, landing on your wrist at an odd angle. Next thing you knew, you could barely move as pain seized you and threatened to have you black out.

"Honey," Minhos voice is next to your ear, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. "Let me help you up, we need to go."

-

Hours later, you've traveled to the hospital, been seen by a doctor, and sent home with a sprained wrist. The whole way home, there's been a pout on your face, and all you want to do now is lay down in bed and cry.

Minho can tell, he always can, so when you get home he leads you in the direction of the living room. At first, you're confused, but then he kisses your forehead and brings you the first furball he can find. Soonie gets comfortable in your lap as Minho leaves the room, coming back a few minutes later with the comforter from your bed.

"I know you want to change and go to bed," He says softly into your ear, placing another kiss on your lobe with a playful nibble that makes you giggle. "I know you're embarrassed. De-stress a bit first, calm down, then I'll run you a hot bath and we can settle in for the night."

"I guess I can do that," You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you will do that." Minho pats your head, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not leaving you with a choice."

CHANGBIN (wc:541)

It's not even ten minutes later that you spot him jogging down the street to meet you. You've scooted back into the grass to stay out of the way of other pedestrians, using your cold water bottle to soothe the scrapes on the palms of your hands. As soon as Changbin sees you, he's by your side and taking away the bottle, replacing it with his loving touch. He places a kiss on each palm, taking care to brush away the tiny pieces of ground off your skin.

Maybe it's how soft he's holding you, or just him being so quick to be with you when you're hurt, but you can feel tears well up in your eyes. The sound of your sniffles catches Changbin's attention immediately, and one of his hands is already on your face to thumb the tears away before they've even had the chance to fall.

"Bunny," Changbin coos, a pout on his face. "It's okay, you're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, how's that sound?"

You nod, letting him undo the laces of the roller skates, sliding them off your feet carefully. Thankfully, you didn't twist an ankle or anything, and you're honestly a bit surprised you didn't with the way you fell. Changbin ties the laces together, swinging them over his shoulder. Next, he helps you to your feet.

"You couldn't have brought me proper shoes to walk back in?" You joke, trying to find some humour in the situation.

"Why would I when I can do this-?" Hands hook under your legs and behind your back as he swings you into his arms bridal-style. You can't help but giggle at his antics, covering your face in embarrassment as a passer-by gives you two a look. Changbin lifts your torso close to him, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Changbin carries you like this the whole fifteen minutes back home, keeping his head up high, proud of somewhat showing you off as you go, even if that wasn't the intent of holding you like this. Even when you do arrive home, he still refuses to let you go until you're safely in your bedroom, placing you down on the plush mattress. When you go to sit up, he pushes you back down gently, shaking his head.

"Stay put, let me do this!" Changbin almost whines, and you supress another fit of giggles at his reactions. "I want to treat you."

"It's just some scraped palms-"

"Yah!" He scolds, lifting up a hand. "You're still hurt. I'm not letting you do a thing for the rest of the evening."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you watch as Changbin goes into the en suite and comes back with some alcohol wipes. He sits next to you on the bed and takes one hand in his, gently patting down the scrapes. Mostly, your hands are just red from the fall, no longer bleeding at all, but Changbin still wraps your hands just in case, placing a kiss on each one afterwards.

"Next time, wait for me, okay?" Changbin looks at you, a small pout still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah... I will," You promise, reaching out for him. "Now come here, I want cuddles."

HYUNJIN (wc: 549)

The whole right side of your face is bright red, a pouch of ice ironically held up to the raw skin. Hyunjin's face drops as he spots you across the arena, hurrying around to get to you. Once he does, he takes the hand holding the pouch away, examining your face.

"It's not as bad as it looks, probably," You say weakly, looking him in the eye. "I haven't actually seen, so that may be a lie."

"Does it hurt a lot?" You shake your head at his question. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder, a bit," You admit, dropping your gaze. "I landed weird, but I think it'll be fine. It's definitely not broken or dislocated, just sore."

Hyunjin shakes his head, looking out at the ice where other people are still skating. In his head, the world should have stopped for you the minute your body made contact with the ice. He huffs, breath coming out in a little cloud. Turning to him, you poke his arm to gain his attention back.

"I'm fine, really," You promise, but his expression tells you he doesn't quite believe that. "Can we just... go home?"

Nodding, Hyunjin stands and offers his hand to you. Not for physical support, but emotional, walking hand in hand out of the arena. The hallways are quiet as you detour for a bathroom break before leaving.

When you enter, the first thing you notice is just how red your skin has gotten, a noticeable difference from the other half of your face, but you can't help but snort. In all honesty, you look funny. The pain is low on a scale of 1-10, so you're able to find a bit more humour in the situation than Hyunjin at the moment. Once you exit, Hyunjin immediately grasps your hand in his again, his tight grip comforting. If anything, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Getting back to your place doesn't take long, and Hyunjin makes a beeline for your bathroom as you're still taking your coat off. You take your time meeting him in there, seeing some cream set out on the counter. As soon as you walk in, Hyunjin gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub. Carefully, he puts a few small globs of the cream on your face. It stings a little, but feels nicer as he rubs it into the sore skin. His fingers glide over the curves of your face, taking care to cover every inch of your injury. When he's done, he turns your body and begins massaging the shoulder you landed on.

"Never downplay your pain, you hear me?" Hyunjin lightly scolds, resting his chin on your head as he pauses his actions.

"I meant it when I said it didn't really hurt." You giggle when Hyunjin sighs loudly at your answer. "But I won't, I swear. Does me promising this make you feel better?"

"Honestly?" Hyunjin hums, thinking for a moment. "No, not really, because I know you."

You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, the corners of your lips twitching into your own smile. His arms come around you, gently rocking you side to side, his plush lips pressing a kiss to your temple. Just having him by your side is healing enough.

JISUNG (wc: 608)

The gasp that leaves Jisung's mouth has people around him shooting weird glances, but all he's focused on his your body lying on the cement. There are a few shouts as he runs down to your body, slipping and sliding all the way down to you. You roll onto your back to see Jisung's face right above yours, eyes widening at how quickly he'd gotten to you.

"Baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospit-" Jisung rambles, but you cut him off with a groan as you sit up, shaking your head, and he immediately stops talking.

You sit up cross-legged, taking a look over your limbs. With your elbows and knees protected, you've managed not to scrape anything. One of your new friends come running over as soon as she sees your on the ground, kneeling next to you on you other side.

"You okay?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"I'm fine, both of you." With some semi unnecessary help from Jisung, you stand up. "The only thing bruised here is my ego."

"Maybe we should go to the side for a second-" Jisung stops talking when the girl shoots him a look.

Noticing the way she's looking at him, you gently push her to the side and whisper something to her. She nods, giving one last look to Jisung before walking away. Taking a hold of Jisung's hand, you and him make your way back up and to your bag. He grabs it for you as you lead him over to a bench on the side.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes as you sip some water, looking out to everyone still skating, your own board sitting between your feet. It's a vibrant blue with orange accents, something Jisung picked out for you to celebrate you getting back into skating, along with the matching knee and elbow pads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jisung fiddling with his fingers.

"I said I'm okay, you don't need to worry," You say with a soft laugh, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you, but he nods. "Sungie?"

"What if the board I got you is defective and that's why you fell?" Jisung looks at you briefly, glancing back to his fingers as he continues to voice his anxieties. "Or- or what if you hadn't had the pads and really got hurt?"

"Ji, look at me, please." You cup his cheek, gently making him turn; sad eyes stare back at you and your heart hurts just a bit. "None of this was because of you, and don't think of what could have happened. What matters is that I'm alright, and so are you, okay?"

He nods, and you can see a little bit of relief on his features with the small smile he gives you. You return the smile, bringing his face over to lean your foreheads together. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to place a kiss on your temple, whispering against your skin.

"You know I'd do anything for you." Jisungs hand tangles with yours, and you can feel your smile widen. "Anything, hurt or not. I'd stay by your side for a papercut."

This makes you laugh. "Remind me to text you next time I get one."

Your comment makes Jisung smile against your skin, and you back away enough to look him in the eye.

"Ready for me to go back out there?"

He nods, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, but if you do get hurt, I will be running back down there."

FELIX (wc: 851)

The two of you started the night off with some hot cocoa from a stand outside of the ice rink you were going to. Felix had been practically dying to take you out to the festival going on during the week once you both had a little time off, especially knowing your love for skating. Although the rink is small, he knew you'd love it anyway.

Now you're sitting on the side, sliding your shoes off and the skates on. The rentals fit a little loosely from all the usage, but still well enough once you tighten the laces. You help Felix with the fit of his, and all he can do is stare at you lovingly as you do this small act of service for him.

Holding hands, you lap around the ice smoothly a few times before slowing down. Neither of you really want to get off the ice yet, but you're legs are beginning to burn from the constant activity. There's a food truck of to the side, so you agree to take a break to eat and rest before continuing. You make a beeline for it on the other side of the rink, opting to go straight through rather than take your skates off early and walk around.

It's sudden, and you barely register you're falling until you've rolled off to the side. Pain radiates from your ankle, and Felix is by your side in an instant. When you look down to assess the damage, you notice your shoelace has become untied on one skate and is probably the cause of the fall. You frown; after all the years of skating, you know how to tie your laces tight enough. The one night you decide to use rentals, and you fall on your ass.

"Can you stand?" Felix asks, concern written all over his face.

You nod, letting him help you up. As soon as you put pressure on your right foot, your knees are buckling and you can't help but yelp in pain. Felix catches you, holding you tightly so you don't fall again.

"Love?" Felix holds you back a little, guiding you to sit down; thankfully, you were pretty much at the other side of the rink already. "Let me see... oh."

He pulls the skate off, along with your sock, to reveal the red, angry skin of your ankle, already beginning to swell slightly. Felix shakes his head, gently pushing your sock back up. You hiss in pain as his fingers brush the skin, an he looks up at you with worried eyes.

"We need to get you checked out, this looks bad." Felix takes your other skate off. "I'll be right back."

You watch him skate back to the other side to retrieve your belongings, manoeuvring through the crowds of people on the ice swiftly. When he returns, he helps you slip your left boot on, leaving the right one off just in case. People around you have barely even noticed the way you limp off the ice, Felix holding your right side to help take off the pressure. It doesn't take long for Felix to drive to the hospital from the rink. Despite the cold air, all you can focus on is the uncomfortable warmth from your ankle.

-

Entering your house with a groan, you hop stubbornly to your couch, covering your red face in embarrassment. Felix laughs softly at your reaction, kicking his shoes off before joining you. Gently, he brings your hands away from your face and brings one of his to turn your chin to look at him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, love," Felix cups your cheek when you pout. "One twisted ankle from busted skates isn't the end of the world. You'll heal, and I'll be here the whole time."

"What about-"

"No." Felix says firmly, shaking his head. "I'll be here. You're not allowed to walk without my help until you're better. Now," He takes a pillow, standing up and placing it down where he was sitting. "Let's get this thing elevated."

Felix takes your foot with care, lifting it onto the pillow. He leans over to kiss your forehead before leaving to the kitchen behind you.

"Comfort food?" He calls out, and you look back confused; he just leans against the counter with a small smile. "We didn't get to eat before, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I'll bring the flowers in for you too."

"You're too good to me," You sigh, but nod your head. "I'd love that. Can we just... cuddle after?"

"Of course we can." Felix's voice gets closer as he comes back to place another kiss on your forehead, but you want the real deal, reaching up to pull him closer by the neck.

His soft lips connect with yours and you melt into it, smiling into the kiss. When you eventually pull back, Felix leans his head on yours.

"I swear your kisses can heal me," You say quietly.

Felix looks down to where your foot sits atop the pillow, still red and swollen. "Nope, still twisted."

SEUNGMIN (wc: 922)

It's another ten minutes until you see Seungmin approaching from the other side of the food court, standing right as your eyes land on him. His hands are tucked behind his back, piquing your interest as he's clearly hiding something. Instead of stopping when he gets to you, Seungmin turns and walks a few steps backward, nodding you over to follow him with a smirk on his face. You run up to him, trying to see what he's hiding, but he keeps moving in a way you can't.

"Be patient, we need to get outside." Seungmin groans, but you can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"You know I don't like surprises-"

"No, you like to say you don't," He counters, and you feel the corners of your lips tug upward. "I know you better than that."

You exit the mall a few moments later, having only met there as a convenient spot between your two homes. Seungmin gestures you over to the emptier side of the parking lot wrapping around, and you spot a small picnic area set up; your heart skips a beat seeing the effort Seungmin has put into this.

"Min..." You run up to the picnic table, eyes gazing over the set up; there are small cakes and treats and your favourite takeout all organized on the wooden structure. You're about to speak again, but gasp instead when you turn and see what he's holding out.

Seungmin smiles at your reaction, holding your previously broken skateboard up with both hands. The wheel had broken from years of use, and you haven't had the time to go out and get it fixed, so it's been collecting dust in the corner of your room for weeks. To see that Seungmin went out of his way to have it fixed as a surprise for your anniversary date was enough to make you tear up.

Seeing your expression, Seungmin places the board on the ground and comes up to you, pulling you gently by the hands over to it. He knows how much you love to skate, how important this is for you, so he thought it'd be a nice surprise. He places a kiss on your temple, urging you to get on.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so going back and forth on the sidewalk by the table, stopping to have a few bites and talk to Seungmin. He stares at you as you head away from him again, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he sees how much you're enjoying yourself. When you turn around, you go a bit faster, wanting to get back to Seungmin quickly to give him his gift. You don't notice the way your board goes of on an angle, too excited.

"Baby, I have someth- woah!" You collide with the hard ground, cement scraping your arms as you tumble.

"Y/n!" Seungmin shoots out of his seat, kneeling next to you and helping you into a sitting position. "God, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I fall and the first thing you say to me is 'what the hell'," You try and laugh, but your eyes are stinging with unshed tears at the pain in your forearms.

Seungmin lifts your arms to him, inhaling sharply at the bloody scrapes decorating your skin. Dropping your arms, he runs back to the table, grabbing his bag. You watch him with a confused look until you spot the small first aid kit in his open bag.

"Always prepared," You mumble, pouting. You really lucked out with Seungmin.

"With a partner as clumsy as you? Of course I am," He jokes, taking out some wipes.

His touch is light as he pats the wounds, looking up at you every so often to make sure you're alright. Although you're making faces every time the wipe comes in contact with your skin, at least you aren't close to crying anymore, now used to the slight burning sensation on your raw skin. Seungmin carefully places some large bandaids on the scrapes, kissing each one as he does; his care makes your heart ache.

"I'll pack up and we can head back to yours. I don't want you getting hurt again." Seungmin declares, standing and helping you back on your feet.

"What? No," You shake your head, grabbing Seungmin's hand before he can get much further. "I want to enjoy our date how it was meant to be. They're just a few bumps and bruises, nothing I can't handle."

Seungmin looks at you, and you can tell he doesn't want to do that. What he wants is to take care of you, wrap you up in a warm blanket and never let you go. After a moment, he sighs, and you can tell he's giving in to the look you're giving him.

"Fine, but on one condition." You wait for him to continue. "We go in and buy you some new knee pads and stuff. Then you let me pamper you when we get to yours."

"Kim Seungmin, are you admitting you care about me?" You laugh, poking his cheek; he swats your hand away softly.

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I don't know, my dreams can get pretty wild... oh!" You run over to your bag, digging to the bottom to grab an envelop. "Your gift!"

Seungmin laughs at your sudden change in topic, eyeing the envelop. Inside are two tickets to see his favourite baseball team, and you can't wait to see the look on his face.

JEONGIN (wc: 862)

"Yes, I can see." Jeongin wraps his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Oh!" You're surprised a bit from the sudden appearance and affection of your boyfriend, but lean into him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here yet."

"I got out early. Let's go get the skates."

Jeongin keeps a hand on your back the whole way to the line up to retrieve the skates. Although you have your own, he still needs some, so you wait in line with him and catch up on your days. The whole time you're talking, you can't help but be a little stuck on his comment earlier, wondering if he was being serious, but you know neither of you like grand, public gestures like that.

The rink isn't incredibly busy for a Friday night, and you aren't complaining. It's easier to do and go where you want, colourful lights reflecting off the shiny ground. You look at Jeongin beside you, reds and blues and greens dancing over his sharp features; you're mesmerized.

Which is definitely what causes you to go crashing into the wall of the rink, losing your balance and falling backward. The back of your head smacks the hard ground, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the impact. Before you can really react, there are already gentle hands on your head trying to assess the damage. Your ears are ringing a bit, but you can hear your boyfriend's voice from above you and open your eyes, having squeezed them shut in pain.

"Y/n? Baby?" Jeongin's voice becomes clearer as he helps you sit up against the wall. "Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

"My head hurts," You whine, pouting and bringing your own hands to your head; you aren't bleeding, but there's sure to be a bump tomorrow.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Jeongin clears his throat, signaling some staff over. "We'll get you off the rink carefully, okay? You probably gave yourself a concussion or something."

It doesn't take long to get off the rink, and you let Jeongin take your skates off, too busy with holding your face in your hands to block the lights out. What you once saw as a beautiful, mood-setting atmosphere was now giving you the worst headache of your life. You keep a hand above your eyes as you leave, another attempt to block light while still being able to see where you're going.

Jeongin helps you into his car, driving you to the nearest hospital. Inside, you keep your eyes closed during the long wait, burying your head into Jeongin's shoulder. You're so grateful for him staying with you, the way his hand rubs up and down your arm bringing you comfort; movements reserved for you, and only you.

The doctor confirms you have a mild concussion, discussing the details of your rest and recover before sending you home. Once you get in, you collapse onto your couch with a groan of embarrassment.

"Want me to make you something?" You look up to see Jeongin setting his bag down and taking his coat off, giving him a confused look. "What? You really think I'm just going to drop you off at home, in pain, and dip?"

"You have things to do tomorrow-"

"Not anymore." Jeongin moves toward your kitchen. "Cancelled everything this week. I can't have you alone right now."

The casual tone of his voice has you melting, looking on at him with adoration in your eyes. You watch as he prepares you something, bringing over your favourite homemade comfort food. When he sets it down on the coffee table, you look up at him from where you're now curled up on the couch under a blanket.

"Would you hate me if I said I was too nauseous to eat right now?" You ask quietly, barely holding his gaze.

"Of course," Jeongin says with a smirk.

You reach out to smack him playfully, temporarily forgetting about your concussion and moving way too quickly. Grabbing onto the arm of the couch, you steady yourself from the wave of dizziness. Jeongin is instantly kneeling down and leaning you back, lightly scolding you as he does. A small smile forms on your face.

"You're lucky I love you," You giggle, looking at him with partially closed eyes.

"I am. I really am." Jeongin sighs, getting up to sit next to you.

Pulling him closer with your eyes closed, your hands brush the corner of something sticking out of his pocket, eyes instantly opening back up. You catch a glimpse of the corner of a red box before Jeongin begins bringing your blanket over him, but you stop him.

"You weren't kidding?" You look at him with wide eyes. It takes a moment to register what you're talking about, and then he begins to blush, hard.

"I wasn't."

"Jeongin-" He holds a finger to your lips to silence you.

"No, don't say anything. I want to wait until you're feeling better, okay?" You nod, and he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Now rest, baby. Need you healed up so I can do this the right way."

-

notes - HELP i actually don't know how to write anymore or smthn??? i'm so sorry if this is ass. me vs feeling insecure abt my writing ahahahahaha anyway. thank u for the request! i feel like maybe this didn't go the right direction sjdksk this is partially unedited too bc i kind of can't stand to reread my own writing so many times rn, so i apologize for any mistakes 🤡

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

[reiding-writing]

Hey can i ask for cold!Reader where someone calls her heartless and stuff like that, cuz u know, she has that reputation, and then Spencer finds her crying and comforts her?? cuz she has feelings but it is hard to show them

BREAKING THE ICE [ONESHOT]

/ˈbɹeɪkɪŋ ðiː ɑ́js/

Sometimes people just cry, there doesn’t really have to be a reason. But when you have a reputation for being cold and uncaring, being emotionally vulnerable with other people isn’t very easy. Spencer doesn’t care though, he’ll get through to you either way.

spencer x cold!reader | hurt/comfort | 2.3k I series masterlist!!

WARNINGS: fem!reader, depictions of a panic attack, reader is a lil mean to spencer but it kinda comes with the territory

a/n: cold!reader is my roman empire i love writing emotionally complex characters man (i also feel the need to let everyone know that this fic was originally called ‘micheal in the bathroom’)

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ part two!!

You hated crying.

You hated the way it made you look, with tears staining your cheeks and a blotchy complexion from your fluctuating temperature, the way your shoulders trembled like a leaf in the wind.

You hated the way it made you feel, your throat tight and constricting your airflow, your head pounding with an impending headache from your irregular breathing and the constant dread at the idea of somebody finding you in the state you were in.

The worst part was you didn’t even have a valid reason to be crying. You hadn’t gone through a life-altering trauma, you hadn’t lost anyone, hell you hadn’t even had a mild inconvenience today; But here you were, crying in the unisex toilets during your lunch break, because apparently the gods had decided your life wasn’t miserable enough already.

Your hands gripped the edge of the sink like it was your only anchor to the physical world, your hands tensing so hard that your knuckles were turning white and the tips of your fingers were beginning to ache.

Your laboured breathing was echoing through the stalls, reminding you of just how pathetic you sounded and only amplifying that sinking feeling in your chest that decided to invade your mind for no apparent reason and rip your brain to pieces until the only thing you could think of was how horrible you felt.

You weren’t just crying anymore. It was like your body was trying to tear itself up from the inside out. And there was no reason for any of it.

Then there was a soft knock on the door, almost quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of your own anguish.

It was to be expected at some point you suppose, you’d locked the outside door instead of just locking yourself in one of the stalls, providing you with complete privacy for your breakdown but also inconveniencing the rest of the office by taking up twelve stalls instead of just one.

Still, you weren’t ready to unlock the door yet. There was no way in hell you were going to let one of your coworkers walk in and see you bent over one of the sinks like the pathetic failure you felt.

You had a reputation to uphold. They could find another bathroom to piss in.

You weren’t ‘heartless’ by any means, but you were strong, and that is what your coworkers needed to see, not this.

You didn’t mind being called an ‘ice queen’ by Morgan every morning if it meant that they didn’t see you like this. You didn’t mind keeping a barrier up between you and the rest of your team if it meant that you didn’t break down in front of them. But god sometimes you wished they’d see you as more than a wall of stone with no emotional capacity so that you could actually have someone to lean on in moments like this one.

But you suppose that half of it is your fault. They wouldn’t see you as some emotionally removed robot if you weren’t presenting yourself like that in the first place.

There’s another knock at the door, joined by a voice this time, Spencer’s voice, and it was calling your last name.

He was literally the last person you wanted to see.

Of all the people on the team, Spencer had been the one to slowly chip away at the obsidian shield you protected yourself with, and with no force whatsoever. He’d settled for taking place besides you and letting you acclimate to him in your own time. He never pried or pushed, he respected your boundaries and your wish to not get emotionally attached, and he never judged you for how you presented yourself to the world.

He was the best type of person that you could surround yourself with, and that made him the worst type of person for you to see right now.

You’re trying to compose yourself, not make your emotional rampage worse at the hands of someone so caring that your walls may as well be made of glass and have them shattered the second his breath hits their surface.

The knocking doesn’t stop whilst you mentally curse Spencer’s kindness in your head, nor does his voice, but he’s transitioned from calling your last name to calling your first. It’s not helping.

“I’m fine Reid,” You strain your voice so it doesn’t crack under the weight of your emotions, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face your reflection in the mirror. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” You can hear the concern lacing his voice even through the way it’s muffled by the two inches of wood between you. “The average time taken by women when going to the bathroom is 4 minutes and 39 seconds, you’ve been in there for over 12 now,”

Curse Spencer Reid and his inherent ability to make everything logical.

“I’m fine.” Even in a state of absolute distress you still manage to push absolutely everyone away.

“I really don’t want to pry but you don’t sound fine,”

“Reid, leave it.” You know he’s not going to. He might stop trying to verbally get you to admit your feelings, but you know for a fact that when you open that door he is going to be waiting for you on the other side.

You’d given Spencer a bit too much leeway in not enduring the wrath of your psychological defences, and now he’s slowly becoming impervious to your dismissals.

He’s not as intimidated by you as he was four years ago, and it is not doing wonders for your attempts at keeping people at an arms-length.

You’re going to have to face him eventually.

You take in a deep breath as you resign yourself to your fate, inhaling until you can feel the pressure of your lungs against your diaphragm and letting it out slowly through your mouth, forcing your heart rate to slow to an acceptable level as you swipe your index fingers under your eyes to rid your cheeks of the mascara stains painting your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror as you try to make yourself look presentable again, wetting your hands and pressing them to your cheeks to cool down your face and fixing the wrinkles in your shirt from having been bent over in an awkward position for so long.

You’d say it worked to an extent, and the natural narrowing of your eyes in your resting expression helped to hide the pink irritation from you rubbing them constantly over the last ten minutes, but you worked with profilers, so you’re sure they’d be able to see right through you.

Alas, you’d made your bed by crying in the office bathroom in the first place, now you had to lie in it.

The clicking of the lock as you open the door stirs Spencer’s attention, and he stops leaning against the wall with a furrowed expression to stand straight in front of it like a pet waiting for their owner to come home.

You’re fairly confident in the stability of your emotional state as you open the door to enter back into the office, and that confidence is immediately ripped away the second you meet Spencer’s eyes.

The look on his face is nothing less than absolute concern for you, and it causes the wafer of your remaining emotional shield to disintegrate as soon as those hazel eyes lock onto yours.

You swallow back a lump that rises in your throat at his gaze, averting your eyes from him as you feel them prick with tears again and turning your body back in the direction of the bathroom you’d emerged from, fully intent on locking yourself back in there for as long as it takes for you to get yourself under control.

You cannot believe you just allowed Spencer to see you like that.

“Hey-” Spencer catches the door with his foot as you try to close it on him, most definitely causing him pain in the process from how quickly you tried to slam it behind you. But his expression didn’t show that, it continued to show that soft, sweet kindness that was entirely concerned for your well being. “You’re not fine…”

“No shit Sherlock-” You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you speak, your tone harsh and icy as you turn your head over your shoulder towards him. He knew it was an emotional defence mechanism, but it still stung just a little.

Spencer sighs softly as he follows into the bathroom after you, locking the door after him like you had done earlier to provide you with at least a bit of the privacy you desired. He wasn’t exactly sure to to approach the conversation about what you were feeling with you, afraid that if he misstepped he’d only push you further into your emotional pit of solitude.

“Did you know that a person’s emotional state is best presented in what they wear?” Resorting to statistics was always the first choice. “Studies have shown that the type and material that a person’s clothes are, as well as they way they’re worn, correlate with the type of emotions they are feeling,”

You’re wearing a shirt and slacks, which most would agree was fairly typical office attire, he was wearing almost exactly the same. But you’d undone an extra button on your collar today, presumably to try and help alleviate the restricting feeling against your throat, and your slacks were wide-legged instead of straight-legged like usual which was likely again to try and help with the constriction you were experiencing.

If he had to wager a guess, he’d say you woke up on the brink of an emotional breakdown today, which meant that it wasn’t caused by something that had happened during the day. That usually left the only explanation as something much deeper at play than just some off-hand experience.

“And let my guess, my clothes are displaying complete patheticness?” You gesture your hands exaggeratedly as you turn around to face him once more, the tears rolling down your cheeks illuminated underneath the overhead lighting. “Because that’s how I feel right now,”

“Being upset doesn’t make you pathetic at all-” Spencer sounds genuinely offended at the idea of you finding yourself pathetic for feeling regular human emotions. There was nothing wrong with crying or being emotionally overwhelmed. “It’s a beneficial part of human nature,”

“It doesn’t feel very ‘beneficial’ to me,” You lean your lower back against the line of sinks as you continue to blow of his attempts at opening an emotionally vulnerable conversation with you, but you also weren’t completely shutting him down either.

Spencer takes a step closer, his eyes still filled with genuine concern. "I know it might not feel like it now, but allowing yourself to feel and express these emotions is healthy. It's okay to not be okay sometimes."

You let out a shaky sigh, feeling a bit of the tension ease out of your shoulders at his words. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop pretending everything was fine when it wasn't. "I just... hate feeling like this," you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer nods in understanding, his expression softening even more. "I get it, I really do. But you don't have to hide what you’re feeling because you’re trying to protect yourself. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment you feel like your mind is just going to give in and forget everything that had become a staple of your character so that you could feel that emotional connection that you knew was going to be good for your mental health.

But if wasn’t exactly that easy.

You offer him a small, tentative smile, grateful for his unwavering support even though you weren’t going to actually take it. Not entirely anyway. "I appreciate that,"

He returns your smile with one of his own, small and awkward and the perfect encapsulation of Spencer’s character. “Of course,”

He knew you weren’t just going to magically change your personality and start emotionally leaning on him, but he was glad that you were acknowledging his efforts in at least trying to be a pillar of support for you.

You’d stopped crying now, so that was a good sign in itself that the conversation had benefited you in some way or other, and for now, that was enough.

You could think about the complications later.

part two!!

[murdrdocs]

SAW YOUR END. void stiles

description. it's hard not to give into the Nogitsune. he does have the face of your favorite person, after all

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+, SMUT 18+, SLIGHT DUBCON (r wants it but for safe measures), fem! reader, impact play, choking, degradation, stiles is possessed, forced impregnation, baby trapping (kinda), snowballing, reader is secretly in luv with stiles, implied that stiles is present, some angst, title from 'cherry waves' by deftones

wc: 4.5k+

→ kinktober masterlist

He’s more intimidating up close than you would’ve thought. 

You’ve been telling yourself that if faced with the shell of your best friend, you could handle yourself. The Nogitsune doesn’t fight. He plots, plans, weakens you with words alone. And you thought this was something you could control. No amount of taunts or insults or manipulation could catch you off guard. 

But you somehow forgot that while he would slowly weaken your resolve, he would be wearing the face and body and voice of your best friend. You hadn’t considered that this would make you weak in and of itself, heart already thudding loudly behind your chest when you saw those amber eyes, mouth dry when he spoke your name, hands shaking with the desire to meet him in the middle when he reached out for you. 

You find yourself to be more fragile than you thought, lip quivering and eyes welling up when his gaze hardens instead of softens. Your entire body trembling when he starts his slow torture, words perfectly chosen to hit the spots of you that will be most affected. 

He’s unpredictable, possibly completely predictable if you’d been thinking with the parts of you that excelled in reason instead of the parts that excelled in emotion. 

But his unpredictable nature leaks into his actions, his desires, as his taunts turn from ones to break you down to ones that are designed to have you as putty in his hands. Promises to give you your deepest desires, ones you were previously sure that no one other than yourself and your diary knew. Claims that he could fulfill your wishes if you would just give in. 

It all sounds too good to be true, too simple and sweet and perfect. But again, rationale isn’t your strong suit at this point, so you’re standing before him, chest pressed to his, sooner than you realize it. 

Heads tilted, lips closing in on the others, tips of noses brushing until they poke at the others cheek as lips finally press together. 

Chapped pillows against moisturized, teeth clacking and spit swapping. It’s easy for you to forget that this is a trick, that this is all an elaborate scheme, while he kisses you like he wants it. 

The Nogitsune kisses you as if he’s trying to actually devour you. He sucks your saliva up as it pools between your mouths, he licks around your mouth and tongues at your bones, his hands claw at your body to pull you tighter and closer to him until you can feel the muscle tone of Stiles’ body. 

The grip he has on your waist –– slightly conservative as he almost refuses to venture down to your lower back –– has you stumbling, leaving your hands with nowhere else to go other than Stiles’ shirt. 

Stiles has worn this shirt many times before, the cotton relaxed around his muscles. But in the short time that the Nogitsune has been present in it, it’s become distressed, tiny tears in both of the shoulders, the color a little dull from what you can tell. 

The tears in the fabric have your hands pressing against Stiles’ bare skin while they fumble along the material. You flinch at the first press, surprised at just how chilled his skin is. 

In comparison, you feel like you’re on fire. 

Your body burns where he touches you, yet the parts his form doesn’t reach is unbearably cold, similar to his own body. You need him everywhere and nowhere all at once. You want what he can give you and resent the idea simultaneously. 

Two wars raging in your mind, knocking around your head until you have a pressure and a fog that demands your attention. 

Instead, you focus on reality. 

You focus on the bulge that presses against denim to reach you. You focus on the thigh coming between yours. You focus on the damp feeling in your shorts, pressed warmly against your cunt. 

Stiles’ thigh presses against your center and you sigh contentedly, eyebrows relaxing from their cinched position as you subtly start to submit in the Nogitsune’s hold. He breathes in when you breathe out, taking in every breath that you let out like you’re feeding them to him. He groans when you groan, echoing you. 

You’re lost in his movements, trying to decipher why he does what he does while also trying to enjoy the feeling, creating too much for your head to handle, and suddenly –– without realizing it –– you’re walking backwards, legs bumping into your bed, knees bending and body falling back to thud against the mattress. 

The Nogitsune doesn’t follow you. Instead, he stands at the edge, looking down at you. His eyes are dark and empty as they stare at your body from head to toe. Suddenly, you’re self conscious about his opinion, your tiny brain convincing you that the opinion of the Nogitsune correlates to that of Stiles. You shrink in on yourself, legs glued together at the knee, drawing up to your chest as you attempt to hide. 

The Nogitsune isn’t having it. 

He tuts, the bed dipping at the end under his weight as he kneels. Two rough and large hands find your bare knees and you shiver, both thankful and regretful that you’d decided on your smallest pair of shorts for the night as you’d previously been completely unaware and unable to guess that your night would take a turn like this. 

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s an order, one you wouldn’t dream of disobeying, fear of what would happen if you did preventing you from doing so. Either way, he’s spreading your legs open himself as he says it until they’re wide enough to welcome him in. 

He takes your forced spread as an invitation from you, shuffling forward until he’s completely situated between your legs. The Nogitsune’s hands press into the pillow beneath you, strong forearms belonging to Stiles caging you in. He stares down at you, analyzing your reaction as he slots one thigh between both of yours, the other resting on the outside of your left leg. 

“Pretty little thing like you,” he says, head tilting as his analyzing gaze shifts to one that resembles amazement. Wonder, even. 

“Innocent. An angel. Would never hurt a fly.” He’s spitting the words out now as if he doesn’t believe them. 

His eyes narrow, glazing over as if he’s not paying attention to you anymore, and then he blinks and you’re the main focus once more. “That’s what he’s telling me. He’s trying to get out, you know. Trying to convince me to stop. He’s begging.” He takes a second, eyes calculating as he watches you for a reaction. 

You think you don’t give him one, but there’s one hidden in the minute shifts of your features. 

“But you don’t want that, do you?” He comes to a conclusion. “You don’t want me to stop. If you did, you wouldn’t be humping my leg like a bitch in heat.” And you are, your hips having a mind of their own as they push and pull against the material on his legs.

You hadn’t even noticed it was happening, too busy taking in his words as if they’re a form of hypnosis. Maybe they were, because it’s not until he points out your mindless hip movements that you’re fully aware of them, hands clutching at the Nogitsune’s sides as you start to pleasure yourself. 

”Want me to please you?” His voice is sickly sweet, a teasing pout on his lips, his eyes faux soft and his thick eyebrows lifted. You know he’s mocking you, it’s evident in his voice and face. But you’re already submitting, wanting just that, and telling him with a sincere nod. “Yeah?” He shouldn’t sound as hot as he does, and you shouldn’t be as horny as you are. But at this point, you’re pushing aside nearly all of your morals, deciding instead to completely give in. 

“Yes. Please, Void.” 

His face twists into one of surprise at the nickname. “Is that what you all call me? ‘Void’.” You stop, fearing you’d angered the usually cool headed Nogitsune. Until he smiles, slight but enough to be seen, and his hands slide down to your cunt.

“Is that what you’ll call me when I bring you to completion?” 

Another nod from you, your hips starting to squirm with impatience. You’re not above begging, as you’ve proven time and time again tonight, but there’s no need. 

Void slides his hand down to the waistband of your shorts, separating the elastic from your skin enough to slide his hand beneath the thin layer. 

You’re not wearing any panties, something about minimal layers being good for vaginal health. In reality, few layers is best for easy access, proven with the way Void easily slides two fingers through your slit, pushing your lips apart to let you feel the cool air against your center. 

Goosebumps raise along your skin, your bedroom suddenly colder than it was before. 

“So fucking wet.” His words are nothing but an observation, he’s quite frankly pointing out the obvious. There’s no hidden meanings or underlying intentions woven between the syllables. It’s straightforward. 

And that’s probably why you’re so embarrassed about it. 

You try to close your legs, shy away from Void, but of course he doesn’t let you. 

He uses his free hand to push your knees apart, holding one of them down while his occupied hand flexes as he slides his two fingers down to tease your entrance. 

“You can’t hide from me, sweet thing. You know that, don’t you?” This is full of a double meaning. You feel the weight of the words as you start to surrender even more, body weighted into the mattress while Void slides Stiles’ middle finger into your fluttering walls. 

There’s barely any reaction, not much of a stretch nor enough stimulation to give you much. So Void adds a second, pushing your walls apart while he inserts. 

You hiss, hands instinctively going down to wrap around Void’s wrist. He doesn’t swat your hands away. He lets you wrap your fingers around his wrist, and his eyebrows raise as he waits for you to make a move. 

You don’t. 

Your hand limply sits curled around a slender wrist, not tight enough to really do anything at all. 

Void continues his slow torture, setting a pace for his fingers that leaves so much to the imagination. 

What would it be like faster? Could you hear the squelch that way? Do you want it faster? Since that would inevitably bring you to the end at a speed that would easily have you unfulfilled and desiring more. 

There’s not much room to think more, however, when Void starts lowering himself, eyes trained on yours while his head steadily moves down. 

When he’s above your navel, he presses a kiss right below it, and then his other hand digs into the elastic of your shorts to pull them down. You’re left bare, open, save for Void’s fingers momentarily filling you up. 

“Do you taste as good as you look? Hm?” he asks you, voice low and teasing. Completely unaware of the answer, you choose to not answer at all. But Void is determined, pulling his fingers out of you and floating them over to your mouth. 

Your lips part easily, without any verbal prompting from him. He slips the digits in, and lets you suck, dark eyes trained on your mouth while you clean the pale skin. 

His eyebrows raise to prompt you to answer his question. 

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” It’s snarky, but spoken like you’ve said the sweetest, most innocent thing in the world, words almost dainty as they saunter out in a single file line from your lips. 

He hums, eyes squinting as his lips raise in something that looks like admiration. “Got a mouth on you.” 

And then his hands are holding your thighs open as he slots his face between your legs. 

The first lick is slow, his tongue flat as he confidently traces it from just above your asshole to just above your clit. 

You gasp, not expecting that wide of a trail, and then you melt. 

Void’s fingers presses into your thighs as he situates them over his shoulders, giving him the perfect position to devour. 

Which, he does. 

You don’t know how you expected a dark spirit with thousands of years of age over you to give head, but any expectation you would have had wouldn’t have been nearly as good as it is. 

None of the previous ‘best head you’ve ever had’ exists in this room. In this space. In this moment. No conscious thoughts about the possible repercussions you’ll face from finally having Stiles’ head between your thighs, but in the most unconventional way. Nothing exists outside of Stiles’ mouth on your cunt, Void driving his actions as pleasure that knocks the breath out of you is introduced to your system. 

Your eyes stick to the ceiling, or they close, fear that if you look down you’ll either cum too fast and cease the best moment of your life, or you’ll be wracked with guilt when poised with Stiles’ eyes peering up at you. 

But of course, Void won’t let you off that easily. 

His command to look at him is so strong that you don’t even consider disobeying it. Instead, you stare down at him, eyes finding his like opposite ends of a magnet. You prepare for that guilt to make you physically sick. You prepare to get uncomfortably turned off and recoil in on yourself instead of spreading your legs wider for Void. 

It doesn’t come. 

Instead, you feel weirdly comforted, back arching further and your hand confidently coming down to thread through Stiles’ waves, the dark hair beginning to stick to his forehead with the physical exertion. 

Void pulls Stiles’ lips from your center, rosy-pink glistening before he licks them clean. You notice Stiles’ cheeks are turning a similar color and it’s then that something switches in your head. 

Suddenly, you see Stiles instead of the Nogitsune. It doesn’t help when you’re sent a smile that feels soft and familiar. 

You’re pushed out of your daze by the grate of his voice. 

“I bet you’re pretending I’m him, aren’t you?” 

He licks up your cunt once more, another long stripe that collects your pooled arousal just before he sucks at your clit. 

“Wanna scream his name while I make you cum? Hm?” It’s wrong, but you do. 

You nod, the movement small and shy as you wiggle your hips to demand attention. He gives in, pressing his lips back to your sensitive nerve endings. You start to chase your orgasm, grinding your hips against Void’s face as you begin to imagine it’s Stiles between your legs instead. It’s easy to do, especially when his face is shoved in your pussy. 

Stiles’ name falls from your lips with a stutter at first, unsure from your tongue as you test it. Void shakes his head. “Say it like you mean it,” he tells you before diving back in. 

He bares his teeth and nips on the bud, giving way for the name of the face he wears to push from your chest with more assurance this time. 

It’s the same name you moan when Void pushes you over the edge with his mouth alone.

With the post orgasm haze over your mind, bleeding into your body, it’s easier for you to see Stiles more than the Nogitsune. 

His face relaxed, the light in your room brightening his dark eyes. His lips pink and swollen and glistening, spreading into a satisfied smile as your breathing starts to level out.

Logic attempts to remind you that no matter how similar they look, this isn’t Stiles. But when Void softens his eyes, his hands shake a little at your side, and his smile lacks cockiness, it’s easier than it should be for you to forget. It’s easy for you to look past the pale skin and purple under eyes and messier-than-it-should-be hair and instead see your best friend. The guy you’ve been pining after since middle school.

“You’re prettier than you know.” Void presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, close to the junction of your pelvis and limb. The action shoves you back to reality, putting you in that post-orgasmic euphoric haze.  

“Too pretty for him.” Another kiss. “Should keep you close to me, shouldn’t I?” 

Maybe there’s something else affecting you other than your post-orgasm haze, because the thought starts to sound not so bad. You try to nod, but your body is heavy. You’re tired, but your body wants more. 

Shamelessly, you start to grind, a pathetic attempt of receiving friction from perhaps the air, since that’s the only thing you’re getting. You feel drunk, confused, and incredibly horny.

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, Void replying in a chuckle. 

“What? You want more?” 

You muster your strength to nod, and you can’t see it, but you look like the prettiest fucked out thing. 

Hair messy atop your head, lips swollen and slick and pouty, eyes glazed over and it looks like you’ll cry if Void turns down your advances. He briefly considers doing so, just to fuck with you, see what you’re like at your weakest, but he figures there’s another way to get you to that point. 

Void’s hand slides up your torso, palm wide and calluses rough against your soft body. He rises as he does so, hand cupping your jaw, face hovering over yours as he brings your attention solely to him. You blink dumbly, waiting for his next move. 

“You know I’m gonna need something from you, too, baby, right? And not just those pretty sounds you make when you cum.” You stare at him, feeling like it’s all you've been doing this entire encounter. But there are no words, nothing for you to say to him. 

You lick your lips and it takes longer than it should for a response to form in your head, each word appearing one at a time. “What … do you need?” 

He kisses the side of your neck and then his hand slides down to rest over the area. You stay still, breath sitting in your chest, unmoving. 

He sucks in a breath himself, as if he’s taunting you with how relaxed and unphased he is. Suddenly, you begin to feel like trapped prey. 

“I need to hurt you, honey.” He tilts his head, eyes scanning over your body, calculating. “Not a lot, just enough to feed myself.” His grip on your throat seems to get tighter, more secure. “That’s okay, right?” 

You’re dumb. So fucking dumb and clueless and desperate. 

Because you’re nodding, hand pathetically circling Stiles’ wrist when pressure is applied to the sides of your throat. 

“That’s a good girl.” He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek is struck. 

You gasp, the sound is an instinct from your body. It forces you to breathe, and the airflow combined with the sting from your cheek feels good. You wonder if they’ll be a mark tomorrow, and the thought excites you instead of worries you. 

You don’t consider the lie you’ll have to tell Scott or Lydia. You don’t think about how you’ll potentially feel looking in the mirror in the morning. All you think about is how you want Void to do it again. 

Especially when he looks like this while he does it: Veins along his arms and neck turning black as he seemingly takes the pain, not away like Scott can, but as Void takes your pain he adds to it. Multiplies it, even. 

It’s not filled with gloom, nor despair, but there’s something heavy that feels vaguely uncomfortable from the lack of attention, like an itch that needs to be scratched. 

You need more. 

Void seems to sense this. 

“On all fours,” he instructs you, hand leaving your neck to allow you to do as told. 

There’s the sound of shuffling, not just from you. Metal against metal, fabric against fabric. More shuffling, the added weight against the bed is gone, and then hands are pulling you back towards the edge. 

There’s barely any wait, any anticipation, before your walls are forcibly stretched. 

You wish you could see it, maybe if you were doing it in missionary, but beggars truly can’t be choosers and you’re perfectly fine with taking what you can get. 

Void is at least a few inches deep before you consider the option of protection. You bring it up to him, glancing over your shoulder and your voice wobbling as you say it. 

Void tuts as if he’s disappointed, shaking his head. 

“You don’t want his babies?” He speaks through a pout, the epitome of condescending. “Don’t want to be the whore with her crush’s seed festering in her womb? ‘Cause I think you do.” 

His hand presses flat against the middle of your back, pressing you down into the mattress, leaving you with your ass up. 

Void bottoms out completely, a hiss sounding through your teeth as you try to adjust as quickly as you can. 

He doesn’t give you much grace, instantly setting a pace that has you gasping, pornographic sounds slipping from between your lips. It’s nearly exactly as you’d imagined it, loud with the squelches of you and Void combining in the purest way possible. But it’s dirty, fast and lacking any neatness or grace. 

He fucks you just as you expected from him: Mercilessly, with little to no concern for how you feel. 

As if to emphasize this, he spanks you, the clap loud to the point where it seems fake. But the sting left behind on your left ass cheek begs to differ. 

It’s not long before his thrusts become erratic, most likely from the build up of the entire ordeal. A lack of rhythm becomes present as he fucks you harder, with more intention behind each aggressive snap of his hips into yours. You’re sent further and further into the mattress as he does so, your lips pressing against your definitely sodden sheets. You attempt to maneuver your head to where he can hear you, a plea for him to cum anywhere but inside of you desperately climbing up your throat. 

But it gets stuck behind your mouth. Void’s hand presses into the back of your head, forcing your face into the sheets, and just when you feel as if you can’t breathe, his hand wraps around your throat and he pulls you up, your back against his chest. 

His chin sits on your shoulder, his lips brush your earlobe as he speaks. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Fill you with little Nogitsune babies. Be a lot better than the little weaklings he would give you. Bet you would look so pretty carrying my kids. Tits all swollen,” his free hand circles around your waist at this point, climbing up to pinch an already sensitive nipple between his pointer and thumb. 

You hiss, attempting to recoil away from the clamp. There’s nowhere for you to go, completely closed in by Void in all places. He’s still in you, rock hard and hot and fucking up into your walls with a depth that stings, his tip not too far from your cervix. His body is around you, arms circled around you, hands at your neck and stomach, pressing you back against him. 

You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And with another orgasm brewing low in your belly, you want the opposite. It’s hard to admit, and it’s not like you will ever admit it, but you have the sudden craving for Void to fill you up. 

You whine, pretending to be disinterested by the thought he puts in your head. But Void continues speaking, voice heavy and a little slurred as he continues to take the pain he’s inducing. 

“Feel so good around me. It’s like this is how it was supposed to be. You and him. Maybe you two were made for each other.” He chuckles cruelly, almost taunting you with the idea. You have to bite back a sob because that sounds so nice, but it seems impossible after this. 

You can’t imagine Stiles ever wanting to be with you after this. 

“He wants that, too, you know. But ‘s not gonna happen when I’m here.” He kisses your cheek, and it would be romantic in any other situation. 

You can’t even consider the idea of romance when Void’s hand squeezes at your throat and his voice drops a few octaves as he tells you: “You’re mine.” 

His hand slides from your tit to between your thighs, two fingers circling your clit rapidly, meant to send you over the edge. You do so a few moments later, satisfied that he hadn't made you beg while your body completely relaxes until you let out a sound that is practically inhuman. 

It’s a mix between a growl and a moan and a sob. You sound like a wounded animal. And while Void cums in you, you feel like one too. 

He lets you go, allowing you to collapse face first into your bed. 

Both of you are still for a moment, Void's heavy body atop of yours as you both lay limply on your mattress. Of course, he moves first, separating from you and letting you lay there in silence.

There’s no tranquility, no comfort, just thick silence. 

You’re spent, fucked out as you attempt to catch your breath. 

It’s almost impossible to do so when Void lifts your hips a little and then presses his tongue flat against your entrance. You gasp, experiencing too much too soon, and again attempt to thrash away. He holds you still, strong hands holding you up as his lips pucker around your hole. He sucks, and it becomes clear to you that he’s retrieving his own cum from inside of you. 

When he’s finished, he flips you over and goes to your mouth, and it’s shameful that you still don’t have to be asked to open. You do it automatically, lips parting as Void presses his to yours. The swap is disgusting, both in taste and texture, but you lose yourself in the messiness of the kiss. 

By the time Void pulls away, there’s drool and cum from both of you sliding down your chin. He smiles at the sight, gently tapping your cheek before doing the same with a much harder slap on your abused cunt. 

This time, you don’t recoil, or writhe away, or even make a sound. You’re completely submissive, the only indicator of the pain being the way your stomach flexes.

Void grins, satisfied with how he’s made you. You expect more from him. You’re expecting him to tug his dick back up, so you’re sat watching him dumbly as he mechanically redresses.

You don’t move, too tired to do so, just blinking languidly while pale skin is recovered.

Just before Void leaves, he tells you: “I’m not done with you.”

And it’s both a threat and a promise. One you hope he keeps.

[ashipiko]

—NIKO CIMARRON

All information on Niko Cimarron ATM! Will most likely be updated ☆

—MORE UNDER CUT

BASIC INFORMATION:

Class: 2-A

Birthday: October 24

Height: 176cm

Dominant Hand: Right

From: Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands

Club: Film Studies (visits on occasion, inactive member)

Favorite Subject: Magic Analysis

Best Subject: Animal Languages

Likes: Making a profit

Dislikes: Getting outsmarted

Favorite Food: Berries / Berry flavored things

Least Favorite Food: Anything too hot

Specialty: Balancing on the line of lie and truth

GALLERY:

VOICE CLAIM:

YUU’S INTERVIEW:

— Scarabia Dorms - Niko’s Room —

for easier reading, all yuu dialogue will be in italics and all niko dialogue will be in a normal black font instead of green.

There you are. Surprised you came to visit me, Carrots.

> You know what I’m here for, Niko.

> Why are you surprised?

No need to act like that. Interview, right? Or should I say an interrogation? If you wanted to hang out with me, you didn’t need to hide around the bush, you know…

It’s cute seeing you all dodgy, but still. ♡

> I think it matches your vibe.

> You’re one to talk.

Yeah, yeah. How many questions do we have planned for today? Don’t take too long, now. I’ve gotta start pumping out those treats for my profit.

…Oh. No need to worry about a pen and paper, I’ve got one for you.

> I didn’t expect for you to be so prepared.

> (…They’re cuter than expected.)

Something something about matching the vibes… They’re modeled after an old movie about cops and so, interrogating. Figured you’d like them. A carrot for Carrots. It’s cute.

It’s about time to start though, huh?

> Yeah.

> No more wasting time.

INTERVIEW: START!

1. Can we get some basic info about you from��� you?

A second year Scarabia student who’s a fox beastman. I guess I’m what you’d call a charmer, thief of the heart, man of your dreams… I’ve heard it all. But the real name’s Niko. Niko Cimarron. My surname means “Wild”, so you could call me Mr. Wild if you like that too. Heh, actually, it’s a business thing, so I guess you’d only call me that if you bought my products… Say, Carrots, you feeling like you need a snack? I have some lefties if you’d like.

> No thanks.

> Why not?

They’re tasty, I prommie~.

2. Speaking of which, what are your “pawpsicles” made from? How do you make them?

Those little things? Why, I’ll let you know I put my blood, sweat, and tears in those treats. Makes me happy to see other people happy, like the faces on a thaumark. To make ‘em, it’s just some tasty berries from the school grounds that get mushed up to get juice, where they go into a mold and freeze up. It’s hard work! I’ve gotta walk so many steps around the school and all across campus… You’re lucky you never saw me in my first year. Took me a while to get used to the schedule… Though, I’m a well-organized man now, I’ll have you know. It’s good for the public image.

3. You’re from the Shaftlands, aren’t you? Do you have any connections to Vil, Cater, or Jack?

Connections? I have them with everyone, really… though I don’t think those three are really aware I came from the same place as them. To be fair, the Shaftlands is a pretty big area. People even go as far to call it a utopia.

If anything, I’ve talked to Diamond more at NRC than anywhere in the Shaftlands. Is that because I never even saw him once? Maybe. So I can’t say about back then, but I can enjoy a good conversation with him now. He’s a good customer and a good influencer. Back then, he got me a good chunk of costumers off of a Magicam post, so I’ve got to give it to him. Who knew people could just follow trendy things at the drop of a hat? Crazy, right?

Vil is a major celebrity, and Jack, I didn’t even know existed ‘till this year. I’ve got nothing to say about Mr. Hardhead, but I’ve had my fair share of talks with Vil. When we were kids, I got a wave from him once… It was great bragging rights. Heh, he kinda freaks me out now though. The reason why I don’t actually participate in club activities. He’s probably too high of a standard for a lowlife like me, so it’s not something that bothers me anyway.

4. You don’t seem to have a Unique Magic. Any reason why?

Ah. Magic? A little bit of a sour topic for me, Carrots, ow… I’m just a late bloomer, is all. I’ve got magic in me, but I never played around with it when I was younger, so I’m way more rusty than all of the other guys here. It doesn’t mean I don’t know the brain stuff, though. Just inexperienced.

If I’m being dead honest, it’s kind of a miracle how I got into NRC. I guess they wanted the fox vote, huh? Heh.

5. Not sure if I’ve seen you around a lot with one particular person. Is there a secret someone?

Secret someone? Getting jealous, are you? Haha, I would’ve never taken you to be the type!

> Not the focus of the question.

> That’s not…!

It’s your fault for wording it like that. You’ve got to watch your words, Carrots. Well, the business life is a cold one, isn’t it? Being around a bunch of highschool guys isn’t really the “ideal” grounds for making business partners either, so it is what it is. At least this way, I get all the profits, so I don’t mind. If you want, I can save a spot for you by my side. ♡

> Again, no thanks.

> Maybe after I get a break from all the things this school brings.

Keep me in mind~.

6. Our last question. You say a lot of random stuff. People get annoyed with it pretty often. How do you feel about that?

…? Oh, you picked up on it, huh? Heh, I mean… I guess I could come clean. I think it’s interesting you haven’t walked away from me yet, y’know. Usually people aren’t into this stuff.

> You are annoying, but…

> (Would it be mean to say something?)

I appreciate you, Carrots. A little too much than I’d like.

Usually people don’t really like the stereotypical foxiness I bring to the table. They run away because I’m either something they don’t wanna get mixed up with, or just something they don’t like. I think you’re a weirdo who’s looking for entertainment when you come into my room and talk to me like this.

…But I guess that just means that you like the way I talk to you, right? You can’t get enough? Is that what’s happening here? ♡

> For a second, I thought you were going to need some comfort, but I guess not.

> Really, it’s fine, Niko…

Don’t pretend like your cheeks aren’t a little red. I like the reactions I get out of you. ♡

Is that all you wanted? Yeah? Alright, we’re done here, then. Hand me the pen, would ya?

> It was nice being able to talk to you like this.

> (That was a quick turnaround.)

…Yeah. Hurry on up, shouldn’t you be studying up on actual things worth studying? Live up to that Smarty McSmart Pants title. Bye-bye now~.

INTERVIEW: END!

> (I feel like Niko’s more than meets the eye.)

> (I feel like Niko’s… hiding something.)

.

.

.

TRIVIA:

Niko is twisted off of Nick Wilde from Zootopia!

Niko is actually magicless. Not entirely, as he does have some running in his blood, so he didn’t lie, but it’s not enough where he can successfully conjure spells. Because of this, at NRC, he often has to get by with con-artist type excuses and acts. It works most of the time, as he has Crowley’s support. For now, he’s getting by with the excuse of being a late bloomer, but I’m sure suspicions are beginning to rise… Perhaps, if it were to be found out that he’s unable to conjure spells, he would be kicked out of NRC.

He made it to NRC after being dared to attempt to con his way in by his magicless best friend. His name is not noted, but he’s a very angry and violent French fennec fox. Niko is often bullied by him.

He can be considered a fan of Vil.

Niko enjoys the pop genre a lot, but is embarrassed to admit it.

Despite being a playboy, Niko is easily flustered at the thought of someone seriously making moves on him.

Niko can also count as a bit of a heartbreaker. For the romantics around the school, everyone knows Niko as that kid who’ll charm you for a week and leave you heartbroken when he inevitability rejects you. It’s not anything against anybody, really, but more so the fact that Niko can’t ever imagine dating someone before he tells them his secret. It feels unfair to him. But people take offense to it nonetheless, the heartbroken people usually cutting Niko off as soon as they figure out that there won’t be anything working between them.

Because of the way some people leave him as soon as they sense no romance, Niko finds the concept of love to be sort of flaky. It takes a while for him to develop a crush, despite his flighty, flirty attitude.

Due to being a class 2-A student, Niko often ends up selling his treats most often there. Kalim and Silver are his number one customers, as Kalim buys bundles of them to give to Scarabia members, and Silver buys them for Lilia to enjoy.

Niko attends the Playful Land event and ends up staying in contact with Fellow Honest afterwards. This relationship ends up contributing a lot to Niko’s development.

Even though he doesn’t want to, he feels obligated to play into the deceitful foxiness of himself, because that’s what people naturally expect of him. It stops them from getting curious about him, as it seems like they’ve already got him figured out.

He says things that are considered shallow, like flirting or bargaining because he wants to get a reaction out of people. Niko does small things like this for small reactions — enough of these small reactions will fulfill the same satisfaction of seeing someone he loves flustered or happy, he thinks. In truth, he knows it won’t amount to much. Niko tries to satisfy himself enough so that he won’t need the real thing.

Niko feels very guilty for deceiving everyone at NRC, especially the prefect. Even still, he doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he truly doesn’t belong here, taking up a spot possibly for somebody who deserves it much more.

Niko’s way of thinking suggests that if he acts distasteful enough, it will cause people to stray far away from him. He believes that he really is just a lowlife fox, but the truth of his actions is something he think people would hate him for most; living in a lie. Because of this, he acts like a playboy and an annoyance in attempts to get people to stay away, preventing them from finding out the even uglier truth of him.

Additionally, he’s afraid to have the truth leak out because he doesn’t want to leave NRC. Though he doesn’t have much, he doesn’t want to lose the little bit he does have, and the little bits he keeps on gaining.

Even still, Niko craves for someone who will take time to understand him. Which is why he’s so attached to the prefect.

More to be added!

^ the pawpsicle icons in this relationship chart represent whether if the character is an avid pawpsicle enjoyer (has the icon), has experienced it once but never had it again (once!), and if they have never had it.

[lexirosewrites]

I guess I kinda missed slick Sunday, but I suppose these are headcanons for after the heat fun? After realizing the realities of birth, anyway:

-post pardum omegas who end up very aggressive towards even their mates

-Steve who was so sure he was completely prepared for the challenges of a newborn and just falling apart when he feels anger towards his own pup

-ripping apart bedding or clothing because nothing feels right

-rejecting food or items given by Eddie or any other alpha (not because he doesn't want them but because his brain won't let him)

-feeling overwhelmed by the pup(s) but when Eddie or anyone else tries to take them for a while, Steve still gets possessive and nesty and territorial

-not connecting right away with the pup's scent and panicking about rejecting the pup

-or worse, actually experiencing some form of rejection illness BECAUSE the pup scent doesn't click right away

Sorry these were kinda out of the blue, but I figured they could be some interesting headcanons for you!

i will cry🥲

…

poor Steve would try so hard to keep it all hidden from both Eddie and the rest of his pack. feeling like he’s going crazy— or worse, like he’s a bad omega and bad mother to his pup.

and Eddie can sense there’s something off, but he doesn’t want to act paranoid. Steve’s always communicated before this when there was a problem. maybe it’s just the lack of sleep they’re both getting… maybe it’s the way their lives now revolve around a scrunkly little potato that keeps crying and going through endless diapers.

it’s probably nothing. just a transition of sorts.

but then Steve starts actually growling at Eddie when he tries to get in the nest. that turns into turning away food from his mate. not letting his alpha hold the baby, even if Steve is utterly exhausted and ready to collapse.

all the while, Steve looks miserable. his wet eyes are full of apologies as he’s hissing at Eddie for getting too close to him and the pup.

Steve’s trying to find reasons for why he’s tearing apart his own carefully built nest.

Eddie has to watch as his omega loses himself completely. has a front row seat to Steve’s mental breakdown when he finally admits “i- i’m not doing well, Eddie… i think i need a doctor.”

they’re at the hospital an hour later…

and home once more a week after, happier than can be after some medication adjustments and an intense therapy schedule for Steve.

they’re ready for it the next time and they don’t let this break them— don’t let it stop them from having the big family they always wanted.

in fact, Steve ends up heading the weekly omega postpartum survivors meetings at the local library, eager to share what he’s learned and help others too.

Eddie couldn’t be prouder of the strong omega he’s bonded to.

[catscidr]

˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ 𝐤!𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏: 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐤!𝐧𝐤 // — 𝐟𝐭. 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮/𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.

i. note — OFF TO A ROUGH START the kenny/geto fic ended up being a whopping 4,5k so i edited it down to be roughly 2k (the full ver is gonna be on ao3 though!) so if the writing seems funky That's Why + im still not completely used to writing smut yet. similar thing kinda happened w zhongli but i went fuck it we ball so im sry if the smut feels short bare with me. im stressed. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) anyways pls enjoy and happy kinktober lads ii. includes — amab!kenjaku (geto's appearance), zhongli. afab!reader iii. cw — kinda mean dom!kenjaku, he's referred to as suguru for Reasons, dubcon bc power dynamics, manipulation, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, one singular cl!t slap, praise and degradation, he's a yapper. -> can very well be read as a mean!suguru/reader if u choose to ignore that one line about his forehead lol — soft dom!zhongli, hu tao cameo, praise, fingering, some whimpering, piv, implied multiple orgasms, a lil breathplay, he nuts dubiously fast, implied round 2 iv. wc — 4,3k -> ao3 link for the full kenjaku fic here!

— 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆./𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮.

“So, according to your medical records, you’ve never had a pap smear. Is that correct?” 

Your blood runs cold. Shit, I didn’t think he would bring THAT up during a normal, unassuming routine checkup. I’m so fucked. 

“Ah, um... no, I haven’t,” you respond sheepishly, clenching your teeth so hard you wonder if he can tell just how hard you’re trying not to bolt out of the door. 

If he wasn’t a medical professional, Suguru would have made a fine actor; and so, as all normal doctors do, he belts you with numerous questions you loathe answering, one of them being the infamous; 

“Are you sexually active?” 

Swallowing down the urge to flee the scene, away from those stupid fluorescent lights and that irritating cleaning solution smell, you answer as normally as you possibly can. “I have been, but-” 

“Have you been made aware that all female bodies that have been sexually active should get a pap smear as soon as they turn 21?” he adds, jotting something down in his notes—your personal file, you assume. 

You gulp, internally thinking of excuses to worm into the conversation. “I have, yes. But Doctor Ieiri told m-” 

“I’m sorry, but I am not Doctor Ieiri. I want the best for my patients, even if some procedures can be uncomfortable. That’s just the way life is; but I’ll do my best to accommodate your needs.” Suguru gives you a patient smile and a nod, though he was firm and, honestly, quite stubborn. 

Relenting, you murmur a quiet ‘okay’, already justifying this, telling yourself that it could be worse. You could be getting a pap smear from an old man that still believe women shouldn’t be allowed ibuprofen when getting an IUD inserted. 

“Great! Then please take off your pants and underwear. I’ll step out to give you some privacy.” Suguru flashes you an award-winning smile as he leaves the vicinity, drawing back the light curtain that separated his actual office to the examination room. 

All blood drains from your being as you listen to the sound of his footsteps fading, and instead you’re met with heavy, oppressive silence. 

... 

You knew getting a pap smear would be uncomfortable, that much was a given, but you didn’t think it would be near as humiliating as this. Doctors witness people both inside AND out, day and night; so pray tell, why were you sweating bullets at the prospect of your doctor doing his job? Was it because he was infuriatingly attractive and the thought of someone like him performing your pap smear was enough to get your blood rushing south? 

(Obviously.) 

“You’re doing great,” he coos encouragingly. “Do you need a moment?” 

You blink away the tears that glossed your eyes, and nod sheepishly. He flashes you a smile and gently pulls out the speculum. You wince, but the sting wears off quickly. As a silent apology, he slides the hand that rested on your stomach down until it reaches your pelvis and applies slight pressure. 

“Deep breaths.” 

You inhale slowly, eyes fluttering shut. Right when you started to feel calmer, you jolt; his thumb brushes against your clit, a movement that seemed too calculated to be an accident. Your eyes snap open and as you look down, you’re met with his eyes piercing into yours as he continuously rubs you, almost casually. 

“W-Wha-” 

He shushes you by pressing his thumb down firmly, earning himself a nice, breathy whimper. 

“You need to relax. Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, lips curling upwards. 

Your eyes zero in on the way his thumb smears your slick all over your clit— and his hand. You’re so wet that you can hear your pleasure, squelching noises violating your ears with the repetitive movements of his thumb, and you feel the coil inside of you tighten in tandem with his fingers. Tighter and tighter, aggressively shoving you towards your rapidly incoming climax. 

And God the latex of his glove rubs against your skin so deliciously. Your hips roll up to meet his hand for more stimulation you don’t even think you can handle. You’re so lost in the pleasure he’s giving you that you don’t even notice how desperate you look until he laughs, the noise sounding so incredibly sweet in your ears despite your humiliating predicament. 

Straightening his back, Suguru breaks eye contact to peer down at your slick cunt. “You’re dripping so much it’s getting on the table. Did you even notice you were this aroused, or were you too focused on drilling holes into me to realize it?” He scoffs, decidedly amused at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing while he continues to stimulate your needy clit. 

You want to deny his (correct) assumptions, to pull away and leave this damn building until further notice, but God was he skilled with his hands. His fingers were dangerous, lethal even. 

“I’m n-” 

Your breath hitches when he smacks your clit, his sharp brows furrowing as he sneers at you and your blissful expression betraying what you wished to say. It shouldn’t, but the sight turns you on in a way you’d never say without squirming in shame. “Don’t lie to me now. How long have you been wet for?” 

Shaking your head, you purse your lips in a tight line, ashamed to admit that you had been ever since he first started the examination. 

Scoffing, he stands up, towering over you from between your legs. He leans over you, cupping your face as he forces his thumb past your lips, making you taste yourself and the polymer fabric of the glove on his thumb. 

“You didn’t think I’d notice? You started fidgeting quite a lot once I started the checkup. Was it the proximity? Do you find me so attractive you forget how to act normally?” he gloats, pushing his thumb down onto your tongue. Looking up at him through dewy eyelashes, you swallow the saliva that pools in your mouth.

He grins, lowering his face closer to yours; some strands of his hair come undone from the bun, and you feel drawn to his gaze. You can’t look away—neither figuratively or literally. You stare into his eyes, drinking in the sight of his picturesque features, and that painful-looking but intriguing scar running across his forehead. 

(You’re not sure you would look away even if you had a choice, anyways.) 

“Do you have a fetish for doctors or something? How filthy,” he croons. “Or is it my gloves? Do you like feeling my hands prodding at your cunt? And here I was, trying to be useful.” When you whimper around the thumb in your mouth, he knows he’s guessed correctly. 

(He’s so pretty. Vague images of him—his hands—appear in your mind. You want him to pin your wrists together while he fingerfucks you, you want him to wrap a hand around your throat while he scissors you open, you want—) 

He uses his free hand to glide it between your legs and slides his fingers up and down your slit to collect your juices. It drips down his fingers, past the polymer of his glove down to the porcelain skin beneath it. “I bet there isn’t going to be any resistance when I slide my fingers in,” he pulls out his thumb from your mouth and smears your saliva on your lips, then cups your cheeks with said hand. “Want to find out?” 

You gasp when he pushes his ring and middle fingers inside simultaneously as your walls flutter so nicely around them—with the dexterity of, well, a doctor, he quickly finds that spongy spot inside of you and abuses it until you’re a writhing, squirmy mess. 

Moans slip freely from your tender lips, a cacophony of wet slaps and ‘ah! ah!’’s echo in the room while Suguru drinks in the sight of your body submitting up to him. 

“There you go, wasn’t this worth putting your trust in me?” he uses the opportunity to slip two fingers inside of your mouth with the hand that held your face, muffling your slutty moans. “Aren’t you glad you let me do your pap smear? Aren’t you glad I could tell how badly you wanted this?” 

A choked whimper rips through you when he begins to use his thumb to rub your clit at the same time as he bullies his fingers in your wet pussy. His lips stretch into a sinister grin as he watches you struggle to catch your breath; you were so overwhelmed your head spun, oxygen failing you. 

You latch your hands around his forearm and wrist as you try to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure; though your attempts are in vain. “P-Please! I can-can't take much... more...!” you manage to choke out. 

He laughs, his own breathing becoming shallower and shallower the more he pushes you near the edge of your orgasm. “I don’t care, I’ll make you take it if I have to. Come on, you can be good for me, can’t you?” 

You drool around the fingers he kept in your mouth as tears threaten to slide down your cheeks, overwhelmed with how much he kept rubbing you from the inside and out. Cracking your eyes open, you take a peek at the mess between your legs, and immediately clench around him when you catch but a glimpse of the mix of dried and wet slick on his blue glove. 

He notices and slows down the rhythm of his fingers thrusting inside you, letting you catch your breath for a moment. “So filthy,” he hums condescendingly. “Since you love my hands so much, you won’t mind cleaning them off, right?” 

Your poor, fucked-out brain doesn’t have the time to process what he meant before you whine at the loss of his thick fingers inside your cunt and then are immediately met with those same fingers thrust past your lips, making you gag around them. The tangy taste of your juices hits your tastebuds as you wrap your tongue around them, dutifully doing as he asked. 

His sharp eyes meet your own cloudy ones, seemingly satisfied. “Good girl,” he coos. “Who would have known that someone like you would get off to sucking off a glove.” You whine, holding onto his free hand to bring it between your legs, batting your eyelashes up at him needily.  

“Hm? Does my filthy little patient want to cum?” You shudder as he drags his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your slick to flick your clit. You choke around the fingers in your mouth, whining, almost crying, and your eyelids flutter shut, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally surrender yourself to him. 

“Of course she does.” He plunges three fingers inside your cunt, bullying them in and out over and over and over until you can’t even lick and suck on his fingers anymore. You’re too busy letting out loud moans as he abuses your sweet spot endlessly; long forgotten are the worries that plagued your mind earlier. All you could think of was Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

A shudder runs down his spine as he watches you writhe in pleasure, and for a moment he imagines just how much worse you would look if he had teased your tits or kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. If the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot instead of his fingers. 

(Maybe he should bribe the secretary and make her schedule your next doctor’s visit with him instead of Ieiri.) 

“That’s it, come on. Cum on my fingers.” Your lips wrap around the fingers in your mouth, teeth grazing them just barely as you try to contain your moans.  

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you clench around his gloved fingers as he continuously rubs up into your sweet spot. The coil in your abdomen snaps; slick gushes out of you, forming a thin sheen on his fingers. 

“F-Fuck—!” With trembling thighs, you gush and moan; Suguru pulls his hand away from your face, cooing sweet nothing into your ears that your brain can’t even process while thrusting his digits into you at a slower pace to drag out your orgasm. After almost wringing his fingers dry with how hard you came, you lay numb on the examination bed, chest heaving while you try to catch your breath and come to your senses. 

Your eyelids flutter open just in time to watch your doctor lick his gloved fingers clean, humming as he tastes your juices. “Sweet,” he hums, never breaking eye contact with you. “Here, since you loved them so much.” With swift movements, he tosses his gloves on your chest, grinning at your astonished expression. 

“Well, nothing’s wrong with you,” he says as he stands tall, rolling his shoulders to lessen the strain from being hunched over you for a solid ten minutes. When you respond with nothing but a quiet, blissed-out ‘huh’ he scoffs, decidedly amused. 

He clarifies, voice light and casual. “The pap smear. Nothing abnormal in there.” 

Feeling your face heat up, you’re unsure if you should curse out or thank Doctor Ieiri for taking a vacation at the same time you needed to schedule your annual checkup.

— 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life for Celestia to reward you with the most caring, loving boyfriend in the world but you’re not complaining—not one bit. 

Even something as banal as waking up next to him is a blessing in it of itself; watching his hair drape over bare shoulders, locks shimmering like a river of gold beneath the sun’s rays peeking through your curtains—you could die happy if it meant dying at his side. 

You get to admire him when he goes through his—your morning routine. Brushing your teeth together, cooking and then eating breakfast together, basking in the lively sounds of the city beneath your patio as you engage in easy, comfortable conversation with none other than Rex Lapis while you eat. 

The one thing you’re certain you would never tire of—not that you’d get tired of anything when it came to him either way—is watching him get dressed. 

There’s something so comforting and entirely domestic when it comes to helping your lover slip out of his pajamas and into his day clothes. Kisses are a common form of currency between you two, exchanged gingerly when you hand him an article of clothing. He never fails to make you feel loved, and you bask in the affection like a cat sprawled out beneath a window on a sunny afternoon. 

Though, one sure-fire way to obliterate the cozy atmosphere within your flat is, you’ve recently discovered, to stare at Zhongli just a liiittle bit too hard when he gets dressed. 

Specifically, his arms and hands. 

Strong, scarred biceps that used to reshape the mountains of Liyue leading to elegant, lithe fingers. Sleeves that hide intricate, delicate black and grey markings on his arms that fade into a rich golden yellow, adorned with veins of the same color that make him look even more expensive than he already does. 

But when he adds the finishing touch and slips on those pretty gloves with his rings? 

It’s like you just defy all normal bodily functions and start ovulating even if you’re nowhere near that part of your cycle. 

“Dearest? You’ve been zoning out a lot lately, is everything alright?” 

...Though, of course, Zhongli hasn’t been up to date with your newly raging hormones because how are you supposed to tell him you can’t help popping a metaphorical boner every time he puts his gloves on.

“You’re fi—I mean, I’m fine! Yes. Everything’s okay!” 

He is the concept of temptation itself. You’re certain that if you had a dick, you would have passed out cold on the floor from your blood rushing down to your hard-on every time you merely lay eyes on his beautiful self.

And it’s gotten even worse these last couple of days; all because he cupped your cheek one morning before he left for the funeral parlor, and left a salacious kiss on your lips that left more than just your usual desire brewing in your abdomen. The material of his gloves left your skin feeling pleasantly tingly for a reason you couldn’t explain.

….Those stupid gloves.

“I can tell something’s bothering you.” Long legs stride over the bed as he closes the distance between you two. “What’s wrong?” 

He’s half-dressed, with his tie slung around his nape and both his vest and tailored coat lying flat on your shared bed, next to where you sat. You sheepishly avoid eye-contact; with how perceptive he is, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hit you with a nonchalant ‘hey babe are you turned on because of my hands and gloves?’ 

No.

Yes.

“It’s nothing,” you hum. “You should finish getting dressed, don’t you have a meeting in half an hour? Director Hu won’t be happy if you-” 

Zhongli places his thumb and forefinger on and beneath your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “That’s not what I asked, darling.” You suppress a gasp; but focusing on anything but the scrumptious man in front of you is a task more daunting than Sisyphus having to carry that stupid boulder up that stupid mountain. 

“Promise you won’t laugh.” Your voice comes out so meek you fear he might make you repeat yourself, but ever the gentleman, Zhongli merely hums, coaxing you to continue. “I won’t,” he says softly. 

You swallow, clearing out your throat before speaking. “It’s, uh,” you murmur. “Your gloves are... nice...”

Unable to hold his gaze, you look away. The warmth of the morning sun beating on your back isn’t entirely helping your situation, as beads of sweat form at your hairline from the sheer pressure he kept over you. Curse his Archon blood.

But Zhongli merely stares, lids relaxed as he tries to dissect you with his eyes. “They are, thank you,” he chuckles quietly, lips curling up into a soft smile. “Are you sure that’s everything, though? You know you can tell me anything, right my dear?” 

“Um,” you deflate, partly wishing for that to be the end of it. “...Are you sure you won’t laugh?” 

“I promise,” he confirms. 

Huffing, you internally think of how much mora you would have to take out of your savings to get a name change and disappear off the face of Teyvat if he ends up going back on his promise. 

“Your gloves,” you reiterate slowly. “I like them. A lot.” 

He blinks, expression entirely unchanging as he keeps staring. He tilts his head, wordlessly expressing complete and utter confusion.

“They’re, uh... I’m just.” You clench and unclench your hands at your sides, too aware of his calm breathing compared to your erratic heartbeat. “...Youmakemehorny.” 

With your fists clenching the sheets and your gaze firmly planted on the wall, you fail to notice the amused quirk of his lips and his shoulders bobbing up and down from holding in his laugh. “What was that?” 

You exhale sharply as your lips press into a tight line, but his patience greatly outweighs your own and you fold. “Your gloves turn me on! It’s hot! When you wear them!” 

True to his word, Zhongli doesn’t laugh—not a peep. You do think you hear a chuckle leave his lips though, but when you finally glance at him again, you’re met with a look that might have made you implode on the spot if this were your first time together. “Zhongli—” 

“Thank you for being open with me, my dear,” he cuts you off smoothly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. Pulling away slowly, he looks at you with such intensity that you fear for your legs in the future. “Shall I reward you?” 

... 

“Ngh—Zhongli...!” 

You two had been at it for... what, twenty? Thirty minutes straight? You don’t remember what happened after you admitted what had been on your mind for almost a week; he wasted no time and immediately got to work. 

Talk about dedication. 

Chin covered in your slick, Zhongli laps up the juices spilling out of your puffy pussy, dragging out your last orgasm—the third of the session. He groans as the sweet taste hits his tastebuds, the Archon’s hips unconsciously rutting against the bed; the tent in his slacks was borderline painful, but being the gentleman he is, it was his duty to get you off before the main course.

“Ride it out darling,” he hums, pumping two gloved fingers in and out of you at a leisurely pace. The obscene noise of your juices echo in your mind, making you clench around his digits with carnal need for something more—something bigger. 

“I-I can’t, I want...” you trail off, weakly tugging at his disheveled hair. The hair tie he used slipped uselessly off of his locks, having fallen victim to your vicious pulling of his hair. “Please, baby,” you beg weakly, still choked up from your climax(es).

With one last, long lick, he pulls away from your cunt. The sight of his cum covered face makes you whine with desire, but as your eyes trail down, your mind immediately forgets about needing his tongue back on your clit. He shuffles up the bed and straddles your hips, bucking up against your wetness.

Slick covers his crotch, and you can’t help but stare at his bulging cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. “See something you like?” he taunts, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to lick them clean from your juices.

You stare at his lips, then back down to his very obvious hard-on, and back to his lips again.

His figure shadows yours as he cages you in with his forearms, golden eyes piercing into your own. “Zhongli...” you reach down to tug at his belt, looking up at your beloved with big, glossy eyes. “Please don’t make me beg.” 

A hand comes up to your face, stroking your cheek gently. He brings it down to tug on your bottom lip, smearing his saliva on your skin as a gentle smile spreads across his face. “Of course not, darling,” he hums. “I know what you need anyways, so there’s no need to tell me.”

He swiftly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, exposing the prominent wet patch on his briefs. “See what you do to me?” Zhongli purrs, watching your fingers impatiently pull down his underwear, shuddering when his heavy cock smacks against your cunt. “You’re not the only one here that gets riled up in such a way.” 

You whine, dragging your hand up and down his throbbing length, pushing it down at the same time as you slide up the bed just enough for his flushed tip to snag onto your entrance. 

“Z-Zhonglii...!” you huff again, impatiently grinding down onto him, desperately needing him to fill you already. A chuckle slips past his lips, and he pulls himself out of his short-lived trance that consisted of staring at his beautiful partner to cup your face. 

“I’m sorry darling,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your nose so gently it feels like a butterfly brushed your flushed skin. “You just looked too beautiful not to admire.” 

The compliment makes heat bloom onto your face, but as quickly as your expression melted into a love-stricken one, it morphs into pleasure as you gasp, feeling him push his fat cock into your needy hole.

“Fuck—so tight,” he mumbles, slowly bottoming out. “Are you alright, darling? Do you need a minute?” Zhongli huffs, brows pinched together as he exerts his self-control to not just ram himself into you immediately. You shake your head quickly, jaw slack, desperately trying to create more friction against your g-spot. 

“Please just—” you choke on your words, feeling him pull back and thrust into you again in one swift movement, the slap of skin against skin making your skin burn with both arousal and embarrassment. 

Zhongli’s right hand slides down to pull your shirt up over your chest, and almost immediately he gropes your breast, groaning at the feeling of the fat of your tit spilling out from between his fingers. 

“So good to me,” he praises, amber gaze burning into you, studying your expression to burn it within his mind. “I can feel you clenching around me.”

He swallows, trying so hard not to bust right then and there. “D’you want to cum, darling? Are you close?” 

Whimpering, you grab his left wrist and tug, looking up at him with a gasp. “Mhm,” you hum quietly, while biting your lip. Shlick sounds invade your eardrums, forcing soft little gasps to leave your lips in tandem with his thrusts. 

“My sweetheart.” The Archon slides his left hand down your face to your throat, pushing down just enough to make your head feel lighter. The cold metal of his rings makes a shiver run up your spine, and as you choke out a gasp, Zhongli brings his other hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

“Go on, cum for me darling.” He grunts, shutting his eyes to hold his impending orgasm back. “P-Please, need to feel that gorgeous pussy milking me before I do,” he breathes out, focusing on the pressure he kept on your throat. 

Your eyelids flutter; and as your eyes roll up to the back of your head, you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, clenching dangerously around his shaft. He thrusts once, twice, and you feel the dam snap as you gush around him, your back arching clean off the bed. You claw at his arms, writhing against the bed as moans leave your throat in waves in rhythm with your orgasm.

Zhongli’s brows furrow and his thrusts slow as you cum, but right as he blinks the bleariness away and meets your glossy, fucked-out gaze, he feels his heart clench. 

“Haah, m-my love—” 

Unable to speak a warning into existence, he shoots his load into you, painting your walls white with thick, warm cum. Pretty moans leave him as his head droops down to the junction of your neck, and his hips stutter while instinctively pushing his cum deeper into you, overstimulating both you and himself. 

“Z-Zhongli, ‘s too much,” you whimper, pressing your palms onto his clothed chest—a poor attempt of pushing him away. “Too full...!” 

Reluctantly, he gives you some breathing room and sits on his haunches to catch his breath. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, he hums, pressing his hand on your lower stomach to watch the cum pool down the sheets with a hungry gaze. “Mm, I beg to differ,” he coos, flashing you a smirk. “There’s plenty of space left still.”

Your limbs rest numbly as you lay there on your shared bed, completely breathless. Your gaze flickers to the hand he kept on top of your stomach, and your pussy instantly clenches at the sight. 

“Then... how about round two?” 

v. taglist — @leiselotte, @sukunadckrider, @moraxnomora, @skylar896, @callinz, @animecinnamonroll99 , @pe4rl-diver, @kimisukimimi, @casuallynotthirsty, @coffee-ground-bones

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 5

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

Mentions of Child abuse and neglect, Cassian feels horrible, Azriel gets a broken nose and for once, Rhys is actually not that horrible?!

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

For as long as Cassian could think, his brother had the unfortunate habit of not actually talking about his problems. Cassian liked to complain. Azriel never did, regardless of what went on in his life. 

He stayed silent, seemingly thinking that even the slightest annoyance was something that he deserved for some god-forsaken reason. 

So it shouldn’t actually surprise him that Azriel decided to go completely silent. He should be well used to it by now. 

And still, Cassian worried. 

“Anything new from Az?” he badgered Rhys during dinner, who just sighed. 

“No.”

Mor was already rolling her eyes because he already had annoyed her during this week. He had not gotten a proper answer out of Mor either, because Mor had absolutely no clue where Azriel was or what he was doing. Amren had threatened to behead him if he asked her again if she knew anything and had then decided that not showing up for dinner was probably in her best interests, so Rhys was his next, long-suffering victim. 

(Nesta had threatened to geld him, and he was kinda taking her threat seriously, so he had already exhausted that avenue of enquiry as well…and Feyre knew nothing as well.) 

“And he really didn’t tell you what it was about?” Cassian wheedled, and Rhys just fixed him with a glance. 

“I don’t know any more than what you do,” Rhys gave back. “You know how he gets sometimes. It’s better to give him time, we learned that the hard way,” Rhys said reasonably.

It was true. 

They had learned that the hard way. It was much better to give Azriel the time until he came to them on their own until they were in the mood to badger him until blood was drawn.  

The problem was just, that Cassian didn’t want to be reasonable. 

“Normally we know that something is going on. It’s out of character for him to just…demand time off so suddenly,” he shot back.

“Then I imagine he has a rather good reason for it,” Rhys sniped, rolling his eyes. 

“He’ll come to us when he’s ready,” Mor said with a shrug. 

That’s what Cassian worried about. That Az was going to come to them when he was ready and not when he actually needed help, which promised to be far earlier. 

“It’s not about Rosehall, is it?” Cassian asked suddenly. Was this about Azriel’s mother?

“Cassian, I really don’t know any more than you do,” Rhys said with a sigh.

Fine.

And then, just like somebody had summoned him, Azriel stalked through the door of the Dining Room. 

Looking none the worse for wear, which was good…but also looked like he was getting ready for a war, shadows ominously swirling around his shoulders. 

Before Cassian could even open his mouth, Azriel fixed him with harsh hazel eyes. “We need to have a talk, Cassian. Outside now.”

It was said so coldly, so evenly that Cassian froze. 

“Why outside?” Feyre piped up curiously. 

“Chances are, either Cassian will try to kill me or I’ll kill him. I don’t want to get blood on your rugs, so outside,” Azriel answered, not a spark of humour in these words. 

“What have I done?” Cassian tried for levity but failed horribly, even as he stood. 

Something had happened. And it must have been horribly, otherwise he couldn’t Otherwise he couldn’t…he couldn’t explain what had happened to Azriel. 

“I hope to the cauldron nothing,” Azriel answered, his voice quiet, before turning on his heel, and going outside. 

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a look of foreboding, though they weren’t the only ones. 

Feyre and Mor were jostling for the best viewing position, while Nesta watched the whole thing with crossed arms, clearly thinking that Cassian must have been an idiot or worse…though he really had no idea, what Azriel could be so upset about. 

Rhys demanded that they both handed over all the knives they wore, and to his surprise, Azriel not only handed over Truthteller but every other single knife he kept stashed on his body to Rhys without a word…well, that wasn’t particularly calming either. 

”Hit me with it. What the fuck is going on?” Cassian asked with a sigh.

“I need to ask you a question. And I need you to answer me truthfully,” Azriel told him, his arms held tightly at his side, wings flaring. 

“Yolanda Negrescu.” 

It was a name. 

“Who?” Cassian asked, coming up…completely empty. 

“You don’t remember her?” Azriel asked him, staring at him like he was very much doubting Cassian’s ability to breathe at that moment. 

“Should I?” He asked with a grimace. 

“You slept with her, Cassian,” Azriel said, his face unmoving like marble. 

Oh. He wrecked his brain. What did it say about him that he still kept up completely empty? He had no clue whatsoever who that had been. What Yolanda Negrescu may have looked like…

“Around 20 years ago,” Azriel offered up. So it had been during the Sealing of Velaris. Right. That narrowed it down. If one wanted to call his near-nightly trip to Rita’s or another pleasure hall that…

“You really don’t remember?” Rhys asked from the sidelines and Cassian growled. 

“I have slept with a few dozen people in over 500 years. I highly doubt you still remember every single one of your conquests, Rhysie,” he groused. “So I slept with her, 20 years ago. What does it matter?” Cassian asked Azriel with a sigh. 

“She’s dead,” Azriel said evenly. 

“That’s…sad,” Cassian responded with a sigh. “But I don’t really know what you want from me here, Az?” Why did this result in Azriel coming here and demanding to speak to him? Why had this Yolanda even come up in Azriel’s work? What had happened to Yolanda Negrescu?

Azriel closed his eyes for just a moment, before they opened again, his resolve clearly hardening. 

“She died in childbirth. 19 years ago,” Azriel said carefully. “Her daughter‘s Illyrian wings shredded her from the inside out.”

For just one moment it felt like he couldn’t properly breathe anymore. 

If he had slept with her 20 years ago…and 19 years ago she had died in childbirth…and the child had Illyrian wings…By the cauldron. 

No, this couldn’t be. 

This was impossible. 

“What?” Nesta spat out. 

“Are you sure?” Rhys asked, his voice careful. Azriel just inclined his head. 

This shouldn’t be happening. Cassian had always taken a contraceptive draught, he had never even thought about the possibility…he had never even…What? 

How could…

A child? A daughter?

He hadn’t known about her. He had never…

She had grown up a bastard, just like him, hadn’t she?

The one thing he has always promised himself he wouldn’t do, father a bastard, and he had managed to do just that. 

Not for 500 years, but clearly then his luck or his care had run out and he had saddled the poor girl with…he had killed her and hadn’t even been aware that he had done it. 

And she had died giving birth to his daughter. 

“I…I have a daughter?” he asked, his voice shaking, staring at Azriel who was still watching him. 

“You didn’t know,” Azriel said flatly. 

Cassian just stared at him. “What? No, of course, I didn’t know!” he snapped. 

If he had known, everybody would have known. He would have never tried to keep his daughter a secret from his family! She would have been his, damnit!

Not thrown away like garbage, like he had been, but treasured and protected. 

How could Azriel even think that he ever…

“How did you find her?” he asked Azriel weakly. “Where did you…”

How had Azriel come across her? The first time that evening, something like emotions flittered over Azriel’s face, just that Cassian couldn’t place them. 

“I met my mate.”

He blinked, twice. 

That was the last thing Cassian had expected after the news of that evening. 

But it was good news, wasn’t it? 

“You met your mate, Az?” Rhys asked, clearly surprised and Azriel nodded. “But that’s fantastic news! Where did you…“ 

And then the pieces seemed to come together for Rhys and Cassian at the same time. 

Cassian’s wings flared. Pure protectiveness turned into rage enveloping him. 

“Azriel. Tell me that your mate is not my daughter,” he spat out.  A gasp of surprise, either Nesta or Feyre or Mor…but he didn’t care. 

Azriel, his brother, met his gaze square on. It was all the answer he needed

“I am going to fucking kill you,” Cassian growled, as he attacked. 

It had been a good call from Rhys to insist on them handing over their knives because like this it only ended in a wrestling match, that probably ruined half of Feyre’s landscaping.

Though he did break Azriel’s nose. 

It did not really make him feel better. Especially because he just knew that Azriel had let him get that hit in. 

“Don’t even think about laying a hand on her,” he growled, still throttling Azriel. 

“Too late for that,” Azriel growled right back, every inch the freshly mated male. 

It just fired on that protective fury. “She’s my daughter!” Cassian bellowed. “She’s still half a child!” Azriel had no fucking right to lay one fucking finger on her! She should still be…

“She’s an adult. Otherwise, the mating bond wouldn’t have snapped. Feyre was not much older than her,” Rhys gave back with a sigh. “Cassian. 

“And that makes it right?!” Cassian snapped. “Azriel can’t have known her longer than a few hours!”

“Cassian,” Rhys cut him off once again. “She’s his mate. None of us told you to keep away from Nesta.” 

“Fuck you,” he seethed. “She’s too young! She probably didn’t even have a clue what she was doing!” Azriel flinched, not saying a single thing and Cassian fixed him with a glare. 

“You aren’t even trying to defend yourself,” Cassian realised. “You think the exact same.”

Azriel wiped the blood off his face as Cassian let off him.  “She’s fucking traumatised, Cassian,” Azriel said sharply. “I didn’t even think about how bad it was until after.” 

He nearly went back to throttling Azriel if Rhys didn’t intercept. 

“Is she alright?!” Cassian demanded sharply.

“Physically? Mostly,” Azriel answered, shaking out his wings as he gained his feed. “I fished her out of a mountain lake after she tried to fly. She had a fever but that has disappeared.”

“She can’t fly?” Rhys asked, shocked. 

Azriel shook his head, a muscle in his jaw feathering. 

“Her grandmother raised her after her mother’s death. She spent her childhood locked in her grandmother’s attic. Her wings were bound to her back so tightly that there is scarring.”

All the tension, all the anger at his brother bled out of Cassian like somebody had hit his carotid artery. An attic. 

His daughter had spent her childhood locked in an attic with her wings bound. 

She had never had the childhood everybody should have…something like the childhood Nyx got to have these days…of wonder and happiness…Instead, she had been locked into a small dark space, with her wings, the pride and joy of every Illyrian bound to her back so tightly that it had scarred her. 

Somehow that seemed just as bad clipping her wings. 

“And mentally?” Rhys asked the question he was thinking.

“It could be worse,” Azriel admitted. “She‘s quiet. Halfway Feral. But sweet,” he assured him at Cassian’s startled look.  

“Obviously Cassian‘s daughter,” Mor managed to bring out, a joke that fell flat. 

“It gets pretty obvious once you realise it. She smells like you,” Azriel said quietly. “Just she has a tint of vanilla to her scent you don’t have. 

“And otherwise….?” Cassian asked, shakily. 

“She can’t read or write,” Azriel said quietly. “She expects everybody to be out to hurt her. Which isn’t far from the truth, because she got an employer that ignored the minimum wage and a landlord that offered to let her pay for her apartment on her knees.” He spat out the last few words and Cassian wanted to vomit. 

She was…she was his little girl. 

And she had been…she had been treated so abhorrently.

“What’s her name?” he asked Azriel. “What…”

“Her shadows named her Cilla,” Azriel answered quietly. 

Cilla. 

But only when Rhys pulled in a sharp breath did the rest of Azriel’s statement register. 

“She’s a shadowsinger - just like you,” he realised weakly. Azriel just inclined his head. 

Of course. Of course, Azriel hadn’t thought twice about accepting that Mating Bond. Not when Cilla was the one female in all of Prythian that could probably understand his brother. Not when she was the only one who also had this strange ability…

“You know what that means,” Azriel said quietly. 

He did. 

He swallowed, nausea building in his stomach when he reflected exactly on what it meant. 

“What does it mean?” Nesta demanded, and he swivelled around, staring at his mate, who crossed the space between them…that reached out for his hand and squeezed it. “What does that mean for her?”

“It means that she spent so much time alone in the darkness that the darkness decided to talk back to her,” Azriel said, his voice painfully even. “Shadowsingers are made, not born. Most don’t survive their adolescence, driven mad by the sound of the shadows. Others… others find comfort in it.”

Cassian had never asked, but he knew which of these two possibility were the case of his brother. “Cilla only had her shadows for company for half her life. For that she is…surprisingly sane,” Azriel admitted freely. 

“You said her shadows named her Cilla. What is her real name?” Nesta asked. 

“I couldn’t find a birth certificate,” Azriel admitted quietly. “I only found her mother’s name through house-owning records…Her shadows gave me her former address, I checked who owned the house…I found her grandmother and her mother.”

“What did her grandmother call her?” Cassian asked, but Azriel just shook his head. 

“You don’t want me to repeat that,” he told Cassian near painfully soft. 

“Who does she look like?” he demanded next, trying to come up…trying to come up with what her mother, what Yolanda had looked like and came up empty, once again. 

“Your hair but curlier. The shape of her eyes is you. Nose and mouth must be her mother's but her forehead is all you as well,” Azriel answered. It didn’t help. It didn’t…make it possible for Cassian to imagine…what his daughter, what Cilla must look like. 

“And where is she?” 

“My house,” Azriel answered quietly. “I…told her that I would get answers for her. She doesn’t know that I know you, but I…I asked her if she wanted to meet her father,” he said carefully and Cassian swallowed.  “She wanted to know if her father knew that he signed her mother’s death warrant when he slept with her. And if he knew that she spent the better part of two decades living in that attic.”

“I didn’t,” he pledged. “I didn’t know,” he repeated desperately. Azriel just inclined his head. 

“I know,” he answered with a sigh. “I didn’t think you knew…but I needed to make sure.”

Azriel’s eyes were asking for understanding and Cassian understood it. 

Azriel was still in the throes of these early days of a freshly mated Male. Overly protective, overly territorial…it was a wonder that he hadn’t outright slaughtered Cassian for a perceived slight against his mate. 

“What…What happens now?” Cassian asked shakily. What…

“What do you want to happen now?” Nesta asked him calmly. “She’s your daughter.”

She was. But Nesta was his mate, and Azriel was his brother and…

“She’s your daughter. The only opinion that matters is what the two of you want,” Nesta said carefully, looking at him, with these beautiful grey eyes and he could see the stark honesty in them. 

She reached up to cup his cheek. 

“She’s your daughter, Cassian,” she repeated, her voice soft. “We’ll deal with it…together.”

“I want to meet her.” 

[kindaasrikal]

Resurrected Morro head canons because I’m supremely bored+the ninja:

Morro cusses everyone out every two seconds. There is no ‘soft side’ this mf is a sword that never loses its edge.

Because of Wu and only Wu, Morro is a sarcastic little loser. He will not hold back on insulting someone either.

He’s actually surprisingly quiet most of the time, like even his footsteps are near silent. The ninja have gotten jump-scared by him more than they ever did when he was dead.

He cannot handle any sort of affection, care, or love given to him. Like he can very rarely do it himself with no sweat, he’s complimented Nya’s skill or Cole’s strength hundreds of times, but if anyone like Kai or Wu (two individuals known to train daily and know all that bull inside out) were to compliment him he’s suddenly a tomato. He’ll start looking away from you, acting all nonchalant but everyone can hear the way his voice goes higher each second another compliment is thrown at him.

Morro likes floating in the air, even if it’s just casually hovering or just sitting in the air he likes doing it. One time, Pixal dragged in a pile of vengestone to use for a project or something and this mf fell HARD on to the ground. As much as Pixal felt guilty, she would do it again since it helped her realise Morro was hiding some broken ribs.

Morro walks into doors, or walls, blinks, and walks away like nothing happened. (he’s trying to ignore Jay’s laughter)

After Morro and Wu reconciled and Lloyd and Morro began getting along he heard the two talking about how it would be cool if Morro could look more like Wu, just so people would stop calling Morro his ‘adopted’ son (thats his baby, nothing else) and so Lloyd doesn’t have to say Morro is just in his emo phase. As much as the convo was a joke, Morro took it seriously and the next day both Wu and Lloyd almost burst into either tears or shocked laughter when they saw the green streak was replaced by a blonde.

Morro actually isn’t emo, or goth, or punk. He’s all three at once and yet none at the same time. (Don’t be surprised when you see him wearing spiked bracelets and a pink shirt from Zane). To put it basically he has no fashion sense he just throws things together as long as it’s baggy and easy to deal with.

Edit: forgot to add, he’s old. This guy dresses like Wu and enjoys traditional clothing more than anything. He only wears anything different when going to the city and it’s still rlly baggy and basic. He somehow still rocks it.

Morro does not buy his own clothes, he just steals everyone else’s (Lloyd convinced him to do it with him.)

Even after Morro and Kai dealt with their issue they act like a toxic asian couple who are on the verge of divorce.

Cole likes to pick up the small members of the group, like Jay or Lloyd. Morro has become a victim and he bites.

He really likes reading. And history. After Lloyd introduced Misako to him they both got along so well they began sharing stories of Wu, Lloyd and Garmadon. All three are horrified at what those two know.

When Morro is floating in like a standing position, Nya likes falling out of the air or smth (she lowkey just appears) and falls on to his shoulder and stays there. Morro has learnt to accept his position as a chair.

Morro actually knows how to cook but doesn’t enjoy doing it, so Zane just kinda stares at him and pulls out something he knows Morro would want and suddenly you have two chefs with frilly pink aprons on. One is scowling as he beats the eggs and the other is smiling like he has no worries with sparkles and everything.

Morro has convinced the ninja one by one to join him in making a tornado out of each of their elements. Wu is not amused.

A lot of people headcanon Morro to not be able to do spinjitzu, so I say the reason behind that is because mini Morro was forbidden to do so by young Wu to use spinjitzu after he kept making tornados and the such and destroying part of the monastery. Morro unintentionally kept following it until one day he was asked by Lloyd why he never use it. Slowly but surely he came to the realisation it was Wu’s fault and pointed at him going like “IT WAS YOU!” And this old man was snorted into his tea. He forgot he forbade him.

When Morro gets resurrected he uses some sketchy magic book to summon Garmadon cause he was bored and wanted to someone to mess with (he missed his annoying uncle) (he called Lloyd in two second later and recorded him bursting into tears, both of them) (he froze and sweat dropped when he heard four armed Garmadon say something about his soul hurting last night.)

He’s like a hermit and a hobo combined.

As much as Morro can read, he can’t write, and as much as Lloyd can write, he can’t read. They join forces in deciphering scrolls.

Morro and Lloyd get along like burning trash. They happily cuss each other out and bully each other on a daily, they even call back to past traumas. Yet five seconds later Lloyd flops down onto a tired Morro and says “Hey do you wanna get ice cream with me? I found this place that i think would rlly suit your taste” and even after the both argue the whole time they take getting there the Lloyd actually was hoping Morro would like it because they had old man flavours. And even after Morro acts like he couldn’t care less and that Lloyd acts like a lil baby, he buys them both ice cream.

Okok im done i might do this for the other ninja i miss them ajgdjshs

[joemama-2]

itadori yuuji is great with kids.

he has as much energy as them, so he’ll run around with them constantly, which helps when you want to put them to bed early. he’ll take part in any game or creative imagination the kid has conjured up.

a tea party? okay, he’ll be the king. oh, he’s getting a call from elmo? he takes the the small toy phone into his hands and has a full on conversation with him. and lastly, he loves just picking them up into his arms and airplaning them around the house.

it’s why when you first saw him interact with kids, you couldn’t help but almost tear up at the sight. it’s like him and the kid would match each others energy, bouncing off the walls together. and you didn’t miss the way the kid would automatically smile and reach their grabby hands up for him as soon as you two entered.

and when you looked at yuuji, you just knew, he would be a perfect dad.

maybe you two were too young to even be thinking about that. kids thinking about having kids is crazy. but you didn’t want kids now of course, but when you were older. you guys kinda had your future planned out for each other. you can call it cute, wholesome, or optimistic. but either way, you knew you wanted to spend your life with itadori yuuji.

but can people really blame you? living in a world full of curses and being a sorcerer meant that any moment could be your last, every breath could be your last, and every smile could be your last.

that’s why whenever you and yuuji were together, you’d spend it like it was your last.

you were already head over heels for him, but seeing him be so playful…so innocent with not just kids, but with you, it struck a chord in your heart in a repetitive thrum. and you found yourself constantly wanting that same melody to played.

you guys were kids, but with what you did for a living, you were forced to act anything but. which is why you loved these kind of moments. the moments where you can do simple teenager things, you know, actually act your age.

the mental and physical toll of being a sorcerer was hard on you both, especially yuuji. and it was your job to hold him up whenever he fell down.

“boy or girl?”

he looks up from his milkshake, eyes landing in your own as you sit across from him. the comforting diner offering a sense of peacefulness. he mulls over your words before answering. “either.”

an eye roll. “no, pick. if you had to choose one, boy or girl?”

“and what is the context of this situation?” his head tilts in that adorable way you love, pink hair ruffled after he runs a hand through it.

“children.” you say.

he stills for a moment, eyes just locked with yours. the silence is deafening, but not tense. it’s like he’s trying to decide if you’re being serious or not. because in all honesty, he had no idea you wanted kids. which is a little ironic since you talked about your future all the time, and kids just found themselves drawn towards him whenever you guys hung out with your side of the family. but, for some reason, having kids of his own one day felt odd, felt strange.

his lips purse and eyes travel to the ceiling. “i guess, if i had to pick, maybe….a girl?”

your head tilts. “not a boy?”

“well, i wouldn’t care. i would love them equally.”

“but you want a girl.”

“i’d want anything, as long as i get to have it with you.” he looks at you again, dopey smile on his face. “if it was a girl, i’d have two precious girls in my life. if it was a boy, i’d have a little warrior.”

you smile back. “the girl can’t be a warrior too?”

“she’ll be my precious warrior.” he says, hand reaching across the table to find yours, fingers interlacing like its second nature. “just like you.”

and god does he always know what to say to get your cheeks red, embarrassed. “and what if i want a boy?”

his thumbs rubs across the back of your palm, sliding the milkshake over to you, to which you sip from. “then we’ll have both.”

“how can you be sure we’ll have both?”

“i’m not, but anything is possible with you.”

your eyebrow raises playfully. “you’re really sweet today, huh?”

his eyes roll and he scoffs. “baby please, i’m always sweet.”

and well, he’s right. he’s always sweet, always thoughtful, always perfect when it came to you. you loved him so much, it felt like you couldn’t ever love anything more than him.

but years later, that all changes when you two first see the sonograms. how can you love something you’ve never even seen, touched, felt? but that’s what a parental love is all about, isn’t it?

you instantly feel protective, like you want to shield them from the cruelness of this world. like you’ll do anything for them, including….dying. however sometimes, you can’t protect them.

itadori’s world stops, shatters and crumbles as he hears the news. he doesn’t even feel his legs moving but suddenly, he’s no longer in the comfort of your guys’ home, but in the hospital. the nurses and security are nothing compared to his strength, the strength of a father, and the strength of a husband.

it’s almost insulting, or comical. after everything you two have been through, one would think a sorcerer would die from fighting a curse, not from a drunk driver.

burying people has never been a foreign concept to him. but you know what is?

burying three people all in one casket. his wife and unborn twins. a boy and a girl.

[vanishingstarrs]

midnight rain ( k. bakugo x reader, slow burn, hurt x comfort, anxiety, fluff ) ( as an insomniac, this was v much self indulgent, also for the sake of this story the timeline is irrelevant, i kinda went all over the place so let's just pretend it all lines up (: also also feel free to imagine whatever quirk you'd like i never really had one in mind except for the side effect is you being v v cold bc it worked for the plot lol sorry it took so long to get this out, just wanted it to be perfect !! hope y'all enjoy <3 )

part 1, part 2, part 3

It was raining. Hard.

You were a nervous wreck.

It had been agreed that your classmates and you would be permitted to retrieve Midoriya from his self isolation. The heroes were out in the streets, instructed to call as soon as he was sighted since your class had full permission to spring into action and try to convince him to come back. The heroes told to stay back and allow you guys to take the lead on the mission.

Part of the reason you couldn’t sleep as of late was your classmate out in danger. You and Midoriya had never been best friends by any means, but you’d been close enough and you’d worked alongside him a few times. He was a nice person and always trying to help those around him, he’d come to you multiple times with theories on how to better improve your quirk so you wouldn’t overwork and accidentally freeze yourself to death. Even if he hadn’t done any of that, you likely still would’ve felt guilt over being safe while he wasn’t. He was good, and he deserved to come home.

All of this in turn meant more baking and less sleeping. You’d been out of bed for thirty minutes now, having brought your journal with you in order to go through your recipes.

You’d been in your room before, tinkering with your costume and doing little workouts while waiting for everyone to head to bed, not wanting to bother anyone.

The day had been spent training and putting more work into improving your individual powers, leveling up so that when the time came… you and your classmates could join up in the war. It was a frightening thought, and you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that again.

Speaking with Katsuki had been some help though, the way he spoke of heroes and nobility made you want to be brave like him.

And so, to thank him for the late nights, you were now up again, only this time you baked with purpose. For him. You weren’t sure how you were going to approach him to give him the baked goods, and part of you hoped he might be awake and come out on his own to save you the trouble of an awkward conversation.

You sighed as you double checked your recipe, making sure of your next step before incorporating dry ingredients with the wet ones.

It wasn't that you wished another sleepless night on Bakugo... but it was definitely easier to go to bed after having had him around. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't bullshit you, or the way he let you talk about nothing in particular until you were ready to open up about what had actually been weighing on your chest. Things you had yet to even bring up to your best friend.

You went through the motions almost at a sloth’s place, overthinking to yourself as you made sure everything was perfect for the muffins you were baking.

When all that was left to do was wait for the room to start smelling of cinnamon, you sat yourself at the island, headphones blasting as you grabbed you pen and journal again. You turned the page from your experimental recipes and found your sketches for the new costume you were working on, you'd asked Hatsume for some suggestions, but she'd dismissed you; she was too busy right now. She said she'd help you create the final design, but she didn't have the brain capacity to make something from scratch for you.

A groan left your lips as you stared at the page, just about ready to tear it and your hair out when your headphones were yanked down to your neck and the chair next to you scraped the floor as someone sat down,"Don't you ever sleep?"

"Don't you?" You scoffed, the response coming naturally,"Thought you were Mr. go to bed at seven every night, what happened?"

"That was before." He rolled his eyes,"Whatcha working on?"

You stared at Bakugo, unsure if he was actually there. Had you conjured him up somehow? Were you hallucinating? And was he actually making small talk with you right now?

"Muffins... for you, actually."

"Hah?!" His eyes bulged as he turned to the oven, like he just noticed it was on,"What are you making shit for me for? And I meant the sketches, idiot."

"Oh." You frowned.

"I'll eat them." He declared, realizing that it sounded as though he didn't care for them.

"No, it's okay." You looked away, trying to hide your smile and the fact that you were teasing,"I'll offer them up to the others. Who doesn't like apple cinnamon muffins with a nice crumble on top? No, don't worry, my efforts won't be in vein, maybe Momo will make a nice tea for us all."

"Tea? I can make tea, I'll make you the best damn tea you've ever had, and we're eating these damn muffins if it's the last thing we do." He grumbled as he stood up and found his same mug, as well as somehow finding yours amidst the array of everyone's cups.

His was orange with his first initial on it, and yours was purple with the multiple facial expressions of Kuromi all around, she was your favorite Sanrio character. You had no idea how he'd known that it was yours, but didn't dwell on it as you turned your frown back to your notebook and the aforementioned sketches.

"Been tryna come up with a new costume design, I'm not very great at it... Midoriya kinda helped me with my last one." You mentioned as he began boiling water for your tea.

You heard him scoff.

"What?" You asked immediately, self conscious now.

You had thought he'd done a pretty good job, and most of it was your idea anyway; he'd really only brought your vision to life since he was a lot better at that kinda stuff than you were.

"Nothin'. Didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to, is my costume ugly? I'm not really a big fan of the flashy stuff, I just want something simple that won't make me stand out..."

He walked back over, leaning against the island counter as he raised his eyebrows at you,"You do know the whole point of being a hero is standing out, right?"

"No..." You denied,"Not all of it. What if I just wanna help people and not be seen?"

"What about recognition?" He countered,"I see you standing back all the time, especially when you make shit like this and just leave a note, you don't always sign your name, don't you want people to know what you've done? What you've accomplished?"

"I'd hardly call baking a few cookies an accomplishment." You scoffed.

"When I got kidnapped." He brought up,"You were there."

It wasn't a question. He was stating it like it was something he knew for a fact and you didn't know how that came to be.

You'd never spoken about it, you'd gone along as a favor to your friends, they thought your power might be useful just in case the situation escalated. You'd agreed and at the end of it all, after getting him back, you'd gotten separated in the crowd. You didn't bother meeting back up, feeling you'd done all you that could and gone home. It was a long time ago, you felt.

"Who told you that? Kirishima?"

"Deku did." He corrected with a roll of his eyes,"He wanted to make sure I thanked you properly."

"You never did."

"I should've."

The oven timer dinged and you used it as your excuse to remove yourself from the conversation. You cleared your throat as you stood up and grabbed your oven mitts, your face felt warm and it wasn't just because you were removing baked goods from the oven.

"We'll have to wait for them to cool." You said aloud.

"Still gotta brew the tea, so... it's fine."

You felt incredibly awkward and he must've sensed it too, because he changed the subject back to the original.

"Y'know I can help you with this." Bakugo was holding your journal when you finally mustered up the courage to face him again,"My parents are fashion designers, I did my own costume. Won't make it too flashy if you don't want, or you could just wait for Deku if that's what ya want, he'll be back soon anyway."

"No." You said, maybe a little too eagerly.

He stared back in surprise.

"You help me." You made your way across the room again,"Please."

“Alright, alright, no begging it makes you look pathetic.” He said, though it had no fire behind it,“I guess I owe ya anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the tiny smile as he tugged you closer and took charge of the project. He made a few comparisons from your last costume to the lame prototype you’d been working on and then asked you for your favorite aspects of both before starting up from scratch on a different page, his writing was surprisingly neat as he listed a few support items he thought you should look into for the upcoming battles.

“It has to be purple.” You stated your only condition as you took the pen from him and started to shade a few spots, you had to lean close into him to be able to reach the journal and you heard him inhale sharply before moving it closer to you.

When you reached something actually resembling a good costume, you grinned and turned to him,“It’s great, Katsuki, thank you so much.”

“No problem.” He seemed to whisper, he was staring at you in a weird way that made you look back down at the costume you’d drawn up together,“Let’s, uh, eat those muffins now.”

“Wait! We have to sign our names at the bottom.” You held his arm before he could move away,“C’mon, we’re the designers.” You quickly scribbled your signature before handing the pen back to him with a grin.

He rolled his eyes, but snatched the pen from you nonetheless and quickly wrote his name next to yours. It felt… binding, weirdly enough.

You let him go and he brought over the tea he’d brewed, which had cooled a little but not enough to be cold. The muffins were perfect and you watched for a reaction that he never gave, so you went poking for compliments.

“You can say they’re good.” You teased as he took several bites in one breath.

“I was getting there.” He grumbled, after swallowing hard. He looked at the tray of muffins and then back at you,“You really made these for me?”

You shrugged,“You said they’re your favorite.”

He took another huge bite and around it he managed to get out something sounding close to a thanks.

You laughed,“You’re welcome, Katsuki.”

When he finished off two muffins, he wordlessly began helping you clean up your mess. It didn't take too long, as much as you wished that it would so you could talk to him more. When you handed him a tupperware for the muffin's he seemed to get an idea as he walked away and came back with a piece of tape and a sharpie.

He started writing "DO NOT TOUCH" on the tape.

You couldn't help snort,"Had a feeling you weren't the sharing type."

"They were made for me, weren't they?"

"Mhm." You hoped you weren't blushing as you agreed.

He stuck the tape onto the top before showing it to you,"I can share, but only with you."

You were definitely blushing now as you read "Y/N and Katsuki's muffin's" underneath the initial message for no one to touch them. You smiled,"You're sweet."

He scoffed,"Am not."

"You totally are." You teased as he rolled his eyes at you for the hundredth time while also turning you around and pushing you toward the stairs, he was holding your headphones and journal in hand and when you reached your door, you held out your hand expectantly.

He held them back,"One condition."

Feeling emboldened, you went up on tiptoes to whisper into his ear,"My door will be open, don't worry."

With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you quickly brushed your lips somewhere along his cheek while grabbing your things from his hold,"Night, Kats."

You weren't sure if you heard him say it back, but you thought he did as you escaped into the darkness of you room, blushing.

That night, you had one of your better sleeps.

The next day, however, came early. And before you knew it you, along with your classmates, were suiting up and leaving U.A. to chase a possible Midoriya lead. The state he was in when you guys finally found him broke your heart in a way you didn't know was possible, the boy was working hard to get Japan back to how it'd been before and the citizens seeking safety in U.A. didn't understand that. Tears were brought to your eyes after a touching speech from Ochaco, and when the day finally came to its end your bones too were crying from all the extra exertion.

When everyone got back, you'd set to work making a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies since the last one hadn't lasted longer than the morning on which they were discovered. The bath had been miraculous for your muscles, and you'd almost fallen asleep while sipping on the tea Momo had brewed for everyone.

The day had been quite momentous, and through it all, you couldn't help want to seek out only one person...

You sighed as you turned over in bed.

You had your phone turned on in your hand, your text messages with Mina blinking up at you as you typed and deleted the same text many times.

You deleted it one last time and reread her text.

mina ෆ⃛(ˇᵋ ˇෆ)ೄ: soooo you and bakugo ?? 👀👀 noticed he was prettttty worried abt u getting hurt / just u in gen during mission bring deku home, didn’t know y’all were so close hm 🤔🤔🤨

You debated letting your best friend know you’d somehow become sort of friends with Katsuki, having spent a few nights in each other's company. But how did you explain to her that somehow, through three simple nights, that you might be having other feelings for him. And that you'd kissed him. Well, his cheek, but still. That move was quite bold for you and then, like a coward, you ran away. You'd always dismissed things like crushes and boys, but Katsuki... he was loud, to put it simply, and therefore was much harder to ignore.

You hadn't thought he'd paid you any extra mind in comparison to everyone else during the fight, but having been focused on Midoriya... maybe you'd missed it?

You pulled out your phone again, sending your friend one last reply.

y/n ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ: lolll as if girl yk he doesn’t do friends, think he’s probs just on edge bc of midoriya

She texted back immediately, but rather than opening the text you opened up your music app and pressed play on a soothing playlist. You listened to it, along with the rain that had yet to stop, and felt your body start to relax into your pillows.

You weren't lying to your friend. Bakugo had made it clear he was at U.A. because he wanted to be number one. He didn't have time for "extras", as he so often put it, what exactly made you so different? Nothing. Exactly, you told yourself, nothing at all.

Sure, he was calmer around you on those measly nights on which you found one another. But that was just because everyone else was asleep and maybe he was being considerate. Sure, he listened to you talk on and on and watched your silly romance drama with you... but that had to be because he had nothing better to do, having already been awake... right?

You groaned, the longer you thought about it the more the frustration with yourself grew. How could you be so clueless?!

When it all became too much, you pushed your covers off and ripped your headphones off, your feet found your slippers immediately as you picked up your glasses from your nightstand and slid them on. You marched toward your door with purpose, ripping it open only to freeze at what awaited on the other side.

He had his fist up, ready to knock. There he was.

Katsuki Bakugo, right outside your door.

“Bakugo… hi.” You breathed out, you felt your heartbeat start to pick up a bit.

“What happened to Katsuki?” You faintly heard him say, but your attention was elsewhere, eyes taking him in completely.

He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants you’d never seen before and a fitted black t shirt. His hair, you noticed, was pushed back by a black headband. You never wanted to be a headband more. Was this his usual sleep attire? Last time you could’ve sworn he was wearing a muscle tee and a pair of shorts. Focus, Y/N, focus! You yelled at yourself internally. You snapped out of it in time to hear him say your name.

Aaand shit. So preoccupied with him, you had momentarily forgotten your own attire: Kuromi pyjama bottoms and a sports bra... and your glasses— shit, shit, shit.

Embarrassed, you pulled your hair forward to try and cover yourself just a tiny bit,“Oh, my god, sorry, hold on, let me grab a shirt.”

You turned, but didn’t make it more than two steps when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, he pulled you back and firmly asked,“Were you coming to look for me?”

You gulped, forcing yourself to meet his eyes,"Yes."

His eyes widened slightly, like he couldn't believe how easily you admitted to it.

"You too, by the looks of it." You pointed out, and he nodded.

He looked away, gaze zeroed in on the ground as he released a deep breath, and with it, how he truly felt,"All I seem to think about these days is impending doom. Well, that, and also you.” His lips pressed together and you noticed his hands clenching down at his sides, you wanted to unfold his fingers and tuck your own around them.

“Whenever I talk to you, or I’m near you… it helps. I don’t know what it is, but being with you makes me not have a fire lit up under my ass or something.” He confessed.

A weight was instantly lifted off your shoulders. You allowed yourself to smile,"That's super poetic, Katsuki, and sweet."

He rolled his eyes, and you could swear his ears were turning red too,"I'll take it back."

You gasped,"You wouldn't dare."

He shook his head, releasing a small sigh,"I'm no good with words, but am I..."

You took a step forward, listening to your heart and taking his hand into your own. He seemed to want to pull back, but you didn't let him as you wound your hands together.

"They're sweaty." He argued.

"Don't give a shit." You grabbed his other hand too,"You're not alone, you know. I feel the same way you do, not about the impending doom part, but the rest of it. Ever since that first night when you were there... I just feel at ease with you. You may say you're not good with words, but you're pretty good at listening, and I think you've done great at comforting me in your own way. I didn't really see it today, but you were there, watching me, making sure I was good, I was so scared—”

“I was terrified.” He said at the same time.

You smiled even bigger now,“Good thing it all worked out in the end, huh? You got your friend back.”

He scoffed,“He’s not my friend.”

“Am I your friend?” You asked, still grinning.

He shook his head and the smile instantly left your face as you started to pull your hands away,"Oh—"

You didn’t get a chance to fully let go as he pulled you forward with one hand and grabbed your waist by the other, and before you realized what was happening, his lips had met yours for the shortest kiss. So light it could barely qualify as one, but it was enough to freeze you in place as you once more repeated:

“Oh...”

He leaned his forehead against yours and you inhaled, consumed by him and his scent.

"Hold on, can I...?"

You didn't wait for a response as you stood up on your toes, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him again. This one lasted longer and you thought you might've tasted chocolate from the cookies you'd made earlier on his tongue, you hadn't seen him around when you were passing them around and you were happy he'd gotten to enjoy some after all. When you pulled away, you were smiling again.

"I'm not good at this." He repeated once more.

You shook your head,"You're doing perfectly."

He kissed you a third time, another short and sweet peck that led to one more on your cheek and then the other cheek and then your forehead and lastly, your nose.

You blushed as he buried his face in your neck and hair and inhaled deeply,"You smell so good, like cookies and warmth."

"Katsuki?"

"Mm?"

He tried to move, but you kept him there by running your fingers through his hair and making him relax further into your hold. You couldn't look at him for what you were about to ask. You felt your face heat up,"I know that was our first kiss and you said we're not really friends, which I think means something and if it does mean that thing, well, our timing isn't great and we can't really go on a date or anything to even start the thing, and if Aizawa were to find out, surely we'd be dead, but could you, maybe, think about possibly staying with me tonight?"

Katsuki pulled away, hands in your hair as he agreed right away,"Thought you'd never ask."

He pulled you back into his arms, shutting the door behind himself as he walked right into your room like he owned it. "Those glasses drive me crazy." He said as he instantly made himself comfortable under the purple comforter of your bed.

"Really?" You scrunched up your nose before taking them off and putting them back on your nightstand,"I hate them."

He shook his head,"You should wear 'em more."

"When classes start back up, maybe, I'll think about it." You hesitated as you laid down next to him.

It lasted maybe one minute before he was pulling you closer, your head on his chest. You could hear the pounding in his chest as he said,"It's new for both of us, but I think we can figure this out."

His warmth and his arms around you were already making you sleepy, you agreed with him,"Mmm, tomorrow?"

He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and you could tell the lack of sleep lately was catching up with him too as he shifted his body even closer, head burying into your neck again,"Night, Y/N."

You smiled, content,"Goodnight, Katsuki."