#this is all based off of a drawing I did in class

[deadhands69]

A Fantasy with Nice Shoulders

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo helps you after you're hit with a sex quirk, based on the same idea as the Shigaraki one here

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

All characters in 3rd year, over 18 and you should be too if you're reading this

Warnings/Content/etc: soft but slightly possessive Bakugo, swearing, very light violence, oral (m/f receiving), slightly public/people listening, sex (various positions), walk of shame.

*the start’s a little angsty but idk how to write anything that doesn’t turn into mushy fluffy smut 

**a lot of feelings of not consenting to being hit by the quirk, but the actual physical interactions are very much consensual/have been wanted for a while

***this one’s long, it got a bit out of hand [4.9k words]

“They thought it would be funny” you hear someone say. A black cloud of dust had just dissipated, leaving a shocked Monoma and Mineta in the middle. “I don’t think they actually realized how dangerous what they did is” added another voice. 

You had all heard of the sex quirk villain terrorizing the city. Every news station had been talking about it all week. 

While on patrol for his internship this morning, Monoma picked the villain’s quirk up attempting to apprehend him to no avail. After some brief convincing from Mineta, they assumed it would be a fun prank to make all of the fem-bodied 3rd years a little horny. What they didn’t realize is this quirk doesn’t just make people a little turned on, it drives them to insanity if not dealt with. 

“A new article was posted on this today, the effects are worse than previously assumed.” you hear Iida’s nearly robotic voice over the crowd “It can cause permanent damage to quirks and mental stability if intercourse isn’t acted upon promptly!”

Oh, I could fucking kill them you think before launching yourself across the room. Monoma dodges and yells that he’s so sorry and will make it right before running out the door to get help. Mineta on the other hand, is still in shock.

You make quick work of him, leaving him tied to a chair in the common area covered in bruises. The teachers will arrive soon with Monoma and they can deal with it. Turning away and walking to your dorm room, you hear him hurling some insult at you but can’t be bothered to listen.

Most of your classmates are trickling out of the area. Fortunately, the others in your class affected by the quirk all seem to be taken care of. Your best friend Shoto is even leaving with his crush. You’re happy for him but can’t say it doesn’t hurt a bit that he didn’t bother to check on you. It’s not a big deal though, Momo needs help. 

And you’ll be fine. 

You think. 

Or maybe you won’t be.

The happiness for your friends using this as a catalyst to confess to their crushes feels sharply in contrast with the overwhelming loneliness and dread you feel walking back to your room alone. Sure, you have a crush on someone too but he left earlier this morning and you didn’t expect him to be back until tomorrow night. Bakugo frequently leaves on the weekends to visit his parents.

You consider texting Denki or Kiri for his number but they just left with their crushes as well and you’d rather not interrupt them. 

Besides, even if Bakugo was here, you don’t think that would make much of a difference. To put it lightly, he doesn’t seem to be into you. When you and Shoto hang out in the common area like you always do, his red eyes glare at you from across the room. Just seeing you seems to put him in a bad mood. He doesn’t even yell at you like everyone else, seeming to ignore your mistakes as if they aren’t worth his time to correct. He did argue with you once, the first day of school but when you threw it back at him he just stared at you. After that, he always seemed indifferent. It was disappointing, his sass seems like it could be fun sometimes. 

You’d since written it off as a lost cause and tried to move on. Still, there’s something that draws you to him that you can’t quite place. Something in his eyes that hints things could be different. 

You close the door to your dorm, comforted by the familiar space. Iida’s words ring out in your head again “...permanent damage...”

That’s just one article, maybe this won’t be as bad as they say you think before a dizzy spell makes you double over.

Flopping face first into your bed, you scream into your pillow.

You didn’t fucking ask for this.

Katsuki Bakugo just got back from the gym, walking into an uncharacteristically deserted common room. It is Saturday, right? His eyes light up when he sees Mineta still bound to the chair you left him in.

Someone finally snapped, good for them. He’s a little sad to have missed it. 

“What happened?”

Mineta stammers at the looming figure above him before blurting out random bits of the story. “t-the villain. Sex quirk. And Monoma- we thought it was harmless but then-”

Of course he’d heard all about this quirk, who hadn’t. Clearly Mineta.

“Are you that fucking stupid?”

“N-no we just thought-” 

Bakugo was losing interest, having put the dots together by now. At this point, Mineta was rambling how it would be okay, listing the names of their classmates who had left together.

“Jiro and Kaminari, Ochaco and Midor-”

“Huh?” Curiosity replacing the disappointment in his voice. “Who’s with [y/n] then?”

“Raccoon eyes and Red, [y/n] and Icy Hot, yeah yeah”

“What? No. Todoroki didn’t leave with [y/n], he left with Momo.”

“No one, they left alone. Serves them right. That delinquent’s the one who did this to me!”

“Glad someone finally did,” Bakugo mutters under his breath, smacking Mineta with a small blast while walking past him to the stairs.

“Oh come on, you can’t just leave me here - wait!”

Back in your room: you’re losing it. Every article says the same thing: you’re fucked. You’d read as many as you could before the overwhelming desire became too much to handle and you couldn’t keep track of the sentences anymore. You tried to fix it yourself too, but no matter how hard you tried your touch only seemed to amplify the problem. Leaving you feeling overheated, your panties desperately drenched. It’s only been fifteen minutes, this will get even worse.  

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

It’s probably one of your friends, you think, wondering who would bang so loudly on your door (also who finished that quickly????) In the heat of the quirk, you’d taken off your hoodie - leaving you in a nearly see through white tank top and the tiny athletic shorts you’d been wearing all day. Your friend’s wouldn’t care though.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You make your way to the door, thighs clenching around your aching groin as you walk. Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with a black skull hoodie. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest before remembering, he doesn’t like you. And he’s not even supposed to be here this weekend. Why’s he here?

“Bakugo, why are you here?” you grumble, sounding much more gruff than intended.

“Uh, nice to see you too?” his fingers tap impatiently on the door frame next to your shoulder.

“Any other day, I’d love to word spar with you but today I just can’t.” you turn to close the door.

“Why? Are you mad your crush left with someone else?” 

“What?” you rub your eyes in confusion before getting distracted. Bakugo is hot in workout clothes on a normal day. This quirk was rendering it nearly impossible to concentrate on his words. Not with the way every muscle in his thighs appears to be sculpted into his pants, leading up to his-

“Icy Hot.” he repeats himself, “He left with pony tail. ‘s why you’re pissed, right?”

Oh, that. You’d forgotten about that.

“What? No. Shoto and I are just friends. Besides, he’s had a crush on her forever and she needed his help.” you say blankly.

“You needed help too though,” that one stung. He continues, “sounds like a shitty friend if you ask me.”

“Look. If you’re just here to criticize my friendships, I can’t deal with it right now. Are you done?“ your voice breaks. You step back slightly, hoping to hide in the dimness of your room. He’s not wrong, but you really don’t want him to see you cry. 

“I-” he notices the tear in the corner of your eye and knows that one hit too close. He’s off to a bad start. If he keeps talking like that, you’ll definitely slam the door in his face. 

Much more quietly he tries again. “Look. I didn’t mean to- fuck, I’m so bad this.” Biting his lip, he wipes his hands on his pants before shoving them in the front of his hoodie. His cheeks flush, making the scar under his eye look pale in comparison. Is he nervous? That can’t be it.

Regaining his composure, he looks back at you. “I came to see if you’re okay, if you n-need anything.” 

It’s the most quiet you’d ever seen him. He can’t look you in the eyes. Glancing down, he notices how see-through your shirt is before quickly looking away. He focuses hard on the walls of your room, hands still deep in his pocket.

Of course you’d always wanted Katsuki Bakugo in your dorm room, but assumed it would be different. You imagined that one day he’d start fighting with you like everyone else and fighting would turn into play fighting which would turn into him being nice every once in a while. You always assumed, under his prickly exterior, he’d be soft and sweet inside. You’d never seen it though. Not even when the prettiest girls in your school threw themselves at him, only to be on the receiving end of an explosion. Still, you hoped maybe one day you’d be the one who could break through that, finding something loving underneath. Your crush was all built on a fantasy, but it was a nice fantasy. A nice fantasy, with nice shoulders. 

Back to reality.

He at least thought to be here now, which is better than the apathy you were used to. It’s a start.

“Come in,” you whisper “I really don’t want to be alone right now.” 

Closing the door behind him, you turn to walk back to your bed when the world shifts. The dizziness had been coming in waves, this is just another one. You could expect it now. Tensing to hit the ground, you’re engulfed by his athletic arms instead.

“Holy shit [y/n], you okay?” he holds you in his arms, looking down at your face.

“Oh, yeah. This has just been happening,” you trail off, hardly aware of what you’re saying. You’re trying to find up from down, only to find every direction your body leads you to is him.

“This has been happening the whole time??” his clenched jaw could easily be mistaken for anger but the waver in his voice gives away his concern. He doesn’t seem to mind you grasping his sweatshirt to right yourself. His body feels warm against you, much warmer than you - making you wonder how he’s managing to be so overdressed right now. Pulling closer, he feels firm under his soft worn hoodie. He smells like laundry detergent and deodorant, with a subtle sweetness. The throbbing in your tight shorts worsens, the quirk-induced ache leaves you feeling empty. You need more of this. More of him.

The dizziness passes and you’re back on your feet. He lets go of you but keeps his arms near as you steady yourself against the wall. 

Deep breath. If your friends managed to confess to their crushes today, you can too. Your situation might be a bit different, but he’s not stupid. He knew very well what he was walking into when he showed up. He has to expect this.

Here it goes. 

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah? D’ya need somethin?”

“I need your help.”

“Whaddya need?”

“You.”

He nods, understanding. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Really?” That’s all it took? Holy shit.

“Pshh. What kind of a damned hero would I be if I can’t even fuck a sex quirk out of ya?” the mock confidence would normally make you cringe but he stepped closer and your face is now inches from his. His hands move to the wall behind you, caging you between his arms. Looking down at you, he pauses.

He wants to throw you on the bed. To shove you face first into the mattress and make you scream his name all day for every other girl in the dorms to hear while they’re being awkwardly fumbled by amateurs. He wants to fuck you as hard as he can, so good it’ll ruin anyone else for you. He wants to make everyone jealous of you. 

But when he’s right here with you. 

When he leans in closer. 

His lips barely brush against yours. 

Bringing his arms down from the wall, he cups your cheeks. Holding you softly, pulling you in closer but just as sweet. It isn’t the rough boldness you would expect from him, but it was explosive in its own way. Every subtle move of his lips drags up wishful feelings you’d been burying deep inside you for the past three years.

He pulls back for air, his heavy eyelids opening to see you confused at him.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“Did I do somethin wrong?”

“No, I just didn't expect that.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“You’re just being… nicer than I expected.” Understatement of the fucking year.

“’m never mean to you” he mumbles. Even in the low lighting you can see how hard he’s blushing. To hide his embarrassment, he closes the gap between your lips again - this time with more confidence. Mouthes pressing together, his tongue dancing with yours.

Taking this as an invitation to move forward, your hands embrace his body. Exploring every inch you’d only dreamed of. The soft skin of his neck you’d grown accustomed to staring at sitting behind him in class. The ridges of his back you watch flex under his suit when he’s training. You take off his sweatshirt to run your hands over his arms, his black tank top giving you a better view of the muscles and scars that cover them. Fingers lingering on every curve. You pull your hands from the top of his chest down to his thighs. Your touch veers up his inner leg when his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you.

Grimacing at himself for the pause, he bites his lip to collect his words.

He definitely can’t say he hasn’t thought about doing this with you. He has. Constantly. To a point, he maybe wondered if it was unhealthy. It’s actually the reason he went to the gym this morning, he needed to think of anything else but your ass in the tiny little shorts you were wearing while casually making a cup of coffee. The ones you’re wearing now, pressed up against him.

But having you now? Like this?

“Wait.” His voice is gritty but softer than you’d expect.“What?” 

“Things ain’t gonna be weird with us, right?”

“No weirder than ever. Why?” 

He looks away momentarily. Not wanting to say it if you hadn’t been thinking the same thing. For his own sake though, he can’t bring himself to leave this unaddressed.

“Cuz I skipped a few steps, I was supposta take you out and stuff first.”

“Well, I’ll let you know to ask me out in advance next time I plan to get hit with a sex quirk.”

“‘m serious. ‘m not fucking this up.” 

“You can take me out later.” you smile, his eyes soften looking into yours. Something in his stare makes you melt like ice cream on a summer day. Is this the sweetness you’d always dreamed of?

Feeling too hot, you  His eyes drop and the corner of his mouth creeps into a smile. His hands move to your waist before gliding up to trace the shape of you. He follows your lead - pulling his shirt off and exposing the scars scattered over his toned body.

Granting your own wish, your hands trail down the V along his hips and into his pants. Closer, you need to be closer.

Without thinking you drop to your knees. The pants don’t leave much to the imagination, his outline appearing rock hard already (and he didn’t even get hit with that quirk). Peeling back the fabric, his cock bounces out heavily. It’s massive in a way that would usually scare you but with the audaciousness of a sex quirk taking over your inhibitions, you only want it more. Grasping the soft skin with both hands, you bring the dripping pink tip to your mouth. You have to. It’s so beautiful and you need it. He gasps as your tongue lolls out and you bob your head forward.   

One of his hands finds your neck, thumb gently caressing the back of your head; the other planted on his own face leaning over you with his elbow into the wall to steady himself. You watch his abs flex with every heavy breath before your eyes find his.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking good” he groans. You moan at the sound of his voice, sending vibrations through him.

He doesn’t last long. To be honest, he’s a little embarrassed by this but he really had been thinking about you in these shorts all day and didn’t expect this to happen. Less than a minute later, his hips are sputtering while he whimpers “wait, [y/n] gonna cum.”

Perfect.

Even in your throat, you can’t take him all the way in at this angle. Increasing the speed of your hands, you pull your mouth back enough to look up at his face again while still working his sensitive tip. His brows furrow and he bites his lip, exhaling hard while gripping your hair tighter. 

“Fuck… cumming” he whines through clenched teeth. His dick gushing in your mouth.

You stare up into his crimson eyes, licking him while letting his load drip through your lips down your chest. The astounded look on his face says he’s into it. 

Milking out the last drop, you let him gaze at you while catching his breath. You grab your tank top to wipe your chest and face off but he’s already pulling you up before you can finish. Pressing you back into the wall. His lips find yours as he cups his hand around your cheek.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles between kisses, “now it’s my turn.”

Suddenly, his strong hands grip the backs of your thighs. Not removing his lips from yours, he carries you across the room to your bed. Laying you across his lap, he takes the shirt still in your hands and finishes cleaning his cum off of you. Still worked up, every touch he gives is met with your moans. Noticing this, he works his hands around your body. Lightly grazing and squeezing where he pleases. Taking off the shorts he’d been daydreaming about removing all day. You’re soaked through your panties, pressing hard into him as his fingers gently pass over you.

“Wanna sit on my face?” he asks, knowing you’re dying to grind into him any way you can.

Absolutely, you do.

A little too eagerly, you shove him back onto your bed - he doesn’t mind. First, you peel the wet fabric from between your legs. Climbing over him, you position yourself above his face. Your ankles slide under his shoulders, fingers tangling with his above his head to steady yourself. You slam into him, dropping harder than intended (okay, you really want this.) A bit rough, but you know Dynamite can take it. Slightly overwhelmed at your enthusiasm, he groans into you before his wet tongue laps at your folds. Sucking and biting at your clit as you ride his face. His hand follows over yours as you move to grip his blonde hair. 

You’re almost there.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Hey, [y/n] are you okay in there?” Mina’s distinct voice sounds through your door, “we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m.. uhm. I’m good.” you yell back, trying (and slightly failing)  to control your breath.

Glancing down, Bakugo’s eyes light up. Without warning, he shoves his tongue into you. Your world spins.

“Fuckkk” you moan under your breath, gripping his hair harder. He’s enjoying this.

Of course the other hero students would immediately jump back into helping people, but now? There’s no way you’re answering the door right now.

Shoto inquires next,  “are you sure, we read more and-”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine!” you manage to get out before throwing your face down and exhaling hard into a pillow. You feel your pussy throb as you cream on his tongue. He’s still not slowing down, determined to make you break. His hands now squeezing hard around your thighs, pressing you into him.

“I think someone’s in there,” Mina giggles. 

“We should probably give them space, it’s the manly thing to do right?” Kirishima adds.

“Wait, I wanna know who it is!” Sero’s voice chimes in. 

How many people are out there??

“In that case,” Momo adds, “[y/n], I made these for you. I’ll leave them out here, okay? Hope you’re being safe!” Something slides under your door but you can’t make out what it is.

You continue to hold your breath, clenching around his relentless tongue.

Finally, their voices trail off down the hallway. Bakugo (you should probably call him Katsuki after that) lessens his grip allowing you to roll onto your bed. Pulling your face away from the drool and bite mark covered pillow, you start to catch your breath. He presses himself up, rubbing his messier than usual hair and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a quick kiss on your forehead, his heavy footsteps make their way to your door and back before throwing a few condoms on your bedside table.

Useful. Thanks Creati.

“Ready now?” he grins at you.

He decides it’s his turn to be on top. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he slowly presses forward. His tip slides into your wetness and you feel yourself stretch around him. Bringing his lips to yours, he kisses you like earlier - soft, passionate. He’s being so sweet you wonder how this is the same person who was just tongue fucking you, trying to get you to scream while all of your friends listened. The same person who grumbled and rushed past you this morning without a hello.

Considering his glacial pace, you weren’t really sure when it happened: he bottoms out in you before pausing. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, scratching them through his soft hair. Thoughts of who he was earlier blur away, taking in the feeling of him in you now. He slowly resumes movement. 

His tongue inside you felt amazing earlier, but his dick is even better. Hitting every sensitive spot you didn’t even know you had. He sucks your bottom lip into his, gently nipping as he picks up the pace. You’re panting hard, kisses becoming sloppier. He thrusts into you, harder and deeper.

“Fuck Katsuki,” you moan, “gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum on my dick,” he growls back, slamming harder into you.

Your throbbing cunt pulses around him while you scream in his ear (you'd feel bad but it's not like he can hear that well anyways.) Hands dragging down his back, pulling him in closer to you.

A jolt of pain amplifies your pleasure as his teeth connect with your throat. Biting down while he whimpers into your neck. You feel him pump into you, exploding white into you while you ride out the waves of your own orgasm.

As you both come down, you run your hands over his scared face. Wanting to cling to any moment of softness you can get from him. He closes his eyes, melting into your touch. 

“Thanks for your help,” you whisper in his ear.

“Help? Oh. Yeah,” his gravelly voice is soft against your cheek, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you don’t have to thank me.” He pulls out, leaving you feeling empty again.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, tying a knot in the condom before tossing it.

You stand up. No dizziness yet. You test your quirk. Almost back to normal.

He picks up another condom from the table, giving himself a few strokes before putting it on.

“Again?” you ask.

“You’re not through the quirk yet, are you?” His red eyes pierce through you and you know there’s no use trying to hide anything from him.

“Almost.”

“I can do better than almost,” he smiles and find yourself pressed into the wall again. His calloused hands running over you in contrast to his smooth lips leaving a trail of small pecks over your neck. 

In one fluid motion, he grips the back of your legs, pulling you up while sliding you back onto his dick - this time faster with more ease. You gasp, clutching his shoulders while he roughly thrusts into you. 

“ya feel so good on my cock, you’re doing so fucking good,” he chokes out between heavy breaths, "you look so fucking pretty taking me like that."

The pressure in your gut rises every time he pounds into you before spilling out, sending pulses of satisfaction through your whole body. You shove your head into his shoulder, crying his name while he fucks you harder. Toes curling as your heels dig into his back.

Before you can catch your breath, he throws you back on your bed.

Strong hands pull you onto your knees, your back arched, and face finding your pillow again. Grabbing your ass to bring you closer, he penetrates you again. His fast pace resuming, making you whimper into your pillow.

His hands find yours, bringing his elbows to either side of your shoulders. Groaning in your ear “ya sound so fucking pretty, louder for me,” as he plows into you. You scream, feeling yourself pulse around him as your pleasure cascades through you.

“Ka-katsuki” you whine, the sound of his name in your voice sending him over the edge.

With another hard thrust, he stutters his hips into you, exhaling hard. For the third time today, you feel him flex in you, filling the condom. You stop biting your pillowcase to look at him. His bright eyes staring back at you through heavy lids.

He thinks you look so fucked out and pretty on your tear-stained pillow.

“You did so good,” he breathes, “you feel better now?”

“Definitely”

Definitely better but 

So.

Fucking.

Exhausted. 

You know you should clean up more, go to the bathroom down the hallway but you’re so tired you can’t manage to do more than melt into your sheets. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Katsuki helping you get dressed for bed and wrapping himself around you.

A sliver of light slices through your room. Your hands move across the bed but it’s empty.  Yesterday feels like a hazy dream. The ache between your legs reminds you it was definitely real. Your neck and hips are sore too, must have fallen asleep at a weird angle. Blinking your eyes open wearily, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

Had to leave early this morning for extra training but let me buy you coffee. Text me when you wake-up and we can meet at that place on the edge of campus.

Katsuki xxx-xxx-xxxx

You check your phone. 

[you have 57 new messages and 14 missed calls] 

The latest few, from Mina, asking who’s in your room. Quickly, you swipe them away. That’s a long story and you’re not sure how you’ll tell it. You can deal with it later. You text Katsuki. 

Getting ready in a rush, you quickly throw some pants on before brushing your teeth, pulling your hair out of your face, and heading down the stairs.

You [heading out now, meet at the coffee shop?]

Katsuki [see you soon]

Walk normal you remind yourself on the way into the common room, trying to look like Katsuki hadn’t spent half of yesterday pounding his massive dick into you. The rest of the class doesn’t know that yet and considering that it’s new, you aren’t really sure if he wants them to know. That probably wouldn’t be the best way for them to find out, anyways. 

Ochoco’s voice beams behind you “Hey [y/n], you’re alive! We were so worried about you!” 

“Hey Ochoco! Yeah, I’m okay!” you yell back.

Hearing you’re awake, Mina runs from the couch to hug you. “Hey!!!” Her eyes widen. “You had a good night!” she says before giggling “I’ll text you!”

Mineta scoffs at the sight of you before getting far out of your way. Good.

Tsuyu, Iida, and Jiro all stare from the couch, they wave back politely but avoid eye contact. 

Denki high-fives you. 

Sero also high-fives you before running to the couch and handing Jiro money. Is this about beating up Mineta? They can’t possibly know about anything else.

Deku looks mortified. “Uhm.” He grabs at the collar of his shirt.

Is there something on your sweatshirt? Using the window by the exit as a mirror, you check.

Oh, shit. There’s more than something on your sweatshirt. 

Tiredly, you assumed the hoodie you woke up in was yours; this one has a big white skull on the front. Peaking out above that, a massive bite mark covers half your neck. You pull the hood up but it still doesn’t cover it.

You [just looked in the mirror]

You [why didn’t you warn me???]

Katsuki [now everyone knows ur mine 🧡]

[you have 8 new messages]

[argcicle]

100days!tommy design hcs

Tommy’s hair is caked in blood towards the back of his head. It’s the only part that really decomposes normally, even though Charlie patched it up constantly.

When his instincts to eat flesh overwhelm him, his eyes go green, but there’s always a hint of green in his eyes when the light hits them right. He also has a vein in his neck that darkens when he gets angry or uses his superhuman strength

Tommy supresses his need for flesh on long expeditions by biting his lip or his cheek, so he comes home with blood dried around his mouth a lot

His shirt is ripped all along the shoulders from zombies grabbing at him. After spending time with Charlie, the evolving ones start to bite at him, so his arms slowly get covered in bandages.

[butterflieswhisper]

looping echidna beastlife gif from trying to figure out toonboom

[dazzelmethat]

I kinda like but dislike that Rumiko and Sunrise (and fans) have never even mentioned that miko (priestesses) are virgins. And that their shinto ability to tend holy places comes from being unmarried virgins. In modern day I guess it is not really required but I kind of wish more people analyzed Kikyo, the dark priestess, Kaede and Kagome in that light.

Personally I think that due to the era Kagome would not be allowed to remain a miko after getting married and having a child. She would still be one of course due to her spiritual ability, but I think she would no longer be allowed to remain in that societal role.

Kagome is so spunky though that I see her rebelling against it. I think Kagome's strength in being outspoken is another great contrast between her and Kikyo. While Kikyo was confined by society and was only freed from expectation when she became an impure monster. Kagome was outspoken and loud to where she didn't have much of a societal role and yet remained 'spiritually pure.'

There is a huge theme of 'societal expectation' in Kagome, Inuyasha, and Kikyo that I think being a miko is a part of.

Personally I'm torn on Kagome loudly choosing to get married and have a child VS remaining a Miko and Kagome choosing to attempt to do both.

More thematic headcannons in the tag below..

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[astraystayyh]

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

[ovaryacted]

me and a friend were talking about Leon during classes today and I couldn’t get dad bod Leon out of my mind😪 I need it bad

I just imagined him coming home tired after a long day of work and needing and relief and just letting reader suck him off or bending us in half, being all soft and warm and I had to stop thinking about it because I was getting distracted😭

-🐏

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | Vendetta! Dad Bod! Leon x fem! reader CW: blowjobs, fingering | WC: 1.1k

I've been meaning to answer this message for a while but haven't had the energy to properly decipher my thoughts. But yeah ram anon, listen I've been in a serious dad bod Leon phase which is all @larvamars fault with their recent drawings. I have moments where I'm at work and my brain just goes "mmm, Vendetta! Dad Bod! Leon" and I lose focus so I get it. It's just something comforting about him having a stomach and thickness that you can grab on to. I need it bad.

Stepping through the front door, the agent walked over the threshold of the entryway and closed the door behind him. Lowering the zipper of his leather jacket, he tossed it over the back of the couch and trudged towards it, plopping himself down with a heavy grunt. Leon placed his head against the edge of the couch and inhaled before exhaling out of his mouth, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as his eyes fluttered closed.

Today was a pain in the ass, the cycle of continuous bio-weapon debriefs and missions gave him a run for his money and an unwanted migraine. All he had been thinking about was coming home and cuddling with you, rotting away in bed together until the next morning. He missed you, he always did, and lately, you have been the only source of release from his pent-up stress.

"Leon? Is that you?" He heard your voice filter through his thoughts, lifting his head slightly from where he rested to skim your silhouette.

"Yeah baby, it's me. Come here," opening his arms out for you, you didn't need to be told twice to move, gravitating towards him and situating yourself over his denim-clad lap.

"Rough day?" You asked him, thick arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to his warm chest. He breathed in and breathed out, your scent filling his senses and easing his ticked nerves.

"Something like that," he groaned when you rubbed at the base of his neck, lightly massaging his nape. He gripped your thighs and caressed you, the rough material of his fingerless leather gloves contradicting his needy touch.

"I missed you today," he confessed in a tired whisper, kissing softly along the side of your neck, his affectionate side coming through.

"You did?"

"Of course I did. Needed to come home so you can take care of me." He squeezed your body a bit harder, the tension he felt building up and flowing to another region down south.

You hummed in contentment, hands running down from his neck to the softness of his chest and towards his lower stomach. He knew he didn't have the same physique from a few years ago when he was younger, the extra weight counted on with time and his figure began to expand. It initially bothered him and it took him a long while to fully look in the mirror again. But to you? It just gave you more to grab, more to hold, more to love.

"Yeah? Need me to make you feel better baby?" You leaned forward the slightest bit, giving him a sweet peck and his hips a teasing grind. The corner of his lips curved in a smile, his dimple shy of making itself known along with the growing bulge hidden underneath his jeans.

"Mhm. You're the only one that knows what I need," he gripped onto your hips, meshing his lips with your own and urging your mouth open to make room for his tongue. You could taste the faint traces of whiskey left behind from when he snuck a sip from his flask earlier, not that you minded.

He was always touch-deprived, always greedy for more but you never complained. You were more than inclined to please him the best way you knew how.

Propped on your knees in front of the couch, you bobbed your head over Leon's cock, a daily occurrence it seemed, and one of your favorite things to do. The fingers of one hand grasped at the thickness of his thighs, a soft layer of fat over the muscle he sported so frequently. The other was busy rubbing at your clit beneath your cotton shorts in tight circles, moaning with every pass of your tongue over his length.

"Feels so good sweetheart," Leon said above you, his neck strained with the way his head was thrown back, clasping your jaw to guide your movements over him.

“Open wider for me baby, want to be deep in there,” he commanded, instinctively relaxing your jaw until he hit the back of your throat with ease, gagging before repeating the act over and over again.

“Fuuuck, that’s it,” he hissed, shifting his attention downwards to watch you suck him off. 

You held his gaze then, following up his happy trail and his lower tummy, admiring the way it folded and creased from the way he slouched. You focused on the stretch marks that made a tantalizing path around his hips and his biceps, lines you wanted to trace with an imprint of kisses. Whimpering at the thought, you drooled around his length, his pelvis becoming a mess of spit from the amount that dribbled out of you. You moaned loudly when you slipped two fingers into your pussy, wishing you had something more to fill the empty ache between your legs.

Leon grinned at the sight of you craving his touch so badly, paying attention to the telltale signs of you reaching the edge with the way your hand pumped in and out of you.

“So desperate for me, poor thing hates being empty,” he patronized you, the pleasant hum you gave him sending his hips jerking into your face. It was only a matter of time before he spilled down your throat and made a mess of you—just the way you wanted.

“Don’t worry. I’ll feed ya, honey. Just a little bit more and you got me,” Leon grumbled, fucking up into your mouth with an audible plap plap plap. Your throat constricted around him, his balls hitting your chin with every thrust he gave you. Eyes rolling into the back, you focused on regulating your breathing when he slammed your head down to press your nose into his pubic hair as he came.

“Take it, fucking take it.” He practically roared from his release, pudgy stomach and dense legs flexing from your touch, your nails digging into him and leaving crescent marks. You choked as your walls clenched around your digits, in tune with his climax and your own hitting you with a dull cry.

As gently as he could, he drew you away from his softening cock, letting you catch your breath with a light cough. Your lips felt numb and your eyes were bloodshot with tears, but you’ve never been more satisfied, a dopey smile evident on your features.

“How about I return the favor now? Gotta clean up the mess my girl made.” He proposed with a smirk, affectionately wiping away the spit that stained your cheeks along with the tears that left their streaks.

This was why Leon liked coming home to you. You’ll always be there with open arms, an open mouth, and open legs.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[sweetbans29]

Varsity Jacket - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin keep it light and playful at a game (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Is this not everyones dream?

It's the first time in the state's history of WBB that they decided to play basketball in a football stadium. A piece of history that has been led by one girl allowing thousands to benefit.

The game was chosen to be an exhibition game, a kick-off to the season, naming it the Crossover at Kinnick. They laid the Iowa WBB court within the confines of the outdoor football stadium, drawing a near 55,000 fans to be a part of the first game in Caitlin Clark's senior year. A NCAA record-breaking 55,000 fans. The first of many records Clark would break this upcoming season.

The game followed a lot of football Saturday traditions. The way the team was called out, a stadium flyover, and your favorite part - the Hawkeye Wave over to the kids in the UI Stead Family Children’s Hospital. You had done it before when your team had danced at football games and were excited to be a part of it today.

You are proud to be part of the Iowa Hawkeye dance team - have been for the past three years now. It is what brought you to IU in the first place.

Growing up dance had always been something you enjoyed. Unlike most of the other girls on the dance team, you didn't start taking dance classes until halfway through middle school. When you learned you had a natural talent for it, you started taking it more seriously. You joined your high school's dance team and decided it was something you wanted to try your hand at in college. When you auditioned going into your freshman year, you were one of two freshmen to make the team.

Since then you have captained the team for two football seasons, going into your third. Yet here you are, freezing your azz off because you forgot your damn coat.

Upon arriving at the stadium, you should have been prepared. You should have thought through how it is November in Iowa and how it is about to be winter but that doesn't cross your mind until you are shaking courtside.

"Didn't you bring a coat?" One of your teammates asks. She is currently bundled up in two jackets, ear muffs, and hand warmers.

"If I did, don't you think I would be wearing it?" You snap and immediately realize. "I'm sorry babe, I am just freezing."

You are trying to hide your shaking body and keep moving around to generate any sort of heat that you can.

A part of being on the dance team was being visible during the whole game. You weren't the cheer squad but your team had to be posted up next to them every game. It wasn't bad, it was just cold.

As halftime approached you directed your team to stretch out again, not wanting them to pull anything while dancing. You did the same, as you watched your basketball continue to do what they do best.

Once everyone was stretched, you all bunched together ready to take the court.

"I am still freezing my ass off," you say rubbing your hands together and huddle close to your friend. "I can't believe I didn't bring my freaking overcoat."

The team was coming off when someone bumped your shoulder causing you to take a few steps back.

"Hey! Watch it," you tell the 6-foot frame.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," the girl says. You pull down your skirt and smooth it over. Once you are satisfied with your outfit adjustment you look up.

'Of-freaking-course', you think to yourself as you make eye contact with none other than Caitlin Clark.

"I didn't see you there," she says, the slightest smirk peaking out.

"Very funny Clark," you say trying to hide your own smile and keep it serious.

"Oh, keeping it professional now are we?" She says. "It's cute, but you can call me Caitlin."

"That is so kind of you," you say, kind of surprised she is still there talking to you. You finish your sentence with, "Clark."

She just smiles and shakes her head. You hear the music come on and you know it's your cue. Caitlin doesn't follow the rest of the team back through the tunnel, rather stands to the side and watches you and your team take the court.

Caitlin knows she should be back with her team. More so to warm up but she couldn't nor wanted to take her eyes off you. She stood there watching you and your team keep everyone entertained during halftime. A smile resting on her lips the entire time.

She has seen you around before. How could she not, you were at practically every sports game. Caitlin would frequent the Hawkeye's football games but never really got close enough to see you perform (something she will probably never admit to you). If it wasn't seeing you in passing there, she noticed you would go and watch other sports just for fun. She has to think about it but if she remembers correctly she has seen you at both the men's and women's volleyball matches, women's soccer, and even some track and even the women's swim and dive meets.

Caitlin cheers on your team as you finish your routine and runoff, making way for the cheer squad to perform their routine next. As you make your way back you see Cait standing in the same spot she bumped you in. She is smiling at you and clapping as you make your way over. You walk up to her despite the murmurs you hear from your team, only making out your name and Caitlin's in their muffled conversations.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere, Clark?" You ask as you cross your arms over your chest. You may have just performed a 6-minute dance routine but the chilled air was unforgiving.

"Wanted to stay out here and watch - making sure your little frozen ass doesn't fall off," she says, her eyes never leaving yours.

"The team is great," you say with a smile choosing to ignore the second part of her statement and refusing to be the first one to break eye contact.

"I wasn't watching the team," she says, that stupid smirk playing on her lips again. You could feel yourself losing this battle.

"That's a shame, they are great," you say trying to regain any part of this conversation.

"Maybe, but not as great as who I had my eyes on," she says. You blush and look away. You felt like you were being interrogated by the freaking CIA not flirting with your school's superstar.

"Okay, Clark, you win," you say as you crumble under her gaze.

She rubs the back of your arm, letting her hand linger on you. You look back up at her.

"I should get back," she says not wanting to leave you but knowing her job isn't done.

"You should," you say, agreeing for her - the first time since this conversation has started.

"Thanks for umm, thanks for watching," you say, your nerves peaking out. She nods and heads in the direction of her team.

What the hell was that? You make your way over to your team and they are all chattering about the interaction. You take your seat next to your co-captain who is just looking at you.

You keep your head forward still processing it all. Caitlin Clark was just talking to you. Not only that, but she waited and watched you perform then proceeded to flirt with you about it. Her hand was on your arm. You were thankful it wasn't skin-to-skin contact because you probably would have never let her walk away. She was teasing you.

You are too caught up in your own thoughts to see when someone had walked up to you. Your co-cap tapping your leg and nodding at the woman who was standing in front of you.

"Oh hi," you say and stand.

"I was told to bring this over to you," she says holding something, you look down and it's a jacket.

"Oh thank you," you say grabbing it.

"She wanted me to say it is from Caitlin," she says, emphasizing the name. "Told me I had to emphasize the name."

The woman walks away and you unfold the jacket to see 'CLARK' on the back right above the number 22. This girl is not serious right now. If you were under any other circumstance, you would not be putting it on but since the only time you have stopped shaking was while you were performing you decide to put the jacket on.

If your team was whispering about your interaction with Caitlin before, they are shouting from the rooftops now.

The basketball team comes back out and you find yourself looking for a particular someone. To your delight, she is making her way over to you.

"You got it, good," she says, wrapped in an Iowa jacket of her own.

"You didn't need to do this," you say but make no move to try and hand it back to her. It has been the warmest you have been the whole game. She lets out a little laugh.

"Sure, says the one who was shaking like a chihuahua," she says taking in the sight of you in her clothing. She could get used to this.

"I appreciate it, Clark," you say and she groans.

"Caitlin," she says.

"Clark," you retort.

"Cait," she responds.

"Clark," you are not giving in.

"CC, Caity, C - anything but Clark," she says frustrated.

"Why does it bother you so much that I call you by your last name?" You ask now the one who has the slight edge in the conversation.

"Clark, get your butt over here," one of her coaches yells at her.

"That's why," she mumbles and gives you one last look before running back over to the team.

"Get it Clark!" You yell after her, earning some whistles and shouts from your team.

You're thankful it is still cold out because the redness on your cheeks can easily be taken as cold, hiding your blush.

Your team doesn't shut up about the fact that you had talked to Caitlin but she gave her varsity jacket to you to wear. All the girls were staring at you and taking in the sight of the player's jacket.

A ball gets swatted out of bounds and you catch it before it can hit anyone on your team. Caitlin sees where it goes and books it to grab it from you.

Here is the thing about Caitlin, she is the last person to go and catch a ball that has been hit out of bounds. Her whole team was aware of this. So it is to everyone's surprise when she is the first one to hustle after the ball when the whistle is blown.

You hold up the ball for her.

"Careful there Clark, could have hurt someone," you say.

She laughs, "Ya right."

"Since when are you the first one to run after a loose ball," you say exposing that you may have watched her more than a few times. Could anyone blame you? Caitlin has been drawing the attention of the whole nation.

"Didn't want to miss the opportunity to come talk to the pretty girl," she says with that damn smirk.

"You are too kind Clark," you say faking flattery.

"Oh, I was talking about the girl next to you," she says teasing you.

You sit there speechless as Caitlin finally takes the ball.

"I'm kidding, but you should see the look on your face. It's priceless," she says winking at you before heading back over to inbound the ball.

'Oh it is on Clark' you think as you watch them finish up the last quarter.

Caitlin, of course, plays amazing. She finishes the game off with her first triple-double of the season. You watch as she celebrates with her team - all of who were excited to start the season on a high note. You are celebrating with your team when they all go quite in front of you and stare at something behind you. You turn around before Caitlin can tap your shoulder.

"Ahh, so we meet again," you say with a smile. "Well done Clark."

"Okay, enough with the Clark. You are wearing my jacket for goodness sake," she says and shakes her head.

"Oh, ya, thank you for this," you say and begin to take it off. She stops you by putting her hand on your arm - the second time today you note.

"Hold on to it, if you take it off now you will start shaking again and I don't really care to see you looking like a little chihuahua," she says and scratches the back of her neck. You raise your eyebrow at her. If you don't give her the jacket back now, that means you will need to see her again to return it.

"And who exactly am I supposed to get this back to you?" You ask.

"Well that is actually why I came over here," she says and you can tell she is a little more nervous than she had been before. You don't notice but both of your teams are watching the interaction between you.

"Okay," you say encouraging her to continue.

"How would you feel about going out with me this weekend?" Caitlin says as she has to mentally remind herself to keep her breathing steady and to not rush her words.

"I don't know..." you start. "I was thinking I could just have someone swing the jacket by one of your practices."

Caitlin's face looks mortified and you immediately bring your hand up to hers to ease her, your joke being taken a little too serious.

"I'm kidding Clark," you say and give her hand a squeeze. "I would love to go out with you this weekend."

She smiles widely.

"Great," she says. "I'll text you details," she begins walking backward.

"And how are you going to do that without my number?" You say as she is now just out of reach.

"You're cute," she says, now back in control of the conversation. "I've had your number for a while, now I just get to use it."

You stare at her, mouth agape. You don't know how to get the last word in so she does.

"Talk to you soon babe!" Caitlin says and runs back towards her team.

AN: This was a cutie. Hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[shaunamilfman]

after midnight

pairing: jackieshauna x reader summary: You get a little too drunk at a party and end up kissing Jackie Taylor, who you mistook for someone else. Just to make sure that Shauna isn't too mad at you, you kiss her too. note: yeah, based off that twitter post.

You focus all of your attention on the ceiling fan, watching as the blades blur together in an endless loop. You’re strangely mesmerized by the action, letting yourself be drawn into it in the hopes it’ll distract you from your pounding headache or the anxious feeling in your chest. The sound of Nat clattering around in the kitchen breaks your concentration, slowly drawing your attention back to reality.

With a pained groan, you finally drag yourself out of bed, stumbling to your bathroom knowing that at least one of the things bothering you had a simple solution. You blindly reach into the medicine cabinet, briefly glancing at the bottle before dry swallowing the pills that will be your salvation from your headache. 

You lean against the sink with a sigh of relief, looking at yourself in the mirror before quickly looking away. God, you looked like shit. 

A sudden realization dawns on you, a sinking feeling filling your stomach as you slowly look back at your reflection. You turn your head to the side, your eyes widening as you catch sight of the unmistakable traces of lipstick along your neck.

You fumble around for a rag, drawing Nat’s attention from the kitchen as you knock a few bottles off the counter.

“Hey?” she calls out, unaware of your turmoil as you scrub at your neck to get the mark off.

“Hey,” you answer, hesitant and unsure as you take one last look in the mirror before joining her in the kitchen.

She grins as she catches sight of you, a quick flick of her eyes up and down your disheveled form before she slides a cup of coffee across the counter towards you without a word. You’re quick to grab it, almost downing it in your haste to get something, anything, in your stomach. 

The memory of last night hangs over you like a fog, each moment shrouded in uncertainty and a lingering feeling that you’d fucked something up. If only you could remember it. You’d woken up with a bitter taste on your tongue, serving as a stark reminder of your excess from the night before. You knew better than to drink like that, knew it always got you in trouble, but you figured you just needed a little courage and then… 

Then everything fell apart.

You were surprised to find yourself still in one piece this morning, so you supposed it hadn’t been a complete disaster. The text you had woken up to did a lot to assuage your nerves, but it was the lipstick stain on your neck that had you sure that the night had actually gone well. You weren’t quite sure how you pulled it off, but you quickly decided a win was a win. 

Now your problem was just piecing together how the night ended.

“So?” Nat prompts, drawing your attention as you warm your hands on the quickly cooling cup. “How did it go?”

“Funny you ask that, actually,” you begin, the words tumbling out in a rush as you brace yourself for her reaction.

Nat groans, propping her head up on her hands as she looks you over. “What's that mean?” She sounds interested despite herself. 

“So I may or may not be dating Jackie and Shauna now.”

She's quiet for a long moment, her jaw dropped as she processes the news. “What the fuck? How?” she finally manages to sputter, her voice tinged with incredulity.

“So I got, like, really drunk last night–” 

“I remember,” Nat says wryly. 

“Right. Well, you know how me and that girl from my math class have had this thing going on–” 

“I'm not seeing what this has to do with Jackie and Shauna.”

“If you would just let me finish…”

…

You finish what's left in your cup before leaving it on the table, looking around for her familiar jacket before you find her. 

Bingo. You spot her off further in, her denim jacket and blonde hair catching the dim light. It seemed a little darker than usual, honestly, but you figured it was just the light. You take a deep breath and try to steady your shaking hands before just stuffing them in your pockets. Now or never.

This wasn’t the most well thought out idea, you knew that, but it was definitely the best one you had. Toss a few drinks back and get enough courage to finally kiss Jenny from your math class. Easy enough in theory, right? She told you to come find her at the party, practically insisted on it really, but you were still so fucking nervous at the thought of it. The thought of her smile, and the way she always looked at you in class, gave you just enough courage to push through the crowd to find her.

You call out her name as you weave through throngs of partygoers, but the music plays so loud you’re not sure if she can even hear you or not. As you reach her, you take a deep breath before putting your hand on her shoulder and spinning her around. Was she a little shorter than usual? Whatever. Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward and kiss her.

She makes a squeaking noise as you do, her hands slapping against your shoulders as she pushes you away. You stumble backward and nearly fall on your ass, a little offended as you look at her. 

Jackie stares up at you with smeared lipstick and wide-eyes as the gravity of the situation slowly dawns on you. Oh God, that was Jackie Taylor. You just kissed Jackie Taylor and Shauna Shipman was going to kill you. You were too young to die.

That definitely wasn’t Jenny. You’d definitely had one too many if you thought that Jackie looked anything like the girl from your math class.

“What the fuck?” Shauna spits, her jaw clenched and her hands balled up in a fist. She grabs a fist full of your shirt, pulling you towards her as she gets up in your face. You can smell the alcohol on her breath as she gets near, a mix of malibu and rage.

You try to stutter out an apology, but the words keep catching in your throat. It feels like your tongue just won’t cooperate with you, leaving you defenseless in your time of need. Her grip on your shirt tightens, her knuckles turning white as she gives you the meanest look you’ve ever seen another person make that wasn’t a TV serial killer.

“Shauna–” Jackie tries, stepping forward and putting a hand on her arm, but Shauna’s too mad to even entertain her.

“Did you seriously just do that in front of me?” Shauna’s so mad she can barely speak, the disbelief on her face saying more than words ever could. Her eyes are so intense, a fire burning behind them that makes you wish you could disappear.

“You’re unbelievable.” Shauna’s voice is low and dangerous, and you can feel the heat of her anger radiating off her. You can’t think of any way to get out of this situation without getting burned.

Unless…

You make a split second decision as you lunge forward at Shauna. This was a fucking disaster, but man would you have one hell of a story if you could live to tell it.

… 

“... and that's when I realized that I just kissed Jackie Taylor.”

“Holy shit, dude!” Nat laughs, her expression an equal mix of pride and amusement. 

“God. I know,” you groan, burying your head in your hands as you flush in embarrassment. 

“So what happened next?”

“So Shauna's got a fistful of my shirt, right? I'm realizing that, holy shit, she's about to beat my ass. So I do the only thing I can do.”

“What's that?

“Well…” 

… 

You lunge forward and kiss Shauna too, catching her by surprise. She’s frozen solid as you press your lips together, and for an instant you think she’s just going to punch you anyway. Shauna’s hand releases your shirt in surprise, her hands flailing for a moment before reaching up and resting on the side of your head. 

You’d read in a Wikipedia article once during a time of late-night procrastinating that it was virtually impossible for a human to snap someone else’s neck, but if anyone was capable of that, it would definitely be Shauna Shipman. Much to your surprise, you don’t end up dead on the floor; instead, her surprisingly soft hands cup your face with more gentleness than you thought she was capable of.

It’s nothing like the quick kiss you’d shared with Jackie; she’s aggressive and intense. Every movement is met with a swift reaction, as if she takes it as a challenge. Her lips are soft and taste like strawberry lip-gloss and you idly wonder whether it belonged to her or Jackie originally.

She bites at your lip hard as the kiss ends, enough that you’re sure she’s broken the skin. You can feel the sting of it long after she’s backed away, sharing a look with Jackie that you’re too much in shock to pay attention to. You’re left reeling, trying to process the rapid turn of events even though you’d been mostly responsible for them.

You manage to sneak a glance at Shauna, figuring that at least you would see it coming when she inevitably broke your nose. She gives you a dark look, and it’s hard to tell whether she’s flustered or angry.

“Shauna,” Jackie chides. “You don’t have to be so rough with her. She’s not going anywhere.” 

Shauna’s tense posture relaxes slightly at Jackie’s words, but not fully. They seem to have a conversation with nothing but their expressions, something that you weren’t fully privy to. 

Without a word spoken to you, Jackie steps forward and kisses you again. It’s better this time, more deliberate than the quick peck you’d managed before. It felt reassuring, a tenderness that your kiss with Shauna was sorely lacking. Her arms come up to rest behind your shoulders, pulling you chest-to-chest as she kisses you so gently you almost want to cry.

You can practically feel the weight of Shauna’s eyes on you, but it doesn’t seem nearly as heavy as it did before: less threatening, and more curiosity. Her gaze is unwavering as she assesses the situation, stepping closer toward you and leaving you caught between the two of them as your mind races.

Jackie breaks the kiss slowly, giggling as she has to press a hand against your shoulder to stop you from trying to chase after her. She’s close enough that your breath is mingling together, pulling just far away enough to speak as she gives Shauna a knowing look. “See? It doesn’t have to be a fight every time.”

“She’s okay, isn’t she?” Shauna asks, the question posed more as a challenge than any real attempt at concern. Her eyes search yours, trying to find out what you’re thinking without having to actually ask. You nod slightly, giving her the permission she seems to seek. She’s just as formidable as ever, but this time her approach is slower. More deliberate.

“Yeah,” you mutter simply, nodding dumbly as Jackie tuts and pulls your attention back on her with a single finger on your chin.

Shauna huffs, finally closing the distance between you as she presses up against your back. “Good,” she whispers, her lips brushing your ear as she speaks.

Jackie rests her hand behind your neck as she pulls you into another kiss, somehow more demanding than the last. You can’t help but melt into it, immediately responding to the touch. Shauna laughs softly behind you, pressing a kiss against Jackie’s fingers before she finds her way to the side of your neck.

The two of them together are intense, overwhelming in a way that leaves you utterly breathless and lagging a half-second behind. It’s almost too much, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away for anything.

Shauna bites down gently, just enough to leave a mark. You gasp, the sound swallowed by Jackie’s lips. 

“Relax,” Jackie murmurs.

Then everything after that is a blur.

… 

“... I kissed Shauna too.”

Nat laughs so hard she nearly falls out of her chair. She manages to get out a few words in between peels of near hysterical laughter. “You kissed Shauna? Are you insane?” 

“Honestly, probably. I certainly felt like it at the time, Nat. But here’s the crazy part: she freezes, and for a second it’s like time stops, but then she kisses me back!”

“No fucking way Shauna Shipman kissed you.”

“Look, I know! That’s what I was thinking too,” You snicker, shaking your head. “So there I am, kissing Shauna and waiting for her to come to my senses with Jackie’s lipstick still on my lips. But then I pull back and see Jackie standing there just staring with this look of… I don’t know, I can’t even name it.”

“And?”

“So, Jackie says something to Shauna that I couldn’t quite make out and they just kind of nodded and before I knew it, Jackie was all over me too.”

Nat’s jaw drops as she leans forward to look at you. “Jackie too?”

“Jackie too,” you confirm. “Yeah, but it gets weirder. See, Jackie pulls away to look at Shauna again and there’s this moment where I’m like ‘Well, now they’re going to kill me together.’ But then they both just kind of smile at me?”

Nat breathes out slowly, eyes wide with shock. “What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea. I know something must have happened after that, but it’s all blurry after that. All the booze caught up to me.”

“What makes you think you’re dating them, then? It seems like you just got a lucky break that Shauna wasn’t close enough to a knife to stab your dumb ass.”

“See, that’s what I would think to,” you say, pulling out your phone as you scroll through your messages. “But I woke up this morning to a text in a group chat all like ‘hope you get home safe, babe.’” 

You hold the phone up for Nat to see, and she quickly snatches it from you as she looks through it. Her eyes scan the screen, her disbelief slowly turning into astonishment.

“Holy shit,” she mutters, slowly scrolling through the chat. “They both texted you. Jackie even sent you a selfie of her and Shauna together with a ‘we missed you at breakfast’ caption.”

“What?” You ask, leaning forward to read over Nat’s shoulder. That one was new– you must’ve gotten it while you were talking to Nat.

“I don’t even remember leaving?” You mutter.

“This is unreal,” Nat says, handing you your phone back as she lazes back in the chair. “You better figure your shit out before Jackie gets her feelings hurt.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “No kidding.”

You bite your lip before quietly admitting, “I kind of like it.”

Nat snorts, shaking her head slowly.

[ckret2]

@marsupials-of-mars submitted:

I was planning to do maybe a fic and more doodles of this but now I'm busy with school so I might as well show what I did do!

Based on how the goldilocks fic seems to posit that Bill at his best is a silly professor who loves to teach his own way

Introducing Professor Locke!

Things about this idea:

-post redemption, however that will go. I'm calling it an AU because I imagine it is not your plan for what happens after lol, but currently canon-compliant.

-Bill is at first not very on board with the idea of working in the higher education system. It's a scam and it's dumb that they tell adult people how to think.

-He's eventually convinced to bless Backupsmore with his tutelage, on the grounds that they're less stuck up there, they seem to care about giving their students opportunities despite their backgrounds, and the kids there care about learning rather than going to college just because their parents said they should.

-Ford uses his academic connections to vouch for Bill even though he is very mysterious and has no academic records. This is another reason why they picked Backupsmore: i's a little more lax when presented with a shockingly smart mystery professor. Bill gets an interview and charms the pants off the university president.

-He teaches "astrophysics" in theory (that's the job description) but he ends up teaching a little bit of everything.

-He's one of those professors you either adore or despise. He's very loud, often outright mean, and if you're too shy to speak up in class he does not give a SHIT about you. You gotta want it!

-However, his class is notoriously easy. He thinks homework and tests are facist, but he's required to have a curriculum, so his "quizzes" are like a few true or false questions and then a short answer where he asks something he thinks would be funny or wants to hear about, like "what's the dumbest thing another student has said in class since the last test and why was it dumb" or "fashion advice: what's the coolest thing I wore this last week? Extra credit: draw something cooler I SHOULD wear."

-as a result, students who have completely unrelated majors will take his class. If they end up being interested, he deems them worthy. If they're just there to be lazy, he will bully them into dropping out.

-Mabel buys him stickers to put on people's tests when they pass, or to just hand out when they something he likes. He gets along most with the college kids who know how to appreciate a classic gold star.

-He really wanted a big pretty lecture hall, where his voice would echo and he could point at a big chalkboard. But all Backupsmore could provide was a cinderblock and linoleum basement classroom. The lights buzz very loudly and it smells musty. They have stools and folding tables. Bill finds he enjoys the more intimate environment where he can walk between the tables and also sneak up on people.

-He's broken multiple folding tables by trying to do the cool professor thing where you hop up onto your desk and cross your legs and talk all casual. He is able to do this on his own desk thankfully. It's aluminum.

-Ford gets a bit nervous if he did the right thing when bill tells his school stories at the dinner table, so he finds an excuse to accompany Bill to a campus event where he can meet some of his students.

-His fears are quickly assuaged when he sees how beloved Bill is and how well he gets along with the kids. When he eventually joins in on one of these conversations, one of the students asks if he's Sixer. The students are excited by this. Bill tries to shut them up, to partial success.

OK I guess I just ended up writing the fic more or less so enjoy I guess lol.

Aww, this is adorable! Thank you! (And the fact that you're imagining a future for Bill makes me so happy.) He's absolutely be the weirdest professor in the school and he'd ADORE having a crowd full of trusting impressional minds whose parents are paying him to change the way they think. Talk about playing to his strengths.

Your idea is so wholesome, meanwhile the moment I saw "Professor Bill" I went,

[aerowolf]

the mercs realize it's your bday and you didn't tell anyone because your family doesn't do birthdays

I’m so sorry this is a mess between British and American english. I have an American parent and a Canadian one so it messed me up lolll

if didn't include a Merc you wanted, feel free to request and I'll try and add them :]

includes: Miss Pauling & offense classes

cute platonic, gn!reader

warnings: n/a, this is basically all fluff

You'd rather not make a big deal of it being your birthday, even though it is you were taught that birthdays aren't a big deal and your family never really did them.

You kind of wish someone would care but you feel guilty about that so you choose not to tell anyone about it

The only one of these who actually knows it's your birthday is Miss Pauling, who’s seen your personnel files

Miss Pauling

She knows it's your birthday, and instead of ignoring it she decides to at least discreetly make it a good day for you

She arrives on base for a routine inspection, clipboard in hand, but once she's done with the main thing, instead of leaving, she comes to your room

"I saw that it's your birthday today. I don't know if you celebrate, or anything, but, uh, I thought you'd like a gift. Maybe."

She hands you a box, inside are some candy bars and a plush of a bear

"I know it's not exactly the nicest thing, and I know it's kinda... stereotypical... but, y'know, I thought you'd like something. So, happy birthday. From me.” She’s really shy about it, you get the feeling she didn’t--probably still doesn’t--really get to celebrate birthdays either. 

She offers you a ride on her motorbike, something nice, on the open road--away from this base for a little while. You accept, taking a seat behind her, enjoying the open air--though it is pretty hot out. You guys talk, just enjoying the time.

She smiles at you as you get back. “Happy birthday. You deserve it.”

You thank her and even give her a hug. It’s nice that you got this for once. 

Scout

He has no idea whatsoever that it’s your birthday. He’s interacting with you like usual, teasing you, just hanging out. You’re happy as you talk that day; he’s always good at making you laugh and smile.

At some point he notices that you’re a little down, as much as you may try to hide it, he can tell. You’re his friend, and even though he might act like he doesn’t care sometimes, you know he does. A lot.

You tell yourself you don’t want anything on your birthday, that it’s easier if no one knows, but secretly, you do.

“Hey, what’s up? C’mon, ya know I can tell when something’s wrong.” 

You tell him it’s nothing. 

“You sure? Really? You’re kinda… I dunno, sadder than usual.” After he asks a few times, you finally come out and tell him. You don’t say much. Just “It’s my birthday.”

“No kiddin’? Well, why didn’t ya tell me?” He comes off pretty strong. You feel kind of apologetic for mentioning it, and look away from him. “Aw, hey. Y’know what--it don’t matter. I’m gonna throw you a party like you ain’t never seen, believe me.”

You try to tell him you don’t want a party--well, you do. Maybe. No you don’t. Well, sure. But not a big one. He’s really sweet and enthusiastic about it. “Someone like you deserves a big birthday--but if you don’t want it, dat’s okay. Ya know, we could just hang out, or somethin’. You n’ me, yeah?” 

You tell him you’d like that a lot. You both find a quiet spot in the base where you can just talk. He messes around, too, and pops in a Tom Jones record. 

He’s a little shy, a little embarrassed, but he even sings happy birthday to you. He just seems glad no one can hear him. He doesn’t have a gift handy for you, but he ends up scribbling you a quick doodle of him telling you happy birthday. It’s misspelt, but the drawing is cute, and you keep it. “I hope ya had a good day. I’m just sorry I didn’t know sooner.” You tell him that it wasn’t his fault, how could he have known? 

After all is done, he gives you an awkward hug. You smile and return it.

Soldier

He’s a little crazy so he’s just hanging around base, today he had the idea to strip and cover himself in honey, so everyone has had to convince him to please not do that, and now he’s just moping around, muttering about how anti patriotic this all is.

You sit next to him and mope as well. Unlike him, no one knows the reason you’re moping. To anyone else’s point of view, you’re just comforting him--for whatever weird reason. But he sees that you’re just as sad as him.

“What’s wrong, maggot? Is there someone who needs to see my fists meet their face?”

You tell him no, no one did anything. You’re a little intimidated by him, and you don’t see much reason to tell him anyways. But it’s nice sitting with a friend. 

“If it’s not a person, then… it must be an object! Give it to me and I will destroy it immediately.” He’s being as sweet as he can, you smile and shake your head.

You sit there for a bit, smiling as you watch the other mercs come and go. Today isn’t a bad day, just a little sad. Later, you plan to find some kind of sweet treat to eat alone.

Soldier stands up, at attention, and points at you. “MAGGOT, AS YOUR SUPERIOR AND SENIOR, I ORDER YOU TO TELL ME WHAT IS WRONG!”

With a sad smile and a chuckle you finally tell him.

“Your birthday?” Soldier seems genuinely surprised. He places a hand on his chin and thinks. “We cannot go without celebrating! This is momentous!”

Although you try to protest, he turns to the base, stating to every other merc, “LISTEN UP! IT IS Y/N’S BIRTHDAY AND WE WILL CELEBRATE!” 

He makes it his personal mission to decorate for a party that very evening, even gets a cake and everything. He makes every other merc sing happy birthday with him. Maybe this isn’t so bad.

You give him a big hug, and he is surprised at first, but proceeds to give a gentle laugh and hug back.

Pyro

You see Pyro colouring with crayons and coloured pencils on their break, and you sit by them. You don’t really understand what they’re saying a lot of the time, but you enjoy hanging out with them. It’s a long period of silence before you join them in colouring. Regardless of your artistic skills, they’re impressed and encourage you, and are very happy when you show them what you’ve been working on. 

After a little while you get kind of bored and sad. You’ve tried to enjoy this day but it’s another bittersweet birthday. You’re happy to hang out with Pyro though, even though they don’t know what day it is.

Pyro notices that you’ve stopped colouring with them, and that you’re looking at the ground instead, messing with the cracks in the floor.

“Huddah hrmmf mmmrph?” You don’t understand what they’re saying exactly, but you smile at them. They seem to be asking what’s wrong, why you stopped, why you seem so sad.

You hesitate for a moment before finally confessing. They seem to mostly understand what you mean, and they lean back, thinking. 

After a few seconds, they stand up and help pull you off the floor. They point to their room, and you follow them. It’s an odd combination of scorch marks, colourful drawings, weapons, and art supplies. They lead you to a wardrobe and pull out a box. 

Surprisingly, you can see that it's fully wrapped. Did they somehow know it was your birthday? Do they keep these gifts on hand for the mercs?

You won’t get an answer, but they excitedly push it out and offer it to you. “Huddah hmmph!” They sound almost like they are smiling behind the mask. You take the box and open it. It’s got crayons, pencils, and… wow, that’s a drawing of you and them.

You smile, almost ready to tear up, and thank them. You give them a hug, and you notice that they’re hugging you back even harder. Maybe they don’t really understand, but this is sweet.

[yndrgrl]

your classmate, yandere! bakugou, is deeply & utterly infatuated w/ shy, little you, & he isn't afraid to tell you just how much you occupy his mind.

fem! reader. quirkless! au. ooc! bakugou. long ass fic. soft! yandere.

a/n: based on this video (https://youtu.be/BoHAw_pEtOA), i'm literally OBSESSED w/ it. it's like, imagine being so stunning to someone that you're on their mind 24/7 like GAHHH WHAT.

warnings: slightly disturbing content, nsfw, dirty talk, stalking, swearing, very much "joe goldberg" vibes, smut asf, male masturbation, degrading, sexsexsex, gagging, praise

----

you are sweet. you are a gentle, kind soul-- so shy & reserved. to the big, bad katsuki bakugou, you are truly eye-catching. the way you didn't draw attention to yourself & yet would say the most profound things during online discussion posts made him wonder what was going on in that cute, little head of yours.

the way you're just the complete opposite of him made him crave you.

the first time he noticed you, you walked through the classroom door with your bulky headphones on that were clearly a part of your first-day-of-school outfit. enthralled was the only way he could describe how he felt. maybe shocked as well. how could someone so beautiful just walk into class?

he scoffed at his own thoughts, knowing damn well if he heard kirishima or denki say anything like that, he would've rolled his eyes. if she's beautiful, he thought, then she must have a terrible personality that i don't want to get to know.

unluckily -but also luckily- you were assigned the seat right beside him. you, with your pearly, white teeth, flashed him a courteous smile. you placed your bag on the floor, shrunk into your seat, & pulled out your binder.

what. a. nerd. katsuki laughed in his head. he could already read you like a book, he believed. a goody-two-shoes who stutters after every word, no confidence, & lives in her own little bubble, is what he deducted.

& yet he couldn't help but notice how fragrant your perfume smelled. it reminds him of a time when he was at peace, without a worry in the world. "god, how much perfume does a girl need," katsuki loudly said.

it took you a second to register that, beyond the music playing through the speakers of your headphones, there was a voice muffled. slipping your headphones down around your neck, you questioned, "i'm sorry, did you say something?"

"whatever," katsuki mumbled beside you. you felt bad, not meaning to ignore him. however, before you got the chance to apologize, the bell rang, & the professor walked to the front of the classroom. a professor that he could already tel he would hate, by the way.

that was the first day of the semester.

katsuki saw you everywhere after that. it's not like he wanted to or anything. the campus should have been big enough for the both of you, but it wasn't. he would see you at lunch with your goody-goody friends, or walking back to your dorm building with your heavy bag, or in different classes that you didn't sit with him.

one day, as the days grew slightly colder, katsuki needed to blow off some steam. he didn't know what was making him pent up. correction: he didn't want to admit that he knew why he was all pent up. since when can a person can make the great katsuki bakugou pent up?

since the first day of the semester, that's when.

bakugou, in a tight-fitting compression shirt & sweatpants, sauntered into the campus gym with his army green duffel bag slung over his shoulder. at this time of day -that being 6 in the morning- the gym was bare. only the early birds & forced athletes occupied the gym.

& apparently, so did nerds.

there you were, in all your glory. you wore black leggings that accentuated your legs. your silky, soft hair held up by a clear claw clip. your beaten up converse told the story that you are an avid gym-goer.

stationed in front of one of the only squat wracks that had a window view, the morning sunlight gazed upon your features. the soft hue made bakugou choke on his own spit. as he gawked your stature, he watched as you took sips from your water bottle. then he watched as you went to the bar, ducked under, & got ready to squat. he felt something twitch as you began your set.

"hey, bakugou~" a feminine voice spoke, causing him to almost jump. he shifted his bag so it hung in front of him. "whatcha doooing?"

"mina, what does it look like?" he scoffed.

"it looks like you were staring at-"

he cut her off. "i wasn't staring at anyone. it's just weird to see nerds like her in the gym."

"nerds like her?" she questioned, then she quickly changed the subject, "whatever, you're gonna work out with me & kiri, right?"

after that, bakugou deducted you were an anomaly. he learned how kind & attentive you are when he just so happened to read a text you sent out between you & a friend. he learned how confident you truly can be when you believe it's just you-- no eyes looking at you. he learned that your reputation was the opposite of his.

you see, bakugou was rough around the edges, to put it softly. he wore edgy clothing that made heads turn, thanks to his fashion designer parents, of course. he was proud to show off how big his muscles were & how many tattoos & scars littered his skin. he often skipped lectures, which didn't matter in the end because of his high scores on the exams.

on the other hand, you were just a beam of heaven-gate sunlight. always getting the best grades, acing tests, showing up on time, & taking pretty notes with pens, no need for pencils because you never mess up. you were also quiet, almost seeming untouchable.

the first time he caught himself truly thinking about you was late at night. he fell asleep on his dorm bed after a day of ditching classes. soon, images popped into the black void. it was a blur, colors mashing together until it was clear. there you stood, a gasp escaping your pink lips. it was as though he was watching a movie of himself.

he touched your body, scorching your skin with a red blush. he squeezed your thighs, your ass, your tits. nowhere left untouched, & you liked it. your fingers tangled themselves into his blonde tresses. you pulled him closer & begged in his ear to stick his heavy cock into your sopping pussy.

he awoke, breath heavy & a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. his dick was still incredibly hard. it was almost painful. his roommate/classmate/best buddy, kirishima already left for his early morning class & wouldn't be back until later that afternoon. katsuki knew that.

in hopes to dull the pain, he took his cock into his hand & started jerking it. though it helped, he needed something more. he took a breath, & with his other hand, he unlocked his phone & went onto instagram-- your instagram.

the most recent picture you posted was from summer. it was a college of the outfits you wore & activities you've done before fall semester. his favorite one was a candid your friend must've took. you were on the beach surrounded by people katsuki didn't care about. you were in such a scandalous swim suit that left little to the imagination. it was taken from behind so it shamelessly displayed how your swim bottoms did nothing but cover your important bits.

god, what he would do to you if he ever saw you in the swimsuit. he would bend you over, slip your bikini bottoms to the side (because he couldn't waste any time taking it off) & fuck you senseless in front of everyone. he would make you clean off his dick with that pretty, little mouth of yours. he would-

he came. he came all over his abs, & yet his cock was still throbbing. still beating for you. "shit," he whispered. as much as he hated it, katsuki was often self aware of his emotions. it's a nerdy thing to do, he knows. however, after finishing to the thought of you, he knows that he's obsessed with you, & there's nothing he can do so why fight it?

it was another day, another lecture. there sat katsuki, slumped in his seat before you even entered the class. as you did, he watched as your beautiful eyes connected with his & widen with shock. he hasn't been in class in a week, there was no big exam in class, so you were curious why he even showed up.

walking towards your desk with your eyes averted to the floor, katsuki took your figure in. he still couldn't get over how your fashion sense reflected your personality, your aura, perfectly. you seemed so comfortable, nearly confident & he loved it.

you knew he was staring; it would've been unnerving if it were anyone else. however, you found katsuki unbelievably attractive. you were flattered-- of course. what if i'm just being delusional, you wondered, denying that he was looking at you. curiosity would've gotten the better of you if you could hold eye contact though.

you sat in your seat beside him. as per usual, you took out your binder of notes, your colored pens, & placed your headphones around your neck like you do every day in this class. the professor announced that, because it is a communications class, it's important that everyone communicates. the assignment was to create a simple, few-slide presentation introducing your passion project for the rest of the year. dedication at its finest, everyone. it was an easy assignment that required nothing but a few sentences pulled out of your ass & a slides template you can download online.

as soon as he was done with his expectations for it, he let his students loose. the professor was clearly not in the mood to teach for whatever reason. you considered it a blessing because you have stacks of homework & a pile of laundry waiting for you after classes.

you pulled out your laptop you've had since forever. after signing in, you started immediately on the project. it's better to get it out of the way then to forget about it, you told yourself.

you were about to slip your headphones back on when someone questioned, "what are you doing yours on?"

it took you a second to realize it was your deskmate. it took you two to realize he was talking to you.

"um... i'm sorry?" you looked at him, confused. you didn't have any friends in this class. not that you minded.

the blonde hard head scoffed & said, "god, are you deaf? what are you doing your project about?"

"oh, um," you looked back at your computer. the blinking edit line taunting you. "i don't really know yet."

"tch, really? we're almost a month into this class," he responded. "i expected a nerd like you to be already on the last assignment for the year."

"i-i haven't really found the time, i guess."

"yeah right, don't sweat it with an explanation, nerd."

there was a silence, a silence you decided to fill.

"... what's your project about?"

"none of your damn business," he said back. that's your sign you never talk in the class again.

"hm right, just asking," you muttered, going back to brainstorming ideas you could build upon for the next year that doesn't sound too niche. or maybe you want to do something so niche that no one would know if you were right or wrong. so many options.

"i'm gonna do mine on chemical explosives."

he was talking to you again. does that mean he wants to talk with you? only you? you were looking to far into it, but you couldn't help but blush.

"oh wow, that's pretty hardcore," you responded quietly, as not to disrupt everyone else's small conversations. "what made you choose that?"

"it's a passion project; that's a passion of mine," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. he was so reserved, it only added to his bad boy charm.

you took a deep breath, deciding to -for the first time in your college life- to put yourself out there & pointed out, "the curriculum says we have to present our projects to someone of our choosing... would you want to present it to each other?"

fireworks.

you asked that & it felt as though fireworks blew up in katsuki's heart. his stoic face didn't show just how excited he was that you were the one to ask him. if you asked him to be his partner, then you've clearly been thinking of him, & if you're thinking of him, you're practically all his, &-

"yeah, whatever. you better have an interesting passion project."

that was the very first, full-blown conversation the two of you shared.

katsuki replays that moment in his head, thinks about what he should've said differently, about how he would've made a move if the two of you were alone (which he probably wouldn't have).

you ran even more rampantly in his mind. every thought crossed back to you. he constantly wondered how you were doing, what were you doing, who you were with. it drove him mad, giving him a headache. there was no medication he could take to soothe it. he found that he was only at ease when you were in sight or ear shot.

you were his clarity, & what sane person lets their clarity go? it started out small & in such a subconscious way.

katsuki was wandering the campus as he waited for his friends to get out of class when he spotted you. you must have a thing for windows because you sat on a lounge chair facing the grand window in the library. you were focused on your computer screen, so unaware of your surroundings. your brows furrowed, probably thinking about your passion project. your earbuds played whatever podcast you decided to listen to.

so, you're studying by yourself, katsuki took a mental note of that. when he did, he felt the pressure on his temples relieve. he entered the library for no other reason than you. you didn't notice him, why would you? he sat on a table behind you with his phone in his hand. katsuki's ruby eyes darted around the library before opening his camera & snapping a quick photo of you. he told himself that it would be the last time he would take a photo of you like that.

he lied to himself.

as the school year continued on, his private folder of sneaky pictures of you only grew & grew. at first, it was once every so often, but addiction kills, & he just couldn't stop.

the change that came with you was noticeable. the usually brash & unpredictable katsuki was now collected & cool. one thing that didn't change was the permanent scowl etched on his face.

his friends could see through his one-note facial expression. so it was only natural that, during a hangout in one of the dorms, they would ask, "you good?"

"yeah, why wouldn't i be?" katsuki retorted, popping a hot cheeto into his mouth while he focused on the small tv screen. katsuki wanted nothing more than to have you under his arm at the moment.

denki chimed in, "well it's just that you haven't called anyone stupid yet."

"thought you guys would be happy i didn't insult you," he rolled his eyes.

"bakubro, you can tell us anything. we've all gone through a lot together-" kirishima was cut off.

"yeah i know, there's just nothing to tell."

katsuki noticed his friends glance at each other, unconvinced. he supposes he can't blame them; he is acting so strangely afterall.

"how do i say this-" kirishima (poor man) was cut off again-- this time by mina.

"do you like someone?" she snickered. out of all the things she could've asked, that was one of the last things he thought she would ask.

"what? no! i don't like anyone," he said defensively.

"then are you lonely? i can set you up with someone," mina pulled out her phone & started pulling up a picture of said someone, "let me show you her."

"no i'm not lonely either, raccoon eyes! it's none of your damn business!" he shouted, honestly sickened at the thought of being intimate & romantic with someone who wasn't you.

"are you sure~?" mina dragged the last word out in a sing-songy voice.

"yes."

"don't be mad-"

"what the fuck did you do?"

"i already invited her," mina chuckled, quickly stuffing her phone into her back pants pocket.

"WHAT?" katsuki shouted. what would you think? would you even care?

"listen, she's a really sweet girl, & i think that-" mina's defenses were cut short by the angry hot head.

"i don't care, tell her she's uninvited or something." it really wasn't that difficult.

mina stayed silent. katsuki already knew why. as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. "i was only kidding with you, ya big baby. i just invited another girl, no date required," mina joked. she muttered right after, "hopefully you two will hit it off so you're not so grumpy."

kirishima opened the door right as bakugou yelled, "what was that, you pinkie pie bitch?" the sakura-haired girl waved him off, popping to her feet to greet her guest.

she cheered, "y/n!" mina threw her hands up & stepped towards you for a hug. katsuki's head snapped towards the door, cheeks slightly pink because he knew that you heard his outburst.

"hi, mina" you softly said, accepting the hug. you wore loungewear; you wore a black crew neck with a rib cage vinyl design & shorts. "thanks for inviting me."

"of course! let me introduce you to everyone!" she ushered you inside the dorm room, & kirishima shut the door behind you. "that one," she points to the man who shut the door, "is kirishima." he smiled his classic, toothy grin. "that's sero, right next to him is denki," she said. they both -with mouths stuffed with snacks & hands occupied with controllers- said a brief "hi."

"& that one is-"

"i know her already." katsuki had a habit of cutting off his friends. was it polite? no, not in the slightest. did he care? no, he did not. "we're classmates."

"oh, um... i didn't know you were gonna be here," you admitted, cheeks flushed in shock.

"oi! you stalking me now, nerd?"

"no, not at all!" you quickly defended. you really didn't know he was going to be sitting in front of you, he knew that.

mina stepped in, "be nice to her, bakugou! i'm trying to make new friends, remember?"

"yeah, yeah, i remember you yappin' about it," bakugou responded as he laid back onto the dorm bed. he felt your eyes on him. just your mere attention got him riled up. he didn't know how to handle it. he felt as though he were burning up. his eyes shot towards your figure, eyes locking with your deep ones. "quit staring."

"i don't mean to stare-"

"get over yourself, bakubro," kirishima joked. he chucked a throw pillow mina insisted they get to "liven the sad, jail cell of a room."

that night, katsuki couldn't help but stare. hypocrite, he knows. but he just couldn't look away. you were a magnetic force, chipping away at his self-control. even with such modest clothing, he still found himself yearning for your body, your mind, your entire being as you already had his.

time flew by fast. he could tell you were slowly getting used to the dynamic his friend group shared. your shoulders slumped throughout the evening, & you sat without your hands in your lap. denki even got you to play a round of mario kart against mina. though you didn't like being in the spotlight, you thought it was fun seeing everyone's shocked faces after you beat the self-proclaimed queen of nintendo.

the night came to a close after kirishima, denki, & sero passed out on the floor while mina slept on the bed. you fought sleep, eyelids drooping with every passing second.

"tired?" katsuki questioned. he chuckled when you suddenly turned alert.

sheepishly, you confirmed, "yeah, just a bit. i think i'm gonna head back to my dorm."

"waking up your roommate isn't very nice of you," katsuki pointed out.

"my roommate dropped out, & they haven't assigned me a new one."

"is that so?"

you stuffed your keys into your left pocket & your phone in your right before replying, "yeah, lucky me. dorm room all to myself for the semester."

"what building?" dumb question, katsuki already knew what building you lived in.

"building b, floor three," you told him. you stood up & slipped on your slides. "i really should get going. weirdos start coming out at this time."

there was a silence that followed. in katsuki's head, the gears were grinding. never has he thought so much about a decision pertaining another person in his life. would it be too pushy if he walked you back? would he be shitty if he didn't?

"fuck it," he whispered. it was so quiet in the room that you heard him clearly. "let me walk you," he spoke with more clarity.

"you really don't have to!" you didn't know he was going to offer you such a thing. "i mean it, really. i have a mace keychain-" katsuki stood up & threw on a random hoodie that was on his chair as you rambled, tiredness getting to you, "-& i have my phone so i can call the police."

"just shut up & let's go."

the walk, at first, was awkward, to say the least. the night was still, no breeze to dance with the crusting leaves. there was no one in sight, nor were there cars that zoomed past the university.

"if i would've known you were gonna walk me, i would've left earlier," you broke the silence in a hushed voice.

maybe it was because he was still awake hours past his bedtime, but katsuki responded in a softer way than expected. "did you have fun?"

"yes i did," you told him with a small smile.

"then don't worry about it."

he was so sweet to you in that moment that you couldn't help but swoon. cheeks stained pink as you averted your eyes.

katsuki stared at you through his peripheral, catching how you began to mess with the hem of your shirt.

soon enough, the two of you reached the dorm building. katsuki stood there, about to turn around when you quickly whispered, "wanna walk me up?" you gulped. you didn't even know if you could consider him a friend, & now you're practically barking orders at him; what's wrong with-

"of course."

you both reached your room. once again, in that precious voice of yours, you suggested, "you can stay the night here, if you want."

when he remained quiet (due to shock & a growing boner), you back tracked, "w-well because the extra bed is still in here, & you did me a favor so now i owe you, &-"

"i have a confession," he said, "invite me inside."

"o-oh, yeah of course," you stuttered, unlocking the door & opening it for him. you shut the door & locked it. "what do you have to tell me?"

you quickly pulled out another blanket while he sat in a chair.

katsuki experienced some things throughout his life. he experienced fights & competitions & other stupid shenanigans. he's been questioned by cops & dealt with firefighters. however, he's never felt this nervous in front of anyone. his heart leapt into his throat & used his skull as a pounding speaker. he could barely hear his own thoughts. "i don't know how you'll react."

"i won't get mad," you promised, curious. "if that's what you're worried about." you expected that, since it's confession hour or something, he'd reveal things about his past.

"i think about you, y/n." that's not what you were expecting. "i think about you all the fuckin' time."

"w-wha?" what more could you say? from behind, you heard shuffling then warmth & a looming figure. you turned around & met his eyes, trying to find if he was messing with you.

"& i can't stop thinking about you. at first, you were so annoying. with your little outfits & perfume & shit. i found you everywhere i went. i started looking out for you, wondering if you'll show your annoying, pretty face," he confessed. katsuki didn't break eye contact as he sandwiched you between him & your bed.

"you're such a goody-two-shoes. such a fuckin' nerd. but you're the only girl who's ever caught my attention, you know that? why is that?" katsuki's fingertips began to trace your clothed legs then up & under your sweatshirt. he leaned down to your ear, "are you okay with this?"

all you could do is nod, afraid that if you were to speak, it would come out as a mere squeak. he pulled away, staring into your eyes once more with his glowing ruby ones.

"good. i still don't know why it's you. maybe it's cuz of how hard you work, or how disgustingly nice you are no matter what. you're such an angel, & that must make me a demon then," he told you. you felt your entire being light on fire-- cheeks hot, ears red, & you needed to get out of your clothes. "god, let me be the one to taint you, to ruin you."

the blonde pulled you in close to his chest by wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. your hand grazed on a bulge in his pants & he jolted. "you feel that? that's how hard you get me during class."

muffled, you let out, "b-bakugou." & with those big, innocent eyes, you looked up at him.

"it's katsuki, baby."

"katsuki," you corrected yourself before continuing, "you mean all of this, r-right?" you felt tears well up & your throat tightening when you began thinking it was all a joke.

his love-drunk expression shifted into an offended one. "you think i'm sayin' all this shit cuz i think it's funny?"

"i-i don't know."

rough yet lovingly, he grabbed your chin & leaned in, noses centimeters away from each other. "this is real to me, & it will be real to you."

your gaze darted to his eyes, furrowed brows, his moonlit hair, then his lips. the moment you looked at his lips, he smashed his lips against yours. the force of his kids caused you to prop your elbows against the bed all while he snuck his knee between your legs. he pressed his thick thigh against the aching warmth.

you let out a muffled moan, & he mistakenly took that as an invite to roam your mouth with his tongue. you pushed it back with yours but, like in every other aspect besides academic, he dominated you.

the two of you ran out of air eventually. he pulled away, eyes half-lidded. "let me get you out of those clothes." he almost sounded needy, if your ears didn't deceive you.

"please, katsuki." that's all you had to say. it was like a command to him, & he was your ever loving soldier. he helped you take of your sweatshirt. gawking at your chest, you didn't wear a bra.

he scoffed with a smug smile, "sneaky girl." he saw right through you. it's true, you didn't wear a bra because of a fantasy you didn't know you were going to fulfill tonight. easy access. you wanted to give him easy access. "i knew there had to be something about you, & i figured it out."

he fondled your tits while he whispered in the crook of your neck, "you're a filthy slut, huh?" you nodded, grinding against his thigh; he chuckled before he started to mark your sensitive neck with hickeys upon hickeys.

at this point, it was getting hard to keep quiet. you knew it was only going to get harder from there. you bit your pink lip as a form of self restraint as katsuki took off his shirt & slipped off your sweatpants. you wore a lacy thong.

katsuki muttered, "oh fuck." he so badly needed you. his fingers rubbed your arousal through the fabric. he loved knowing that he made you so wet. his other hand pushed his boxers & pants down in one swift motion. katsuki needed to feel you around his poor, throbbing cock.

you might've had self restraint, but your lover didn't. he ripped the panties off of you & threw them somewhere in the dark room, not that he cared. if you were upset about it, he'll just buy you another pair he'd tear off. "fuck, y/n. i need you to tell me you want this- no you need this, need me."

you stroked his forearm with your fingers. this was so out of your comfort zone but you still managed to spit out, "i-i need you, katsu-"

there goes that habit of cutting you off again. he shoved his tip into, causing you squeal. he let you stretch, then stuck in more of his cock until you were finally well-adjusted to him. you felt the weight of cock inside you as your walls tightened around him.

you couldn't help but moan as a way of begging him to move. he demanded, "use your words, angel."

"katsuki~" you whined. his calloused hand clasped around your marked neck.

"tell me what you want, & you get to breath."

"y-you! i want you to fu-fuck me!" you choked out, eyes rolling to the back of you head as you desperately tried to breath. he let go, satisfied that you were slowly coming undone.

"such a quick learner," he praised, "i love hearing that voice of yours." you clenched around his hung prick.

he started to move, shallow humps turned into powerful, bed-rocking thrusts. he through your feet onto his shoulders while your wrists were held down to your sides with his hands. your brain turned into bimbo mush, babbling about how he needs to go harder, to keep going. katsuki happily obliged-- anything for his favorite girl.

every thrust your tits jiggled & your ass slapped against his hips. god, how was your body this divine? "such a good whore, handling my cock so good."

"k-katsuki, wanna cum- i'm cumming, i'm cumming!" you told him, scrunching your bed sheets under your grip. your mouth widened. with lightning speed, katsuki shoved something in your mouth; it was your ripped thong. the one you thought was lost in the room.

"fuck yeah," he moaned while he played with your clit. "cum all over my cock, i'm all yours." katsuki was so mean, yet so romantic. he ruined you so effortlessly & still managed to make you feel like you were a goddess amongst men.

you came. that wasn't the last time that night. he pulled out & flipped you over. "ass up, we're not done."

[petriwriting]

Smithereens - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Based on the song "smithereens" by Twenty One Pilots.

"For you, I'd go step to a dude much bigger than me.."

A/N: very theo coded. I'm back bitches. This was another request. I've been sorting through my requests box slowly, making sure everyone is accounted for and they are all good reads. enjoy. 

Theodore Nott was an interesting person. you had been in a relationship for a few months, enjoying the new feelings that accompany new relationships and young love. You had come to find he was a lot more than his reputation. At a glance, he was a shallow rich kid like his friends, although you had come to find he was a much more complex person than the rumors you'd always heard. Theodore was a softie, he was romantic at heart. He brought you flowers and passed you notes in class. Contrary to popular belief, He didn't sleep around either, he had a laid back flirty side by nature, but he definitely did not participate in the Toxic Slytherin Culture. He was there because he didn't have any other place to be, perhaps it was just by chance. Nonetheless, the boy loved his friends and was loyal to them. So much so that he'd attend parties with them.

The evening was drawing to a close, you had a few drinks and shared many laughs with some friends. It was the beginning of the school year, so to kick off the quidditch team's luck, Slytherin house held a dungeon party. It was the usual crowd, Draco, Pansy, Blaise... and some others who just wanted something to do that evening. The common room was rather busy, with some unfamiliar faces crowding its space mixing with those who were friends. Music was playing, most student's were mingling.

You sat shoulder to shoulder with Theo on the loveseat, while a somewhat drunk Pansy Parkinson went on and on about something to Draco, you had stopped paying attention. Blaise would inject himself into the conversation every so often.

"I'm going to step outside." Theo told you, after some time enjoying each others company, you'd both been somewhat quiet, not drawing attention to yourselves too much. "Care to join me?" Theo asked.

You didn't really care to listen to Pansy any longer, but you knew Theo was just going to step outside for a smoke, a bad habit of his. "I'm okay, actually. I think I'll stay in and have another drink." you said, Theo squeezed your hand and then headed outside. "I'll come back in in a bit, love."

You could handle yourself alone just fine, however, you didn't appreciate unwanted company... almost ever.

Not long after Theo wandered outside, an exchange student had appeared. His name was Klaus, you remembered. He was new to the quidditch team. He was from Durmstrang in Germany, He towered over you as you had poured yourself a drink, sipping on the bitter alcoholic beverage timidly. "Hello." He said, trying to be sly, but to you it just felt awkward. "Hi." you said, trying to be polite. No wonder he played sports, this guy was huge. 

"I saw you sitting with your friends." He said. "oh yeah," you nodded and looked over at draco who was listening to something pansy was saying with exaggerated expressions. "Yeah, they are pretty cool." you said, unsure of what to say to keep the conversation alive, not wanting to be completely rude.

"You are very pretty." He said. "What's your name?" you scoffed, he didn't seem to get the message even after telling him your name. he smelled like liquor. "We could go somewhere more private to talk.." He suggested. you awkwardly played with your hand covering the drink in your hand. "Um, no thanks." you said softly, not wanting an eruption from him. He was starting to get a bit flustered. "Come on. Just to talk," He begged. "no." You said again very sternly.

Klaus however, didn't hear the word no. "Let's just get out of this messy common room, come on now," he said. You were officially uncomfortable. "I said No." You said a bit louder. 

In that moment, you were thankful not to be alone. Theo appeared and filled the space between the two of you, You quietly sighed in relief. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

Klaus huffed, frustrated now his advances were turned down and there was someone else. Theodore Nott was somewhat tall, but Klaus was taller by a head or two, and he was huge. Part of you wondered if he was part giant. . . he had huge muscles and a bald head that was flushed from the alcohol.

"You are not my problem." Klaus laughed, towering over Theo. For a slytherin, that was a very brave thing to do, considering it seemed like he was about to get his ass beaten to smithereens for you. "Yeah, then back up." Theo snarled. "Is this your girlfriend?" Klaus asked, turning to you and rolling his eyes.

"We're having a conversation. this doesn't concern you." Klaus hiccuped. You were scared it would escalate. "Let's just go, ted." you said, grabbing Theo by the arm. "Please?" you plead. Theo shook his head. "Fine, come on." he ushered you forward to leave.

As you were walking towards the exit, you heard Klaus mumbling, which angered theo.

"Have fun ladies." he laughed. "Pussy.. won't even stay for another drink." Klaus had mumbled under his breath tirelessly.

Theo had rushed back over to Klaus, Punching him in the face as the snide comment was greatly un appreciated, and Klaus stepped back wiping his nose of the blood. He threw a punch at Theo in return, causing the boy to fall to the floor. This caught the party's attention. Although physically disadvantaged, Theo was clever and quickly pulled his wand out, in a swift movement stunning Klaus so he was unable to fight back.

You rushed over to Theo, helping him up. "Ah fuck." He cursed, his lip was now split and his jaw would likely be bruised black and blue in the morning. "Are you okay?" you asked, Theo brushed you off, "Good as new," He chuckled. Blaise and Draco had appeared, not far behind was pansy. "Sweet Merlin, Nott," Blaise mumbled. "Looks like he won't be bothering anyone else anytime soon," Draco laughed, stepping over Klaus' unresponsive body.

"He was trying to get me to go back to his dorm with him." You admitted. "Well he won't be going anywhere anytime soon, lucky for you." Theodore winked at you, comfortable enough to laugh at himself. He wasn't embarassed for being knocked on his ass, but he was upset he wasn't there to stave off the creepy guy.

By now the party was slowly dying down, everyone trickling back to where they needed to be, eventually the music stopped and the room was clear of anyone that wasn't a part of Slytherin house.

"Shall we?" Theo asked, you nodded and grabbed his arm to head back to his dorm- your usual spot. upon arrival, Theo sat on his bed a bit defeated. You sat on the other side of him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"You didn't have to do that, Y'know." you said softly.

"I know." Theo said. "You know i'd get myself beaten up for you." Theo said. Maybe it was the alcohol and smoking, but it was one of those sweet moments you would later appreciate. "well," you began. "That was pretty brave for a slytherin," you smiled softly.

"Hey!- Slytherins can be brave. Its not exclusively for gryffindorks." Theo chuckled. "Maybe you're in the wrong house then." you said, earning one of those sweet smiles out of him.

"I just can't describe it, Y/N..." Theo sighed gently, after some time, running his fingers through his hair as you pulled away from his shoulder to face him. "I don't like someone talking to you like that, and I Love You, So i'm not planning on anyone getting in my way anytime soon."

There was silence, not for a lack of words, but that was the first time he had said those three words to you. your heart fluttered.

". . . You love me?"

Theo caught himself, being so used to his emotions making him weak. he was a bit stuck. He had never had feelings for someone like that. He wasn't sure what to do with his feelings for you, but he knew that he liked feeling that way. He hadn't exactly had parents or anyone to look up to in regards to relationships.

"Well- Yes. I do." he said. "I've never said that out loud, but I do." you smiled.

"I love you too, Teddy." you said, using his nickname, reserved only for you. Had you been anyone else, he would have argued it.

Theo leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your lips, but regretting it instantly as he winced in pain.

"Theo, your lip is still bleeding." you pointed out, grabbing a tissue from his desk to gently wiping the blood off his lip. "yeah, I can tell," he said. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I love kissing you." you said.

"Oh yeah?" Theo pried, gaining his confidence back.

"Yes, actually I love it."

[iloveoldermen-posts]

Idk if you do these kinds of things but I kinda wanna get this off my chest. 141 or whoever you chose with an actual ghost reader? Like they kinda haunt the base and leave little trinkets and notes. Uh little ghostie has taken a liking to them and vice versa. The boys like to sometimes leave little things they find for her to eventually move somewhere else either for a prank or a pick me up to show she’s there. This is my first time ever doing a request so feel free to ignore if it’s too much

- ♠️ s

My Little Note I'M SORRY BUT THE CREATIVITY. My god this ask ateeee. I will try my hardest to bring the vision to life, thank youuu for suggesting it!!

Warnings: open ending, slight swearing, unsure about continuation of the one-shot, gender neutral however i have not proof read ୨୧

Everybody knew the base was haunted, I mean with how many people had died, with how many souls that were lost - it was bound to happen. The ghosts pretty much kept to themselves, wanting to finally be at peace. So unless you were a real pain in the as, they left you alone.

The 141 thought it was all a myth, something to make soldier's feel better about being afraid of their past haunting them. That was until 'little ghostie' took a liking to them. At first it was just the taunting of the man who dared call himslef 'Ghost', he hadn't reached that stage yet and Ghostie thought he shouldn't foreshadow the loneliest part of the cycle of life.

Ghostie thought it was funny seeing these big, wise men pracically shit themselves at the creak of floorboard, especially since everybody else knew about the base and accepted the idea of it being haunted.

When the 141 finally accepted Ghostie was there to stay, they started noticing things, trinkets of sorts. For example, leaving a bar of soap on Johnny's pillow, him replying 'real funny Ghostie.' Eliciting a gentle giggle to be heard and echoed through Johnny's mind for the rest of the week.

Or when Ghostie left a little ghost plush for Simon in his regular seat in the meeting room. He smiled under his mask and stuffed it in his pocket. Later that night when Ghostie was doing rounds of the base, they noticed Simon fast asleep with the small teddy almost engulfed by his arm muscle.

Gaz was given a drawing of himself sitting next to an empty chair filled with small orbs. Gaz classed it as a masterpiece and not only did he hang it up but he had it framed and placed on a wall in their common room, not even caring about the design rules.

Price was the last to recieve any gift at all, some of the boys even had multiple before he recieved his first. He didn't care about all of that when he recieved his gift - a beautifully written cursive letter explaing to him who Ghostie really was and how happy they are now they have all met.

The letter included the fact that when a ghost finally reaches full contentness, they either pass over or come back from the land of the dead.

That was the last time they heard from 'little ghostie' for the past week, unsure of what they finally chose..

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! -> ALL REBLOGS, LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

[thechekhov]

Hi! I'm working as a teacher for the first time this fall, and I'd like to ask you: in your experience, how do you go about working as a teacher and also finding time for your wips like the SU comic? And do you have any tips for someone who has zero experience working with kids (13-15 y/o)? Thanks in advance, and have a nice day!!

I think everyone's experience with this will be different - based on where you're teaching, what subject you're teaching, whether you'll actually be the main-teacher immediately or if you're simply observing class at first/assisting and how much guidance you'll get from actual experience teachers, etc..... but my biggest advice may be a bit counterintuitive:

Don't try to find time. Just wait for time to find you.

I think people often assume they have more time than they actually do. Teaching is pretty time-consuming, but it's also INCREDIBLY energy-consuming. It's difficult not only because of the hours, but also because it physically and mentally drains you more than, say, an office job would. You have to be On all the time as a teacher - you have to be watching the students, paying attention to what they're saying, paying attention to what YOU'RE saying, paying attention to the schedule, paying attention to the lesson, etc. It's a lot of brainwork!

Regardless of your level of experience, you're going to be coming home WAY too tired to do anything but lay down. That's going to be the bulk of your evenings.

Contrary to what it seems like, when I first started teaching, I also did that for the first 4-7 months. I didn't draw - I didn't have the energy or time to. I came home, I collapsed, I got up to make dinner, and then I spaced out. Sometimes I got dragged out by friends for social activities. I drew only on the weekends, IF I felt like it.

Eventually, though, I trampled down my schedule into something workable. I started drawing regularly because my body and brain got used to the daily strain and became stronger. (That's something that's less known about brains, I think... you have to train yourself to be able to handle that sort of mental stress over time. It's like endurance training.)

Also. And I need to make this clear:

At the time when I was drawing THE MOST and posting REALLY OFTEN (daily for @ask-whitepearl-and-steven) I was already living with my partner. About 3 years in, we were in the same apartment together and he helped out a TON with laundry and cooking. That made a huge difference. I had support on basic tasks which would have eaten into my time even more.

What I'm saying is - having time for hobbies is great. But you need to make sure you're not cutting off pieces of yourself, or your sanity, in order to make that happen. Try to be kind and give yourself time to adjust.

As for the advice about kids/teens:

They're people with complicated lives outside of you/the school. If they don't immediately respond to you, don't take it personally.

They're people who haven't yet learned total emotional regulation - try to be kind about how grumpy/angry/moody/anxious they often are. Try to react like you would to an adult.

They're only people. Be kind to them.

They're full on people. Don't let them get away with being cruel to you or others. They CAN understand at that age that they hurt others. If they make a rude joke, don't laugh awkwardly - a good stare can go a long way.

Good luck!

[moonswolfie]

Princess of the commoner cafe

Oikawa, Miya twins, Ushijima, Hinata, Akaashi x fem!reader

ohshc AU!!

I've been watching a bit of ouran high school host club lately (still havent gotten very far but i am HOOKEDDDDDD) and i'm sure others have written something like this before but i wanted to throw my own hat in the ring and write this delulu ass scenario

also i apologise PROFUSELY if anyone is ooc it has been a WHILE since my last haikyuu rewatch

(btw i am working on your request anon dont you worry ;) )

Somehow, you managed to get into the prestigious Ouran Academy based on your academic success alone. Your parents were overjoyed to send you off, even if you felt embarrased about not even being able to afford the official school uniform. You stuck out like a sore thumb on your first day, that's for sure.

At first, you thought you wouldn't fit in with anyone here. Your hypothesis was mostly correct. Everyone in your class is always talking about their latest designer bag or bragging about their new lambo or bugatti. Needless to say, it's like they're speaking in a foreign language.

They quickly lost interest in you after you couldn't list your top ten designer brands (with reasons as to why you chose those specific ones!!!). Yeah, friends are kind of out of the picture.

So when your curiosity got the better of you one day and you visited the host club all the girls in your class keep squealing about you didn't expect things to develop like this.

"Are you gonna visit today too? Are you?!" Hinata, the boy from the other class attached himself to your arm and looked at you with sparkling eyes. "Of course I am." you smiled at him, a little giddy about returning to the club once more.

"We have a special theme today, just for you..." he told you that while wearing a mischevious grin but refused to elaborate. The boys at the club always go through great lengths to get you curious and draw you back into the club. Not just Hinata, all of them.

Let's just say you've become quite the sensation among the hosts of the Ouran High school host club. You aren't exactly sure how you managed to get yourself in this situation, but you aren't really complaining, either. You'd definitely take being adored by the 6 hotties of the school over being ignored by everyone for all your 3 years of high school.

All you did was visit the club a few times out of curiosity, far too afraid to actually openly interact with the hosts considering the crowd of girls always gathered around them. Not to mention you'd definitely get gawked at for your clothes, mannerisms and conversation topics (and not in a good way).

Akaashi was the first to take notice of you, and somehow that evolved into every other host becoming interested, too.

Anyways, Hinata seemed very satisfied with your promise to come visit once again and ran off, shouting that you have to promise to come visit him first.

Well, there's nothing to it but to do it, you suppose.

.

"Welcome, dear guests, to the host club!" all the guys greeted you and a group of other girls who also came as soon as they possibly could. They were practically pushing eachother in front of the door. Not that you can blame them.

As soon as you stepped into the room, you felt like you were standing at the local cafe located just around the corner from your house. It felt warm and homey. So this is what they went for this time. A strange choice, considering their usually extravagant themes.

"Heya, gir-" Atsumu's smug voice greeted you from behind and you turned around to see that he was about to envelop you in his arms. "Hey, ya lost the bet. I get her first." Osamu pulled Atsumu back by his barista apron before he could actually touch you. Atsumu grumbled something you couldn't quite hear, which you presume was some not so nice words directed towards his brother.

"Actually, I made a promise to Hinata that he'd be the first one I visit." you smiled at the twins apologetically. Neither of them seemed too pleased about the prospect of that, though. "Why? Ya like him more than us?" Atsumu placed his hands on his hips, glaring at you.

"Hahaha, a promise is a promise. I'll be back for you two right after, don't worry." you waved the twins off, winking. That seemed to soften their expressions a bit. But maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, looking back on it. They're definitely going to fight over which one of them you winked at later.

Hinata greeted you enthusiastically, looking overjoyed at seeing you. His cheeks blushed a nice pink color when he smiled at you. "Wait here, wait here." he held out an antique looking chair for you and you sat down behind one of the tables. Then he ran off somewhere.

You're always impressed by how lavishly they decorate their club. I guess being rich can really do wonders for club decor.

"Are you enjoying today's theme? I made sure to pick out some fitting decorations." Akaashi suddenly appeared behind you. You could have sworn you didn't hear his footsteps. Maybe you were just too absorbed in observing the theme, though. Haha, even all the hosts are dressed like baristas.

"Yeah..." you looked into Akaashi's eyes, admiring their color. You've always found him to have a calming presence, even if he can be mischevious at times. That just adds on to his personality, doesn't it? You think it's quite a shame that he isn't as popular as a certain someone in the club.

"It seems to me you're enjoying something other than the theme." you got snapped out of your thoughts by Akaashi's voice. Oops, you must have been staring at him again. You turned away, making a quick apology. You felt a little giddy all of a sudden.

"Oh, but when did I ever say I dislike the attention?" Akaashi gently grabbed your chin, turning your face back to him. Somehow, he seems more affectionate towards you than he does to the other girls who request him. Atleast you've never seen him grab other girls' chins. You were sure you probably looked awestruck in this moment.

"Hey! Stop hogging her to yourself!" Hinata was running back to the two of you, holding a fancy cup of (presumably) coffee. On his way to stop Akaashi from wooing you, he didn't notice a wire below his feet and he tripped over it.

...Which happened to spill hot coffee all over your shirt and shattered the cup to pieces. "Ugh... I'm okay, don't- AAAAH!" Hinata yelled upon seeing your shirt.

"I'll go get new clothes!" Akaashi seemed tense, quickly turning on his heels and running off.

Luckily, the coffee was cool enough to not give you burns. You aren't even worried about the shirt that much either, you've been on the fence about donating it anyways.

"Aaah, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry." Hinata seemed almost dramatically apologetic, bowing down before you in apology over and over.

"What is going on over here?" you heard a smug voice that could belong to one person and one person only. The leader and self proclaimed king of the club, Oikawa, was now approaching the two of you. And he didn't seem very happy, mind you.

"Ah, Oikawa! It's, umm..." Hinata nervously whipped his head around to meet Oikawa's charming chocolate eyes.

"Hinata accidentally spilled coffee on me." Hinata looked at you sadly, like you just betrayed him. You gasped, realising you weren't supposed to reveal that unless you wanted Hinata to feel Oikawa's wrath. Normally he would just scold Hinata for his clumsiness, but when it comes to you specifically, he gets protective. Somehow, he even looks like a supermodel while wearing a barista uniform.

"He... Oh, that won't do. You should spend less time with clumsy good-for-nothings and spend more time with..." he tilted your chin towards him "...Me."

As much as you think Oikawa is an obnoxious jerk, he always manages to charm your negative feelings away when he does something like that. Gets you feeling all giddy like the main character of a badly written shojo anime.

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say, bro." you kept your face as cold as you possibly could in that situation. It seemed to you like the word "bro" was a direct stab to his heart, but he quickly recovered, putting on his best flirty face. "I will help you clean yourself up, my princess. We simply must get you out of that dreadful shirt." Oikawa shot poor Hinata a glare. You're definitely buying him "that one good commoner chocolate" (as Hinata likes to call it) later.

"Uh, Akaashi's already-"

"Now now now, what's goin' on here?" things are about to get a lot more complicated, you reckon. Because now the twins have showed up.

"We heard precious china shatterin' and wanted to see what caused it." Osamu added. A few girls were blushing a few meters behind the twins, probably too nervous to approach the two right now.

"Ya said you'd come visit us right after! And now yer here with this a-" Atsumu immediately stopped complaining when he saw your shirt. Both the twins shot poor poor Hinata a glare. (One "poor" for each twin.)

"See, I told ya I was a better fit for ya. I'd never spill coffee on ya." Osamu crossed his arms.

"What do ya mean "the better fit for ya"? Clearly, I'm the better one 'round here. And say the wink was meant for me while we're at it, won't ya?!" Atsumu's anger was now directed back at Osamu. (Akaashi would joke that it's back to where it's supposed to be.)

"I was kinda winking at-"

"Oh, please. Don't joke around with me. We all know I'm the best fit for her." Oikawa posed dramatically, which looked funny because of his not very prince-like outfit.

This always ends up happening. At this point you've given up on stopping it. The twins start bickering with Oikawa while girls on both sides squeal for them to calm down, tearfully inviting the boys back into their embraces.

You look behind you, where Ushijima is staring at you knowingly. You give him a relieved smile, knowing what's about to come. Whenever the other guys get into duels over who gets to recieve your attention, Ushijima is always there to pull you out of the situation.

The duels get so heated that you get to spend a few minutes alone with him before the others even notice you're gone. And so you follow the routine of letting him whisk you away to a lonely corner of the club room.

"Do you know why the theme is a commoner cafe?" he asks after a few moments of silence. He's looking at you with complete seriousness, but you don't miss the hint of a smile on his face. Enchanted by such a sight, you shake your head no dreamily.

"It was to impress you. Akaashi thought of the idea." Your eyes widened. Now you just feel giddy that Akaashi actually remembered that one time you told him you used to visit a cozy cafe close to your house with your parents growing up. It was all the way back when he first acknowledged your existence and decided to sit around with you for a few minutes, sipping tea from a cup that probably costs more than your phone.

"Oh... I like it. I really do." you smiled up at Ushijima. You could swear a bit of blush appeared on his cheeks. He silently put an arm around you, pulling you close to him. You like when he does that.

When all of the hosts are swooning over you like this while wearing barista uniforms, you feel like the princess of a commoner cafe.