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traumadumpwriter · 2 days ago

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JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

My first OBX fic. I hope y’all like it.

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into hard drugs, but they’re unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part two

Part One:

You'd been on the edge for a while now. The relapse should've been seen from a mile off. Your uncharacteristic quietness, the way you'd get lost in your thoughts, the distant look in your eyes. Everyone could tell that something was up, but even when they questioned you about it you had no real answers to give - uncertain yourself of what was making you feel so withdrawn.

When you'd first moved to OBX with your busy mum, you'd instantly found a group of friends - a really good group of friends - the Pogues. And they'd been quick to suss out that you were hiding things - particularly JJ. You were practically never sober, for starters, and though he wasn't either, you had a way of taking it to the next level. This was fun most of the time, but sometimes it got to a level that was concerning - even to the most problematic Pogue on the island. Whenever he'd pushed you for answers, trying to figure out what exactly you were self medicating for, you got extremely annoyed and so he never really got a straight answer. You couldn't bare to be so vulnerable with anyone - let alone the boy you'd started to develop feelings for - so you remained somewhat of a mystery.

Sure, there had been nights when you'd shared a bed - both of you very drunk. You'd convince yourself that maybe JJ liked you, maybe the sex meant more to him than just sex, but then when he'd continue to treat you like just a friend the morning after, your hopes would be crushed. It’s not like you ever gave him any reason to think that the sex was anything other than casual, but that was because you didn’t want him to be able to reject you. And besides, could he not tell that you wanted more? Kiera could and she wasn’t even in the bedroom.

Then the overdose happened. The Pogue's had suspected that you'd been taking something other than just alcohol for a while. The night that you'd almost died at the Chateau their suspicions became a painful fact. You'd taken a few too many pills - benzodiazepines to be exact - and though you'd known that you were reaching a point of no return, after hearing all about the gorgeous touron that JJ had been obsessed with, you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

That night had been awful for everyone, and you'd ended up tearfully promising that you would get clean after that, unable to bear the hurt on the Pogue's faces. So you'd been almost a year clean now, blossoming into a new person that the Pogue's liked even more than the old you. Yours and JJ's relationship remained just as complicated though - still having the occasional hookup but largely seeming as if you were just friends. Now that you weren't on pills and you could actually fully remember the sex, it hurt even more in the morning after. Still, you continued, desperate to feel wanted even if it was just for a night.

You hadn't realised how much this routine was actually bothering you until in a night similar to the one you'd overdosed on, JJ had been making out with another gorgeous touron.

*Your POV*

I'd watched jealously from across the party, ignoring the sound of Kie in my ear telling me that "I was much prettier than that touron."

I appreciated the sentiment, but I knew it was a lie, and so in a split second decision, I told Kie that I was going to go home. "I'm going to have an early one." I said, knowing it was a lie. "I'll see you tomorrow."

In that split second decision, I'd decided that all of my progress didn't matter if I still felt this worthless. What was the point in being clean if it meant that I wanted to die? JJ's insistence had been one of the things that had motivated me to stay away from the pills, but he hadn't been interested in me for a while now. He hadn't even asked me for a fuck. Had he grown bored of me? Or maybe I had gotten uglier without realising it. Maybe I had put on some weight or he didn't like my haircut. Maybe he’d developed feelings for a different girl - a better girl.

Kie nodded worriedly, clearly not sure whether to believe me or not. I hadn't even directly confessed to her that I liked JJ, she was just the only one in the group who wasn't too stupid to see it.

"Okay. Be safe." She smiled, pulling me into a hug, and though I felt bad, I still hopped on my bike and headed straight to Barry's as soon as the coast was clear.

Kie would be devastated if she'd known where I was actually going. So would John B, and Pope, and maybe even JJ, but they would forgive me quicker than her. At least, I thought that they would.

Blurred memories of the night I'd overdosed filled my mind; the sound of shouting, someone's fingers down my throat, a muffled sob, flashing lights. A shiver of shame ran down my spine as I struggled to push the images from my mind.

The ride to Barry's was short, though it felt like a lifetime as all the things I hated about myself bounced around in my head like a torturous broken record. Of course JJ didn't want to be with me. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't cool enough. I wasn't good enough. I would just continue to be his slutty friend that he could stick it in whenever it was convenient for him, and he didn't even seem to want that anymore. The thought made me even more ashamed, remembering all the times I'd let him fuck me, hoping that he'd found me beautiful, thinking that maybe he liked me, just to realise in the morning that I was easy to him.

Yet I knew, that if he were to approach me in that moment and ask for a fuck, I wouldn't say no. I wanted to be wanted so badly, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, and the feeling was unbearable. It ate me up inside, making my chest tight and my eyes water. I was quick to blink any dampness away from my eyes though, focused instead on the high that I would soon have - the comfortable numbness that it would bring me. My clean streak meant nothing, a stupid concept when compared to the internal anguish I felt. From my low self esteem to my repressed trauma, I had no fight left in the battle to stay clean. Sure, the Pogue's would be upset if they found out, but I wouldn't let them find out. I would keep it low-key, unlike I did before.

When I knocked on Barry's door, I was relieved that he was the one to answer and the house was seemingly empty, meaning I only had to speak to him. His friends were annoying, and though I didn't particularly like Barry, I found him funny sometimes.

"Well shit, Y/N. Been a while." He grinned.

"Yeahh. Well I'm back." I said with a mock smile.

"Come inside."

The transaction had soon been completed; a pot of pills in my hand and some cash in Barry's. I leant back into the sofa and took one immediately, swallowing it down with a beer handed to me by him.

"Bad night?" He questioned with an amused scoff.

"Something like that." I answered. "How about you? Place ain't usually this empty on a Friday."

"Want my own company sometimes. That a crime?"

"No. Just strange is all." I murmured, taking another swig from the beer.

Paired with my already drunkenness, the feeling of the pill was starting to hit - hard and strong - and I felt my body slump comfortably into the sofa. My head felt light whilst the rest of my body felt heavy, creating a strange, cosy sensation. It was a feeling I'd missed.

"Well what happened with you, party princess?" He scoffed, cracking open a beer for himself.

I let out a light chuckle at the question, now feeling as if it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"Dumb shit."

"You looked pretty upset when I opened the door. Boyfriend troubles?"

I raised my eyebrows in mock offence.

"Why would I have a boyfriend?" I questioned with a laugh "Who'd you hear that from?"

Barry laughed too.

"Cus a girl like you - you're pretty. I'm surprised some Kook hasn't swiped you up."

I snorted at that and rolled my eyes.

"Well thanks I guess."

I thought about having sex with Barry in that moment, just to hear him call me pretty again. But I decided against it, slightly sickened by the idea, and pulled myself off the sofa.

"I should go, see you around?"

"You sure you can ride that thing safely?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine." I chuckled before heading out the door and throwing myself back onto my bike.

The ride home was perilous, and though I did almost crash a few times, my body went into autopilot and I was soon safely in my bed, mind too numb to pick myself apart for the first night in a while.

For the next week I was able to keep the pill-taking to a minimum, only popping two a day at most. I only did it to make the thoughts stop - to bring on the comfortable numbness so that I could actually bare to be awake. So that I could actually bare to be around my friends.

I'd always managed to keep my feelings for JJ locked up and manageable, but for some reason seeing him with that touron had bothered me in ways I hadn't been bothered before. Perhaps it was because she was so gorgeous, or maybe it was how pleased JJ looked to have pulled her. Either way, it just reinforced to me how worthless I was. He brought her up one day at the Chateau and it instantly made me feel hot with annoyance.

"That touron from the other night just texted me, should I go there again?" He said with a proud smirk, looking around the room.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the half smoked blunt from the ashtray, relighting it and sucking on it in hopes that it would make my jealousy fade.

"Didn't you steal like a hundred dollars from her purse?" Pope scoffed, eyes focused on the television. Adventure Time was playing with the volume on low, and both Pope and Kie seemed more interested in it than the conversation that JJ and John B had been having. I'd been drifting lazily between the two, too high to properly contribute to anything, but now JJ had my full attention.

"Yeah. Obviously didn't notice though. Girl had too much cash for her own good." He mused, eyes on his phone screen. "Ooh! And guess what she just sent me."

"Tit pic?" John B asked, a grin crawling onto his lips.

"Tit pic." JJ confirmed, chucking his phone over to John B.

"Nice." He chuckled, looking at the phone before chucking it back to JJ.

"You guys are disgusting." Kie scoffed. "I mean like really JJ? Did that girl send you that picture for you to show your friend? You have no respect for women sometimes."

"I respect women very much, actually Kie. I respect you and Y/N. I respect your mums and Pope's mum. I just don't respect easy, spoiled touron's like her." He said defensively, and I loudly scoffed at that. He didn't respect me.

"What? You think I don't respect women too?" He asked me with furrowed brows, crossing his arms.

He was sat across the room from me; myself, Kie and Pope spread out across the sofa whilst him and John B sat in chairs. I looked him up and down, pleased that there was no lump in my throat to swallow, no butterflies in my stomach to squash and no loving gaze to hide.

“Sure, you really respect women JJ. Whatever you say.”

He looked surprised by that response, probably expecting me to get defensive, then continued on a rant about how he wasn’t misogynistic. Kie argued with him for a little bit, and John B and Pope eventually joined in too. Usually I also would’ve joined, just for the amusement of it all, but no words came to my mind. Instead I just watched, chuckling at the occasional insult being thrown and smoking my blunt.

Two weeks later and I’d upped the dose to at least four pills a day. The thoughts had gotten harder to crush, growing a tolerance. Much to my relief though, none of the Pogue’s seemed to suspect anything.

It was a hot day and we’d decided to go swimming, using the inner ring of a tire as a floaty - which we all fought over.

“I stole the tire, so I should get it!” JJ proclaimed, and though he was right, I wanted the ring.

“Okay well if you’re not a woman hater, prove it by letting me and Kie have the ring!” I grinned.

“Yeah! Prove it!” Kie added, high-fiving me.

JJ groaned and rolled his eyes, but eventually gave in with a slight smirk to me.

“Okay fine - but we’re sharing it!”

I giggled at his childish nature, feeling the butterflies rise up in my stomach that I’d been managing so well to suppress. The second that I realised what I was feeling, I knew that I needed to take another pill.

“I’m gonna go pee. Don’t wait for me.” I said, heading back indoors.

Once I was in the bathroom, I dug through my bag to find the orange pot, irritated when I realised that I didn’t have a lot left. I’d have to go back to Barry’s soon. That was annoying. I swallowed one of the pills with some water from the sink and looked at myself in the mirror before heading back out. I looked tired and unattractive and I sighed at that, thinking of how good the girl that JJ had been dancing with at the boneyard this week looked.

I reached into the fridge and took myself out a beer, cracking it open and downing half of it before stepping out of the kitchen. I didn’t expect to see JJ stood on the porch waiting for me, a slight furrow to his brow. I purposely hadn’t been alone with him in weeks and it sent a pang of anxiety into my chest.

“Starting this early? Haven’t seen you do that in a while. You feeling alright?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem.. different.” He was wording himself carefully, I could tell, which was very out of character for him. What could he possibly want from me?

“I’m just tired.” I said with a huff and tried to walk past him.

He suddenly put his hands on my waist, which was exposed in a bikini, holding me still. At the initial contact, I felt electrified, but I was quickly reminded of what I had missed - and the reasons why. I worried that my flesh felt too squishy under his fingers, that there was too much of it, or that the dip of my waist wasn’t defined enough. Compared to that touron I probably felt like a whale.

“What’s going on Y/N? Are you mad at me?” He asked, his eyes wide with concern, but I couldn’t think about his words - only the crippling self hatred his hand on my waist was making me feel.

I stepped backwards so that he was no longer touching me, something that only seemed to deepen the crease between his eyebrows, and blinked a couple of times before I could speak.

“I’m, uh- I’m going to grab a shirt.”

And with that I paced back inside, finishing the beer and pulling one of John B’s oversized vests over my bikini. The pill hadn’t kicked in yet and I could still see JJ stood waiting on the porch so I decided to go into the bathroom and take another. Then I grabbed another beer from the fridge and downed it, relieved when I felt the relaxing effects kick in almost immediately.

“Why are you downing beer? Since when do you do that?” JJ’s voice from behind me made me jump, his face critical.

“I’m just having a good time.” I smiled at him.

“Really? Because you don’t look like you’re having a good time. You look miserable, Y/N.”

Was it that easy to see through my charade? It irritated me that he cared now when he should’ve cared a couple of weeks ago. Now it was too late.

I huffed and shook my head, managing to walk past him this time undisrupted and lead the way to the water.

“I’m fine. Come on, let’s go.”

He didn’t bother me for the inflatable ring at all. In fact, he didn’t speak to me for hours after that. I wasn’t bothered by it though, the mix of booze and benzos that had finally hit making me entirely unfazed by everything. The comfortable numbness that I craved so badly.

I lay floating in the ring for what felt like hours, my eyes closed as I felt the waves move me freely around. The water was so cold compared to the beaming sun, but the two extremes together made me feel more relaxed than I had been in a while. Maybe I had fallen asleep, I wasn’t too sure, but when someone was suddenly directly next to me, interfering with the natural direction of the waves, I jumped up at their presence.

“What are you thinking about?”

It was Kie, her tone lighthearted though her face was concerned.

“Not much. The sound of the water mostly. You?” I answered truthfully.

“Honestly, right now I’m thinking about you.”

“Why? You into me or something?” I teased, not expecting her tone to change to match her face.

“No Y/N I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird ever since that party with the blonde touron.”

Kie was catching on, which was bad. It wouldn’t take her much to figure out what was really happening, so I had to come up with a lie, or maybe not a lie but a distraction.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m sad about JJ… But it doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.” I confessed, relieved when I saw the stress in Kie’s face relax.

“He’s a total idiot. You can do better than him anyway.” She said with exasperation, stroking my hair.

“No I can’t.” I laughed. “But like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

Kie sighed.

“I wish you weren’t so harsh on yourself. If you could see what other people could see you wouldn’t be.”

I smiled at her, feeling appreciation for the girl buzz through me.

“Love ya Kie.”

She smiled too, but it was weaker than usual.

“Love you too… Now give me the floatie.”

When it got dark some hours later we all piled back into the Chateau and put on a movie, squeezing onto the couch. I sat on the edge and much to my displeasure, JJ sat next to me. That displeasure only lasted a second though before it was washed over by a tidal wave of carelessness, and I was able to relax my body against his like he was anyone - not the most problematic Pogue on the island.

The movie went on for a while until JJ shifted positions, wrapping his arm around me and placing his hand on my leg.

This had been a fairly standard position for us, his fingers creeping up my thigh in the darkness of the room and our friends none the wiser. Now it felt different though, and instead of being excited by it I was annoyed. Was I only good enough to touch in secret? Was he touching me now just because I was there and it was something to do? Could he only bare to touch me when he was drunk? I needed to take another pill.

With a wobble, I flicked JJ’s hands from me and pushed myself up, grabbing my handbag and heading to the bathroom. Pope and Kie had passed out on top of each other and John B was too engrossed in the movie to look up. So when I heard a knock on the bathroom door, I knew who it was before it even opened.

“I didn’t say you could come in. I could’ve been taking a shit.” I teased.

JJ’s stoney face didn’t offer a crack of amusement as he stepped closer to me.

“What’s going on with you? It’s like you can’t stand to be around me. Have I done something?”

“No. Everything is fine.” I answered with a fake smile.

He didn’t buy it, becoming visibly annoyed.

“You’re so full of shit Y/N. Don’t try to play dumb with me right now. I know you’re pissed off about something.”

“Why do I have to be pissed off about something?” I said combatively, crossing my arms.

“Because you’re acting like my touch is gonna make you sick or something and you clearly can’t stand to be around me! Is this because of that tit pic I showed John B? I don’t get it. Are you jealous or something? Or do you just think I’m a sexist pig too?”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you. Have you ever considered that I just stopped giving a shit about what you do?”

I usually felt horrible about lying to my friends, but looking at his beautiful face, thinking of how he didn’t want me, the lie came out easily. He clearly didn’t buy it though.

“Oh really? Is that why you don’t want to fuck anymore? Because you stopped giving a shit about me? Yeah right.” He scoffed and I felt my face start to angrily heat up. “What the fuck is going on? Did someone tell you some bullshit about me? Do you have a boyfriend now or something?”

I scoffed right back at him, widening my eyes in disbelief.

“Would that make you jealous? If I had a boyfriend?”

“Do you or do you not?” He demanded with gritted teeth.

I didn’t answer for a moment, enjoying the stressed expression on his usually uncaring face. Did he really care if I had a boyfriend? Surely not in any way that mattered. Just in some stupid male ego way. I sighed at that and uncrossed my arms as I answered.

“Obviously not. Who would want to be with me? Don’t be stupid, JJ. Now what did you come in here for?”

He looked at me incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I didn’t understand why he seemed so stressed for and it was irritating to me.

“For this conversation, right now! What do you think I came in here for?” He said exasperatedly and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know but can you leave? I need to pee.”

“No, I can’t leave until I know what the fuck is going on with you. Jesus! How much have you had to drink?”

Had I been slurring? I couldn’t tell.

“Not enough for this.” I tutted bitterly.

He sucked in his lips and took a deep breath, eyeing me like he was trying to work something out.

“Wait, look at me straight for a second.” He muttered, reaching his hand out to touch my face, angrily repeating himself when I questioned why.

His thumb stroked over my bottom lip and I straightened my back, trying to match his stare but unable to stand completely still. He hadn’t looked at me with such intrigue in a long time, and I was glad I was so high or else I would’ve completely submitted under his blue gaze. His next words instantly shattered any fantasies that could’ve been playing in my head though, instead filling me with unreasonable rage.

“You’re high aren’t you?”

I knew it wasn’t a question. The steely look in JJ’s eyes and his flared nostrils made it abundantly clear that he’d already figured out the answer for himself. But I couldn’t let him think he was right.

“I mean yeah, I’ve smoked a lot today, you have too-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He hissed, dropping his hand from my face. “I can’t fucking believe you. This is why you’ve been acting weird. I should’ve known.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled “You’re overreacting, I’m just drunk” to which he quickly shot back “Oh yeah? Why are your pupils the size of mars then?”

“They’re not.” I felt my footing slip slightly as I lied, and I had to quickly lean against the wall to stop myself from falling.

“And now you’re just lying to my face. Nice one Y/N. How long had you been clean? A year, almost?”

I thought of the hours that he’d spent with me when I’d first gotten sober; looking after me when I was being sick, bringing around food, washing my hair. I’d felt so loved. I’d felt like there was no reason for me to ever pick up a benzo again.

The betrayal in his voice told me that that would never be happening again. With a huff, I picked up my bag from the side and shoved past the blonde, gasping when he grabbed my arm.

“Where are you trying to go now?” He laughed humourlessly.

“Get off me, JJ. I’m going home.”

“What because you’ve been caught out?”

“No. Because you’re being a dick.”

He wouldn’t loosen his grip on my arm despite my desperate pulling and so I started to speak louder, hoping someone would intervene and give me a chance to slip out.

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you go.” He said with gritted teeth, tightening his grip. “What have you taken?”

“Get the fuck off me!” I repeated louder, relieved when John B appeared in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on?” He looked between us with a concerned expression and JJ loosened his grip.

“She’s on fucking drugs again, John B.” JJ hissed and though I wanted to argue and try to prove him wrong, I quickly slipped out of the bathroom and paced out of the house, ignoring JJ’s shouts from behind me.

“What the fuck is going on Y/N?”

“Do you just not give a shit about yourself? About your friends?”

“How could you do this? You were clean for so long.”

His words stung, and though I rationally knew he was right, I was too ashamed to feel anything other than anger and embarrassment. The Pogue’s would hate me now, and rightfully so.

I understood why JJ was so annoyed. I’d listened to him seethe about his dad, about how he was an abusive drug addict - but yet, when the blonde came home and he was passed out on the sofa, JJ still always checked if he was breathing. I’d seen the bruises, and met the man who left them, begrudgingly shook his hand and tried to forget what he’d done with them. Was I reminding JJ of that? Was I like his piece of shit father?

In a rush, I picked up my bike and went to get on it but instantly fell over, dropping the bike as I did.

“You’re gonna ride home like this? Seriously?” JJ’s voice came from behind me, loud and aggressive.

I struggled to pick my bike back up, almost falling over it again, and his hands were suddenly on top of mine, holding the handles and stopping me from going. John B was quick behind him.

“Are you really on drugs, Y/N?” John B questioned, eyes wide.

“I’m just drunk.” I hissed, trying to pull the bike out of JJ’s grip.

“Right, she says she’s just drunk, let her go JJ.” John B said harshly but JJ scoffed.

“She’s lying! Look at her! She can’t even walk properly!”

Then he turned to me, his voice suddenly pleading and face full of pain. It caught me off guard and I felt another pang of guilt ripple through my body, tears attempting to escape my eyes but being successfully pushed back by the Xanax.

“What have you taken, Y/N? Please don’t lie to me. I know you’ve taken something.”

I wanted to tell him the truth so bad. The whole truth. I wanted to break down and beg for his forgiveness, to tell him I loved him and that I would get clean again.

But I couldn’t do it.

There was no point.

I’d ruined everything now anyway.

“I’m just drunk. Leave me alone.” I slurred and tried to pull the bike from his grip again.

It didn’t work. I fell backwards onto the ground, landing on my butt with a groan. I laughed at my fall instinctively, forgetting the situation I was in for a second, but when I looked up and saw my friend’s distressed faces my laughing stopped. Even John B looked suspicious now, his eyes snapping from mine to JJ’s. He bent down and pulled me up with ease, though he huffed after he’d done it.

“Y/N, can we look in your bag?”

My heart leapt into my throat and I quickly jumped to defence.

“No way you fucking pervs. Let me go home.”

He turned to JJ with an straight face and both of them exchanged a short look before looking back at me.

That was it. He believed JJ. He knew.

“I’m not letting you ride home. I’ll drive you.”

His voice had been so monotone, so void of any real offering, that it caught me off guard. He was angry. I looked at JJ. He was angry too.

“N-No. I’m fine. I can ride-”

“I’m fucking driving you home, Y/N. Get in the Twinkie.” John B cut me off sharply and I jumped backwards, almost falling again until he caught me.

They both looked so disappointed and I was so ashamed at that point that all I could do was nod, following him silently to the van. JJ said nothing and I didn’t dare look back to see if he was looking, though I felt that I could feel his stare on the back of my head. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. Why did I have to take it so far? Why did I have to lie to their faces like that?

The short drive back to mine was agonisingly silent, all John B said was “Look after yourself” before I stepped out of the van.

My voice got caught in my throat and all I could force out was “Y-Yeah” before closing the door and stumbling towards my house.

Had I destroyed my friendship with the Pogues? It certainly felt like I had.

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melancholy-of-nadia · 3 days ago

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heart on the window #3 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: With secrets now revealed in the open, you and Seokjin cross a boundary you two never thought would happen ever before. After this night, you are now trying to figure out how to move forward in this new development in your friendship with him. However this leads to you having more questions about him, his secret lifestyle, and past relationships/hookups. Then, one casually suggestive joke by this man reawakens your competitive nature and rivalry with this man. note: apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out since i've been really busy with my new job. this chapter was 15k words long, and the editing of this was ROUGH. I had come to the conclusion to split it up in half, also so it wouldn't be overwhelming on yall. i tried to avoid this as I wanted this fic to be 5 chapters long, but I couldn't help but want to flesh out the interactions reader has with Seokjin so it became longer than I thought. warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, camboy! seokjin deserves its own warning because the vibes are different!, f*ngering, mast*rbation, voyeurism, org*sm, protected s*x, doggy style, s*x toys, fluffy moments, emotional vulnerability, dirty talk, implied adult content streaming (camming), pet names, brat! reader, brat tamer! seokjin drop date: January 20th, 2024, 11:00am pst word count: 8.5k crossposted on ao3 here <- chapter 2 | chapter 4 -> - -

"Then help me, already."

Those words hang in the air, charged and heavy. Jin's eyes widen, his breath hitching.

The flush on his cheeks deepens, spreading down to his neck, and he shifts slightly, as though trying to adjust something—something that's undeniably hardening beneath his loose pajama bottoms.

"O-Okay, fine! I’ll help you," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But I need you to do something for me first."

You blink at him, heat rushing to your face. "What is it?" you ask cautiously, already dreading whatever is going to come out of his mouth.

He hesitates for only a moment before blurting out, "Play with yourself."

Your jaw drops. "What?"

"You heard me," he says, his voice lower now, more serious. "Use the toy you got there and make yourself come and show it all to me."

Your mind is spinning. "The toy?! S-Seokjin, you’re not being reasonable right now!" you protest, your voice filled with shock and frustration. Teasing you like this feels like the cruelest kind of torture, especially after the spiral of emotions you’ve been through tonight. And for some reason, it feels more embarrassing to use the toy in front of him than your own fingers.

But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, eyes hooded and lips slightly parted, that sends a thrill through you despite your indignation. This is the Seokjin you know—playful, maddening, and completely impossible.

Someone truly deserving of the title of “childhood rival”.

He leans closer, his voice dipping into that sultry tone you’ve only ever heard on his streams. "You want my help, right? Then show me how badly you need me. I want to see you lose yourself completely. Can you do that for me?"

You swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your ears. You know he’s testing you, pushing you to your limit, and somehow, you can’t bring yourself to back down.

Your breath catches as Seokjin's words settle over you, heavy and weighted with meaning. The challenge in his tone ignites something in you—a mix of defiance and anticipation.

“Fine. But i’ll use my fingers,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You shift back against the pillows, your heart hammering in your chest. Your hands feel like lead as you tug your shirt up over your stomach, exposing bare skin to the cool air. The fabric gathers just below your breasts, leaving you vulnerable under his gaze.

Seokjin sits at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. His lips part slightly, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Yet, his hands rest tensely on his thighs, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants.

“You’re really making me do this,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re the one who asked for help,” he replies smoothly, his voice like velvet. “I’m just... motivating you.”

Your fingers move hesitantly at first, brushing the waistband of your shorts before slipping beneath. The heat between your legs is unmistakable, your arousal heightened by his stare. A quiet gasp escapes your lips as your fingers graze over your slick folds.

Seokjin shifts, leaning back just enough for his hand to graze over his own growing arousal. His movements are subtle, but you catch the way his palm presses against himself, his lips twitching at the corner.

"Don’t stop," he murmurs, his voice rougher now. "I want to see everything."

You shudder, your other hand moving up to tug your shirt higher, finally exposing your breasts to the air. Your fingers pinch gently at a nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The combined sensations of your hands working in tandem leave you trembling, your soft moans filling the room.

Your hand falters slightly, and he notices immediately.

“You’re hesitating,” he says, his tone light but teasing. “Do you need me to guide you, Princess?”

Princess?!

You look at him sharply, your pride flaring. “I don’t need your saving yet.”

He smirks, leaning back slightly. “Oh? Then prove it.”

That’s all the encouragement you need. You close your eyes, shutting out the sight of him, and focus entirely on the building pressure within you with the goal of coming undone. Your movements become more confident and more deliberate.

His gaze doesn’t leave you, his eyes tracing every movement, every shift of your body. His hand grips himself through his pants now, a soft exhale slipping past his lips.

Your fingers dip lower, pressing more firmly against your aching core. A whimper escapes you as you circle your clit, your hips bucking into the motion. The pressure builds quickly, spurred on by his intense scrutiny and the quiet groan he lets out as he palms himself.

"That’s it," he says hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. "Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good it feels."

His words spur you on, your movements growing bolder, more deliberate.

“A-Ah..!”

The pleasure surges, consuming you, until you’re trembling, your release crashing over you with a cry that leaves you gasping.

Three minutes is all it took.

Is it embarrassing it took that short to orgasm? Well, it has been a while since you’ve done this…

For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. Your body relaxes, sinking into the mattress, and you’re acutely aware of the way Seokjin’s chest heaves, the way his hand still rests over the bulge in his pants, with a slightly darker spot now appearing. His eyes meet yours, filled with admiration and unspoken desire.

You glance at Seokjin, still sitting at the edge of the bed, his dark eyes unwavering as they drink you in.

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken—just watches. Lost in thought. His gaze is molten, his chest rising and falling in measured rhythm. For a fleeting moment, you think he might say something playful, something to break the tension.

You’re about to say something, your voice shaky and uncertain. “S-So what are you—”

Before the words can fully escape, Jin’s gaze flickers briefly to your laptop screen. His eyes widen, and without a word, he gets up suddenly, leaving the room in a hurry. The abruptness of his departure sends a wave of confusion and frustration washing over you.

“H-Hey!” you call after him, your voice tinged with disbelief and hurt. “Why are you leaving?”

Once again, the silence that follows feels deafening, each passing second amplifying the sting of rejection. Your chest tightens as your emotions spiral, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you feeling exposed and betrayed. Did you misread everything? Had you gone too far?

Your mind races, heart pounding as you sit frozen in place, but before you can drown in your thoughts, Jin quickly reappears in the doorway. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his expression now calm yet resolute.

“I’m ending the stream,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

You blink, your breath catching in your throat. “W-What?”

He steps further into the room, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he speaks, each word deliberate. “I forgot I left the stream on pause, so I’m just ending it completely for tonight. No excuses, no coming back later tonight. Because right now, I want enough time to fuck you.”

Your eyes widen as his words sink in, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. “Holy shit, Jin…”

His lips curve into a soft, almost shy smile, but his eyes remain dark with promise. “You asked for my help, right?” He leans down slightly, his fingers grazing your cheek as his voice lowers to a sultry whisper. “Then let me give you all my attention.”

Oh.

God, why is your heart going crazy over this? It must be the dopamine rush from orgasm or something making you feel this way. Don’t get distracted and waver so easily, Y/N!

“Okay,” You respond shyly as Jin scurries back to his room on the other side of the apartment.

He nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes to his room and towards his desk. His heart is pounding, and not just from the physical effort. The guilt gnaws at him as he pulls up the live stream, his audience still active and buzzing in the chat. The mic clicks on, and he leans into it, his voice soft but apologetic.

“Hey, everyone,” he begins, his usual confident tone replaced with something more subdued. “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I have important matters to attend to. I really appreciate you all being here tonight, and I promise I’ll make it up to you in the next stream. Thanks for understanding. Take care, okay?”

The disappointment in the chat is instant, messages flooding in:

“Wait, already?!”“Is everything okay, BigTunaMan??”“Hope you’re okay! Take care!”

Jin ends the stream with a quick, guilty glance at the messages still scrolling. He’ll make it up to them later, he decides, but right now, there’s only one thing on his mind.

He bolts back to your room pushing the door open with a soft urgency. You’re now sitting where he left you, still flushed and disheveled, your expression a mixture of confusion and trepidation.

“Did you actually end the live...?” you begin, but the words trail off as he shuts the door behind him and leans against it, chest heaving.

“Yeah, I ended it,” he says simply, his lips quirking into a sheepish smile. “They’re probably going to riot in the comments of the channel, but it’s fine. I told them I had ‘matters to attend to.’”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “Matters to attend to? That’s your excuse?”

Jin shrugs, pushing off the door and crossing the room toward you. “What else was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, everyone, gotta go take care of my horny roommate who’s been watching my streams and needs some help to reach an orgasm’?”

Your cheeks burn, and you groan, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me how embarrassing this situation is!”

His laughter is soft and warm as he sinks onto the edge of the bed beside you. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Okay, well, maybe a little embarrassing. But only because you’re making it a big deal.”

You peek at him from between your fingers, catching the playful glint in his eyes. “Says the guy who just abandoned his fans mid-stream.”

“Abandoned is a strong word,” he counters, grinning. “I prefer ‘temporarily postponed for the sake of something—or someone—way more important.’”

Again, there it goes. Your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze softens and the words that come out, the teasing fading into something gentler.

“You’re really just going to leave them hanging for me?” you ask, your voice tinged with incredulity, though the vulnerability in your tone betrays you.

Jin chuckles softly, his fingers brushing yours as he sits closer. “If it means making sure you’re getting your sexual health needs met, I’d even do it again in a heartbeat.”

You stare at him, caught between disbelief and the warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumble, though there’s no bite to your words.

“And you’re deflecting,” he counters smoothly, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Seriously, are you going to let me help, or do I need to sweet-talk you some more?”

Your breath catches at the way he’s looking at you, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “Help doing what, exactly?” you murmur, your voice quieter now. You know what you want, but damn, it’s hard to say this to this man you’ve known since both of you were kids.

His lips curl into a slow, lopsided smile. “With whatever you need,” he says, his voice dipping into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “But you’ll have to tell me where to start.”

The charged silence that follows is nearly suffocating, your mind spinning with everything unsaid. When you finally meet his eyes, the sincerity you find there is enough to make the last of your hesitation crumble.

You groan, now avoiding his intense gaze as your eyes dart around the room. If you look at him for too long, you’re sure you’ll lose control and jump him right here and now.

Taking a shaky breath, you lift your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and then shimmy out of your shorts and panties, kicking them to the floor. You spread your legs slightly, the pale glow of moonlight streaming through the blinds casting soft shadows over your skin.

“Two options!” you say, your voice trembling but steady enough to convey your intent. You gesture first to your chest, then lower, where his attention seems naturally drawn. “Here or… here. You pick what you’re in the mood for.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, a wave of disbelief crashes over you. How the hell are you being this bold? You were never this bold with Mingi. Where is your shame? Your self-control? Your sanity?

Gone. Completely out the window.

Potentially down the drain.

Like your life right now.

Jin’s jaw tightens, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His eyes flicker between your chest and the apex of your thighs, lingering longer than you expect. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” he murmurs, his voice rough, tinged with amusement, and maybe even hunger.

He takes a step closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate, and the air grows heavier with anticipation. His fingers twitch at his sides, as though he’s restraining himself.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “I’m in the mood for both.”

Your breath catches as he kneels on the bed, his hands resting on either side of your thighs, caging you in. His gaze burns into yours, dark and smoldering, before he leans in closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“But if you’re going to let me pick,” he continues, his lips ghosting over your skin, “I think I’ll start…here.”

His hands glide up your sides, thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts, as his lips finally find their mark on the curve of your neck. The sensation is electric, a soft moan slipping past your lips as his mouth works its way lower, his tongue tracing patterns over your collarbone.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” he teases, his voice low, vibrating against your skin.

The words stir something in you, and your hands instinctively reach for him, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. “Just shut up and keep going,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky but resolute.

Jin chuckles, the sound vibrating against your chest as he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he murmurs, his tone playful yet dripping with promise, before he takes you exactly where you want to go.

Jin’s lips hover above your breast, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity. The intensity in his expression makes your heart race, and your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths.

“You’re trembling already,” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, washing over you like a caress. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about? All those nights when you couldn’t look me in the eye?”

“Jin…” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it’s enough to spur him on.

He smirks faintly, his lips brushing the curve of your breast before his tongue flicks out to tease your nipple. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching slightly off the bed. His hand cups your other breast, his thumb circling the sensitive peak with painstaking precision.

“Have you ever been treated gently like this before?” he asks, his voice a murmur against your skin. His words are a mix of curiosity and something more, something deeper that sends heat coursing through your veins.

“No…” you admit, your voice hesitant to speak. It’s true—this kind of tenderness, this deliberate worship of your body, is something you’ve never experienced.

His expression softens, though the fire in his eyes remains. “Good,” he says, his tone firm yet gentle. “Then let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”

He shifts slightly, bringing his other hand to cradle your breast as his plush soft lips close around your nipple. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, drawing sensations from you that make your toes curl. His free hand trails down your side, his touch featherlight, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

You can’t suppress the soft whimper that escapes your lips, and his gaze flicks up to meet yours again, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction. He sucks lightly, his teeth grazing ever so gently, and the combination of sensations makes your head spin.

“F-Fuck,” you manage to gasp, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets beneath you.

His lips leave your skin momentarily, and he smirks, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re so sensitive…so responsive. It’s beautiful.”

He moves to your other breast, lavishing the same attention, his hand kneading gently while his mouth works its magic. Each movement feels intentional, as if he’s savoring every reaction he draws from you.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The slow, deliberate way he’s touching you leaves you breathless, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the mattress, utterly at his mercy.

"You’re doing so good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. "Just like a princess."

Your cheeks burn at the pet name, and you stammer, "I-I'm no princess!"

Jin pulls back slightly, his lips curling into a teasing smile, his breath warm against your chest. "Well, you’re about to get fully treated like one."

Before you can even process his words, his hands slide down your sides, gripping your thighs firmly. He spreads them wider, his gaze locked on your center with an intensity that makes your heart pound.

"Huh? A-Ah—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Jin lowers himself, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before moving closer to your core. The warmth of his breath against you makes you shudder, anticipation building with every passing second.

And then he dives in, his tongue tracing deliberate, languid strokes that make your back arch and a cry escape your lips.

"Jin!" you gasp, your hands flying to grip the sheets as your body reacts to the overwhelming sensation. “W-Wait…”

He hums in response, the vibration sending sparks through your already sensitive nerves. His hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you in place as his tongue works against you with precision, alternating between broad strokes and focused, teasing flicks.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with satisfaction.

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a reply. All you can do is surrender to the waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling under his touch. His movements are deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’s worshipping every inch of you.

"Jin, I’m going to—" You choke on your words as he sucks gently, his tongue circling your most sensitive spot. The heat pooling low in your belly tightens, and your hands instinctively reach for him, threading through his hair.

"That's it," he whispers against you, his voice laced with encouragement. "Let go for me, princess. Show me how good I make you feel."

The nickname, once teasing, now feels like a brand, sending you hurtling toward the edge. Your body tightens, and with one final, deliberate stroke of his tongue, you cry out, shattering beneath him.

Jin doesn’t stop immediately, guiding you through the waves of your release, his touch gentle yet insistent. When you finally come down, your body limp and trembling, he presses one last kiss to your thigh before looking up at you.

His lips glisten, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness as he climbs back up to meet your gaze. "See?" he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told you I’d treat you like a princess."

"You’re so evil! How the fuck are you so good at this?!" you gasp breathlessly, your chest rising and falling with every rapid inhale. "Is it the streams you do? Research? Experience? Are you addicted to porn?"

Jin smirks, brushing his hair back casually. "Research and some experience," he replies smoothly, leaning closer until his lips are near your ear, "but ask questions later. For now, I'll give you the final course."

Your breath hitches as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama bottoms, pushing them down in one fluid motion. Your eyes widen as you finally see him—his big cock, fully hard and even more impressive than you’d imagined from his streams.

"Holy—" The words slip out before you can stop them, your mouth falling open in a mix of shock and awe.

Jin chuckles, a low, deep sound that reverberates through the room. "Is it bigger than you thought?" he teases, his voice dripping with confidence.

You swallow hard, the heat rushing to your cheeks. Despite the overwhelming sight in front of you, you manage to respond stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest like you’re unaffected. "I-It’s not that big, but–," you say, though the slight quiver in your voice betrays you.

"Oh, really?" he interrupts, raising a brow, his grin widening. He leans in closer, the tip brushing lightly against your thigh, and you feel the heat radiating from him. "Guess I’ll just have to show you exactly how wrong you are."

Jin’s words hang in the air, thick with some unspoken promise. Before you can say anything, the sound of foil tearing fills the quiet room as he opens a condom he brought from his room early. His eyes are all on you, indulging in your presence.

His intensity is magnetic, and you’re completely captivated as he rolls the condom down over his length, every motion precise and deliberate.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.”

You nod, heart hammering in your chest as he moves closer, his warm hands finding your thighs and guiding them apart gently. The weight of his gaze on you is intoxicating, his thumbs stroking soft circles against your skin as he positions himself at your entrance.

"Relax for me," Jin whispers, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw before trailing down to your neck. The tenderness in his voice melts your tension, and you exhale shakily as he presses forward.

The stretch is startling at first, your body adjusting to his size as he sinks into you slowly, inch by inch. Your hands instinctively clutch at his biceps, your nails digging into his skin as he fills you completely.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your temple. His voice is filled with awe, like he’s savoring every moment. “Just like that, princess. So perfect.”

You shiver at his words, the nickname making your breath hitch. The sensation is overwhelming but quickly gives way to pleasure as Jin begins to move. His hips roll with a steady rhythm, his body pressed flush against yours.

“Jin,” you gasp, your hands gripping his arms tightly. “It feels… incredible.”

He smiles, his lips curving into a mix of pride and affection. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss that’s deep and consuming, his hips never faltering. Each thrust is deliberate, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he breathes against your lips, his hands sliding down to cradle your waist, angling you slightly to deepen his strokes. “Taking me so well.”

You arch into him, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his as his pace quickens. The tension in your core tightens with every thrust, the heat between you building to an almost unbearable level.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his movements careful as he withdraws from within you. “Turn over for me,” Jin says, his voice rough with desire.

You hesitate moving, as you’re comfortable where you are. But you move anyways, your body trembling with anticipation as you roll onto your stomach, then push yourself up onto your hands and knees. The cool air brushes your skin as you glance back at him nervously.

“Like this?” you ask softly, your voice trembling.

“Exactly like that,” he replies, his large hands trailing over the curve of your hips. He grips them firmly, steadying you as he lines himself up again. “You’re breathtaking.”

The first thrust steals your breath, the angle deeper than before, making your fingers claw at the sheets. Jin groans behind you, his voice husky and raw as he sets a steady pace.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, his hands sliding up your sides before one presses between your shoulder blades, encouraging you to arch your back further. “So tight, so perfect. My perfect princess.”

His words send a jolt through you, a mix of pleasure and emotion. You let out a cry, your body responding to every precise movement. Jin’s grip on your hips tightens as his pace increases, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“Jin, I’m so close,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaking as the tension coils tightly in your core.

“Let go for me,” he commands, his voice deep and velvety, full of conviction. “I’ve got you, princess. Let me feel it.”

His words are your undoing. You cry out, your body shuddering as your release washes over you in waves. The pleasure is blinding, leaving you trembling as you collapse onto the mattress, your legs weak and your breathing uneven.

Jin follows moments later, his grip on your hips firm as he thrusts into you one final time, groaning as his own climax overtakes him. He pulls out carefully, disposing of the condom before lying down beside you.

Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His lips press soft kisses to your forehead, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet room. “You really are a princess,” he murmurs, his tone warm and affectionate. “And you do deserve to be treated like one.”

A forehead kiss and pillow talk?! Woah, woah, woah.

Is this some kind of post-nut clarity affecting him?

You’re caught off guard by it completely. It feels a little too intimate. Too personal. Well, maybe you can’t say much because he literally just fucked you missionary and doggy style.

But you’ve never seen Jin be this affectionate before—it’s a bit jarring.

Maybe he’s like this in his past relationships? Or situationships? Well you don’t know much or anything about that. You haven’t seen him since you were like 10 or 11.

You don’t know if you like this or not, but you’re scared to find out. He's a professional sweet-talker by now, thanks to camming and appealing to his audience, so maybe this is just part of his act while helping you. You try to brush it off and play along. Be the princess to his Mario or whatever.

You lean into his warmth despite your swirling doubts. The exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster of the night begins to take hold, and your eyes grow heavy. Just as you’re on the verge of slipping into sleep, a thought nags at you.

“Why did you come into my room in the first place?” you mumble groggily.

Jin’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh. “Oh, right. It was to fix a Mario figure I have…”

Your brow furrows as a vague memory stirs. You recall seeing it on his desk in passing, that same little Super Mario figurine you had gifted him during Secret Santa in elementary school.

Back then, you’d been disappointed when you drew his name out of the hat. He was always difficult to please, never straightforward about his feelings. Even when he opened the gift, his silly and stubborn demeanor left you unsure if he liked it at all.

But now, knowing that he’s kept it all this time—and was worried enough about it breaking to interrupt his stream—it strikes a chord in you. It’s endearing, even sweet.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and before sleep fully claims you, you whisper, “You’re such a dork, Jin.”

He chuckles softly, adjusting the blanket around you with gentle care. “Yeah, but just know I’m the best dork you’ll ever meet,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he adds, “So, was I able to help you?”

You peek up at him through tired eyes, the corner of your lips quirking up despite yourself. “I guess you were able to do the job,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The sunlight filters softly through your blinds, stirring you from a surprisingly deep sleep. You stretch languidly, letting out a small yawn as your mind catches up to the events of the previous night. Your hand instinctively reaches out to the other side of the bed, but all you’re met with is empty sheets.

You sit up, confused, until a rich, buttery aroma wafts into your room. Pancakes?

Curiosity tugs you from the warmth of your blankets, and you pad out of your room toward the kitchen. The sight awaiting you stops you in your tracks: Jin, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, flipping pancakes in a pan with an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Good morning!” he greets you brightly, turning his head to flash you an impossibly wide smile. The sight of him so animated and cheerful is almost jarring compared to his usual composed, teasing demeanor.

You blink, trying to reconcile this sunny disposition with the Jin you know. “Uh… good morning?” you reply cautiously, stepping further into the kitchen.

Jin places a perfectly golden pancake onto a growing stack, humming a tune under his breath. “I figured after intruding on you last night, I owed you a proper breakfast,” he says casually, though the playful glint in his eye betrays him.

“Oh, why, thank you…” You cross your arms, leaning against the counter as you watch him work. “You’re surprisingly in a good mood though,” you remark, your tone more curious than accusatory. “What’s with the pep in your step?”

He shrugs, pouring more batter into the pan. “Can’t a guy just be happy?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You? Happy first thing in the morning? That’s new.”

Jin chuckles, setting the spatula down for a moment to turn and face you fully. “What can I say? Last night was… enlightening to say the least,” he says, his voice dipping ever so slightly. “Plus, I like taking care of people I care about.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you shift your weight, pretending to focus on the stack of pancakes. But instead of letting the moment pass, a question burns on your tongue, one you’ve been dying to ask since last night.

“Is it fine if I ask you a question?” you venture, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Jin doesn’t miss a beat, flipping the last pancake with practiced ease. “Go for it.”

You take a breath, crossing your arms as if to brace yourself. “How did you... start doing this camboy thing?”

His hands still for a moment, and he sets the spatula down carefully before turning to face you. “You really want to know?”

“Well, yeah!” you reply quickly, gesturing vaguely. “I mean, I would have never expected you to do and be into this kind of thing... let alone be good at, you know, sex.” The last words come out as an embarrassed mumble, and you immediately wish you could take them back.

Jin’s ears turn a deep shade of red, his confident demeanor faltering slightly. “You think I’m good at sex?” he teases, though his voice cracks just a little, betraying his flustered state.

You groan, covering your face with both hands. “That’s not the point! Answer the question, Seokjin.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and genuine, and it helps ease some of your own tension. “Alright, alright,” he says, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “It started as a joke, actually. Do you remember Yoongi Min? He was another Korean kid from the class next door in grade school.”

The name doesn’t really ring a bell, but you do recall a face of a boy who has cat-like features and would talk to him occasionally, being silly and all. “I honestly don’t remember.”

“Well, even after I moved away, I managed to stay friends with him and we ended up going to the same college.”

“I see,” you murmur.

“And a few months back, I invited him over and we got drunk. He knows about my gaming streams, but he told me, ‘You know the groans you make while playing rage bait games sound like moans? People would pay a lot of money for that. You should do porn.’”

“That’s insane!?” you exclaim, your eyes wide in disbelief.

Jin chuckles at your reaction. “Yeah, it’s crazy. But somehow, he convinced me to start doing camboy streams. I thought it’d be funny, so I did. But then... people started watching. Like, a lot of people.”

You lower your hands slightly, peeking at him as he talks. “So, it just... snowballed from there?”

He nods, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Pretty much. At first, it was all a joke, but then I realized there was a real market for... well, more intimate stuff. I did my research, figured out what people liked, and I guess I just got good at it.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “Did it ever feel weird? Or wrong?”

Jin’s expression softens, and he shakes his head. “Not really. I mean, I don’t do anything I’m not comfortable with and my face is hidden. It’s given me a lot of confidence too, honestly. Knowing people like what I put out there? It’s kind of empowering.”

You chew on your bottom lip, processing his words. “I guess that makes sense,” you say quietly. “I just... it’s still so surreal, knowing you of all people do this.”

He smirks, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Life’s full of surprises, princess. Besides, you can’t say you didn’t enjoy the results of my ‘research.’”

Your face burns, and you swat his hand away. “Don’t push your luck, Seokjin.”

He laughs, returning to the stove to plate the pancakes. “Fair enough. Now sit down before your breakfast gets cold.”

You and Jin sit across from each other at the small dining table, the smell of freshly made pancakes still lingering in the air. You’re halfway through your second one, drizzling extra syrup onto the fluffy stack as Jin sips his coffee. His cheerful demeanor this morning is infectious, and you find yourself smiling more than you’d expected. The conversation drifts to other trivial topics—memories from high school, your shared disdain for the overly competitive campus trivia nights, and even a brief debate over the best Mario Kart track. It’s light, easy, and comfortable, and for a moment, you almost forget the weight of everything that happened between you two last night.

Jin leans back against the counter, finishing the last of his coffee before setting the mug in the sink. “Anyway, I should head out. I’m meeting Yoongi at the cafe to get some work done.”

You nod, masking the flicker of disappointment that he’s leaving. “Oh, right. You said he works at a music label?”

“Yeah, he’s a producer there. He’s been helping me figure out some... creative stuff on the side,” Jin says vaguely, grabbing his bag. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“Very funny,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as he heads toward the door. “Tell this Yoongi I said hi, even if I don’t remember him.”

Jin smirks. “Will do, princess.” With that, he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The afternoon stretches before you, and you attempt to focus on applying for jobs, but your mind betrays you. Every time you start to type out a cover letter or tweak your resume, your memories wander back to last night.

The way Jin’s hands felt, the way he touched you like you were something precious—it’s impossible to shake. You keep replaying it in your head, trying to lock the details into your memory as if freezing the moment will keep it from fading.

It was the best sex you’ve ever had, and you can’t deny it. Mingi, your ex, couldn’t hold a candle to whatever magical touch Jin seems to possess. And yet, doubt nags at you.

This was a one-time thing, you tell yourself, even as a pang of longing blooms in your chest. He probably only did it out of pity—he saw how lonely you were, how desperate. There’s no way it meant anything to him. Not when he does this as part of his side job.

The thought twists uncomfortably in your stomach. Jin’s side gig as a camboy, while surprising, also raises questions you can’t ignore. Does he...ever do this with other people? You've seen posts on Twitter from OnlyFans creators teasing "special guests" in their content. Is Jin the type to collaborate?

Your curiosity itches at you, relentless and demanding. You open your laptop and navigate to the site he uses. His page is easy enough to find again, but as you scroll, your questions only multiply. There are videos locked behind a subscription paywall, tantalizing thumbnails blurred just enough to leave you guessing.

You hesitate, biting your lip. Spending money you don’t have to satisfy your curiosity feels reckless, but the mystery gnaws at you. Does he do this with others? Was last night just practice for his real work?

But you can’t bring yourself to click. Not yet, at least. With a frustrated sigh, you slam your laptop shut and bury your face in your hands.

Why do you even care? Last night was just a one night type of thing. You don’t see yourself with Seokjin anyways.

And yet…

Overthinking is what got in the way of your last relationship until it all came crashing down.

Early in the evening, Jin returns from his outing and sees you folding your laundry in the living room. The smell of Korean soybean paste soup fills the room, making his expression soften when he notices your prepared meal.

“You made dinner?” he asks, surprised.

He sets his bag down by the couch and moves to join you.

You shrug, trying to act casual as you fold another shirt. “Thought it’d be a nice way to say thanks. You know...for everything.”

You don’t know how to make many Korean foods, but this one is one you learned how to make from Yunjin in college.

His lips twitch into a small smile. “Well, thanks. It smells amazing.”

You glance at him as he ladles a bowl of soup, taking a seat and diving in eagerly. “How was your meet-up with Yoongi?”

“Not bad,” he says between bites. “I told him that you found out my secret.”

You freeze, your eyes widening. “Y-You what?”

“N-Not how I found you flicking your bean and how we had sex!” he adds hastily, waving his spoon.

Your shoulders slump in relief, but something about his nonchalant tone makes your cheeks burn all over again.

Still, this feels like the perfect opening for what’s been nagging at your thoughts all afternoon. You clear your throat, hesitating only briefly before asking, “Wait, Jin, there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Go for it.”

You hesitate, your hands pausing mid-fold. “Since you do solo cam work...I was wondering if you’ve ever done collaborations with other people before. Like, working with camgirls, by any chance?”

Jin raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Why? Are you curious to know about my sex life?”

“H-Hey! It’s not that at all!” you stammer, quickly looking away. “It’s just...” How do you say this without sounding weird—or jealous? You fumble for words, finally settling on, “You’re so good at what you do, so I was wondering...where you got your experience from.”

A flicker of something crosses Jin’s face—amusement, maybe, or pride. He sets his spoon down, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Well, I actually was dating someone a few months before I started my gaming streaming.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone softening. “I met her at my first job, working at an entertainment agency. We dated for a few years, but we ended it mutually. It wasn’t anything dramatic—just... one of those things, you know?”

You nod slowly, absorbing this new information. “So...did she teach you some of this stuff?”

He chuckles, a low, warm sound. “Some of it. But a lot of what I know now came after we broke up. Research, self-practice...some trial and error. I guess it just stuck.”

Your cheeks flush, your mind inadvertently wandering back to last night. You still can’t quite wrap your head around how someone can be that good. “I see.”

Jin’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he speaks up again, clearly sensing your lingering curiosity.

“So, your answer to the question about you doing collaborations with camgirls is...?” you press, your voice tinged with both curiosity and hesitation.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I haven’t.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he says with a casual shrug. “I mean, I’m a pretty confident guy, and I think I’m handsome, but doing collabs with random or established camgirls or OnlyFans girls makes me nervous.”

You blink at his admission, letting out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It almost feels like a sigh of relief. Wait—why are you relieved?

Jin notices, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Why did you ask? Did you want to appear in a collab with me on Chaturbate?”

“Huh?” Your face heats up instantly.

Woah, woah, woah. Wait, where is this coming from?!

“You’re not a camgirl by any means,” he continues, his tone softer now. “But after last night, it got me...thinking.” His voice dips into something shyer, almost uncertain, as he rubs the back of his neck.

Your stomach flips at his words, though you can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something else entirely. “Thinking about what?” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jin hesitates, clearly bracing himself. “Thinking about how good we were together. And...maybe how it’d feel to do that again. With you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re both silent. In his head, he’s already convinced you’re going to shut this out and call him a pervert, but you don’t.

“So you want to have sex…or do acts in front of the camera… for your BigTunaMan channel and your fans?” you ask, your voice slower, more deliberate, letting the question hang heavily in the air.

If you were any other girl, you’d probably be storming out of the room right now, completely scandalized. But instead, there’s a strange buzz low in your stomach, a heat you don’t entirely want to admit. Why are you into this?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you search Jin’s face for his reaction. He’s caught off guard, sure, but there’s a flicker in his expression—something unsure, something vulnerable, but undeniably intrigued.

The thought rolls over in your mind: What if you did this? What if you let yourself step into his world? There’s an allure to it, a kind of rebellious excitement. The risk, the intimacy, the sheer wildness of the idea—it pulls at you, even if you don’t fully understand why. And then there’s Jin. If this is an excuse to relive last night’s intensity, to feel his touch again, to share that connection—hell, maybe you’d risk more than you should.

The words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them. “Do I get paid?”

“Huh?!” Jin’s voice cracks, his shock palpable as he straightens, staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.

You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance, even as your pulse thunders in your ears. “If I help you with your little channel,” you say slowly, almost teasingly, “will you pay me? I mean, it’d be an easy job in the meantime until I find an actual one and it’ll provide some money for me. And as long as I’m not showing my face, there’s no real risk, right?”

His face flushes deep red, and he stammers, “H-Hold on! I wasn’t actually serious about it, I was just—” He pauses, his hands gesturing aimlessly as if trying to find the right words. “Why are you agreeing to this so quickly?!”

You shrug, leaning back against the chair with a smirk you’re barely holding back. “I mean, for starters, it sounds kinda fun.”

“Fun?!” he repeats, incredulous.

“Yeah,” you say simply, watching the color climb his neck. “I’ll get paid—maybe—still waiting for you to confirm that,” you add, arching a brow. “And…I’ll also finally forget about my loser ex-boyfriend.”

His jaw drops slightly, and he stares at you like you’ve just flipped his world upside down. You don’t miss the way his eyes narrow briefly, processing your words. Something shifts in his expression—a flicker of something darker, hungrier.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice quieter now, but with a sharp edge of disbelief.

You hold his gaze, trying not to let the tension unravel you. “Depends,” you say softly, almost a challenge. “Are you?”

The silence between you crackles with electricity. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in the quiet. Jin’s lips part, and his tongue darts out briefly to wet them, a nervous tell that makes your stomach flip.

“I mean,” he finally starts, his voice almost hesitant, “I was half-joking, but now you’re making this sound real.”

You let out a soft laugh, though your voice trembles slightly. “Well, if it did become real, at least you know I’m down.”

His mouth opens slightly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start. The vulnerability on his face makes your heart skip a beat. Jin, usually so smooth, so confident, looks completely caught off guard.

“You’re not just doing this to distract yourself from your ex, are you?” he asks after a moment, his voice softer, more serious.

You pause, the weight of his question settling between you. “Maybe a little,” you admit honestly. “But also…because I trust you, Jin.”

His gaze softens further, his brows knitting together like he’s trying to make sense of you.

“And,” you continue, your voice dropping, “if last night was any indication, I know we’d kill it together. I will also not catch feelings for my own rival.”

His breath catches, and you don’t miss the way his fingers curl slightly against his thighs, as if restraining himself.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he sighs finally, his voice low and rough.

You smirk, leaning forward slightly, closing the space between you. “Only when I want to be.”

Jin shakes his head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping him.

You feel like you’ve won in this teasing war, until suddenly, his expression changes.

His eyes narrow slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s a familiar look, one that pulls at an old, buried memory—one of him standing across from you in the schoolyard, arms crossed, with that same cocky grin plastered on his face. Back then, he was always looking for ways to one-up you, always trying to prove he was better, faster, smarter. Jin loved a challenge, and you were his favorite target.

But now? Now, that grin feels different. It feels heavier, laced with something sharper, something more daring.

“Then let’s do it,” he says, his voice low and filled with conviction.

Your stomach flips, a mix of excitement and nerves tumbling inside you. You search his face, trying to gauge if he’s joking or if he’s actually serious this time. The intensity in his gaze tells you everything you need to know.

“Wait, you’re not messing with me?” you ask, your voice coming out a little smaller than you’d like.

Jin leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, closing the distance between you. His smirk softens into something more genuine, but his eyes—dark and steady—don’t waver. “You think I’d back down from a challenge? Come on, you should know me better than that by now.”

Your breath hitches. The air between you is thick, charged with a tension that feels impossible to ignore.

“You’re really serious about this,” you say softly, more a statement than a question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he counters smoothly, tilting his head slightly. “You threw it out there, and I’m not one to half-ass things. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

The confidence in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry.

“Okay,” you say, trying to match his energy, though your voice wavers just slightly. “But just so we’re clear—this is strictly business. No funny business.”

You refuse to catch feelings for him, so putting it out there now that this is just a fun sex work type of job with an old friend is the boundary you’re making.

Jin lets out a sharp laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Funny business? Do you even hear yourself?” He grins, his teeth flashing. “You’re the one who just volunteered to do this. If anything, I should be worried about you crossing the line.”

Excuse you?!

“Me?!” you sputter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’re the professional here!”

“Exactly,” he says, his voice dripping with smugness. “Which means I know how to keep it professional. You, on the other hand…” He trails off, his grin widening as your blush deepens.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Fine. Whatever. Just tell me when we’re starting so I can be prepared.”

Jin leans forward again, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Tomorrow night,” he says simply.

“Tomorrow night?!”

“What? You said you wanted to do this. No point in waiting.”

You can’t argue with that. He clocked you right there.

Your head spins at the thought, but the look in Jin’s eyes grounds you. This is happening. Whether you’re ready or not, you’ve officially entered his world. Oh, fuck.

a/n: it's been a month since i updated the series with chapter 2... once again, totally apologize for the delay. i really thought i'd have more time, which during christmas time, i kind of did (which is why i wrote ch3 all throughout that time). But once the new year started, my manager had me like a pack mule and completing random heavy loaded tasks, so the process of revising and editing the 15k words i original wrote for the chapter became... impossible. i tend to hate splitting chapters unless things feel to jarring of a transition within one chapter that it would make sense for it to become a whole other chapter. But now considering the many shitty tasks I may get in the near future as well as to not overload you with a load of shit going on in one chapter... it made sense to just split it off. Ch 4 (which is the 2nd half of this chapter) will be release in 2 weeks confirmed! i'll finish doing some edits for that and i'll also start on ch 5. This series will end with chapter 6 for sure! i would like to move on from this fic and get some of my other ones ready and cooked up!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

#seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x you #kim seokjin #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #smut #heart on the window #hotw #hotw3 #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts

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glamourwrites · 2 days ago

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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕.

( gif credit )

— summary : after two years, you ended your "relationship" with drew.

— warnings : angst, fwbs , vague nsfw , jealousy , mention of punk.

— pairing : drew mcintrye x reader

— word count : 992

— writer's note : this is the first time i write after seven years. my writing is rusty, but hopefully, it'll get better as i start posting on here more.

— tag list : @espresscs / if you'd like to be on the tag list, send me a dm !

“i'm not joking.” you had responded with a firm tone in your voice, your arms crossed as you looked up at drew with a serious look.

both of you had been messing around ever since joining as a backstage interviewer two years ago. it was supposed to be a one-night stand; that's it. that then turned into friends who messed around after the show was over. it was supposed to be casual. it was supposed to be fun. no strings attached just like they had agreed on. then things started to change. it was not certainly for the best but for the worst. things between the both of you shifted as time passed. it went from not caring about what the other does to becoming jealous. something that you never expected to happen.

especially since you were never the type to be jealous but every time you would walk past him, you couldn't help but feel pain when he'd flirt with some of the women from the locker room. you never understood why you felt that. you and drew were nothing more than friends who made each other feel good whenever both of you needed it after a long day at work. so what was it that made you feel that way about him?

maybe it was because you would see drew take some of the women from the roster back to his hotel. where unfortunately, you would be next to his room where you could hear the moans, whimpers, and screaming while they were begging him to not stop. which made you uncomfortable. not because of the loud noises. but because the thought of him with someone else made your heart sink.

there were times when drew would distance himself from you. act as if he didn't fuck the shit out of you the other night. then he'd send you a text and ask if you wanted to hang out with him that night. you wanted to say no during those times but you couldn't help yourself but give in. oh, how you hated that he had that effect on you.

it was starting to confuse you every day. did drew like you as more than a friend or did he like you as someone he could go to when no one was around? nonetheless, it was taking an effect on you. he'd go from having mindless sex to being intimate and whispering how much he couldn't get enough of you and how no one but you made him want to.

god, your brain was all over the place and you couldn't fucking take it anymore. which is why you had distanced yourself from him. you hadn't talk to him until now.

“you're lying.” drew replied with a mocking chuckle, shaking his head side to side with a smug smirk. he didn't believe what you were saying because you two would go back together after not talking for a while. the same old routine, talk, have sex, and make up with one another. “i know you better than anyone you know yourself.”

hearing him say that, you felt agitated. your frustrations boiling, taking a deep breath before continuing on. “i'm not lying, andrew.” your voice quiet but able for him to hear. “you don't know me. it's been like what? a month since we talked to each other? yeah, i wouldn't say you do even if it's been two years.”

there was a brief silence before you continued on. “besides, i'm interested in someone else.” muttering under your breath, moving your gaze from his. you weren't lying when you said that. you'd been talking to none other than, cm punk. the man that everyone hates.

both of you had been talking for awhile now. he understood how you felt whenever you'd talk about drew. he never pushed you to tell you everything that was going on between the two of you. the only thing he said was if drew was making you feel this way, the only way to do so was to stop talking to him completely.

at first, you were hesitant because drew had been part of your life and made you feel special. yes, there were times when both of you did things that couples would do or he complimented how beautiful you looked. even praising how you've been a hard worker. but now… it didn't feel that way. in your eyes, drew was an acquaintance rather than a friend that you had confined yourself to.

licking the roof of her mouth, drew looked at you with a peculiar expression, trying to figure out if you were lying. you weren't lying because by now, you'd be crawling up to him but this time you kept your distance from him. “who's the lucky guy?”

“that's none of your business.”

“but it is now,” he told you, running his hand through his hair as a sigh of disbelief came from him. this couldn't be true. there was no way she'd stop him but he was wrong.

“i don't have time to go back and forth with you. i have to go. have a nice night.” and without hesitation, you passed him without glancing at him.

your mind was telling you to go back and tell him it wasn't true you were interested in someone else. but you knew you'd be lying to yourself. you had become more interested in punk than drew. it hurt but it was the truth and you weren't going to lie to yourself.

punk made you feel special. he listened to every word you said and spent time with you outside of work unlike drew. it was different, but the good kind. something you had never had in your entire life.

there was a part of you that believed drew did like you at some point but that was your mind being delusional.

he was a fire that you had loved so much until it burned.

#mine.#writings.#drew.#drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintrye x you #drew mcintrye one shot #drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre fic #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction

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stellar-jay · 6 months ago

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i think the real victim of the ending of fool's fate is molly, who is inevitably going to have her husband of however many years, stepfather to her 8 children, break it to her that he needs to leave for an indeterminate amount of time to go save the world with his best friend that she has never met and doesnt know that much about who it turns out is his literal soulmate

#i think in the process of trying to secure a simple and peaceful heterosexual life for fitz the fool kind of fucked over poor molly #who #even if he had never returned #would. surely EVENTUALLY figure out the whole “hes half of my soul” thing #poor molly is just gonna eventually find out fitz has a soulmate and its not her #its this strange twink who made an elective decision to fuck off and let ur husband go be with you #with the energy of someone releasing a wild animal they reared by hand to go live free with its own kind #i doubt fitz ever told her cause i think he thinks its irrelevant #but the fool maybe shouldve considered the eventuality that fitz ever casually drops that the fool is like half of his soul #and theyre the same person and had a bond more intimate than any romantic relationship #to this woman who #broke up with him #because he was too loyal to #the king #he wasnt even IN LOVE with the king it was just taking up a lot of his time. girl is not gonna be cool with this #estarriol mute this #rote liveblog #i just want molly and the fool to meet. i have no idea whats gonna happen i just want it.#were it not for the fitz thing i think theyd get along great #but the whole “you are my husbands one true love” “you are the reason i cant be with my one true love”#might get in the way #also i wonder if the name exchange thing does make them married and if she'll ever find out abt that #there is a large chance that in the fitz and the fool trilogy molly and the fool find out that fitz is married to the fool #and just #never mentioned he did that to them bc he didnt think it was a big deal

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bumblingbabooshka · 1 year ago

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'I'm the X' is a banger but let's be real for a second Mr. Spock

#'I'm ready' is also a bop #Christine: Hey I'm gonna take a job opportunity so I'll be away for-#Spock: I will never love again...I can't believe she didn't take our relationship seriously. Not half as seriously as I did...this #is what I get for trusting someone I suppose. My fault. I won't make that mistake again v_v #<- Literally Engaged #saw some people saying Christine is a bitch for 'doing this to' Spock. Which Spock?? The Spock that's engaged?????#Unless he and T'Pring officially broke up in an episode I didn't watch prior to this then Christine could have broken up with him via #a brick through his bedroom window and I still wouldn't be upset on his behalf #bee doodles #EHEHEHHE but it's so funny...I'm the X literally is aesthetically a villain song. Sit DOWN Mr Spock!!!! <3 #Spock: Convinced myself we shared the same feelings...I won't make that mistake again...#Spock when has Christine 'let's keep this secret and casual' ever made you think that??#chrisit*ne/sp*ck is so goofy and so messy HEHEHE wha t are they DOING #anyway please listen to I'm the X by Spock bc it literally sounds like he's about to take over an empire or something #also I'm Ready for if you just wanna have a lil fun <3 #also idk what happened in the season finale I didnt watch it and I won't watch it - something about war v_v #I drew this after watching rhapsody and so thats where I'm drawing from #someone keep Mr Spock off reddit if he finds r/niceguys he's gonna get radicalized

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britneyshakespeare · 4 months ago

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I feel like certain people on Tumblr have really been fighting for backwards progress when it comes to how we talk about mental illness and abuse. I see posts at least several times a week on my dash that seem to have the purpose of implying people with insert-mental-illness and/or insert-symptom are not abusive when they do insert-action-that-makes-people-uncomfortable, often times meaning to promote a more positive image of people with particularly stigmatized conditions, like personality disorders, mood disorders, psychosis, addiction, or neurodivergence. And I really really hate it because these posts almost always have the ultimate purpose of telling people not just "This thing is not inherently abusive," but often it comes across as "You were not abused."

I just find that to be really unhelpful and unintentionally hurtful, and for what? I believe that destigmatizing various mental conditions is a worthy cause, but at the same time this type of rhetoric seems to be so protective of people in whichever stigmatized group they're trying to advocate for, that it comes back around to a sort of respectability politics. Anybody can be an abuser. And someone's means and methods of abusing can very much be influenced by a condition they have. Why wouldn't it be? Their conditions will affect every aspect of their life and their interpersonal relationships. Especially if these issues are going untreated or being insufficiently managed. I don't understand why anyone would want to make it appear as if abusers are mostly neurotypical and mentally well people, or that if they aren't, then their conditions have nothing to do with it and the overlap is merely incidental. What? It makes it so hard for anyone who is a victim to come to terms and identify the dynamics of what they've gone through.

Addicts and mentally ill people don't have to be unproblematic in order to be humanized and accepted. And nobody profits from writing hard and fast rules about how abuse apparently works, drawing clear lines between which behaviors can, and cannot, ever be abuse.

#tales from diana #making unrebloggable bc i can't handle the discourse on this topic #my own experience with being abused and taken advantage of by someone who almost CERTAINLY had npd... just kinda breaks me #when i see this and it's like making it out to be 'everyone who says they suffered from narcissistic abuse is lying #or misunderstanding what narcissism is because ppl w npd would NEVER do this'#i can see that it's a highly stigmatized term and i don't want to act like an expert on what ppl w the condition go through #but i can tell you i felt deep sympathy for this man for a long time. i felt pity for all he'd gone through. but he'd just lay on the guilt #for every little thing i did that ever displeased him for any reason. he just degraded and disrespected me. and USED me #he used me for money for attention for CONSTANT attention oh my god #he wouldn't even let me go to sleep sometimes before 3 am. and he stole so much money from me #he put me in physical danger. he gossiped about me to all my friends when i was starting to distance myself #before i even came to terms with just how toxic he was to me.#and every time i just wanted to go somewhere wo him or even just stay at home by myself #it was about HIM. it was about how HE felt about it. he had ZERO sympathy for me and i handled all his emotional labor #this man couldn't even think for himself. he brought all his problems to me for me to sort through bc he was so inept and shallow #he was lazy he was careless he didn't listen to ppl he was casually rude #i didn't allow myself to accept these parts of him bc of all he suffered through i felt like he was just a sad little boy #who never learned manners or etiquette or. just. respect #basic respect. as much as i outlined what i wasn't ok w and what hurt me. it didn't matter to him #and NONE of these things are inherently the things that make me think he has npd #his actual suffering and the things i felt bad for him about were very real and severe #but i know what happened between us and i know he was abusive to me. the ppl writing these posts do not.#to say that someone has been abusive in an interpersonal relationship should be something we should be able to respect #and give ppl the benefit of the doubt. and victims may OFTEN not be well-informed about their own abusers' issues #but ppl can just know whether or not they were abused. regardless of if they fully grasp the why and how #if victims say something problematic or paint w a broad brush talking abt ppl who have something in common w their abuser #we should still correct that gently and kindly and not dismiss their experience outright #like i can't believe i have to say that. but i've seen some seriously upsetting posts on here recently.

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reachexceedinggrasp · 1 year ago

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So when I've been complaining about even fanfiction not being romantic enough, part of what I mean by that is that people take huge, gothic characters in pairings with gigantic, dramatic stakes full of titanic emotions and then make them feel small and mundane. Stripping the very romanicism from the bones of the romance.

There are many things that are deeply appealing to me about B&tB pairings or 'unlikely' pairings or Gothic romance in general, but something that is less structural while still being absolutely key is that it's not an easy relationship to get the characters into. It's not something that would happen under ordinary circumstances for either person. It's not a bond that can be forged without some form of pressure preventing these people from continuing in their regular patterns.

If you're writing an E/C fic where you start from scratch, the moment they so much as touch for the first time should be absolutely show-stoppingly prodigious. It can never be casual, not between these two, the idea of a touch being allowed should be an Event. The reader's heart should be thundering in their chest, the suspense should be palpable, the consummation divine. A single touch is a consummation for them, there should be that much tension. If they hold hands and I'm not holding my breath, you have done it wrong. The first kiss should feel like an atom bomb going off, the world should shift on its axis, a line is being crossed which has left both characters forever altered.

And people will instead write them like a standard romance novel couple who make standard pervy comments in the narration, get a bit flirty, casually hook up and then weigh pros and cons about whether dating fits into their life plans or not. All of this being totally without weight, without feeling like any kind of Rubicon has been crossed or that it's significant for the characters to have entered into something which must foundationally alter their worldview.

Reylo brushing fingers across the galaxy and it being the turning point of the entire narrative, given the same majesty and mystical significance as Luke's vision in the cave or Yoda lifting the X-Wing is the exact correct amount of emphasis for them reaching towards each other in tenderness. You have a character defined by abandonment and loneliness and a character who is surrounded by people but never touched, both unseen by anyone else, both aching for connection, both never having felt anything like this before, both aware of the galaxy-spanning consequences of what they're feeling. Them touching is le big deal.

The kiss for the B&tB pairing, the EtL pairing, any Gothic pairing has to feel out of reach, a chasm that cannot be crossed- until it happens, impossible yet inevitable. Something the characters could never have conceived of taking place at the beginning of the story, an infinite abyss of which they have somehow found themselves on the other side. You have to do the work to get them there, you have to build that bridge stone by stone, and it should be a sublime agony of seeing the path take shape while it still feels like the gap is just unbridgable, that no matter how close you come, it will never be complete, they can never get all the way across. Until they do.

If you write characters who have (or should have) that kind of vast gulf separating them as just kind of falling into an intimacy which isn't earned and thus means nothing, I just have no idea why we're here. Why buy a giant gothic castle of romanticism and then bulldoze it to build a minimalist condo? Everything about the pairing that makes it that pairing is stripped away. If these were people who could just meet at a party and end up in bed, they would be completely different people.

#taking something epic and portentous #reducing it to a casual instant attraction they sort of casually and impulsively act on like it's ordering a coffee levels of important #and then it's all 'well maybe there's ~something there~ whatever tho don't think it matters or anything' while they're going on caj dates'#and ends with 'it's pretty good I guess we're compatible maybe we'll get married eventually'#LIKE #why #why are people so boring #if it is not love of the most exquisite kind #the far far better thing you do than you have ever done #these people would never go through the bullshit of being with their enemy/a pariah/a difficult Beast/etc.#sshg stories where they're casual actually pain me #it CAN'T be casual it's NOT a casual attraction if they were under normal circumstances it would NEVER happen #SOME THINGS HAVE TO BE FORGED IN FIRE OKAY?#the chasm which has to be crossed for it to happen is what makes it so satisfying my guy #WORK FOR IT #don't get me wrong I like low key ships as well but it's just a fundamentally different thing and some characters #absolutely cannot be plugged into a low key dynamic #Erik categorically cannot be a standard mundane love interest about whom one can be casual #he has never had a casual relationship with literally anything #he is intense about everything he does #this is what makes him wonderful #if you don't want to deal with his dramatic virgin antics then you don't want to write about him #and that's fine! but it means THEN DON'T #writing #romance #tropes

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subskz · 1 year ago

Text

…i lost the tag limit war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right?

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

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

"I will."

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

#FINALLY!!! turning the lights down low scattering rose petals lighting candles…my date w invisible thread is upon me at last 🥰#also i’m doing a sahar-style live reaction so apologies if i comment on literally every little thing that happens hehe im excited #hitting me w the clay metaphor right off the bat...i'm in awe of how perfectly you described childhood development w just a single analogy #molding the reader when she’s young n impressionable and leaving those imprints to harden beyond repair even after she's grown #what a beautifully melancholy way to describe her relationship w her mother and how it affects her view of herself i love it so much ㅠ #lesm inho. leemingo. LEMINHO!!! THE LAZY SMILE NOO U ALREADY GOT ME 😭😭😭 it’s so fucking over and i only just started oh my god #his eyes being the first thing she notices when they meet…the reader is just like me fr but describing them as black holes that draw her in #is making me crazy IT’S SO TRUE!!!! the most mesmerizing eyes known to man that warp space n time this comparison is absolutely stunning #the chill in his hand reminding her of a horrible memory like that 😞 so heartbreaking but also such a clever way to give insight into #the reader's character as well as insight into the the type of relationship she n lino will have and how it will likely resurface old wound #“u weren't sure what u would find on the other side nor did u have any desire to find out” u conveyed the odd magnetism of his eyes SO WELL #im very glad she got a higher grade than him i was not prepared for the smugness that would ensue if he beat her -_-; but a detail i really #adore is how casually lino takes the loss i feel like it goes to show that he truly doesnt have any ill intent despite being so provocative #the cat cafe is called limbo PLEASE THATS SO CUTE 😭 lino mimicking her words…n dodging the pillow i cant stand him actually #to be minho is to be insufferable and get away w it…she should throw a brick at his head next (<- madly in love)#oh my god the part where he laughs at her for hitting her head but from that point on covers that edges of the tables to protect her 😭😭😭#i’m going to be sick to my stomach thsi is the most minho expression of care on earth. all the careful linoisms u included are killing me ㅠ #comparing his eyelashes to the wings of a butterfly ARE U KIDDING!! that has me clutching my heart it's such delicate n gentle beauty #i love that he’s just as competitive as the reader but in a much more lighthearted way…he sees it almost like a game whereas she sees it as #a very serious demonstration of her worth. minho eventually becoming the one she wants to prove herself to rather than her mother #is so intensely sweet and heartwrenching at the same time ): in just a few months he's shown her a healthier love than her mother ever did #THEIR FIRST SNOW TOGETHER NONONO 😭 this entire scene has me inconsolable oh my god LINO W HIS SNOWBALL HE IS SO ANNOYINGLY CUTE #“u cant decide if ur shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him” critical hit on my heart…u painted such a #lovely picture of his laughter i can clearly envision his wild giggles and the way his entire body laughs w him when he’s really excited ㅠ #I WAS GONNA COMMENT ON THE SNOW NOT SPARKING THAT SAME AWFUL MEMORY THIS TIME 😭 his laughter brought her so much warmth she didnt even have #the chance to think abt it i'm so devastated by this parallel…little by little she’s healing w him and melting the frost her mother left #the way the reader grabs her fork to threaten him like he did w the spoon HELP theyre rubbing off on each other without even realizing it #every character detail u included is so well thought out u did a brilliant job ㅠㅠ it makes them human and the story all the more immersive #lino letting her eat first while he cooks the meat and him blushing everywhere when she feeds him MY BABY 😞💔 he thinks he’s so slick…#asking how she’d dispose of a body over dinner…lee minho master of romance everyone 🙏 but literally OF COURSE HE WOULD

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