#what the fuck i cant stand how much they protected each other

[cerebrobullet]

You can speak to me.

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

[wriothesleybear]

I barely request fanfic ideas but i cant get the thought of a Knight! Wriothesley x Princess! Reader smut outta my head i need it bad 😭😭

~Warnings: mentions of sex, secret relationship, talks of breeding, jealousy, slight angst, fem!reader, smut drabble below cut. Enjoy!

I got you boo!😉❤️ I included some headcanons and there's a bit of a drabble at the end, but I love this idea! Especially if it's a forbidden romance. Knights can't fall in love and marry a princess. Princesses can only marry a prince or a king. But that doesn't stop you two from falling for each other. He tried not to. He knew it was against your kingdom's laws. He could be killed for doing such a thing. But you make it hard for him to hold back, to ignore his desires when you tease him, giving him those lust filled eyes and batting your pretty lashes at him. Cornering him when you get a chance, pushing yourself against him when no one is looking. Fuck. How can he deny you when you're asking him, begging him to fuck you. When you grace your hand down from his chest, to his stomach, to his cock and rub him, he puts a firm but not harsh grip on your hand, pausing your ministrations. "You know we can't princess," he says with a dark look in his eyes. But that doesn't stop you. It only turns you on more. He usually has good self control, trained to be able to withstand the toughest challenges. But when it comes to you, he's weak. He just wants to lose control and give into you. To feel you, to taste you. And god, when you use that excuse 'isn't the knight suppose to do everything the princess asks of him?', he can't say no because you are technically right in a way.

Secret hookups in the darkest corners of the castle, late night fucks when everyone in the castle is fast asleep except for you two, who are busy exploring each other's bodies. You two try to keep your voices down so as to not wake anyone, but it's hard to when Wrio's fucking you so good into your soft mattress. As much as he enjoys hearing your moans and whimpers, most times he has to silence you so you don't get caught. Either by using his hand to cover your mouth, shoving his fingers in your mouth, or by using his own mouth. As much as you beg him to cum inside you, and he would love to, he can't because what if you become pregnant with his child. Your family's reputation would be ruined and he would be killed for 'tainting the kingdom's precious princess'. So for now, he cums on your beautiful, soft skin or in your nice, warm mouth where you swallow it all without a drop wasted. But fuck, would he love to breed you. The thought just makes him hard, pushing him over the edge quickly that he almost misses the chance to pull out, almost accidentally cums inside your womb.

He accompanies you on meetings with potential suitors. He's usually waiting nearby, with a stoic expression on his face, minding his own business but secretly eavesdrops on your conversations with your potential future husband. It drives him wild with jealousy seeing another man greet you with a kiss on the back of your hand, making you blush and laugh when talking with him. Makes him seethe with anger and jealously. He knows he shouldn't be because he already knew that there was no chance for you two to end up together. You were bound to marry a prince for your kingdom and he was bound to be your knight and protect you from danger.

~Drabble below~

Later that night, he drops by your room to do his nightly check in and to say goodnight. When all you do is wish him a good night and nothing more as you ready yourself for bed, he doesn't immediately leave. He stands there and waits for you to make the first move. To kiss him goodnight, and end up asking him to stay a bit longer and lay with you as it usually goes. When you finally notice him standing there in silence, you give him a teasing smile, knowing exactly what he's waiting for. You get up from your vanity chair and walk over to him as he watches your every move. You cup his face in your hands. Closing his eyes, he places his hands over yours, not wanting you to remove them, basking in your gentle touch. You softly call his name, causing him to open his eyes and meet yours. Getting on your tiptoes, you pull his face close to yours. You both melt once your lips meet into a gentle sweet kiss.

It lasts for a few seconds and you both pull away slightly. No words are exchanged as you search each other's eyes and his gaze looks down to your lips, silently asking for more. He doesn't waste anymore time and pulls your lips back to his. This time the kiss lasts longer and is filled with more passion, need, and want. He's trying to express his feelings to you without saying them aloud. You wrap your arms around his neck as he wraps his own around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You return your feelings to him through the kiss as well.

Without breaking the kiss, he picks you up and places you onto your bed, laying on top of you. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you pull him closer to you, rubbing his crotch against your core through your night gown. The kiss intensifies as your tongues intertwine with one another and explore each other's mouths. His hand moves to cup your breast, feeling your harden nipple through your thin night gown, slightly pinching it, causing you to gasp into his mouth. He glides his hand down your stomach and hip to your thigh, caressing your soft skin, slightly rising your gown up.

He knows he should stop, pull himself off of you and let you go. He can't let this go on, but he can't stop himself. Not when your whining into his mouth, begging him to touch you more, grinding against his cloth cock, showing him just how much you want him. He wants you just as much. No, needs you just as much. He buries his negative thoughts and just lets go, indulging in his needs. He pushes your dress up and rubs you through your panties, feeling a wet spot. He smirks, loving the effect he has on you. He wastes no time and pulls your panties off, spreading your legs apart and shoving his head between your legs. He sucks, licks, and feasts on your pussy, enjoying your sweet nectar. He could cum just from this. From you withering and moaning his name as he eats you out, your fingers combing through his hair, pulling him closer as you near your orgasm.

When you finally cum, he drinks and licks up every drop, not wanting to waste a single drop of your delicious taste. Once he's finished and removes his face from between your legs, you're gasping for air, chest heaving as you calm down from your high. Once you gather yourself, you pull his face to yours, kissing him as you taste yourself on his mouth. Breaking the kiss, you stare into his eyes and beg him to fuck you. To shove his cock into you and make you cum on it. He doesn't hesitate and removes his slacks, setting his hard cock free from its tight confines. God, does he have a pretty cock. You could stare at it all day, but you don't care about that right now. All you want is for him to be inside you, to hold him close as he thrusts into you, making your legs shake and mind numb.

Grabbing his cock, he rubs his head between your folds, against your sensitive clit as your juices coat his cock. He slowly inches himself inside you, filling you up with his thick cock. Your eyes roll back as you quietly moan. He shudders from the feel of your tight pussy as you clench around him. Once he inserts himself all the way in, he begins a slow pace, watching as his cock slides in and out of you with ease. His eyes move up to your face. He watches the expressions of pleasure as it graces your beautiful features.

Only he can make you feel this way. Only he can see you like this. No one else can. No other man. Only him. But the same goes for you. Only you can make him feel like this. To feel love and pleasure. The only one who can make him lose control. To be willing to break the rules if it meant he'd be with you.

He wants to hear you say it though. To tell him how much you want him. Need him. How much you love him. He halts his movements, causing you to open your eyes in confusion. Cupping your cheek, he stares deeply into your eyes, as if they're searching for something. "Do you love me?" he asks. You're taken aback for a second. "Why are you asking that now Wrio?"

"I need to know. Do you love me?" You notice the slight desperation in his voice, in his eyes. You give him a soft smile, and cup his cheek. "Of course I do."

"Do you love only me?" He inquires for more. "Only you."

"Will you be only mine? No one else's?" "Only yours."

"Do you want only me?" "Yes, only you, Wrio."

"Tell me again. That you only want me. That you're mine." He says as he begins his pace again. You moan, the pleasure making it hard to speak. "Please. Tell me." "Only y-yours. I want o-only you. No one else." Your nails scratch down his back as his pace quickens. He's getting close, your validating words helping to push him towards the edge quicker. "Tell me you love me. Please." "I love you. I love only you Wrio." His breath stutters. "Say it again and keep saying it." You do as he says and repeat the words, declaring your love for him. His eyes close in bliss as he drowns in the pleasure from both your words and the feel of your pussy. He curses as his pace gets sloppy. He knows that he should pull out but he doesn't want to. He wants to cum inside. He needs to claim you for himself. His thoughts are supported as you tell him to cum inside you, begging him to fill you up.

That finally pushes him over the edge. He fills you up, his warm cum spurting into you as you cum on his cock. He kisses you to muffle your moans and screams of pleasure, holding you close as you shake in his hold. He smothers your face with kisses as you calm down. He turns onto his side and holds you close to him. You nuzzle your face into his chest, basking in his warmth and comforting hold. You both lay in silence for a bit until you break it with a question that's been nagging you.

"You asked me to say it but you didn't say it to me." "Hm?" He mumbles. You move your head up to look at him. "You told me to tell you that I love you, but you didn't say it back. Do you love me?" You ask. He can hear the slight nervousness in your voice. Giving you a gentle look and cupping your face, he softly and slowly kisses you. Once he pulls away, he answers your question. "Yes. I love you. There's no one else I love but you. I only want you, just as much as you want me." His words cause your heart to flutter and your eyes to slightly water. You return his smile with your own. You both meet for one last kiss, then snuggle into one another, drowsiness overtaking you two.

Although, your relationship may have to continue to be kept secret until it eventually has to ultimately end, but that doesn't matter right now. He'll indulge and enjoy your time together while he can.

To be continued...?

~a/n: After this ask, I actually want to write another post with headcanons about Knight!Wriothesley x Princess!reader and elaborate on what that relationship would be like. Also, I will be getting to other asks! It just takes me a bit to get the inspiration to finish them because I want them to be good. I do apologize that they are late but I will get them done eventually. Thank you for being patient!🥰❤️

[lovemybluebully]

Wakey Wakey

Ummm, hope you don't mind, but I saw this post by @tastybluesprite yesterday and couldn't resist writing a little drabble for it. 😁

https://www.tumblr.com/tastybluesprite/764181017079824384/for-some-reason-i-cant-stop-thinking-about-wade?source=share

Wade gets Logan out of bed in the best way possible. 🤭

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 1,480

Look at me! I wrote something short(ish)! 🤣

"Looooogaaaaan! Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!"

Logan groaned from where he lay in his bed when he heard the familiar and irritating call of his roommate. How the fuck was Wade always so goddamn chipper this early in the morning?

He weakly cracked open an annoyed eye to see the other man standing beside his bed with the stupidest of grins on his face, wearing a tank top and Hello Kitty print pajama pants

"There she is. Up and at 'em, big guy. A new day with a plethora of unknown adventures awaits us."

"The only adventure I'm going on is the one where you get the fuck out of here and let me sleep in peace," Logan rumbled with a growl as he rolled over onto his stomach and shoved his head underneath his pillow. He'd had a late night and was hoping to get at least another couple hours of sleep.

"But that's only an adventure for you and I want us to go on one with each other. I mean honestly, how much fun can two sexy, half-dressed men have in a bed together?"

Logan ignored his obviously suggestive attempt at a joke and kept quiet, thinking that if he didn't respond Wade would eventually get bored and go bother someone else. But the grumpy feral was the only one Wade ever wanted to bother.

"I know you're not much of the cuddling type, but hear me out......what if I let you be the little spoon? Intrigued??? I think you are. Then if you play your cards right we can move onto-GAAH!" Wade squawked as Logan flung one of his spare pillows at him, hitting him right in the face; the force that it was thrown nearly knocking his ass onto the floor.

He recovered and glared playfully at his unmoving companion, not about to let that stunt go unpunished.

"Oh I see. Looks like His Highness is in the mood for a little play time," Wade then smirked as he noticed Logan's foot sticking out from under the sheets.

He reached down to twiddle his fingers on his sole as it flinched and quickly yanked away along with a snort heard from underneath the pillow where the man was hiding his head. Logan instantly felt an uneasiness wash over him as he realized exactly what Deadpool was planning in his spaz mind.

"Wade......," Logan warned with dread building up inside of him, "You'd better fucking not start-"

"His Majesty has chosen the Good Morning Tickles!" Wade whooped out as he leapt onto Logan's back and started tickling him anywhere he could reach. Logan was helpless to stop him and hollered out in guttural laughter as he began to flail, slamming his arms down to his sides once Wade's fingers plunged deep into his formerly wide-open armpits.

"Naahahahahahohohooooo!! Fuhuhuhuhucking Wihihihilson!! No tihihihihickling!!" He flung the pillow from his head as he thrashed, desperately trying to wriggle free and escape the hands squeezing mercilessly at his ribcage and waistline. This was not how he had expected his morning was going to go.

"You love it, and you know it! You're so ticklish how could you not?" Wade giggled himself when Logan snorted through his cackles as the merc massaged at his hip bones near his highly ticklish V-line. Logan didn't even have the protection of a t-shirt since the X-man tended to usually sleep in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, regrettably granting Wade unimpeded access to his overly sensitive bare skin.

"Gehehehet the fuhuhuck offa meeheeheeheeheeHEeHeEHEEhEe!!" Logan squealed, whipping his head around and bunching up his shoulders as Wade had leaned in to additionally blow raspberries on the back and sides of his neck.

"You seriously have the cutest motherfucking giggle. Pretty sure they could be the key to bringing about World peace," he blew a few more to hear Logan's high-pitched giggling before concentrating on his sides again and scribbling fingers over his lower back to watch him squirm like an eel.

"Staaahahahahahahahap!! I gihihive ahahahalready!!" Logan flipped himself onto his back to give him a better chance at fighting the cartoonish man off, and hopefully be able to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, this new position only set him on course for his demise.

"Say whaaaat?! Nah look, you've still got some fight in you. Though I'm not sure how much that's going to last once I do this!" His fingers buried into Logan's now vulnerable stomach, making him shriek and arch his back as high as he could manage with Wade being on top of him.

"NooooFuhuhuhuhuck!! Aaahahahahahahahaa!! Nohohohooot thehehehere!!" Logan's face burned red as he laughed hysterically while Wade's flexible fingers mercilessly scratched and skated all over one of his absolute worst spots. 

Seeing him laugh in combination with hearing it was one of Wade's favorite things in the whole World. Along with the fact that while Logan was more than strong enough to stop him, he never did. He always put on a show of opposing it for appearances sake, but Wade knew under all that machismo he secretly craved the physical touch and affection.

"Not there?! Blasphemy! There's no better spot than your little tum tum! To tell the truth these muscles of yours are starting to look mighty tasty. You don't mind if I take a bite, do you?"

Logan had not a second to protest before Wade dove face-first into his belly as he started playfully growling while gnawing and nibbling all over. He knew raspberrying Logan's stomach would drive him wild and he expected this to have similar results.

"Rrrraaargggh!! I've got you now! OMNOMNOM! I'm gonna eat these smoking hot abs right up!" Wade taunted and then morphed into his best Hannibal Lecter impersonation, "Mmmmm, I do believe this would go lovely with some fava beans and a nice chianti, eh Clarice! OMNOMNOMNOMNOM!"

The Wolverine absolutely lost it. The teasing was unbearable in itself, but the tickling sensations were on another level. He was screaming in babbling laughter as his body thrashed out of control, his beefed-up arms weakly and ineffectively shoving at Wade's head.

"WAAAHAHAAAHAHAHHAAADE-N-NOOHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA-ST-ST-STAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-PLEEEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAA!!"

Tears were sliding down his face as Wade continued to enthusiastically bite and nip every inch of his terribly ticklish tummy; teeth grazing his skin ever so gently to send him into a state of hysteria like he had never known before. He'd lost the ability to form any coherent words and couldn't even beg for mercy.

Wade knew he was pretty much done for now, and decided it was time for the grand finale. Wrapping his arms around the man to hold him in place, he took a huge breath and blew the hardest and longest raspberry he'd ever done directly into Logan's bellybutton.

Leaning his head backward, all that came out of Logan was a long-winded wheeze as he arched his back; his laughter having reached the point of being silent as his whole body just trembled from the overstimulation. He had no energy left to fight it and just silently endured until Wade finally finished. 

Removing his arms, Wade sat up and smiled down at the man who had just been near death from tickling.

"That was a good one. I didn't think you could get any more ticklish, but you've proven me wrong. Definitely adding that little technique to my line up."

Logan was barely catching his breath; his body tingling all over from the torture he'd just taken on as he tilted his head up a little so he could look at the other man.

"You're an asshole. Thanks for almost blowing out my healing factor, fuck stick," he ended up smirking, unable to be mad after laughing as much as he just did, but also because he really didn't mind when Wade tickled him. He'd never tell him that though.

"Literally!" Wade chuckled, "I know how much you love those raspberries. Ahh that never gets old. So you ready to get up now?"

"Actually feel like taking a nap after all that. But I guess I'd better so ya don't start that shit again," he raised an eyebrow, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as Wade hopped off.

"Aw yeah! Another Deadpool and Wolverine team-up for the record! Let's fucking go!" Wade danced around and began twerking towards the bed as Logan rolled his eyes though unable to keep from smiling. He just could never keep up with whatever was going on in Wade's mind.

"You're going to be the death of me, ya know that? Now quit fucking around and let's see if we can't find some random street gang to start a brawl with."

The merc stared at him adoringly.

"I love you."

"Wade?" 

"Yes, the light of my life?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"That's a funny way to say 'I love you' but I'll take it."

"Fucking moron."

[scrivenger-grimgar]

au of an au for mdzs where canon plays out exactly as it was supposed to except

wwx became a calamity after dying and cared for his coven of ghosts in yiling before mxy summoned him for revenge.

he still elopes with lwj after solving the corpse question

supreme ghosts have a similar ability to gods taking deputies, except since they're not sharing immortality they can have a lot more of them

wwx's "deputies" are (in order) jiang cheng, the wen remnants, luo qingyang, nie huaisang, mo xuanyu, jin ling, lan jingyi, ouyang zhizhen, lan sizhui, and lan wangji.

being a calamity's "deputy" means that you are soul bonded to them, with a kind of preternatural sense of the wellbeing of the entire coven.

one of the heavenly officials decides to fuck around with time, and only other heavenly officials were supposed to remember, except extremely strong ghosts and their covens also remember because there are TWO gods married to calamities, and calamities are weirdly cooperative with each other (hc, hx, wwx, & gL discuss trade agreements over tea and artistic process over alcohol).

thus like 75 people are now in the past.

wwx's child body cant stand the power his soul has and just kinda crumbles under the weight. thats mostly fine tho cause he can shapeshift.

of course he immediately comes up with a dastardly plan to inflict as much chaos onto the sects as possible while also protecting his loved ones at the same time. he gets in contact with the wen remnants (bigger and there's more of them) and slowly moves them over to yiling while he builds places for them to live on the mountain, and then offers the people of yiling a very good deal:

"we'll deal with all your ghost problems for free, and in exchange we get discounts on food, and you tell everyone who comes asking that the Yiling Wei sect has been here the entire time."

its almost too easy to set up, too. they forge some trade agreements and other documents to place in the other sects' files, waiting to be found, with ease, bc he knows what the filing for the jiang, lan, wen, and nie looks like, and part of the story is that the jin offended them so badly that they just stopped doing business with them altogether and also tend to actively hate them with few exceptions.

meanwhile, huaisang, qingyang, and wangji will reference the Yiling Wei and act like this is something everyone knows about, and jiang cheng catches on and starts doing the same.

wwx's plan is to drive them all insane by appearing out of nowhere and acting like he's been there the entire time. make them question reality.

wen popo, at a discussion conference: i'll be standing in for my grandson so he can participate in the games

jiang fengmian, initiating polite conversation: your grandson? what happened to your son?

wen popo, internally cackling: fengmian! are you so quick to discard changze like this?! for shame!!

jiang fengmian, who has never met this lady: what

wen popo: you know i trusted him when he said he wanted to stand by his sworn brother's side but if this is how you treat his memory after he was so unwaveringly loyal to you, only ever leaving for Cangse, the love of his life, then i'll have to have you stricken from the legacy registry!

wen popo, with unfaltering confidence: good evening wen-zhongzhu

wen ruohan, who has incurable face blindness: well met Wei-zhongzhu (do i know her???)

nie mingjue is the only one who's taking any of this well and thats solely because his brother has been spoon feeding him Yiling Wei propaganda for 13 years. lan xichen has a crisis because his baby brother eloped with a clan leader he met thrice and they're having a spring wedding.

[foundfam2754]

S17e5 live reactions!

Spoilers…obviously

- yeah Elias don’t murder anyone if you wanna be an informant

- lol he has a whole receiving parade

- oh my fucking god Elias is messing w our papa pasta :(

- oh I just realised it has been ages since he’s actually spoken to him not in his mind - you got this bud ❤️

- car sex is just not it man

- OH DEBBY RYAN LOOKALIKE AND DAMIAN I see

- the girl reminds me of cat adams - revenge murder and maybe the most brutal bc of so much hurt in the past - in fact this whole thing gives me dirty dozen vibes

- “you’ve been taking to to yourself” “I’ve been talking to myself for years” idk why that made me laugh hard

- AM I ONLY THE ONE WHO SEES THE SPENCER REID PLAQUE COMING UP A LOT??? Pls let mgg come back oh my god

- hehe garvez is standing together 🥰

- protective luke 🥹

- “no!” “Everyone’s a comedian” HAHAHA

-“hands-off asshole” yeah give me more protective lukey pleaseeeee; also gives vibes of ‘don’t touch my girls stuff asshole’ which I LOVE

- “what’s up with you two…cause there’s a vibe” OH MY FUCKING GOD PENELOPE EVEN SICARIUS SEES IT. OPEN YOUR EYES AND LET HIM LOVE YOU

- couples who bully sicarius about his hygiene together stay together 🥺 🤝

- I kinda love how they’re filming this - they’re profiling together in the bull pen and workshopping - Elias has a weird chemistry w them

- lol pen with the handkerchief

- DONT TOUCH HER

- this is too easy; I’m so suspicious: I feel like he’s gonna do the same with Bailey - say something code-wordy to hint to him

- also why does it feel like Elias is being too helpful? like I think maybe he’s so invested bc 1) he gets to mess with Dave by being part of his team 2) Damian is a loose end and has some evidence to tie him to sicarius offficially

- I TOLD U HE WAS GONNA CODE WORD IT. I KNEW THE TIPPY TAP MEANT SOMETHING

- I love smart strategic confident Em and she and Dave plotting to fuck Elias over together

- is he finally gonna shower??

- “dave” like they’re besties

- LOVE THIS SHOT

- EW THEY HAD VOIT SAY OUR PRECIOUS PHRASE - but okay no that was so impactful

- oh my god he’s fucking with them so hard oh my god

- JJ SAID FUCK!!

- OH MY GODDDDDDD they’re talking about jealous Luke they’re talking about Penelope and Tyler they’re SAYING IT OUTRIGHT I CANT TALK I CANT TYPE I AM SCREAMING I LITERALLY GOT OFF MY COUCH AND JUMPED ACROSS MY APT

- ew tynelope is so gross greencia is so much better

- Luke you didn’t say nooo?! we all know it drives you crazy agent alvez

- so chaotic Elias is so funny man; kudos to Zach Gilford

- PAPA PASTA PROTECTING HIS FAMILY. You mess with Pen, Rossi brings the heat

- isn’t “locking you in a shipping container” a confession?? why are they not more interested in that?

- oh my god Brian’s gaslighting her - falling into the conspiracy thing again - everyone’s vulnerable and only hearing what they want too

- haha lukey doing yoga

- oh my god how do they do anything without Penelope

- hey kiddos - voit is leaving?? Pls pay attention to him

- is Rossi gonna let him run??

- oh my god they’re profiling each other

- OH MY GOD DAMIAN. I KNEW ELIAS WAS GONNA CODE WORD IT.

- “Teresa is in trouble”!??

- TYLER I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU KEEP MORE SECRETS

- oh my god the sicarius smile

- aw tebecca!

- EM :(( be vulnerable babe we’re here for you

OH MY GOD THIS EP WAS SO GOOD

[localapparently]

friendship this platonic love that romantic love this secret third thing that, I don't think any words and phrases has anything to describe the amount of love the people in orv feel for each other. I don't think it's wrong to use these words, they're right, and I use these words so people will have some idea of what I'm saying when I'm on a ramble, but I don't fucking KNOW how to properly show what it is that they have.

Like the shit i feel through the screen when I read orv just feels so overwhelming to a sickening degree (and not in a bad way) that words cant describe it, much less a one or two word emotion. It's this crushing ball that's several times the size of the earth, it's a flame in a snowstorm shielded by rough and cold hands trying to protect it so fucking bad, it's so full of confusion, loss, yearning, wanting to believe and hope and pray in someone, chucking that someone into a fucking hurricane. I Don't. Know.

Its a mess, it comes straight from the heart right down to their bones and blood. They don't know what to do with it, they just want each other to find happiness and soak and submerge in that happiness forever. It's a tsunami that would break through so many walls and tear through so many cities, or like maybe it's a tornado that would rip off the layers of the earth until we reach its core. and then some other times it's a waterfall and then Boom the water is so much water it bores straight into the ground through the whole planet and comes back around enough to fill up the whole pacific ocean. But then they feel ALL of this. And then they look at their own, two, weak hands, and all those emotions are fucking clogged up in their chest throat and brains and they don't know where it should go.

And I don't know where mine should go, because I fucking love this story so much, and everything it stands for about love and how it eats and eats and eats away at you, but it lifts you up so high you feel like you could do anything, save the world or whatever shit. Oh my god. Fuck. FUCK YOU KIM DOKJA. Sincerely from the bottom of my heart I fucking hate you. I love you.

[dumbslvtforethan]

ಇ night shift. steve harrington

-- summary: you get assigned to work with steve at the family video store and turns out king steve isnt as bad as you thought 

warnings smut, no p in v, blow job. 782 words

navigation

𐙚 mdni!! ↓↓ 𐙚༘⋆ೀೀ

IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT and you were working the night shift at family video, the movie rent store that you worked at. usually you had three co- workers, robin, keith, who was mostly in the back and steve harrington, the most self centered douche you've ever met.

And the worst part was that you had to work todays night shift with him. you couldn't stand steve, you hated his behaviour, the way he spoke, his dad jokes, but you couldn't deny it, he was hot, sometimes you wished he would drop the act and kiss you already, until you remember that steve was a real pain in the ass. normally robin was there to "protect" you from the "asshollery" but she had an family emergency and had to go home, the truth was that she was trying to set you and steve up, she knew the way you looked at him, and as much as you would tell her daily how you hated him, she knew that deep down, you didn't. She also would hear steve ramble about you all day and as much as he wouldn't say such good things about you, she also knew that he couldn't get you off his mind.

You were putting away some movies in the romance section while steve was counting out the change in the register. "hey Y/N could you help me here? i just wanna know if i did the math correctly." steve said raising his eyebrow, he looked, different, he didn't look like an asshole he looked almost, kind?, no, that cant be, steve the hair harrington would never be more than just an asshole. "sure" you said lifting yourself out of the ground and meeting steve at the counter. As you were revising his calculations you felt his eyes burning deep into your back, you felt nervous, you couldn't believe that you were actually feeling the tension between you, you were atraccted to him and you believed he felt the same, you could feel it.

"yep, its all correct" you said finding his gaze again. the air got thicker and you got hotter all of a sudden. "uh Y/N did you know that-" he said looking at me waiting to say something more, nervous to say something more. "fuck it" he said smashing his lips into yours, the kiss was heated, his hands started roaming over you body, he put his hands under you shirt sliding right off of you, he squeezed your covered tits over you bra. you started to unbuckle his jeans.

"you dont have to do this" he said "I want to" you said trying to enjoy this moment before having to put on the enemies act again. you grabbed the waistband of his boxers pulling it down in one swiftly motion. I expected him to be big, after all he was "steve the hair harrington" but he was bigger than i'd ever expected. "do you know how many times i've imagined this scenario?" harrington said "not as much as i did" i said, grabbing his cock in my mouth bobbing my head up and down it. "fuck Y/N how are you so good at this?" he said in between groans "i've had my practices" you said, chin dripping in your own spit "well forget those cus you're mine now- fuck" he said "we hate each other remember?" you said, reminding him of your friendship situation. "can't enemies have some fun?" he said releasing himself in your mouth followed by a loud groan. let mejust say a night shift with harrington turned out to be nothing like what i was expecting. 

@jchampionsgf - on tumblr

a/n: I took inspo for this from a Wattpad fanfic, enjoy!

[tpwkwriter]

hiii so i have a request! Could you do one like still in harry's 1d days. So like y/n is louis sister and she has been friends with the band since the beginning and harry has been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her and all that. But he never told her because she always had a bf but those bfs would never treat her right like always ignoring her and flirting with other girls so harry kept this like journal where he wrote how in love he is with y/n and how he would treat her right, how he know everything about her all the little things and how no one could love her as much as he does. So then one day like during prince hair harry her and harry are sharing a hotel room with seperate beds (ofc haha, but because they have always been best friends) and y/n finds this journal and like reads all the things he has written and then she goes to him and is like "well, if i didnt know any better i would say mr styles has a crush on me" and he gets all nervous and says that it isnt just a crush and he is in love and that and then he asks "will you be my girlfriend. I cant' go another day of not kissing you, hugging you, touching you I cant stand you not being mine" and y/n finds it very sweet but she is very insecure and kind of rejects him in a nice way because she feel they will critisise her because they expect harry to be w a model and gorgeous girl and harry is tells her how beautiful she is and how he feel in love the moment they met and how it didnt matter what the world thought because no one can love her like he can and he know eveything about her so he asks again "will you let me be your boyfriend" and she finally agrees and then he holds her close and protectively and then y/n starts tearing up and says sorry because she was being silly and he says "dont be. Its not silly, baby. I'll be her to wipe every tear and to comfort you. Your heart is safe here, you are safe with me, my love" and then how they spend the first night together because well they share a hotel room and then the morning after harry saying how happy he is and how he has always dreamed about it and then they meet with the boys and tell em the news and they are all very happy and are like "about time" and yeah hope you understand it thank you again so much it would be great i feel its so cute! <3

Does he know?

OMGOMG THANK YOU FOR THISS!! the detail you put in and the image it painted in my head AHHH❤️

I’m so sorry this has taken so long!! I really wanted this to be perfect!! 🌷 but thank you for your patience It means the world x

Warnings: jealousy, mentions of toxic relationships, cussing, smutty themes if you squint, pent up emotions.

— — — — — — —

— early 2013 —

Harry’s fingers held a ballpoint pen between his fingers, the lined paper sat empty on the table adjacent to him.

There new album ‘midnight memories’ was due mid November of this year, he loved his job but these deadlines took the piss.

‘Fuck’ he whispered to himself, he didn’t realise the clock had gone over midnight.

The shared tourbus was at a halt for the night the rest of the four boys remained in there bunk and no one heard a peep from them through the rest of the night.

“Y’alright H?” Y/n said Peeling the curtain that separated the bunks to the lounging area of the bus, and pulling it back behind her.

“Sorry y/n, did i wake you?” He quietly asked, dropping his pen instantly.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t have a crush on y/n, she was also the youngest of the Tomlinson family so her and Harry grew up together at the same time and age, hitting each milestone and big birthdays together.

“No, no not at all” she waved, sitting on the sofa next to his.

“What y’doing awake still?” She asked, taking a sip of her water.

“Tryna get song ideas, getting absolutely nowhere” he said, crossing his arms back and leaning back on the cushions.

“What are you doing awake? He smirked.

“Can’t sleep, excited for tomorrow” she smiles.

“Haven’t seen you all on stage for a while” she added.

They sat and spoke for awhile, what y/n was oblivious of is how many ideas he was racking up watching her.

She reached her arm out to grab her water bottle, her wrist was exposed from her hoodie sleeve for a second, what Harry didn’t expect was to see an inky drawing.

“Is that a tattoo?” He asked.

“Oh this?” She askers pulling her hoodie up her arm.

“Yeah, me and Louis got matching a few days ago, a random spontaneous idea that popped into our heads” she laughed repressing the day her and her older brother got matching ‘28’ tats.

“It’s funny because ben, hasn’t even noticed it, and it’s like our 4th month together” y/n mentioned, a slight frown forming on her face.

Harry’s heart teared a tiny bit, she was still with this ‘Ben’ it was clear none of the boys got on with him, he wasn’t the bestest of boyfriend.

“Really?” He asked, eyes widening.

“Mmhmm, don’t know what to do about this whole Situation-ship thing”

“Well, do you love him?” He asked, fiddling with the hem of his band tee.

“I can’t say I do Harry” she sighed, “but there’s a part of me that feels bad” she added.

“Don’t feel bad, if it’s not meant to be, s’not meant to be”

All y/n wanted to do was scream out her attraction to him, something clicked in, the soft and gentle words he spoke, the way he still looked good at 1am after a busy day, the way he made a band tee look like piece of designer. Y/n wasn’t sure what happened.

Y/n soon enough found herself back in her bunk, trying to push down her sudden butterflies, hoping it’s just a 1am sleepy thought, the last thing she wants is to thirst over her brothers best friend.

When y/n and Harry exchanged there goodnights, he instantly got back to his paper.

‘Does he know’ he whispered.

‘Does he know’ he repeated.

‘Your secret tattoos?” He asked himself.

He instantly jotted these phrases to himself.

Harry tried to think to himself of the little things you do.

Maybe you could be his muse this time around?

—

It was 8:45am the next day the bus was off again at 5pm so for now they could relax.

Y/n believed she was alone on the bus, she thought the boys were out doing the coffee run, she thought wrong.

“But she doesn’t know who I am, and she doesn’t give a damn about me” she sang whole continuing to organise her suitcase on her bunk.

As the beats of ‘teenage dirtbag’ continue, she moves her body to beat and sing.

“Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baaby” she sung.

“Y/n you may be a Tomlinson doesn’t mean you can sing like one though” he interrupted, almost kicking the tourbus door open and walking over to her bunk with her Starbucks in hand.

“Heeeey, I’m a lovely singer, it should be me selling out O2” she said with pride.

“She got you there tommo” Niall piped in walking in.

“See” she giggled.

“Thank you for this lou” she dragged taking a sip of her iced coffee.

“No problemo, me and and the lads are heading to the studio in a bit y’ can come if you want?” Louis offered sitting on his bunk opposite to y/n’s.

“Yeah will do” she answered.

At this point all boys were back on the bus enjoying some quality time together, but all Harry could think of was the remaining lyrics.

‘The songs that you sing when your all alone?’ He thought to himself, that’s a keeper.

——beginning of where we are 2014——

In past year y/n and Harry had become closer than ever, it’s was a night at the MSG, the boys opted on a hotel instead of the bus, to Louis’ dismay y/n and Harry were up for sharing a hotel.

“Neither of you better be doing anything” Louis called the opposite of the hotel door.

“Fuck sake lou, you can come in” she laughed, laying her head back on the hotel bed frame.

The door clicks open to see a wet head louis, who was still clad in his joggers and ‘the who’ tee.

“You nearly ready Harry!” He called, pulling his phone out and glancing the time.

“Yeah man” he said emerging from the bathroom.

“Have fun tonight guys” she called out as they both met each other at the door. “I’ll be sure to watch some shitty livestream of you all prancing about on stage” she laughed.

“Thanks love” Louis said rolling his eyes.

“See you y/n don’t get too lonely without us” Harry smirked flashing her a wink while adjusting his head scarf which kept his unruly curls at bay.

“Bye boys” she called as they slowly walked off and headed to the arena.

They had been gone about an hour and y/n knew they wouldn’t be back till maybe after midnight.

She decided to set down and get ready to stay in her bed and have a relaxed night.

When unpacking her bags and digging to find her favourite pyjamas she was sure she packed. A large ‘thump’ was heard the other side of the room.

“Shit” she jumped.

A relieved smile, when it was something falling out of Harry’s suitcase.

She turned her head and spotted a brown, leather notebook that was lying on the carpet by his bags.

Once y/n had picked out her pjs for the evening, she walked over to the bed she picked out in the hotel room.

She placed them down by her pillows and was about to reach out for her phone by the charging port until something about this note book, caught her eye, ‘one and only’ was scribed into the leather with black ink.

She knows she shouldn’t, she knows that not hers, that’s Harry’s, that’s his property not y/n’s but there was something pulling her in a feeling she couldn’t push down.

A shaky breath left her mouth as her fingers reached out towards the book in front of her.

She peeled back the smooth cover:

23rd of February 2013

Ben doesn’t know how lucky he is, such a smart, beautiful, caring woman, how could he take her for granted??.

Y/n’a heart was running a Marathon.

“No” she said louder than she anticipated.

She flicked to the next page:

28th February 2013

‘All of us were at the studio this evening I couldn’t stop staring at y/n, I feel terrible knowing it’s my best friends sister, but she is wonderful’

Her mind was now matching her palpitating heart, a million thoughts were being processed at that moment.

He really thought the same the whole time?

She quickly flicked another.

3rd of March 2013

Write a couple of songs for midnight memories is it bad to say there all inspired by one person.

If she was mine she wouldn’t be ignored or treated terribly, I hope Louis talks to her about this Ben.

Y/n did agree with this statement getting rid of Ben was the best thing she’s done.

But she didn’t know Harry was the one with a crush.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, he really felt the same? He really did like her? She was almost hyperventilating.

10th of March 2013

I’ve noticed when y/n gets anxious she plays with the ends of her hair, I wish I could just scoop her into my arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.

Ben is finally out the picture, hopefully she can be with someone who knows her self worth.

Her heart is beaming, butterflies fill each side of her tummy, her mind still feeling a little delusional and still very much in disbelief.

Maybe this was her sign to take there friendship another level up.

She slammed the cover over the paper and decided if she’d read anymore she’d become a crimson red mess.

She gently tucked it into the suitcase of where it fell and tried to go on as normal.

She decided to wait up for Harry and see what she could do about this, she couldn’t hide this any longer she wish she knew sooner about his little crush.

It was just past midnight and she heard the hotel room key click in approval.

A tired looking Harry appears.

“Y’alright” she quietly asked.

“Mmm” he hummed shutting the door behind him.

Y/n move to one side of her bed, and patted the empty space beside her, inviting him to join.

Wether it was just his sleepy mind, but he took no time and accepted her invitation.

Y/n let him adjust to the light, and get comfortable not wanting to overload him already.

“Y’okay” he asked, noticing her thinking face.

“Yeah” she smiled.

“Well if I didn’t know any better, than I think that you mr styles have a teeny crush” she said, a breathy laugh leaving her mouth.

His eyes widened, now it it was his time to go red.

“Wha-“ he nervously laughed.

“I guess y’right” he said looking straight ahead at the blank wall.

“Y/n, m’gonna be honest”

“I’m in love with you”

Y/n’s heart pounded inside her chest, this is real? This was real life, he admitted.

“Harry” she blushed.

“And I know, it’s probably weird, we’ve been friends for 4 years now and on a random night , I’m now saying this but, seeing you keep hurting yourself on these boys that don’t understand you, it hurts”

“Harry-“ her cheeks becoming a strawberry colour.

“Be my girlfriend?” Harry blurted.

Y/n’s ears almost burned at the question, Someone she actually had interest in liked her back? And wanted to be with her? She felt like. Lovesick teenager again.

She wanted this, more than ever.

But Louis.

Realistically there was nothing wrong with it, they were the same age, and both wanted it.

“I can’t stand another day, not touching you, not hugging you, not wiping your tears away” he added, which caused y/n’s thought process to halt.

“Harry, y’too good for me” she started, a glossy layer had formed over her eyes.

“Y’need someone better, your options are so big” she said head almost dropping to her lap.

“Hey” he said taking using his index finger and thumb to guide her chin up.

“What I’ve learnt is your the one I want, haven’t been able to settle because of you y/n”

“Be mine?” He asked once again leaning his forehead on hers using his free hand to wipe the tears away.

“Please” he whispered, this is all he’s wanted.

Worried that her words would fail her at that moment all she could do was frantically nod.

“Yeah?” He smiles, there noses basically touching at this point.

“Words baby, need y’words” he reminded.

“Yeah, yes harry yes” she smiled, tears still manage to cascade her cheeks.

“Thank fuck” he breathed, now hesitating to wrap his arm around the girl, oh how he’s longed to do that.

The girl crashes into his touch, not taking her time either.

“Your okay, y’safe in my arms love” he whispered into her hair, pressing his long awaited kisses.

— the following morning —

Both Harry and y/n were getting ready to meet the rest of the lads on the bus, which was round the back of the hotel.

“How are we gonna tell them?” Harry asked getting the rest of his stuff.

“They’ll understand, Louis will be unsure but he’s my brother he can’t hate me forever” she laughed.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and they made there way to the boys.

“Guys we have something to tell you all” y/n began.

— — — — —

[starjunkyard]

Good god ep18 s6. House dealing (god-awfully .Full disclosure. The episode opens with house drinking himself half to death with zero regard for himself to the point of unintentionally breaking into his neighbours house and passing out there) with wilson getting back together with his ex-wife while the patient of the episode grapples with his possibly reciprocated love for the woman he loves but cannot Have because she's engaged to be wed with his friend.......... Thirteen egging the patient on to tell her how he really feels but he genuinely Cant Bring Himself To because "my friend's a great guy . He's rich, smart, and he'll treat her well. Me-- I'd do everything I could for her. But it wouldn't be much. And she... she deserves the best." And the episode ends with house resignedly throwing away the sealed envelope that held all the dirt he hired lucas to get on wilson's ex wife to try and break them upOhhhhhhhh oh. OHHHHHHHHHHHHH Ouhhhhhhh. Ouhhhhh the acknowledgement that house would do everything & anything & more for wilson Give .all of himself To Wilson and it still wouldn't be enough because house is House. Because even at his best-- house would still be house and because of that house would never be able to give wilson what he wants What he Needs. Wilson doesn't. Need the misanthropic bastard he's been in love with for 20 years who bites and spits at any threat or sign of emotional intimacy or vulnerability. What wilson. Needs is a woman . A wife and two kids and a white picket fence because that's all wilson is

Its the foundation of his entire self that would bring everything else down with it if it were to crumble. The face that wilson has spent his entire Life honing and sculpting and perfecting to present as the Perfect Hardworking American Man and Son. The perfect husband and treasured son with his own big shiny department and a stainless-white doctor's coat and the Exact Man a woman would Need

What is wilson. who is he What is left of him if he is not needed by a woman; not needed nor wanted any longer by the world he's lived his entire life by to please. What is James Wilson if not what everyone else expects him to be

House is the antithesis to all of that. A man rough and abrasive as sandpaper who makes wilson selfish makes him emotional and stupid. Who encourages wilson to lash out and fight and get angry and stand up for himself and be the exact opposite of what he's worked his entire life to be. Instead of accepting and taking wilson's painstakingly pedantically constructed facade at face value House fucking. Crashes through the walls with a bulldozer. Snatches the mask right off of wilson's face and dangles it over his head goading wilson to go ahead; try and get it back

Wilson is so deathly terrified at the idea of breaking out of the norms he himself has walled himself into-- he can't Bear to think of any other future for himself that is anything other than wholly and completely unnoticeable average monotonous unextraordinary

and House is the exact opposite of unnoticeable average monotonous unextraordinary. House is the apple of Eden that rests on the other side of wilson's pristine-white picket fence. The object of Wilson's every true desire that simultaneously threatens to doom and tear down everything wilson regards protects worships as the one untouchable unquestionable unchangeable truth of his life

House loses before it even starts. No one can compete with that; not even house. By nature, house can never be what wilson needs. What wilson truly desires or wants or needs is another subject entirely, something im genuinely not sure wilson could even grapple with, let alone come to terms with canonically. I fully believe wilson and house are the loves of each other's lives but house will never be what wilson "needs" or "wants" no matter what he does or changes about himself. They love each other more than anything and they want each other and they cant live without each other but House-- intrensically, by nature-- cannot be what Wilson wants.

[hunterbunter3000]

Krueger being a seat sniffer isn’t shocking tbh 💀 that man def already picked out the names of his and Sweetheart’s future kids and wedding plans detailed in a binder (is he manifesting or delusional; who knows lol!).

He also def has a shrine dedicated to Sweetheart openly in his room, atleast the other boys have the decency to hide their shrines in their closet 😤😂

LMAOOO STOP THATS SO HIM (AND FUCKING EVERYONE ELSE)

He has like- three binders and two notebooks he has for Sweetheart and his future with her. Like it's just FILLED with where they would live, how many kids they would have, tHEIR NAMES, the colleges they would go to, the house he wants to get when they get married, THE WEDDING

MANS IS EVEN PLANNING FOR THEIR RETIREMENT LIKE-- KRUEGER??? he's delulu and manifesting for this to happen!! Let's cheer him on! ✨️🙏 PFFTT-

And yes. He has a shrine of Sweetheart. OBVIOUSLY. THE MOMENT YOU WALK IN its right there in your face. It's sitting on a small table-like stand and it's FILLED with framed pictures of Sweetheart and heart shaped candles around them. There's a long frame with gold on it, and inside of it is a nail set he got her his first time ever (that was three years ago 💀) She told him it was coming off, and she was so sad because he got it for her (he fell in love with her more because of that) so he helped her get them off, and he told her that he'll throw them away.

S I K E

once she left he threw them in his pocket so fast and ran off to his room 💀💀 and then there's a pedestal on the table, and it has a small, marble bust of Sweetheart he paid someone to do on etsy (HE LOVES ETSY IM NOT CHANGING MY MIND) and what's crazy is that all of its glued down to the table, and there's a button behind it, so he presses that button when Sweetheart comes around and the table top flips, being empty and he places magazines on the clean top 🧍‍♀️ THE MAN HAS A SECRET CONTRAPTION FOR HIS SHRINE

(You can't deny the fact that he prays to it as well. You CANT)

He's down horrifically bad. He wants her sO BADLY

well get tf in line BIG BOY CAUSE SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE

They don't really have shrines like Krueger (because he's delusional) but everyone does have a picture of Sweetheart or some sort of gift she's made them somewhere in their room. Or on them.

Like Alejandro has a small gold locket of Sweetheart he wears around his neck and NEVER TAKES IT OFF-- and when he's about to go on a mission, he kisses the locket, says a small prayer and puts it under his shirt, so he knows that he's protected and has someone to go back to (why am I making myself cry)

Rudy has a picture of Sweetheart framed with a letter she sent him on his desk with the little things she's made him. He reads the letter every time he misses her (WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF)

Ghost wears a braided friendship bracelet Sweetheart made him. (Its black and blue with lil skulls) He hides it on his left wrist with his glove, but he still wears it. When he's not around Sweetheart, he plays with the ties and smiles

Soap has like a little collage of pictures of Sweetheart and him on a corkboard. They take pictures when they're in a new country or state and collect weeds of flowers and give it to each other (SO CUTE I LOVE SOAP) and his sketchbook is FILLED of Sweetheart-- like he remembers what she looks like so much he sketches her from memory. And he uses a separate sketchbook for her, he calls it "Sweet's Looks".

Gaz only has one picture of her, and it's on his phone. It's Sweetheart cuddled up on his side, hand on his chest while watching a movie. It's obviously his home screen wallpaper (not his lock screen he can't handle that) he also has a little basket of different rocks Sweetheart has given him because she has a little basket of rocks he has given her as well (they're birds I tell ya)

Price has a photo of her in his hat. That's why he never lets anyone touch it, and his heart beats a little quicker when Sweetheart wears is hat cause he's nervous she's gonna see the picture (she has, and it's her and Brutus together and she squeals everytime in her mind)

Roach has a picture of Sweetheart taped to a bear. 🧍‍♀️ don't really wanna go into that one--

Alex has like- one of those photo booth type of pictures. Yk the ones that come in threes or fours. They went to a mall and Sweetheart HAD to get some. Alex uses his as a bookmark.

Now Horangi is like Krueger. He DOES have a shrine but it's in his closet. You will NEVER SEE IT.

König would have a shrine in his closet as well, but it's SMALL. Like two pictures and a good luck letter she wrote to him when he was on a mission. He's so soft for her good lord.

Graves has like.... I don't know a paperclip? That Sweetheart gave him? Think he still has that pen that Sweetheart forgot to take back. Still counts.

[chimivx]

//spoilers for chapter 7 (please prep yourself for this)

YOU

NOT THE "good luck"

— YOU CANT KEEP DROPPING UPDATES LIKE THIS OUT OF NO WHERE MY EMOTIONAL STATE IS SO FRAGILE BECAUSE OF YOU, I NEED THIS TO STOP (in all positive ways of course LOL, but please dont actually stop) 😭😭😭😭

WOOYOUNG !!! MY MAN WOOYOUNG STEPPING UP !! I had the fattest feeling in the world that there was no way he'd hurt her for some superficial reason, like getting his dick wet ✋ Bro atp what's even the point of being in a greek life house if all they do is treat both of you like dogshit- and it's THE WAY woo thinks she's more important than a group of lowlives 😔😭 SET MY BOY AND GIRLY FREE !!!!! He just wants her to be happy :(( He just wants to be happy with her 🥹🥹🥹

On the other hand, despite him being my pookie, the Yunho disappointment is so real. Seonghwa disappointment is so real. This Joong disappointment is becoming real. It's like no one has any independent thought and its SO FRUSTRATING (props to you for writing their characters) !! As much as I was rooting for Yunho after his love confession, I cannot say with good heart that this man deserves our girly and good on her for exposing everything because— that is a LOT to keep bottled up for so long. Everyone needs to go back to therapy fr.

Mannnnnnn it just feels like the atz boys (old and new) are in cahoots just trying to find ways to make girly's life miserable one way or another. For WHAT REASON !!!

Me, gripping my hair and rocking back and forth like a maniac

I think I'm just the most mad at Yunho tbh (rant incoming). Even as a reader you can feel how sweetly he used to treat our girly and how much he probably loved her this entire time. Likewise the way our girly was so genuinely in love with Yunho that even Wooyoung couldn't deny it. Idk what's going on in yunho's head for him to feel the need to have attached himself to Mina on top of that. 100% the whole date event thing and girly's relationship with woo played a big part in how things turned out but it's just so fucking childish of him !! THAT'S WHAT THIS IS YUNHO IS JUST ACTING LIKE a child. He can't stand the idea of his favorite toy being in someone else's hands, but he also can't stand the idea of only having one toy to play with. And my girly is NOT A TOY!!!!!! To be real, as much as they connected, I don't think Yunho has the genuine capability to perceive Rory as anything but a possession for him to have and tuck away as he sees fit. What has even been the point of comforting her after the (what we know now as faked) woo and yeji affair??? IM JUST SO MAD FOR SO MANY REASONS BC I WAS ROOTING FOR HIM DESPITE HIM BEING SO WISHY WASHY !!! I was truly holding onto an ounce of hope that he'd clean up his act....!And of COURSE this mf stays silent the entire time everything went down. He cares too much about protecting what's left of his image (his fucking ego) than comforting or protecting the girl he supposedly is in love with.

Meanwhile we have MY MAN WOOYOUNG !! over here willingly throwing everything away for even a chance at fixing things with the girl HE never stopped loving. WE CHEERED !!!!!! 🥂🥳🎉

I hope everyone in these two houses rot fr (many complex emotions that i can't put into words).

I think what also rubs me wrong is what ever the fuck Seonghwa is doing but I don't have enough words to express the way I feel about it??? Like- can there not be ONE man in that house who doesn't fuck her and then fuck her over 😭😭😭😭😭

(Lighter note)

Also PLEASE the way San is obviously so whipped and down bad for Rory despite him being such a slut (i love you fictional san, never change) All it took was a single kiss and that man was rethinking all of his decisions and plans for the entire night. They're so cute when they interact with each other 😭🥹 But I understand that San is prob not a romanceable character route so we will take the light-hearted crumbs we can get ✋😔 I don't think we can handle an additional romanceable route anyways 😭😭😭😭😭😭

When seonghwa had to witness rory's interaction with wooyoung at the cafe, i was sitting here kicking my feet in the air like i'm the happiest girl in the world. We know youre an undercover asshole now hwa... I need more backstory interactions between wooyoung and rory bc 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 every single one we've gotten (e.g. library scene, beer pong) gave me a little spark of joy amongst all the angst we've been subject to 😔 But I'm also a hella sucker for angst so TRULY i win either way 🤪

Idk woo was so clearly and genuinely in love with rory without condition that it sucks for everything to have ended up the way it did.... I'm sure he regrets ever entertaining the idea of letting her go- and now's his time to try to redeem himself with (hopefully) pure intentions.

That is all from me for rn I !!!! Feel bad for the text wall LMFAO but pls know I'm looking forward to whatever happens next 🫶 Happy writing !!!

I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU. I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE WHAT YOU THOUGHT.

" I had the fattest feeling in the world that there was no way he'd hurt her for some superficial reason, like getting his dick wet ✋ "

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

" Mannnnnnn it just feels like the atz boys (old and new) are in cahoots just trying to find ways to make girly's life miserable one way or another. For WHAT REASON !!! "

If we're talking the piwon boys... they just want the reason above that Wooyoung didn't... LMFAO. They're simply sleazy frat boys.

YOUR MONOLOGUE ABOUT YUNHO. My darling dear. The boy does not know what he wants and its insufferable. I genuinely think hes got the friend/feelings thing going on. He can't figure out the feeling after sleeping with Aurora, so it manifests into this thing, like oh, I love you, I like you, I have feelings for you, when really it's simply just him loving her as a friend, but he still wants to fuck LMFAO. Which is unfortunate and he needs to sort that out.

SAN SAN SAN SAN SAN SAN SAN SAN SAN SAN.

I think I may plan to write little snippets of San and his adventures in ATZ, LOL. I'm obsessed with him and Rory, but they're absolutely 100% platonic... but they'd deff get it on. He's probably my fav ATZ boy at the moment, aside from our hero Wooyoung.

WHO, YOU SAID IT, JUST WANTS TO BE HAPPY WITH HER.

Thank you for always leaving your thoughts, your comments, I appreciate it SO much, it keeps me going!!! I'm sitting here laughing at this in real time, and sharing allllll the feels with you!

THANK YOU!

[imkazz]

akaza’s backstory

heyo so i decided to do live notes on me reading this guys backstory. my mom says she literally cried when she read a year before me, and that its really sad so i wanted to keep my live reactions bcs this isnt my first time screaming at the plot twists in demon slayer. i start the live notes in the beginnings of chapter 154 and im also reading the manga in japanese so i might have mistranslated/misunderstood some things lol

SPOILERS BELOW THIS IS YOUR WARNING

initial thoughts on akaza: idk hes pretty fruity like the mugen train arc “oni ni nare, kyoujurou” in japanese was omg just. so fucking fruity. and he said the same freaking thing to giyuu omgs- also he hates douma and wants to kill kokushibo but idk what to really feel about him. anyways ive seen the little hints at the girl holding his hand and he tried to punch it, and his head grew back bc he said he had to get stronger???

live notes start here (just jot notes):

- damn she pulling out the existential crisis on akaza

- oh his dads sick boo hoo

- woah wait is he a pickpocket?

- oh my fucking wait is that why he looks like a basketball???

- holy shit is this where he becomes a basketball?

- like every time he gets caught stealing he gets a mark as punishment

- damn how many times did u get caught bruh

- welp idk how hed steal without his hands

- oof he just got called a demon child well hes a demon moon now

- oh wait my mom specified for me it means a kid who was born with teeth

- HOLY SHIT NAME DROP DUDE THATS A NICE NAME

- OMG HIS DAD KILLED HIMSELF JUST LIKE ZENITSUS TEACHER

- dude this suicide letter like ‘i cant take medicine bought by stolen money sorry for making myself a bother for you live a good life’

- oh hes mourning by hurting himself fighting people

- “even if it took 100 years for my dad to heal” and he kept half of that promise

- damn akazas backstory is just him getting beat up by everyone he meets

- and hes just like taking the beatings bc he wanted his dad to get medicine

- well fuck medicine for special diseases does cost a lot poor akaza

- and his dad just killed himself anyway

- still dont know who the girl is

- damn i wouldnt be able to stand getting whipped and bones broken for my parents

- huh he beat the living shit out of seven adults

- and he didnt get a scratch and hes also a kid

- who tf is that guy it seems akaza also has the same question

- oh is this guy who applauded akaza some sort of sensei i mean he has a dojo

- why does akazas personality sort of remind me of inosukes ‘fight me bitch’ type thing

- oh shit theyre gonna fight

- that wasnt so much of a fight than a man slapping a kid silly

- nother name drop keizou

- OOF AKAZAS FACE LOL

- oh akaza is gonna take care of a girl?

- HOLY SHIT ITS THAT GIRL I THINK WAIT HER NAME IS KOYUKI

- I SMELL BUDDING TEEN ROMANCE HERE JUST SAYING

- OMG ITS SO AWKWARD AND CUTE

- and akaza has someone to take care of again!

- aww cute moment between them

- also fireworks! yay! hes saying he can piggyback ride her there that so sweet

- oh shit shes crying

- oh thats so cute that their only purposes are to protect those they love

- omgs and akaza on his little training arc with keizou like how tanjirou did with urokodaki and both are taking care of a younger girl who is bedridden- the parallels

- holy shit three year time skip

- oh ok koyuki is better now

- OMG THEY DO LIKE EACH OTHER AAAAAAAAA THEYRE SO SWEET AND SHES SO NERVOUS AND HES SO NERVOUS

- OH HES GONNA SAY YES TO THE MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

- HES GONNA FOLLOW HIS DADS SUICIDE NOTE AND LIVE A GOOD LIFE

- HE EVEN VISITED THE GRAVE HELP

- WAIT SHIT NO HES A DEMON SOMETHING GOES WRONG

- NONONONONO WAIT SHIT I WAS ACTUALLY SORT OF STARTING TO LIKE THESE TWO 

- OMG HES ADMITTING THAT THEYRE HIS TWO FAVOURITE PEOPLE

- wait whats this abt poison

- WAIT WHAT POISON

- THIS IS TURNING VERY FAST WHAT THE FUCK

- WHAT THEY WERE BOTH POISONED AND FUCKING DIED WHAT

- BECAUSE OF THE FREAKING DOJO WTFFFFFF

- I- I NEED TO THINK ABOUT THIS

- ok were back and ready to react

- wait what promise

- CALLBACK TO THE FIREWORKS

- ohh shes saying she wants to watch the fireworks with akaza next year and the year after too... oh shit she died.

- damn so both their parents killed themselves bc of their kids

- ohhh this is so sweet but sad knowing she just died

- AND HE PROMISED TO PROTECT HER BUT OH NOOOOOO

- OH SHIT HES KILLING THEM ALL WITH HIS BARE HANDS

- DAMN THATS BRUTAL AND TWISTED OF AKAZA

- BUT DAMN THIS IS HIS WAY OF MOURNING HOLY FUCK

- EVERY SINGLE STUDENT OF THE RIVAL DOJO?!?!?!?!!??!

- HOLY SHIT ITS MUZAN JACKSON

- DO THE MOONWALK PLS

- OH SHIT THIS IS WHEN MUZAN WAS THINKING ABOUT MAKING THE TWELVE KIZUKI

- OH SHIT AKAZA RLY SAID MOVE BITCH TO MUZAN

- HE PUNCHED AKAZA I REPEAT HE PUNCHED THROUGH AKAZAS SKULL

- i feel like this is sad because it wasnt even muzans fault that the two of them died it was just poison

- he even admits it out loud himself that his own story is sad help

- hes even completely ok with the fact he wont go to the same place as the three most important people in the world to him

- and giyuu is just standing there

- lmao tanjiro is just always yelling for demons to stop

- wait what tanjiro ur sword-???

- oh shit it slipped from his grip

- sorry i snorted at the fact that tanjiro decked akaza in the face instead

- i think im gonna stop there the backstory is over

- i feel horribly empty inside after finishing that chapter

- think i might just go cry

current thoughts on akaza: damn i understand why ppl are so sad about this, holy shit this is so sad like i have no words im probably gonna have to come back to this post tomorrow to give my thoughts after thinking about this all night

[onlyjaeyun]

ZADIE LOVE AHHHHHHH i kid u not i was on the edge whenever i saw ur wc update literally went "OMG OMG ITS HAPPENING" am i ready to actually start reading? no ill never be but i am also soSOOO invested in what happened between hoonyn i HAVE TO BRACE MYSELF

ok enough yapping and onto to the actual chapter 👉🏻👈🏻 im actually gna start crying yn was probably the sweetest little girl ever surrounded w her loving family im so happy she had her maternal aunt at the very least 🥹 she even saved up money to get her brothers' gifts she's so precious 🥺🥺 NOOO LITTLE HOONYN WERE LITERALLY EACH OTHERS CONSTANT SUPPORT IM SO BROKEN 😭😭😭 THEY WERE TOO PURE TOO GOOD FOR THE CRUELTY THAT IS THE WORLD

yn's gift is in a little box? a jewellery mayhaps... STOP OMG HOON'S HER SECRET SANTA!,!/&;&&: SKDJAKSJS (icb they nvr gotten each other b4 tho 🧐) WORLD PAUSE SUNGHOON WANTED TO DO WHAT NOW?:!/& someone hold me i feel faint. we've COME SO FAR IM LITERALLY ABOUT TO BAWL 😭😭😭😭😭😭 "not only show you how over the ongoing war between you two he is, but also one he could use as a way to maybe win you over again" IM IN TEARS. THE WAR IS ENDING 😭😭😭

im actually so proud(?) of hoon for accepting his feelings like to go from saying the meanest things 24/7 to a person to actually admitting that you still want to have that person around takes alot of courage and he has my respect for that!

ok so he chose a sentimental gift... A SNOWFLAKE NECKLACE?:!/$ MAYBE?? 🤔 IM LITERALLY ABOUT TO START BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS WHY AM I SO NERVOUS 🤕 HE FAWKING WROTE HER A CARD IN JAPANESE. yep im out. 😭🤣😭😭😭😭😭😭🤣🤣🤣😭😭 STOOPP ITTT HE GOT HER A RING W HER MOTHER'S BIRTHSTONE?:!/!/ IM ACTUALLY IN TEARS THAT IS SOOOOOOOOOO PRECIOUS IM GONNA START BAWLING he's so 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 & yn now knows its from hoon 🥺😭🥺🥺🥹🥹🥹

THE FUCKING DOORBELL. THE FUCKING WITCH. WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON HER IM GNA FUCK HER 🆙 !!!!!! no but can we talk about how yn stood up to her MY POOKIEPIE MY LOVE 🥹 she's so strong for that ❤️‍🩹 & riki n hoon 🥹 coming in to stand w her 😭 hoon just standing behind her supporting her, ready to step in anytime ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

oh im soo fucking that bitch up im filing my nails as i type rn im gna scratch her face and no one can stop me. its the fact riki still calls her mom and she goes and do shit like this. i just cant phantom how people like her call themselves parents. yn making that decision whilst she was still so young 💔 no one really should have been in that position in the first place

i know uve alrdy shown us this part in the wc update but it still HITS ME SO HARD "of all people in this world, it was your hands he had put his tiny heart into because he knew you’d always keep it safe and protected, only for your absence to scar him forever" im actually broken. & OF FUCKING COURSE ITS THE FREAKING WITCH THAT HAD SMTH TO DO WITH THE LETTER NOT REACHING HOON.

ill say it time and time again but the friendship dynamic u create in everyone of ur fic is so precious and beautiful 🤍 all of them will fight and stand by each other through the darkest of times 🫂

ive actually teared up reading this chapter 🥺 this was everything, u always amaze me with the ideas u have and the way u execute them 🤍 this chapter was worth its wait <3 i truly enjoy reading every single update and idk what else to say other than thank you for sharing the masterpiece that is cold hearts with us all 🤍🤍

have a very very good night zadie <3

oh my sweet souled lia 🥺

thank you SO much for this ask. i never know what to say when you guys send me messages like these because im just baffled by how much love and attention and support you guys not only send me but my characters. i think it's safe to say that i will keep this so close to my heart. it's such an honor to receive such amazing reactions to the things my characters experience and ik im rambling but like, seeing you all so invested in this smau makes me so happy and im so grateful for everything. thank you baby. i love and appreciate you so much 🥺🤍🩷☀️💐🌷

[gregoftom]

I JUST.

WHAT was normal about 4x01 AT ALL

(Also I'm holding the ambiguity of the disgusting brothers in my heart for as long as I can because <333)

Do they have NO CONCEPT of personal space?? (<3)

Can Tom be normal for five fucking minutes over Greg 'dating women' (he didn't know her surname >:3) AND ALSO he didn't know for sure that Logan has CCTVs like he could've played it off as a joke about the cameras but it just turned to "hey Greg, how did you two fuck? I need to know, you could be in trouble, don't leave anything out" and I just love that it seems like they're on a much more even playing field to the extent that Tom feels that to exert power over Greg he has to just lie about shit and say he can protect Greg from potentially imaginary dangers

And also

QGH I CANT FUCKING STAND THEM THEYRE ALWAYS SO CLOSE TOGETHER IALCJDDHDJDJDJDJDJFJ

HELP ITS LIKE LOOKING INTO A MIRROR JASJKASJAKSJ this was ME literally me when i first watched like holy fuck, i haaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhssssssssssssssssssssssnswhsnhwsnws. wsnwshwbsjwnskwnswkns. everything you just said is. yeah. agreed they are inSANE. what i love is like. how they are best friends. i will never shut up about how they like each other. they like each other's company. "i love you but i can't fucking stomach you" is a line that i think works for most relationships on this show like, loving somebody is shown as like. something that you just do. yknow? something that, although it's difficult and makes their choices harder, they can do it, right? but they find it impossible to like each other. i think greg and tom are the only people who actually like one another, save for willa and connor but like. lmfao the conwilla/tg paras are lelling since early season 1, so like. that just makes sense.

and tom is just so funny. and so is greg. greg is trying not to laugh at tom's cuntiness and tom is right out there showing how pleased he is when he's right about greg's date. they're ridiculous. just say you wanna go to bone town together! alone! good grief!!!!!!

AND YEAH GOD THAT SHOT IS. they. are so close it's actually gross like i'm SO. GRAGH!

here's some more shots that make me want to chew on exposed electrical wires:

[spectrophobias]

@dollhidden asked: What are Kaitlyn's thoughts on the other counsellors before/after that night at the camp? Who does she like the most? Is there anyone she likes the least?

OH THIS IS SUCH A GOOD ONE thank u so much u bless me with the best asks.......

ok ok ok so i'll start with jacob bc he's the one she has the most history with!! they both give absolute only child energy LMFAO so i feel like they connected pretty quickly and realized they made a pretty good team!! lil baby kaitlyn was definitely a tomboy, usually preferred to hang out and roughhouse with the boys, but she is such a little cutie i just know jacob took one look at her tried to be like "lol ur a girl u cant do this" and she jumped his ass 😭 and idk something about a good fist fight can be so bonding!! like honestly they are this text post in a nutshell

she doesn't really blame him for what happened that night. if she'd thought that they'd be putting themselves in danger, she wouldn't have told him how to sabotage the van to begin with. she obviously wouldn't have ever expected actual literal werewolves LMAO she knows he wasn't trying to get anyone hurt. she does think he needs to chill and let emma be once she's expressed disinterest and she tells him so, but her view of him doesn't really change. he's still one of her best friends, he's just a little stupid and has some growing up to do which! mood tbh!

she's very much not quiet about her crush on ryan but also it's not something she takes super seriously. a summer fling would have been nice but she doesn't actually really know him ? she wouldn't mind getting to know him better, but over the summer pretty much all she's picked up about him is that he's quiet, hot, and a little weird but like in a cute way LMAO. i think she'd like him a lot and they could potentially work well together if they actually got to know each other, but that have to involve things feeling way less one sided on her end. also we all know she's too busy kissing emily to even think twice about it!

she actually really starts to like dylan over that last night, even if ryan did choose to kiss him and not her LMAO. she never outright disliked him or anything, but after the scrapyard and trying to take their last stand at the lodge she has a LOT more respect for him and considers him way more of a friend. before it was kind of like "oh he's a work friend" and maybe a little bit of a competitive feeling on her end knowing they were both crushing on the same guy, but it was all very unserious to her hgkskfk just a bit of friendly competition!! LMAO. so they come out of it closer than she expected, i think they would keep in touch after! he's the only one that i think she would go out of her way to keep in touch with, besides ofc jacob who she already knows.

nick was absolutely not on her radar for most of the summer lmaooo. he is just very not her type, romantically or friendship wise ! he absolutely weirded her the fuck out right before he turned though LMAO so even though she knows he was really messed up at the time she is perfectly happy not getting to know him better!

part of that is probably that she just feels weirdly protective of abi, even though they're not like besties or anything. she thinks abi is a sweetheart and she just seems so tightly wound and anxious all the time fjdjkd she reminds kaitlyn of a kicked puppy!! she thinks abi is pretty cool, she's talented with art and good with the kids, so she wants to see her give herself a little more credit!! she knows abi is way closer to emma, and that kind of is also something where she's a little worried for her after seeing jacob all worked up over emma? bc jacob is a crybaby (affectionate) but he's hard headed he'll get over it LMAO she's a little more concerned about how abi would handle emma switching up on her. also she ships it!

so with emma, kaitlyn definitely doesn't want to be all buddy buddy with her after watching jacob piss his pants over her all summer LMAO but again it's the type of thing where she doesn't necessarily dislike her? she doesn't trust her but she doesn't think she's an inherently bad person or anything, she doesn't really think there's a Right side in emma being straight up about not wanting anything more than a fling vs jacob catching feelings anyway bc he's a sap, but she's like yikes ! i will not be touching that one !

bonus: laura hot. no thoughts head empty !