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cloudedgalaxies · 2 days

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One Night Remains

Leona Kingscholar loves sleep more than anything else in Twisted Wonderland. So he is determined to continue sleeping all through the night when he has to host two freshmen crashing in his dorm for taking a rather stupid deal he had nothing to do with. It wasn't his problem.

Yet for some absurd reason, the three nights that the prefect stays in Savanaclaw, he doesn't get a wink.

Chooser, Chosen

(part one) (part two) (part three) (read on AO3)

Word count: 7.7k | (this is the song Yuu sings during that one part :3)

Leona wanted to rip his ears out. As small as Grim and Yuu were, he hadn’t known that they could be so loud. Or so shrill. It could only be called singing by the most insane souls in Twisted Wonderland. Ruggie had almost tried to escape when they’d started shrieking at the top of their lungs, but if Leona had to endure this torture, then so did he.

“Fine,” he finally spat out, sick of covering his already-flattened ears with his hands. Their voices still got through the tiniest of spaces that he didn’t know he wasn’t covering, and he had no idea how. “Quit your screeching.”

Yuu was quicker to stop than Grim. He seemed to be especially enjoying this, Leona found. But a particularly sharp glare shut him up just fine, he also found, and finally, his ears were saved. “You’ll help us?” the weasel asked, voice hoarse from how he’d been belting without a care in the world just a moment ago.

If it was up to him, he wouldn’t be doing any of this at all. But Leona ran a hand down his face, while his ears rang and throbbed even after they’d closed their mouths. “We’ll see. That’s the best you’re goin’ to get,” he added, giving Yuu a warning look as she opened her mouth again. “Give it a rest.”

“Please never sing again. I don’t think I could take it,” Ruggie begged, looking everything like he would ram his head into a wall if they started back up. Leona would probably join him. “You’re a lot crueler than you look, Yuu.”

Out of everything she could have done, the herbivore grinned. Leona almost wanted to ask where the audacity came from, to be that cheeky while she goaded a lion in his own den. “I’m taking Leona’s advice,” she told him, making the housewarden scoff when he heard it. That only made her grin widen, annoyingly. “I’ll use my spine on you, too, thanks.”

“That’s just askin’ to get taught a lesson,” he growled back, but found that she hardly seemed scared at that. What a strange herbivore she was. “You got a plan, or are you expecting us to go in blind?”

It didn’t take her long to make the final touches in her head before putting it into words. She told them all about what she’d gone through the past two days, and what her torture had taught her about the Octavinelle groupers. And as loathe as Leona was to admit after she had nearly rendered him deaf and crazy, he found that her plan could almost work. “Wow.” Ruggie whistled, and Leona could tell that he was seeing Yuu in a new light. Leona was too, if he was being honest. She wasn’t all that doe-eyed anymore, he supposed. “That’s pretty gusty. Sure you can handle it?”

Yuu just shrugged. “I’ve dealt with them for the past two days, and I’m still standing.”

“What’ll you do if it ends up going sideways?” Leona asked.

That just made her grin again. Leona fought the urge to sigh and just go to bed. “Are you saying you think you’ll mess up?”

Again with the spine. Leona couldn’t stop himself from smirking, as his tail swished with something he almost wanted to call amusement. “I can handle the cephalo-punk just fine. I’m sayin’ I don’t exactly have my utter faith in you to make it work. No offense.”

Leona didn’t know how to feel when Yuu’s grin did not lessen. If anything, that same dastardly, twisted glint from her first night there returned, much more visible now than before, now that she didn’t have the same naive look about her. “If I can’t go back to Ramshackle, you’ll just be seeing a lot of me every night,” she told them, even throwing in a cheeky wink as she did right alongside Grim.

His smirk dropped. “Are you threatenin’ me?” Leona was strangely more surprised than angered. Yuu just shrugged. She shrugged, out of all the things she could have done. Leona didn’t know if he’d wanted one answer over the other to be perfectly honest, but the lack of a clear one certainly wasn’t what he’d hoped to get as a response. He sighed the deepest sigh he had in a long time, holding his forehead as his eyes rolled. It was strange how he was trying his hardest not to laugh even though he felt like he should definitely be a bit more offended than he was. “Here I thought you were a goody two-shoes.”

“I’m certainly more of one than most students here. You included, I’m afraid.” Leona had to make himself give her a hard look instead of let that laugh get even closer to finding its way out of his throat. “It’s up to you if you two want to help us. We’re not forcing you to do anything.”

Of course they weren’t. Grim snickered, sounding a suspicious amount like Ruggie while the sophomore sighed instead. “Only for you, you scavengers,” he grumbled, ears flicking as he mirrored the look Leona had. Except, it was directed at his housewarden a moment after he’d shot it at the herbivore. “What’d you tell him, Leona?” He wished he’d said nothing at all, now that it was giving him this much grief. How did everything become Leona’s messes to clean up in the span of one night?

“You’d better hurry ‘n get some rest,” Grim taunted, a smirk on his face that was much too arrogant for a pipsqueak like him. “This could be your last night of quality sleep, y’know.”

“I’ll get right on that, O Great Grim,” Ruggie leered, shooting both Ramshackle students one last dour look. “Sure glad I ain’t rooming with you guys right now.”

“Says the one who got this all started in the first place,” Leona shot right back, turning his glare over to his dormmate instead of his freeloaders. As Ruggie slinked out of his room, the lunatic grinned at him, giving Leona a wink just as he shut the door. Leona didn’t want to know what exactly was running through the hyena’s head, but he was certain that if he ever found out, he’d want to do more than just beat him in spelldrive.

And then it was just the three of them once again, in beautiful, blissful silence. Only to be ruined once more when Grim started talking again. “You really should be more villainous, minion. It gets stuff done,” he mused, giving her a grin as he hopped onto the couch. Then he yawned, already curling up on the cushions before Leona himself had the chance to make it back to his bed. “I think I’ll sleep, too.”

“You really think you get to, after the stunt you just pulled?” Leona growled, making Grim’s fur bristle as his eyes shot back open at the tone. There were so many ways to make him pay. Leona was having a hard time deciding just which exactly he wanted to execute on the weasel that night.

But then Yuu—stubborn, arrogant, persistent Yuu—just had to smile at him, in a way that was just apologetic enough yet still sure of herself to make his anger dissipate. “We need all the sleep we can get if we’re going to get tomorrow to work,” she reasoned, and Leona didn’t know how to feel about the way he didn’t really want to fight her. “It’ll get us out of your hair, at the very least.”

Leona scoffed, flicking his tail as he rolled his eyes. “This is the last night you’re gettin’ free board,” he reminded, trying to look like he was still irritated more than he really was. “Even if this doesn’t work.”

“Thank you for letting us stay here for the three nights you’ve already let us,” Yuu told him anyway, making his tail swish all the more. “We haven’t been the greatest houseguests.”

“Is that so?” he mused flatly. “Can’t say I noticed.”

She smiled at him again, a little more apologetic than before. So Leona rolled his eyes, dismissing her attempt to apologize when he hadn’t demanded one in the first place. Then she sighed when she turned around, finally catching the way that Grim had taken advantage of her diffusing the situation to fall into slumber. He was already long gone somehow, despite being in the lion’s den that nearly became his grave. Leona didn’t know if it was foolishness or arrogance on Grim’s part, but either way, it wasn’t the greatest testament to prove there was much of a brain in the weasel’s skull.

“One of these days, I’ll beat him to sleep.” There were the hints of a laugh in Yuu’s voice, as she reached out to gently tug the blanket higher on Grim.

“Maybe I’ll get to sleep, too,” Leona added bitterly. It made that laugh become stronger, ringing in his ears despite how quiet it still was.

“Unless we mess up tomorrow,” she reminded, with that devilish smile that only seemed to get more evil each time she flashed it. “Then neither of us will, ever again.”

That laugh returned, louder now as Leona glowered at her with a swishing tail. Yuu just gave him a grin, so he forced his expression to become even darker. “Why are you helpin’ him, herbivore?” he asked, finding that he wanted to know the answer now, when it was all of a sudden his problem, too. “Helpin’ any of the suckers who made a deal, for that matter. It wasn’t your mess to clean up.”

Yuu shrugged. It made Leona’s glower become a bit more real than it had been. “They made some bad decisions. We all do that. They should have known better, but it isn’t right for them to have to suffer so much for a mistake. And besides, some of them are my friends.” Maybe she was still doe-eyed after all, Leona found himself thinking. She looked up at him with those innocent eyes, and the faintest smile appeared on her face. “Why are you helping me?” she asked, making something weak in him almost startle.

Leona gave her an unamused stare in return. “If you really have to ask that, maybe you’re more dimwitted than I thought.”

She giggled. Leona’s tail swished just a bit stronger. “Of course. I hope the great Leona Kingscholar can forgive my threatening of his sleep.” That was all it was. She smiled at him, in that way that told him she was apologizing silently.

There were so many levels of disrespect to that comment that Leona didn’t even want to start unpacking it. So all he did was growl in reply, watching with slitted eyes as she crouched to dig through her bag. It was to get her magic potion, Leona realized, as she procured a small vial that held liquid that was an iridescent, shimmering black. He didn’t exactly think it was the safest looking thing to drink, he realized as he glowered at it. It didn’t matter that it came from the headmage—for all the years Leona had been at Night Raven College, he’d known the man to cut corners and skimp whenever possible. There could be a thousand things wrong with that potion, that Yuu was foolish enough to swallow and take without any questions asked.

Before he could school his features back to normal, the herbivore just had to glance up at him, catching the way his eyes smoldered. “Professor Crewel told me it’s safe. There aren’t any lasting side effects if I stop taking it,” she told him, irritatingly guessing the reason behind his annoyance correctly. “Doesn’t stop it from tasting disgusting, though.”

“Whatever you say,” Leona mused, putting the dull tone of boredom in his voice. He still watched as she uncapped the vial, feeling something strange grip his insides as the potion disappeared behind her lips, eliciting a faint grimace to darken her expression. Leona didn’t know how to feel about the way it made something sour his own tongue, as though he had been the one to take the potion instead of her.

He watched Yuu carefully in those first few moments after she took it. If nothing else, it was certainly effective. The air shimmered around her just like the potion in every way it could—it almost seemed like stardust had surrounded the herbivore for a few seconds, as it glittered in the space around her while it did something magical to her scent. It was the same thing that had happened the first night, and the second. But now he was able to watch and study, to see just what exactly the potion did to her to hide her in plain sight.

Only when Yuu gave him a half-uncertain smile did Leona finally realize that he’d been staring. She’d had this happen to her every night since she’d gotten to this world, no doubt, so Yuu was hardly fazed in the slightest. It left her able to see just how Leona watched her, trying to figure out just what it was that was happening to her. “Some potion he gives you,” he mused dully, pretending he hadn’t been caught. “There’s ancient magic in there.”

She hadn’t been told that, it seemed, because Yuu looked surprised. “There is?” Leona hummed as a substitute for a nod. There had to be a jumble of spells and enchantments weaved together to make something that could do so many things at once. For it to be so potent, there was no doubt there were some parts so archaic that Leona was surprised they still existed. “You can tell?” she asked. Her surprise changed to awe as he hummed again, making her eyes sparkle and shimmer like the potion. “Just from seeing it?”

“Isn’t all that hard, once you know what to look for.” Even so, Leona felt the hints of something proud tug his lips up into something of a smirk, as Yuu continued to look at him in that way. “You’re starin’, herbivore,” he purred, finding that he wanted to see if he could get back at her for the way she’d tormented him earlier.

He almost chuckled at the way she startled, blinking hard as she clasped her hands together and stared down at them instead. It let him catch the hints of pink rising to her ears, no doubt dusted on her cheeks as well. “Sorry.”

“Sure ‘ya are.” The pink darkened.

Worry stung his nose again, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been before, during the nights when she had been distressed. It was gentle, if anything. It reminded Leona of a fluttering heartbeat, which he wondered if Yuu’s was doing when his smirk deepened. “We should go to bed,” she decided, and Leona wondered what insane part of him it was that almost wanted to stay up just a bit longer.

“Oi. Where do you think you’re going?” he asked instead, making Yuu pause from how she’d nearly joined Grim on the couch yet again. “Come here.”

The herbivore blinked again, that awe swapped out for confusion. “I didn’t think you’d want me to sleep there after I threatened you.”

“So you did threaten me.” Leona grinned at the way that made her face flush once again, changing that pink into a true red. “I ain’t about to banish you just ‘cause you got more arrogant.” Yuu rolled her eyes a little, but she listened anyway, crawling onto the bed alongside him. Even though the potion had messed with the way she smelled, Leona could still make out his scent was on her without much effort, surrounding her just like that stardust had.

He wondered if it would still, once she was no longer staying in Savanaclaw. “I wouldn’t blame you, if you did,” she admitted. “I wasn’t the greatest of people just now.”

“If you think that was somethin’ real terrible, then you haven’t been in this school long enough.” That got Yuu to smile, the tiniest of laughs escaping her lips. Leona’s ears twitched at it, how it still seemed to echo in his mind without fail. “You gotta earn your place, though,” he told her, smirking at the way that made Yuu look at him in equal parts surprise and suspicion. “Sing something for me, if you like bein’ a songbird so much.”

Her head tilted ever-so-slightly, and Leona found himself thinking that it was almost cute, the way she did that when she was confused. The thought was instantly shoved out of his head with a scowl. “You practically just begged me to not do exactly that,” she reminded, the hints of a disbelieving grin appearing despite the way her brows knit together.

“You’re more delusional than I thought if you think I’d ever beg for anything.” Leona hummed as he laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back to let his back touch the headboard. “That couldn’t have been your best shot. Maybe it was the weasel’s, but not yours.”

Leona’s suspicions were proved right when the herbivore huffed, bringing her hands up to nervously fidget her hair into the beginnings of a braid. Maybe she really was a songbird. She certainly got as flighty as them when she was anxious, always moving in whatever way she could manage. “I haven’t really sung for anyone before,” she admitted. “Except my brother.”

The smirk on Leona’s face just grew all the bigger. “Even better. I’m your first,” he purred, making Yuu huff again and shoot him a glare that wasn’t all that sharp when her face was that flushed. “Shouldn’t have sang anything if you weren’t prepared for the consequences.”

Yuu gave him a pouty look, but she didn’t say anything else to argue with him. A sigh found its way out of her chest as she finished braiding her hair and lost her excuse to stay silent, eyes darting across something Leona couldn’t see. He almost thought she was going to deny him. And something strange and oddly gentle inside Leona told him that, if she really didn’t want to, he wouldn’t press. The next time she said anything to get out of it, he would let her.

But then she took in a breath, parting her lips. And she started to sing, making Leona quiet even his breaths so that he could listen.

It was different from before, when Yuu had been screaming at the top of her lungs like a banshee. Her voice started off shaky and hesitant at first, almost fumbling over the first few words as nervousness rolled off her in waves. But then it became a little more confident, as she got through the first verse without a single complaint from Leona. It lost the tremble, replaced with something more intentional that wasn’t quite vibrato, but something just enough to make his ears stay pinned on her.

Yuu was not the best singer by any means. Nothing about her singing was remarkable—it was as ordinary as it could get. She didn’t look at him, eyes fixated on something invisible to Leona but almost seemed to act like a lifeline to her. Especially when her face had dusted pink, growing deeper in shade for every note she sang. He decided that was alright, he found. Leona wasn’t sure what he looked like at that moment, when he realized that Yuu’s voice might be one of the prettiest things he’d heard. He certainly wasn’t sure what he looked like when she reached the chorus, words making him almost sit up as he watched and listened.

I've spent a thousand nights

Lost in your emerald eyes

Lost in a place where I know

You can see my soul

Make me lose track of time

You and your emerald eyes

Finally found a place that I can call my home.

The last remnants of the song dissipated in the wind as she finished, as the words and melody echoed in Leona’s ears again and again. She blinked, and it seemed as though she’d come out of a trance when her hands tugged on the shirt of his she’d all but taken at this point, finally mustering a sheepish glance over at Leona. He was staring at her, he realized with a start, flicking his ears as he recollected himself. It was almost hard not to, when he’d realized that the glow of the moon and stars suited her so eerily well.

Leona smirked to hide that fact, laughing silently to himself about how it made her shoulders rise in embarrassment. “Not bad,” he mused, watching as she hid behind the hand fixing her glasses. “Better than your little performance earlier, at least.”

“I’m better with instruments,” she murmured, still fiddling with her shirt. “My voice isn’t the greatest, to be honest.”

Even though he had absolutely no reason to, Leona found his smirk becoming a bit more teasing. “Where’s that spine now?” Yuu rolled her eyes shyly, making his tail flick in amusement. It was only then that he realized it had found its way around the herbivore, curled around her so that the tip rested on her other side. “If you’re going to use it on me, then use it when you have reason to. Like now.”

At least she didn’t seem to notice his tail. So he kept it there. If he tried to move it away, she would just catch sight, Leona reasoned with himself. That would end up causing him unnecessary issues to deal with at a time he didn’t want to give himself any more problems than he had already. “Do you treat all herbivores this way, or just me?” she asked, the hints of a tease in her voice.

Leona’s smirk grew. “Who knows.”

She gave him a look that wasn’t at all sharp when she could hardly keep from laughing. “Fine,” Yuu relented, sighing a little as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Don’t regret that later, okay?”

The second part of what she said almost went over Leona’s head. It was almost impossible to listen, when he found himself the closest to the scar he’d given her than he’d ever been. He could only try to figure out how she hadn’t been keeled over when she’d first gotten it—how she wasn’t in pain even now, when it looked pink and tender while it still healed. But she’d somehow been the first person he saw when he came to, on that spelldrive field he’d almost turned to sand.

Yuu seemed to know that something had changed with Leona. Her smile changed a little too, growing softer and a little smaller. And for some reason, that made him feel like she was reassuring him. “I—” Leona started, then stopped, finding that his throat was strangely dry. Too dry to keep going, with words he didn’t have. He sighed, pushing his bangs up with his hand as unease churned his stomach. Even if he thought about it for longer than he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d been more unsure of what to say. “What did I do?” he finally got out, and he was displeased with the way his voice sounded. It did not tremble—a lion’s roar could never tremble—but it was not sure. It was not confident, like a prince—a king—should always be.

Leona wasn’t confident he wanted to know. It had been intentional, the way he hadn’t asked Ruggie or Jack anything about what happened that day. All he knew was that when he woke up, his body had ached like nothing before, while sand clung to him like a miasma. Yuu had taken up all of his vision, even though scarlet blood dripped from her head like rubies and matted her hair with grains of sand to make them look like golden flecks. And she hadn’t seemed to care in the slightest about what she looked like, because everything about her had been fixated on him when it shouldn’t have.

Then the herbivore came into his dorm, smiling at him like he was someone worth looking at. She did that even now, when Leona was certain that all she should feel towards him was nothing but hate and resentment. “You made a bad decision.” Leona’s tail thumped on the mattress, certainly loud enough for Yuu to hear. She didn’t look at it. All she looked at was his eyes, with her own that were much too seeing for her own good, even when she was without her glasses making everything clear. “We all do sometimes.”

That was all she said. That was all she would say, Leona realized, as the silence continued to grow instead of lessen. He’d been ready to hear a tale of how he’d nearly turned everyone to sand. How he’d nearly destroyed everything the light touched because he didn’t get his way. How even now, Yuu didn’t trust him not to turn her to dust, and how she’d slink off his bed and away from him in the next moment.

And yet, none of that happened. Despite himself, when Leona next exhaled, it shook ever-so-slightly at the edges. “This might be a bad decision too, herbivore,” he warned, eyeing her and his room and—him, the failed usurper that should have known better than to think that anything could be his. “You got a warning already.”

Out of everything she should have done, Yuu did none of them. She took his hand instead, that had fallen in between them once it had left his hair. Leona was hit again with how much bigger his was, as she took the thing that had left her mangled and twisted and slotted her fingers between his. “You have claws,” she agreed, far too calm than she should have been as she glanced down at what she’d done. “That doesn’t mean they’re always out. And if they are…” Yuu looked up at him then, with eyes that were unspeakably beautiful in the moonlight. And she smiled, something warm and kind and much too sweet to ever be directed at someone like Leona Kingscholar. But there she was, doing just that anyway. “Well, we’ve seen that they can’t stop me.”

Leona stilled. He didn’t know what to do, when he looked at the herbivore and saw the way she looked at him. She was insane. She was annoying, making so many of her problems his without even asking him in the first place. She was an enigma. She was so stupidly, foolishly kind, even to him, even though she had seen just how far that kindness would take her.

And yet. “Big words for such a small herbivore,” he said, trying not to think about how the way her smile grew made something stupidly, childishly warm swell in his chest.

It only grew when she laughed, still becoming everything Leona could ever hope to hear without fail once again. “You told me to use my spine.” Of course he did. Leona had to roll his eyes, because he wasn’t quite sure what he would have done if not that. “Now. Do you want to spend your potentially last peaceful night sleeping, or are you going to stay up talking to me?” she asked, a tease in her voice.

Leona tried not to think about the way that, strangely, perplexingly, he wasn’t quite sure he knew what the answer to that question was. “That’s rich, comin’ from you,” he huffed, trying not to let his smirk turn into a smile as Yuu giggled. She beat him to lay down first, leaving him to be last when she took second place before he could. And yet, he didn’t quite mind.

He didn’t turn away tonight. Neither did she, even as he made the lights switch off with a flick of the wrist and gave her every opportunity to. Hesitantly at first, Leona let his arm drape over her as he lowered it again—because it was more comfortable that way, instead of crammed to fit on top of his side. And then that same deranged, warm thing in him beat just a little erratically as Yuu shifted closer to him, pressing her scarred ear to his chest. He almost wanted to bat her away so that she wouldn’t hear the way it pounded—like an innocent, doe-eyed herbivore, he grimaced to himself—but found that he didn’t have the strength to. Especially when his ear flicked in the newfound silence, and he realized that when he rested his chin atop her head, that this was the most comfortable he’d been in a long time.

“Good night,” the herbivore whispered, as Leona found his hold on her tightening. He hummed in reply, listening to her faint breaths as she started to succumb to rest. If only he had more time to sleep, Leona mused as his eyes closed. He supposed he just had to make the precious little time he had count.

After three endless days of fighting tooth and nail, Yuu and Grim were finally able to return to their dorm. It was just as dank and decrepit as it’d been when they left, but at this point, they wouldn’t have it any other way. This was their dorm, and despite everything it was, they were proud of it.

“Good to be back,” Grim exclaimed, already relaxing the moment they stepped into the foyer. Jade and Floyd didn’t seem like they had done anything substantial to the place in their absence, at least, because it looked largely the same as they’d left it. “And out of Leona’s room. I still can’t believe you got him to let you sleep in his bed. It’s totally unfair!”

Yuu hummed, finding that she’d given up trying to explain it to him. All that Grim saw was bias towards her, and the one way that would make him forgive it was a few cans of tuna sent his way. “I got you out of the deal with Azul,” she reminded nonetheless, laughing a little at the way he shrugged it off like it was nothing. “And I seem to remember you doing a lot more eating than waiting on tables tonight.”

“I had to do that already. It was time for me to get a break.” Yuu rolled her eyes, though there was a grin on her face. Of course. Grim yawned then, sharp teeth glinting in the abysmal lights of their dorm. “I’m beat, though. I wanna catch some winks before we hafta go back to class tomorrow.”

“Did you remember to do your homework?” Grim’s face dropped at Yuu’s reminder, giving her something akin to a glare as he scurried off in a hurry, trying to outrun the lecture he thought Yuu was going to give him. She decided she’d give him a head start, walking slowly through the halls as the reality of the day seeped into her.

Somehow, they had done it. The odds had seemed a million to one, even with Leona helping them, but they had managed to prevail. Albeit with a few scratches, Yuu found herself adding, as she moved her arm and felt the throbbing pain of her new injury burn her collarbone. It was nothing she couldn’t handle, though.

Grim yowled suddenly, cutting through Yuu’s thoughts like a cleaver. He didn’t make that noise unless something was wrong. She quickened her pace, feeling her heart start to pound at a more worried rhythm. “Grim?” she called, as she rounded the corner to make it into the lounge.

“What are you doing here?” he exclaimed, his fur bristling while his eyes were kept wide.

It was then that Yuu saw the uninvited guest in their lounge, sprawled on the couch as though he was the prefect and not her. “Pipe down,” Leona hissed, shooting Grim a sharp look. “You woke me up.”

“So what? This isn’t your dorm!” Leona’s gaze turned into a glare as he sat up, resting his elbow on the armrest and propping his head up on a fist. Sleep still seemed to have a hold on him, and yet, even though his eyes were half-lidded, the emerald rings still held so much intensity and fire in them, as he stared at Grim. He did not leave. “Do something about this, minion!”

Yuu, despite Grim’s clear distress, found herself trying not to smile. “You go on ahead,” she offered, feeling that smile become even harder to hide when Leona’s eyes slid to her, the glare dimming somewhat. “I’ll be up soon.”

Grim didn’t need to be told twice. He hardly spared her a glance that was a mixture of appreciative and mournful as he darted up the stairs and out of sight with record speed. Yuu hadn’t even known that he could be that fast.

Leona didn’t seem to mind, content with lazily watching her just stand there. Yuu couldn't find it in herself to, either, when she finally let that smile faintly show on her face. “I thought you were sick of us," she said, finding that smile grow when he hummed. “You have your bed all to yourself now. I don’t think our couch is better than that.”

“It isn’t.” Yuu couldn’t stop the little laugh that got out of her. She winced slightly as it escaped her chest, making her wound throb with white-hot pain. Leona’s gaze changed at that, his eyelids raising ever-so-slightly. “C’mere,” he called, more a soft demand than anything else. She listened, feeling her heartbeat quicken as Leona sat up when she got closer. The intensity of his eyes never let up, even when her expression returned to normal.

His hand came up when she was finally close enough to satisfy him, though it did not touch her. Leona was waiting for her to say it was alright, she realized, something warm and gentle filling her chest when the way he glanced up at her eyes confirmed it. Yuu hummed, accepting his request, and tried not to let her breathing change when she felt him undo the first button of her shirt. Then the second, before he spread the two sides apart.

Nothing met Leona but bandages, not showing even a trace of skin beneath her neck. It made his eyes narrow, especially as he saw that it wasn’t just snow white that he was met with. Crimson blood had left the tiniest of blemishes, three pinpricks that were hardly anything to the eye, but still enough to make him glower. “How bad is it?” Leona still asked, gaze moving to look up at her face.

Lies wouldn’t go undetected. So Yuu sighed, even though she wanted to shrug it off. But her newly acquired injuries would just make her wince again if she did, and Leona would certainly see through anything else she tried. “I’m on painkillers,” she told him, feeling the warmth of his hand even through his glove and her bandages. “They’ll kick in.”

Even though she’d hoped that would satisfy Leona, it didn’t. He glared at her clavicle as though it had done a great insult to him, even when Yuu brought her hand up to cover his. “You shouldn’t have this,” he eventually said, a growl in his voice as he spoke. “I should’ve been faster. I—”

“I should have been more careful,” Yuu cut him off, making Leona’s ears flatten and his tail thump on the couch next to him. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Sure it isn’t.” The way that he glanced up at her didn’t go unnoticed. She knew exactly where his gaze went, the sight making his lip curl back in a silently snarl directed at only himself. Yuu didn’t know what to do at the way it made his eyes darken, glinting like emerald wildfires in the middle of a rainstorm.

When another moment passed, she decided that she didn’t want Leona to look angry at himself for a second longer. His brow knitted as Yuu’s hand lifted off of his, before his hold on her shirt tightened as he felt her fingers brush against his cheeks. When she finally held his face in her hands fully, ignoring the way his silky hair tickled her fingertips, she tilted it up, forcing his eyes to rip off her bandages to instead look at hers. She knew her plan worked when she watched Leona’s glare become directed at her in his confusion, his free hand coming up to wrap around her wrist to pull it off.

“Leona Kingscholar,” Yuu started, before he was able to rip her hands away, “I have a spine. I have a brain that is not peanut-sized, and it’s telling me that you are blaming yourself that has nothing to do with you.” His eyes narrowed, and she caught the gleam of his fangs when he started to open his mouth, no doubt about to challenge her. “Maybe I wasn’t using it for a moment back there, or back then, but I am using it now. I’m listening to you.”

“You call this listening to me?” he huffed, not convinced in the slightest. “Maybe I was wrong when I told you that. It doesn’t seem like you have any wits sometimes, when you go and make deals with swindlers that get you nothing. Or when you go an’ charge forward to your death when you have no magic to arm yourself with.”

She knew he was trying to hurt her. But even so, she felt his claws scratch her, making something angry bubble up inside her. “Why do you care?” she asked, feeling her own small growl whisper in her voice.

“Because I do,” he hissed, his grip on her wrist tightening. Yuu instantly stilled at the way his eyes flickered, raging like a wild beast. “You went and made things my problem when I didn’t ask. Now this is your problem, herbivore. Hope you’re happy.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, glaring daggers into the other’s eyes with angry snarls draining their lungs of air. Leona was furious. Yuu just didn’t know who he was raging at, between himself and her and a myriad of other people and things it could possibly be. With the abundance of choices he had, she hoped it wasn’t the way he felt about her. Especially when she decided, in her exasperation between how Leona was like this and how the daggers she shot at him were all but dull, it was a smart idea to lean down when his chest swelled with an inhale, no doubt about to continue with another sharp comment. And she gently pressed her lips to his, trying to take the sharpness out of him, too.

Leona bristled, that hold he had around her wrist tightening still until it was almost painful. And for a split second, Yuu wondered if she had just gone too far, and that she had taken everything completely wrong. Maybe she’d be mauled that night in her own dorm, and not in Leona’s room like she’d thought she’d be. Maybe there was the faintest of hopes for her to keep her life, as she started to pull away in order to spew out a sling of apologies at her idiocracy. But then the fist gripping her shirt tugged her right back, practically sending her into Leona’s lap from his strength.

His lips were surprisingly soft, Yuu found herself realizing, as the hand around her wrist came down to hold her waist equally gently in the closest thing to an apology she’d get. It was a dizzying contrast from how rough his voice had been before, as the scent of sun and dust and the faint hint of acacia swirled around her. He kissed her like he was starved, and she’d offered him the first real taste of food he’d had in years. It was all she could do to match him, to tell him all the things she’d wanted to without using words she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to find.

Yuu didn’t know if she even remembered what breathing was as time seemed to stop. The only thing reminding her that she was alive and not just feeling everything Leona gave her was the rapid beating of her heart, which almost threatened to shatter her with how strongly it thudded in her chest. It finally came back to her when her lungs finally burned too hot for her to ignore, making her pull away despite how she longed to burn to ash with him. Maybe he felt the same way, Yuu realized, as she took in how his chest heaved and how he looked at her with eyes so beautiful she thought she might die anyway.

“Maybe I am stupid,” she muttered, finding that she still kept some of the hiss in her voice from before. Yuu found that she didn’t particularly care, especially when the housewarden had the audacity to glare at her again.

“The only way you’re stupid is annoyingly persistent,” Leona growled, before he kissed her again. He was gentler this time, reassured that she cared for him the same way he did for her after she'd kissed him. As if she couldn’t, when she had been hoping that somehow, someway, she could get just a bit lucky for once. She most certainly had, if she was able to be like this tonight, and to have spent the past three nights with him.

It was only after they’d broken apart for the second time that Yuu realized what she’d done. She covers her mouth to make Leona give her a strange look. “I just kissed a prince,” she blurted, almost feeling like she wanted to die when the shock hit her like a wave. She’d probably just crossed so many lines and made so many mistakes in etiquette that it could be a national scandal. Yuu almost wanted to kiss him again, just to get back that feeling of the world disappearing so she didn’t have to face it.

Leona laughed then, the sound filling her ears and making her heartbeat quicken. She adored his laugh, she realized, making her skin turn even redder than it already was after the way he’d taken her breath three times now with that. “You got kissed by one too,” he reminded. Yuu found that she had to hide the entirety of her flustered face, a little too nervous to take on even the room they were in. Leona chuckled, before she felt hands coming up to gently lift hers away. “Don’t go hidin’ on me now, herbivore.”

She forced herself to calm down when Leona let his forehead fall against hers, letting her fingers intertwine with his. This was the most relaxed she’d felt in a long time, between her deal and her homework and all the little worries rooming with Leona had given her. At least those had been for nothing, she mused to herself, finding she couldn’t help but smile at the way his tail had curled around her leg at some point.

But then of course she had to think of something else, to make her stomach knot and unease seep back into her. Leona seemed to know, by the way his nearly-closed eyes opened again. “Is this really okay?” she asked. “You’re a prince. I’m— I don’t have magic whatsoever. I’m not even sure if I have a legal presence here.”

“Who cares. I don’t.” Leona made her anxious huff turn into more of a squeak when he brought one of her hands to his lips, keeping his eyes locked with hers all the while. “The one good thing being second-born’s given me is the freedom to choose. I choose you,” he promised, smiling at the way that made her blush. “I’m also choosin’ to sleep here tonight. Hope you don’t mind, after I so kindly gave you my room for the past three nights.”

Yuu couldn’t help but scoff in a laugh at the way Leona added that, already yawning as though he could doze off in a matter of seconds. “Out here? This couch isn’t as comfortable as yours to sleep on, unfortunately.”

Leona gave her a look like she was the most deranged person to grace Twisted Wonderland. Maybe she was, she thought with a level of satisfaction she certainly shouldn’t have. She had just kissed a prince. “You have a bed. It works just fine, far as I’ve heard.”

“But Grim’s already there.”

“We can move ‘em.”

She huffed, bringing her hands back up to cup his face in disbelief. “You have to play nice with him,” Yuu told him, even though her feigned sternness was completely forgotten when she watched the way Leona nuzzled into her touch. He looked up at her with half-lidded eyes that were no doubt meant to dissuade her, but she kept firm. “We’re a package deal.”

“Fine. But he’s takin’ up your space, not mine.” Yuu laughed as she nodded, knowing that was probably the closest thing she’d get to him agreeing. “Do I get to sleep now?” Leona asked dully, making Yuu hum as she kissed his brow.

“I suppose, Your Majesty.”

“Good.” Yuu almost yelped as Leona surged up, holding her in his arms as though she weighed the same as a feather instead of letting her drop on the ground. He must have noticed the way she was staring at him, because he smirked while he started towards the stairs. “Maybe I’ll make you sing me a lullaby, since you were so willin’ to last night.”

Yuu almost frowned at him, but then she grinned, making Leona falter just for a moment. “Only if Grim can join me,” she chimed, wrapping her arms around his neck playfully. “I know just the song to sing with him.”

Leona huffed, his ears flattening as he no doubt remembered the wonderful performance they’d given him last night. “Maybe I’ll just drop you instead.”

Her grip on him got tighter in response, just in case he decided he really would. “Don’t you dare,” she warned, only met with an amused hum in response. “You’re evil.”

“Yet you still kissed me. Makes a guy wonder about your taste in people.” Leona’s eyes glinted as Yuu made a flustered noise, hiding her face in his chest. “I’m your problem now, herbivore. Hope you’re ready for what that means.”

#ooh leona wants to kiss yuu so bad he looks stupid rn #thanks sm for reading! i hope you enjoyed <3 #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #leona kingscholar #yuu #twst yuu #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x yuu #three nights remain #cloudedgalaxies

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httpiastri · 3 months

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ARVID TO THE LEAD WHAT THE ??? I DONT CARE THAT HE LOST IT INSTANTLY, ARVID HAS LED A F3 RACE !!!! im so proud

omg and before i could finish writing my tags he took the lead again?? and now he’s really there?????????? im-

#now i don’t care if he does crash or something #im so happy and so proud that i don’t care what happens now #arviiiiid #🥺🥺 he’s adapting so well aaaaaa #f3 #formula 3 #formula three #Arvid lindblad #Red Bull juniors #i think i should start adding a tag for the race weekends so it’s not as messy #Bahrain 2024 #that’s good

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goldenhypen · 2 months

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against the wall 𓈒 ݁ ₊

pairing. enhypen ot7 x reader

syn. literally just kisses against the wall with enhypen :’>

genre + warnings. fluff? suggestive? making out,,, literally just making out against a wall help me

wc. 1.9k (0.25k/member average… with jake’s as the exception… as always…)

a/n. help this is the most straightforward and out there and random fic ever help why does the title keep catching me off guard- but the idea of it alone gives me butterflies so maybe reading this will for you too,, enjoy :’>

❤︎ ⎯ lee HEESEUNG…

“careful not to hit your head, beautiful,” he said, catching the wall with his palm as your back hit the flat surface. he let out a tiny chuckle with a smirk that you could barely comprehend because not even a second later, his lips crashed right back onto yours, continuing right where he left off in your little make-out session.

he took the lead, first adjusting to find the best angle, arm leaning over you as his other hand held your jaw, tilting your head for better access. but amidst the passion-filled movements of his lips, he always had a way of keeping you at ease, allowing you to enjoy every second of it.

if it wasn’t for your body being held between his and the wall behind you, you would’ve been swept off your feet a long time ago.

your lips fit against his perfectly like a piece to a puzzle. being alone with him, the room was silent other than the sounds of your heavy breaths and lips repeatedly smashing against one other.

and he continued kissing you until your lips were sore and your heads spun in a drunken daze.

you stared at him as he pulled away, your mind empty as you consumed the sight of him, chest violently rising and falling, his fiery gaze never leaving your lips. and you watched as he dove down for yet another round.

❤︎ ⎯ park JONGSEONG…

as you were getting ready for the day to hang out with one of your friends, your phone lit up with an unexpected message from your boyfriend: hey, love, are you home? i’m outside :)

what was jongseong doing here?

you responded: coming!

running to the door, you opened it expectantly, only to find that your boyfriend wasn’t there. confused, you searched around for a second before your eyes landed on him, leaning on his car parked in front of your house. you smiled and quickly ran over.

“what are you doing here?” you asked excitedly.

“i don’t know,” he paused. “i just missed you.”

he stood up straight, back now off his car as he walked closer to you. so much so, however, that it caused you to back up, bumping straight into the wall of the vehicle.

you gulped. “you could’ve just called me or something.”

your last words nearly got lost in your throat by the way jongseong’s body was now trapping you between him and the car.

he was so close. were his lips always this pretty?

“but calling you wouldn’t allow me to do this…”

with his eyes fastened on your lips, he brought a hand to your chin and immediately pulled you in to meet your lips with his.

your heartbeat quickened at the unannounced gesture, yet you couldn’t help but melt under his touch, kissing him back.

as he placed one hand on the car behind you to lean in closer, the other circled to the side of your face, tilting your head to find that perfect angle.

you don’t know what had gotten into him, but were you complaining? not. at. all.

❤︎ ⎯ sim JAEYUN…

a gasp ran past your lips as jake pushed you against the hallway wall, a look of desire in his eyes, yet he made sure to support you so that you wouldn’t get hurt—the way he was gentle with his hands but sharp like daggers with his eyes.

he pressed an unexpectedly delicate kiss against yours lips, starting out soft but quickly escalating to something much more passionate, taking your breath away within seconds.

he pulled away, both of you panting as you got lost in each others’ eyes.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” jake whispered as his thumb caressed your cheekbone, finding himself unable to pull away from your loving stare. he smiled, wondering how he managed to ever get this lucky.

you chuckled. “yes, you tell me that every day.”

he let out a small and breathy laugh before calming into a soft smile. “yeah.”

eventually, and using all his willpower, he teared his eyes away, only to examine the rest of your facial features, and with every passing second—every inch of skin his eyes ran over—the beating of his heart grew more apparent to his ear drums. and his immense love for you broke down every bit and piece of strength he had in his soul, and he couldn’t help it. he just had to kiss you again.

and that’s exactly what he did, and it took only mere milliseconds before his lips found their way back home to yours, right where they belonged.

you smiled into the kiss, secretly wanting and waiting for this moment just as much as he had been. you savoured every second of it.

yet no amount of time could have felt long enough for the two of you. he could kiss you for 12 hours straight, and you’d still instantly miss the feeling of his lips on yours.

so when he pulled away, it left you hungry for more.

“don’t stop,” you quickly let out before immediately pulling him by the collar and bringing his lips to yours, so soft and sweet.

❤︎ ⎯ park SUNGHOON…

closed eyes, shared breaths and lips moving in sync against one another, you felt the delicacy of sunghoon’s fingertips brushing along the front of your jaw, finding their way to the back to cup the side of your head. this slow and soft movement shot shivers down every part of your body, causing your heartbeat to race faster than ever.

your back was pressed flush onto the wall of your room as sunghoon’s body was to yours before he pulled away ever so slightly to readjust and tilt his head in a way to get better access, returning just as quick as he was to leave.

the taste of coffee and creamy chocolate from the tiramisu you shared at the restaurant earlier lingered on his lips, and you were enjoying every bit of it.

mouths still moving with one another, you ran your hands up his chest, but your limbs grew weak with every kiss, your fingers barely gripping the fabric of his dress shirt hanging over his shoulders.

you felt his other hand pressed into your waist somehow gently firm, using his grip to pull you impossibly closer.

when he separated his lips from yours, eyes glued to your mouth, he whispered as you took his breath away—figuratively and literally—“you don’t understand how much i love you.”

“no?” you asked innocently.

all he did was stare at you in response, you wouldn’t be surprised if this was him zoning out, mind only occupied with having his lips back on yours.

you whispered, “then show me, hoon.”

and those four words were all it took for the switch inside of him to flick, and in an instant, his lips were back on yours, the way they were meant to be.

❤︎ ⎯ kim SUNOO…

“hey, let’s try this trend i found,” your boyfriend said as he approached you, who was conveniently already leaning against the wall. “put your hands together for a sec.”

“hm?” you hummed, confused, but proceeded to follow along anyways. you clasped your hands together. “like this?”

sunoo nodded, satisfied.

“now wha—”

leaving you no time to process, immediately, your own intertwined hands were lifted up above your head at the same time your boyfriend pressed his lips against yours in what was easily the hottest kiss he had given you yet.

but he pulled away sooner than you would’ve liked, separating from you far enough to put your hands gently back down, but unable to let one of your hands go from his.

you pouted. and suddenly reality came crashing onto you and your face grew warm.

“w-what was that for?” you asked, with a shy smile, your voice weak.

“i thought the trend would be fun to do with you.”

“are you saying it wasn’t what you expected?” you asked, disappointment laced in your voice.

he paused. “oh, it was beyond what i expected.”

“so you liked it?”

he didn’t answer, and just gave you a smirk in response instead.

“then do it again,” you said.

and without a moment to spare, he quickly dove in for another kiss, bringing his hand interlaced with yours back up beside your head, body leaning into yours to get impossibly closer.

silly trend.

❤︎ ⎯ yang JUNGWON…

“hi, baby,” jungwon said as he watched you walk through the door, returning home, “i missed you.”

you let out a small laugh. “it’s only been an hour.”

“an hour too long,” he added as he made his way to you, his arms open before you found your way into them, realizing how much you had been craving his embrace all day.

he pulled away slightly, causing you to look into his eyes filled with a glint of desire you had never seen before.

“w—” and before you could barely make out a sound, he had already brought his lips to yours in the softest kiss he had ever given you.

it was a long kiss that started out slow but quickly grew faster and harder—much more passionate and fiery than earlier. before you knew it, your back was against the wall, his body pressed against yours, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

but after a few seconds, he pulled back, hands dropping to your waist as he cleared his throat with a look of guilt overcoming his features. “sorry, i—”

“won—” you started, “don’t stop.”

his face washed over with relief and he smiled before taking your face into the palms of his hands and kissed you again.

❤︎ ⎯ nishimura RIKI…

“you liked that, didn’t you?” riki asked you teasingly, his forehead pressed against your own—funnily, kind of like how your back was to the wall at the moment.

your recollection of how you two got yourselves into this position was blurry. the countless kisses he had already given you left you in a trance. all you knew was that you craved for more.

his eyes followed his fingers as they brushed your jaw, leading their way to your chin, before his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

you grew weaker with every touch of his skin to yours. why was he teasing you like this?!

“riki, just kiss me already.”

you would’ve said those words sooner if you had known that was all it would take for him to return his lips back to yours. in an instant, he was kissing you again, this time deeper and more passionate. it had a fire to it—or maybe that was the effect he had on you whenever he would treat you this way, causing a heat to rise and warm your face.

he rarely acted this way out in public—always feeling more comfortable showing you love alone in a more intimate matter.

but even so, rarely did it ever evolve into something like this: your body pushed against the wall of your home, his body pressed right into yours, missing your touch after a long and busy week for both of you.

but if it meant having to survive the toughest of days just to be with him, you’d live through them over and over again, because moments like this—time with him—made it all worth it.

with one last kiss, he pulled away ever so slightly, lips swollen and eyes in a daze as he whispered, nearly breathless, “we should do this more often.”

a/n. idk what’s up with my writing style lately but here you go :D hope you enjoyed :> i don’t write like this often so lmk what you think? :’>

m.list | taglist form

taglist. @seroriis @raimbows4u @beibybtch @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @ajayke-reads @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @pshchives @sunjakes @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @potato0579 @koishua @4ri-ki @sunoksunny @kookielover29 @jaeyunjakesim @whoschr @enaus @hoes4hoseok @1unxtic @palajae @clarakyunisageek @annoyingbitch83 @aeriil11 @wonswondrland @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @pistachiophobia @loveforred@svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @majesticallymark @mnsnts

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ywuji · 2 months

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yuuji doesn’t think he buys you things often, but your bed full of stuffed animals says otherwise. (f!reader, plushie humping and them watching u fuuuuck)

often times when he goes out with friends or on missions, yuuji will come back with little trinkets or toys he thought you would like.

he doesn’t listen when you tell him you have nowhere to put them—when he gifts them to you, he’ll just smile his giddiest smile, hoping you’ll forget about that for a moment.

it's funny because he’ll come over to your tiny uni room down the hall from his own, see his gifts taking up the majority of your space that you’re meant to have, and he’ll still have a mind to think of other things he could get you!!

‘the more the merrier!’ is the sentiment of all of his lighthearted protests when you bring it up in conversation—and he’s genuine with that—but there’s also something else.

something about those times when either you or him are away and you’re missing each other, him telling you to call him—voice or video, ‘whichever you prefer, cutie’—and the conversation ending up in him talking you through straddling his favourite stuffie of the day and grinding your sweet little wet cunnie on it.

"does he feel good, sweetie? …yeah. y'sound so pretty... mhmm, sound so good, my love. keep going, baby."

"nonono, you’re doing great, honey. i know you’re tired, but it’ll be over soon, yeah? just a little more and you can cum… yeeaahh that’s it, princess, doing so well f’me."

"f-fuck… l-look so cute, baby… can you see? ’m leaking so much. …mhm, ‘s all you, pretty girl, ‘s all f’you."

or the other times, when he spends the night at yours, and you touch and you kiss, and the next thing you know is that you’re pushed into the bed, surrounded by your dear stuffies, whining and mewling as yuuji hungrily looms over you, pumping his thick cock into your wet, messy heat.

“yuuji..! a-ah! ‘s too much, ji—ah!” you whimper, voice struggling to come out of your throat every time he pushes into you. he knew from your previous three orgasms he gave that you're reaching your limit, and he’d pull away if he knew you wanted him to, but the way you’re grasping at his toned back, his beautiful neck, and his tousled hair, pulling him closer, deeper into you—he knows you can take it.

“pussy so fuckin’ good, princess… l-love it so much—f-fuck! s-so good for me, baby,” he caresses your precious head, brushing hair out your face and staring right into your eyes as he pushes himself in further into you. the waft of his breath heating your cheeks as he praises you, “suckin’ me in s-so—fuck—tight…“

“‘m close, ji! s-so good! ohmygod…!” you grip onto him impossibly tight, fingers digging into his thick, muscular shoulders.

“h-haah—y-yeah? me t-too... where can i cum, baby?” he pants, his whimpers that you love so much becoming louder.

“inside! insideinside! please inside! pleaseplease—please!” you choke out. you don’t have to wait a moment longer before he’s pounding into you like your lives depend on it, fat cock drilling you at an angle, stretching you out and hitting all those right spots only he can reach.

“c-cumming…! ‘m cu—!“ his lips crash into yours, swallowing your sweet sounds as you cum and cream around his cock, legs wrapping tightly around him feeling ropes of his thick, hot cum spurting into you as you both shake and tremble from your orgasms.

he lowers the rest of his body onto you, being careful not to crush you. his face burying itself in the crook of your neck, whispering little praises and tender words of affection. ‘love you so so much, baby’, ‘did so well for me, pretty’, ‘look so beautiful when you cum’. with his sweaty front now pressed to yours, he lays still. warming his cock inside your cunt to let the both of you ride out your blissful highs.

his head comes up to look into your dazed eyes as you gently cup his hot cheeks. he smiles and chuckles breathily, littering quick kisses from your lips to your chest, licking and sucking cheekily at your nipples, leaving a few lovebites on your breasts.

moving to sit up on his knees, he looks down at where the two of you connect, softly rocking his hips and moving circles over your sensitive clit, watching the sticky white ring of your mixed orgasms coat his cock with each slow thrust.

you whine and hold out shaky fingertips to his hips. he grins, pulling his cock out painstakingly slow, watching his cum leak out of you, collecting it up with his fat cockhead, and pushing it back into you with one last gentle thurst.

“yuuji...” you mewl out with a small pout on your face.

“yeah, honey?” he looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“...they were watching the whole time.” you point to the little crowd of plushies who are all faced towards you, an odd feeling washing over you as you realise your shared stuffed ‘children’ witnessed the two of making love right in front of their plastic eyes.

he shrugs nonchalantly, a tired smile on his face “it’s not that bad.” he teases.

“wha-?! what do you mean…?!”

“they’ll just learn a few things,” he smiles playfully at your puzzled expression. “y’know? like how to be in love and… how it feels to know someone truly.” he nods his head and purses his lips as if he's just said something deep.

“you’re so stupid.”

#ywuji #i locked in for this one #or did i #yuuji ban for me until i can write about someone else (maybe) (unconfirmed) (prolly not)#itadori smut #yuuji itadori smut #yuji itadori x reader #itadori headcanons #jjk smut #jjk thirsts #jjk x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x you

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eternally-racing · 4 months

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keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

----

Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent.

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?” Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it.

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit.

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways.

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that.

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl.

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well.

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin. “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?”

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that.

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you.

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both.

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.”

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries.

Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up.

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

---

author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

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pinkie-pop · 6 months

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"Do Paimons Dream of Floating Sheep?"

Mondstadt: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Based on this

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Paimon!Reader, Yandere Genshin Impact, Aether, Albedo, Eula, Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa, Venti

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Being dragged into the world of your favorite video game is hardly your idea of a relaxing Saturday, and being dragged into the world of your favorite game, taking over the role of mascot even less so. Unfortunately, it seems fate has no interest in what you consider to be a normal day, and it will do anything to replace your idea of normal entirely.

Includes: Acrophobia, implied drugging of a drink (Not Reader's),

Note: This work is distinct from the previous two installments in that it does not follow a chronological timeline. Instead, it contains a collection of short stories and interactions.

“Ah, hello there [Name],” Kaeya says, catching you on one of the rare moments you’re alone. “I was just about to get some Sticky Honey Roast, do you want to join? My treat.” He must know it’s your favorite—one of the few things you have in common with the original Paimon—with the way he always seems to use it as an excuse to spend more time with you.

“Um, is that really okay? Aren’t you like, on duty?” Kaeya smiles, pressing a finger to his lips.

“It’ll be our little secret,” he says. You try to smile at him as you think of ways to decline, but a betrayal from your stomach seals your fate. Your blue-haired companion chuckles at the loud grumble from your stomach and beckons you to follow him. ”Sounds like you’re in agreement. Then, let’s head down to Good Hunter,” he says, placing a hand on the small of your back as the two of you walk. It's a little uncomfortable, but you don’t say anything.

Kaeya is difficult to navigate, so you usually avoid him. You think he’s noticed, but he’s yet to say anything about it. Instead, the two of you engage in a silent tug-of-war, with him always trying to pull you in closer and you always trying to break away.

Well, at least the food’s free.

The two of you make your way down to Good Hunter, where you engage in awkward small talk as Kaeya stares you down uncomfortably. You’re about halfway through making some vague remark about the weather when Kaeya lets out something like a contented sigh, stopping you in your tracks.

“This is nice,” says Kaeya, resting his chin on his hand and looking at you with a gaze resembling something like tenderness. “They run me ragged at the Knights of Favonious—seeing you is like a breath of fresh air. I’d better be careful, otherwise I might get swept up in your gaze and forget everything else.”

“Run you ragged? Is Jean really that hard on you?” You say, pointedly ignoring his flirtatious remarks.

“Oh, absolutely,” he says. “Why just the other day, I–” Kaeya pauses, as if sensing something. Slowly, he turns around.

“Go on,” says Jean, standing right behind him. “What happened next, Captain?” She enunciates the title with purpose, clearly angry but still smiling. Kaeya swallows, and gets an earful from Jean. You finish your meal in peace.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Just a little further–!” You say, oustretching your hand and teetering over the edge of the ladder, desperately trying not to look down. Lisa had asked you to help her with some menial tasks at the library. Right now, you're reshelving books as Lisa holds the ladder steady. You could have forgone the ladder and flown up to the shelves yourself, but after last time…you shudder. No, it’s much easier to use the ladder instead, although, really, you’d rather not be up here at all. Lisa had practically begged you to go up, citing her bad back as to why she couldn’t do it herself. “Ah, got it!” you say, smiling victoriously. You grin down at Lisa, only to realize just how high up you are.

Like waves crashing against the sand, the floor below you shifts and swirls as you fight to stay afloat. It is a meaningless fight, you know, for you are already falling. Time seems to slow down as you plummet to the floor. Logically, you know your fall should only take but a few seconds, but to you, it seems to stretch out for an eternity.

Your life flashes before your eyes. You see your family smiling at you from beyond a white light, you reach towards it, but there’s nothing there. You could save yourself by flying, but you’ve already vowed to never take to the skies again, and so down you fall. Falling is not all that dissimilar to flying, you see. It’s merely a matter of perspective.

Surely you must be close to the ground by now? It feels as though you’ve been plummeting down for ages.

You keep falling. Then, you stop.

Lisa catches you, her face mere cetemeters from yours. “I take it this means you’ve fallen for me?” She teases as your face heats up. You try to tell her to put you down, to ask about her back, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you lay there in her arms, gaping at her as if she had just grown three heads. Finally, she puts you down. You aren’t sure how long she kept you there, but you have a feeling it was longer than it needed to be.

The two of you finish shelving the books in silence, Lisa smiling the whole time.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Hey, Aether?” Your companion looks up at you in curiosity. You take a breath. ”If…we’re travelers, then, does that mean we don’t have a place to call home? What happens when our journey ends?” You look down, running a finger across the crescent scar on your hand—a nervous habit you picked up after coming to this world.

You had been thinking about this for a while. Ever since you fell into the lake three weeks ago. You have a home, but it's not here.

“Home, huh..?” Aether seems to be pondering over your question sincerely. No matter how silly or inconsequential your thoughts were, he always took you seriously. You liked that about him. “Home is wherever the three of us are,” he says at last. You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It was sweet of him to say that, but he’s only known you for a few months.

You open your mouth to speak, but Aether cuts you off before you get the chance to. “I mean it, you know. Even if you don’t believe it. I don’t care how long we’ve known each other. You found me when I was at my lowest, when I was lost and missing the only family I’d ever known. You picked me back up and taught me about this world, even though it was foreign to you, too. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” Your face grows hot as you turn away.

You aren’t an idiot. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only thing in the whole world. But…perhaps because you didn’t want to hurt him, you always ignored the signs, no matter how obvious they may be.

You aren’t sure if you can ignore this one, though.

“I can’t stay.” How can you say that? You can’t. You have a home, but Aether isn’t a part of it. One day you’ll tell him.

Just not today.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Position your feet like this, then…” Eula stands behind you, her front nearly touching your back as she guides your arms into the proper positions. She’s close, nearly too close, and you can feel her hot breath on the nape of your neck as she instructs you. It’s hard to focus, but you do your best to follow her instructions. “Good. Now, from the top.” You do as she says and get back into starting position. Your feet start a shoulder widths apart, your hands above you, good, you’re starting off stopping. Next, move your hands like this and your feet like so.

Keep going, now. You’ve almost done it. Move slowly, don’t rush. Remember to breathe. You hold your current pose for three beats then slowly, carefully, move on to the next position. You drag the tip of your foot across the floor in a circular motion, then join it with your other one. You’re almost done now. It’s time for the finale.

Careful now, it’s the final stretch. Almost there, almost there—

You trip.

Internally cursing at your mistake, you hardly notice the way Eula’s arms swiftly wrap around you, keeping you from harm.

“You did well,” she says, walking towards the gramophone and taking out the record. She readies the song to play again, then steps back towards you. You never noticed it before, but even the way she walks is as elegant as a dance. You suppose that’s one perk of nobility.

“Thank you…”

“Now, let’s try again, shall we? Don’t worry, I’ll spot you. Just focus on dancing.”

•~•~•~•~•~•

Aether fell asleep.

It was still early, but the day was not particularly kind to him. You suppose it’s natural for him to be a bit tired. Still, to fall asleep in the middle of a bar was…

Diluc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“If Aether’s too tired to walk back, there’s a spare room here that you can use. I doubt you’ll be able to carry him,” he says, wiping a glass. He’s been wiping the same glass for several minutes now…almost as if he were waiting for something...Or maybe he just switched them out when you weren’t looking. The glasses all look the same, after all.“Of course, if you’re worried about the comfort of such a room, I can always carry him back to my manor. You can stay in one of the spare rooms, too. I’ll let the maids know not to disturb the two of you.”

“Thank you,” you say. “But that shouldn’t be necessary. Aether’s a pretty light sleeper, I’m sure I can wake him, no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Diluc glances over at you. “He looks pretty out of it.” You try jostling him, only for there to be no response. You continue trying on and off for the rest of the night. It is only until the tavern is minutes away from closing that you finally accept Diluc’s offer. You hadn’t wanted to burden him, but he was right. You couldn’t carry him all by yourself. You follow Diluc back to his manor. He seems uncharacteristically pleased.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dragonspine is cold.

You knew that, of course, but you had no ideea just how cold it really was. The game’s sheer cold gave you an idea, sure, but it left out just how biting the wind could be. A simple frost filter overlaid on top of gameplay could to nothing to convey just how freezing the place really was. Even now, bundled up in three layers of coat and standing next to a fire, the cold still found its way to creep past your defences, starting at your skin and seeping down into your bone.

You are cold. Freezing, even. To an almost literal degree. You think that if you were to start crying now, your tears woud freeze before they even left your eyes. Perhaps your eyelids would freeze shut, and perhaps you would never be able to open them again. It’s so cold that you wonder if you’ll ever feel warmth again. You wonder if such a thing is even possible.

You know these musings are silly, but alas, you cannot help them. It is far too cold to be thinking of anything else.

“Come here,” Albedo says, beckoning you over. You do so without thinking, though the chill makes you want to stay put. Albedo wraps a blanket around the two of you, then pulls you into his chest. You relax into him immediately, the warmth from his body overtaking you, fighting valiantly against the frigid air. For once, it seems to actually have a chance.

You snuggle in closer and Albedo wraps an arm around you, bringing you somehow closer than before as he rubs small circles into your back. It’s soothing. You sigh happily, too focused on the temperature to notice the possessive way he’s looking at you, too preoccupied to wonder why he doesn’t turn on the heater you saw hours ago.

You didn’t know it was possible for people to be this warm. Perhaps it is because Albedo is not a person at all. Albedo holds you as if you are his only lifeline, and, for a second, you find yourself wondering if he’s cold as well. Right, Albedo doesn’t get cold. He can’t.

So then, why is he holding you so tightly…?

•~•~•~•~•~•

There’s something almost hypnotic about his voice, or perhaps its about the way he strums his lyre. Is it because he’s a god? Or perhaps it’s simply a millenia of experience at play. Perhaps it is both. Perhaps neither. You don’t dwell on it. You’d miss the performance if you did, and what a shame that would be.

The two of you sit together, alone in the dead of night with only each other for company. You sat at the foot of the large statue in the middle of the city as he serenaded you. Perhaps it was a little egotistical of him, to sing for you under a statue of himself, but you are far too preoccupied in song to care.

The moon’s milky glow illuminates his face in a way that is almost ethereal. At times, you have found yourself wondering if Venti was truly a god fit of the title. It is only now, in times like this, that the truth of his divinity is realized. Words fall like honey from his lips as he sings, his nimble fingers plucking at the strings with precision and expertise. His skill is unmatched—not just in Mondstadt, but in the whole of Teyvat. Of this, you are certain.

The song comes to its end, and so too does your rendezvous.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You close the Archive.

“So that’s what the future has in store for me, huh?”

Taglist: @shadowkitty-me @probablynoposts @kissyhalik @persephone-kore-law @neverending-animelove @crxscnt @teravolting @resident-cryptid @esthelily @shellofthewall @dilucragnidvr @altheq0 @wegottastayfocus @jellothefool @c0l1fl0r @francisnyx @imma-just-chill @fantasyhopperhea @iamapotatoe @utahimechan @undecidingfate @saltystudentdefender @vee-love @ayameei @shadowkitty-me @fantasyhopperhea @c4xcocoa

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere diluc #diluc ragnvindr #yandere kaeya #yandere albedo #yandere aether #yandere lisa #yandere venti #yandere x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin

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ynscrazylife · 3 months

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tf141 finds a fallen goddess (tf141 x goddess!reader hcs, can be read as romantic or platonic)

Task Force 141 first finds you lying in the grass, the dirt, the mud in a small clearing while they were scouring the area on a mission. It’s safe to say that all four of them are perplexed to find a civilian here, and even more confused as they take in your fancy jewelry and lavish dress.

As soon as they see you, they all feel a shift in the air, like some aura . . . But they don’t know what it is.

Price is the one who makes the first move, though Gaz, Ghost, and Soap keep their weapons trained on you. He wakes you up, demands to know who you are and why you’re here.

You huff and tell him you fell. He asks from where, a goddamn tree? You point up to the sky.

They’re speechless and unconvinced, and you’re forced to explain that you are a goddess. You even demonstrate your abilities and, upon seeing that and feeling the aura . . . It’s impossible to deny. Many people believe in Gods, TF141 is somewhat knowledgeable about mythology, but it’s still a shock.

It takes a good few minutes of seeing your abilities and hearing your story for Gaz, Ghost, and Soap to stand down. Once they get over being stunned, they’re taken by your beauty and your kindness, and ask how you ended up crashed onto the ground.

“I fell,” you say and try to sit up. To your shock, you are met with something that you‘ve never faced before: pain. Weakness. Gaz moves to help and you allow him to sit you up and support you.

“Ye got anywhere to go?” Ghost asks, thinking that you’ll travel back to the sky or wherever you came from.

But you shake your head. Soap and Ghost look to their Captain and he makes the decision, offering you to come with them. For now.

It’s not much of a choice, so you accept and, held up by Gaz and Soap, go back to their base.

As much as they’re captivated by you, you’re also captivated by them. Ghost has you quite curious with how he wears a mask and none of the others do. You open up about being a Goddess and your culture, your life. They try not to be fascinated, but they are, and endless questions follow. You answer as many as you can, honest but careful.

They tell you more about themselves, too, explaining their duty in the military. They tell you what’s not classified. You haven’t talked to any mortals as much as this and you find yourself asking them questions as well.

There’s not much for you to do except to rest, but the team keeps you company. You even manage to crack Ghost’s tough exterior — eventually.

Price definitely does some research on you, what you have power over, your mythology. He likes you — it’s hard not to — but you’re still a stranger. A divine stranger.

Soap loves to talk. And flirt. He has fun, flirting with a Goddess. It’s definitely an ego boost for him.

Your sweet talking almost has Ghost taking his mask off, until he resists at the last second. “Sneaky lass,” he’ll say.

Gaz is definitely the friendliest. He’s the first of the group to fully put his trust in you.

Price feels guilty keeping a secret from Laswell, but he knows he mustn’t reveal your identity. He doubts she would believe him, anyway.

When the team sees you use your powers for the first time, any doubt they had about you went away. You were breathtaking. Watching you work so effortlessly was a beautiful sight.

After a few days, you feel secure enough to tell them what happened. You explain that you didn’t fall, you were pushed. By another God.

Even though they know how powerful you are, they’re still enraged.

“Pushed from that height???”

They’re protective over you. They treat you deserve to be treated by a Princess. Seeing that the Gods up there have failed to do that, they take it upon themselves.

You decide to stay with them for the time being. There’s not much you can do to help them out, but you try. They teach you about the mortal world and show you care and tenderness that you could hardly believe from four military men.

And, eventually, you do get Ghost to take his mask off.

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freedomfireflies · 9 months

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Take Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where you and your best friend, Harry, decide to move in together.

And christen every inch of the new apartment.

Word Count: 4.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Harry, you can’t be serious—”

“I am. Sit.”

With a huff, you step closer to where he’s lying on the floor, those beautiful, big green eyes peering up at you. “We have a ton of work to do, okay? And the movers will be here any minute—”

“Don’t care.” He shifts a bit, back arching from the carpet as he smooths his shirt down, getting ready. “Sit.”

Your hands find your hips and you toss him an amused frown. “Harry—”

He grabs your ankles. Tugs until you lose your balance and go crashing to the ground. And he catches you, palms on your waist to make sure you’re steady before sliding them down to your thighs.

“Harry—”

“Shh. I’m busy.”

He pulls you to his face, fingers slipping around the crotch of your large cotton shorts until he can pull them aside. He smirks when he sees there’s nothing else underneath.

“Well, well, well,” he tsks, and you could smack the dimples off his face. “Seems you forgot something.”

You snort. “All of my underwear is packed, okay—”

“Sure.” He grins. “Yeah, no, I’m sure that’s it. I’m sure you definitely didn’t think to leave any out for today. Especially since we’re doing so much packing. And moving. And running around.”

Your expression gives you away. As does the subtle whine that rips free when he lets the tip of his nose ghost across the tender skin of your leg. “Harry…we can’t—”

“We can.” His voice is resolute as he trails his lips closer to your cunt. Tongue licking his bottom lip in anticipation. “This is our place, baby. We can do whatever we fucking want.”

Our place. It makes your heart as warm as your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile.

It’d taken a bit of convincing from Harry to get you to move in with him. But after some extensive apartment hunting, you both found the place you wanted to call home.

And now, here you are, in your new home. Surrounded by boxes and somewhat empty rooms as Harry insists on christening this new adventure with you by having you sit on his face.

In fact, you’d no sooner walked through the door and set some of your stuff down before he suggested it.

And proceeded to throw himself onto the ground in wait.

“Harry,” you try again. A desperate whimper that seems to urge him on.

“Darling,” he retorts, fingers curling around your skin as he plants you above his mouth. “Just let me have a taste, hm? Wanna remember today like this.”

And you’re barely able to reply with a fatigued nod before he yanks you down and sucks you between his lips.

He starts fast. Quick licks to your folds and clit. Just enjoying you. Enjoying how easily you fall apart. Your hands in his hair, scratching and pulling. The pain.

He loves the pain.

Teasing you is far too easy. Circling your hole, feeling you out, flicking the delicate nerves. But the sounds of his lapping at you like a dying man with a drink of fresh water is excruciating.

It echoes around the empty room and it’s so very loud. But it’s everything. And he’s beautiful. And he’s doing this to you purely for his own enjoyment. He loves to taste you. Loves to make you squirm on his face as you plead with him for mercy.

Everything is wet. So goddamn wet. Your pussy, his mouth, his face. He's not trying to remain poised. Not trying to keep clean. He wants all of it. Wants to share his saliva with your already soaked pussy and drink you down until there's nothing left. Let his tongue slip in, out, and through you until you can't breathe. Until he can't breathe.

His hand suddenly smacks your thigh. Once. Twice. Three times, and the sting makes you clench around the little bit of his tongue he’s taunting you with.

He grins. “Keep going, baby. Ride my tongue. Go.”

So, you do. Hands finding the floor beside his head as you roll your hips over his face. Over and over until you feel dizzy. Until his hold on your body is the only thing keeping you upright.

It’s sinfully sweet, but before you can really lose yourself in his lips, you hear the giant moving truck parking down below. Hear the men opening the large door as they begin unloading your furniture and carrying it inside.

However, Harry doesn’t seem to be stopping, and the idea that these men will hear you as they approach is mortifying. But just when you think it’s game over, he nips your clit with his teeth and pulls.

Dazed, you smack your palm over your mouth and cry out, the orgasm ripping through you. You feel weak, nearly wilting in his hold as he struggles to keep you up right. Smirking with endless amounts of satisfaction as your thighs squeeze his head.

The moment you’ve caught your breath, there’s a knock on the door, and Harry chuckles as he calls, “Just a minute.”

He gently pinches your leg and readjusts your shorts before he’s dragging you down for a kiss. Palm around the back of your neck as he slips his tongue in beside yours. Allowing you a taste and then some.

And you whimper through every second of it before he’s suddenly popping off your mouth with a gleeful hum and jumping onto his feet to answer the door.

Leaving you to sit on the apartment floor with your heart in your throat.

“Bee, shit…fuck, I can’t…I can’t—”

“You can. Know you can, baby. M’so close…just hold on a little longer for me, okay?”

Harry’s eyes roll back while his arms tug on the heavy rope keeping him tied to the headboard.

His expression is pained but blissfully fucked. Sweat collecting in his hairline as his swollen lips part for a desperate groan.

You figured this was the best way to break in the new bedding you’d purchased for the room. The beautiful king-sized mattress with a sturdy headboard.

And after seeing him flop down onto the freshly washed duvet, you knew what you wanted to christen next.

So, you’d grabbed the restraints and wrestled his wrists to the bars. Keeping him stuck as you begin yanking his pants down his legs.

He was intrigued, to say the least. And more than willing to put the control in your hands once you grabbed the cock ring.

But he had no idea what you really had in store.

“Bee,” he tries again, gasping the closer he gets to his orgasm. Watching as your tits bounce directly in his face. “Bee, please…please, lovie—”

“I know,” you coo, one hand scratching down his chest while the other squeezes your nipple between determined fingers. “Soon, I promise. Doing so fucking good—”

“Shit.” His head drops back as his hips buck up. Body wrecked with inescapable pleasure that he can’t seem to find.

You’ve kept him edged for almost an hour now. First by taking him into your mouth and sucking him right to the brink before leaving him there.

Then by fucking yourself with his cock, hard and with fervor only to pop off just when he was about to cum.

And finally, to really make sure he got the most of your torture, you’d slid on the vibrating cock ring, and began bouncing on him again.

He’s felt you cum around him twice already, and each time, it’s nearly killed him. Because it’s brought him that much closer before abandoning him there.

You have to admit, he’s doing incredibly well. Even when he had the chance to cum, he held back as best he could. Obeying your instructions as you got the most of his prolonged erection.

And he loves it. Loves when you use him as your own personal toy. Perhaps even more than you love it.

“Can’t…fuck, can’t hold it,” he pants, eyes pleading with you before he looks down at where your cunt is sliding down his incredibly hard cock. “Shit…shit, please. Bee, please. Do anything…anything, please—”

“Anything?” you hum, biting back a smile as you roll your hips forward just to hear him whimper.

He nods quickly. “Yes, anything. Fucking anything you want, swear…I swear…”

He sounds so depraved like this. A submissive tone of voice that breeds a certain yearning deep in your stomach.

You love this man. Love how beautiful he sounds when he’s begging. Love that you get to live with him and start a new chapter of your lives together.

You’ve never felt so lucky.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur, lifting yourself off as he whines quietly and glances down at the arousal you've left behind on his cock. “M’gonna take the ring off, okay? And I want you to tell me where you wanna cum—”

“In you,” he says before you can even finish the question. “Fucking please, Bee. Please let me cum in you. Please…be so good. Need…need to cum in you.”

You grin. “In me where, hm? You want my throat?”

His head shakes, lips pushed into a pout.

“No?” You slide the toy up the length of him, making him hiss through gritted teeth. “Do you wanna cum in my pussy, then, sweet boy?”

He makes another noise that nearly breaks your heart as you toss the ring to the other side of the bed and return to him. “Yes…shit, yes. Please…please—”

“So pretty when you’re polite, you know that?” you hum, reaching out to cup his cheek.

In turn, he nuzzles into your palm, seeming to settle gratefully. Looking at you like you paint the stars in the sky.

You take hold of him in your other hand and guide him back to your fluttering hole. “Okay, baby. Want you to cum for me, yeah? Give me all of it.”

He steels himself, attempting to straighten up despite the way he’s bound. Placing his feet flat on the mattress while your knees come down beside his hips.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach that inevitable end. Only a few thrusts up into you as you clench around him until he’s finishing. And you don’t even mind because he feels so good. Fucking love the way he spills inside of your cunt. The way it drips back out the minute you lift up. The way it looks, smearing across your thighs and the tip of his cock.

You both moan rather lewdly, surely horrifying your new neighbors, but you don’t mind. Because this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

Everything.

“Har? You awake?”

The perpetually sleepy man hums as he nuzzles his face further into your neck. One arm draped over your stomach while the other is tucked beneath your neck. “Yeah.”

You smirk. “Are you sure? You seem a little out of it. Do you wanna go to bed?”

His head shakes slowly as he takes another deep breath, lashes fluttering against your skin. “No, m’fine. Just comfortable.”

You reach out to brush your fingers through his curls, smiling when you hear him sigh contently. “We can finish the movie another time, H. Come on, let’s go to bed—”

His grip constricts around your hip as he keeps you planted to the sofa. “No,” he repeats, lips disappearing into your shoulder. “No, we spent all day getting the TV and speakers set up. Wanna sit here with you and enjoy it.”

“But you’re not enjoying it. You’re sleeping,” you insist playfully. “We can finish it tomorrow, really—”

“No,” he breathes. Unrelenting. “This couch is really comfy and if you move, I’ll cry.”

You grin a bit bigger. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

The next couple of minutes are quiet. His face is still nestled just beneath your jaw. Happy. But he’s not watching a single thing that’s happening on the screen and you have to bite back a laugh.

You love a lot of things about Harry, but one of them is his inability to admit when he’s tired. He’ll keep himself awake all night before he’ll acknowledge how sleepy he really is. In fact, he could be mid-yawn and still insist he’s fine.

However, just when you think he’s begun to drift off, you feel the hand on your hip smooth down your stomach. Stopping near the band of your sweatpants—almost innocently—before quickly dipping inside.

Warm fingers dance beneath the lace of your underwear until they can find your folds. A mindless action. Stroking softly and without devious intent. Almost as if touching you just to touch you.

You press your cheek into the top of his head. “Whatcha doin’?” you whisper.

“Nothing,” he hums. “S’just comfortable.”

“Touching me is comfortable?”

He nods once and continues gently moving his digits up and down. “I like playing with you. Makes me feel relaxed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Like a stress ball but better.”

You lightly scratch your nails down his scalp. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re soft,” he murmurs, taking a deep, content breath. “Always so soft, Bee. And warm. Have no idea how good you feel.”

“I mean, I have some idea,” you tease. “It’s not like I haven’t touched myself before.”

“Funny.” His movements are lazy. There’s no alternative motive, he simply wants to feel you. “M’very happy.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you glance down. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He rolls his head back to meet your eye. “Wanna warm my fingers in you…can I?”

There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained as you nod and spread your left leg a little further. Allowing him the room he needs while he pulls his hand out and sticks two fingers into his mouth.

He sucks on them slowly, coating them just so before dipping back in and smoothing the soaking digits down to your hole.

You exhale shakily at the feel of him stretching you slowly. The way your body draws him in, bends to his intentions. Clenches around him and keeps him warm.

He makes a satisfied noise of approval before nuzzling his face back into your neck, seemingly oblivious to the way you’re beginning to squirm.

But after a moment, the ache begins to dull. And you feel happy to merely lay with him like this, one of his legs tucked over yours, his fingers sitting deep in your cunt.

It’s serene, this moment. Perfectly blissful and endlessly safe.

Here in his arms.

“Harry…if you don’t stop—”

“What?” His grin is cheeky as he aims the showerhead down at the tile floor, allowing the water to dance down the drain. “M’just helping you get clean.”

“No, you’re being a menace,” you correct with a smirk. “I told you, no funny business—”

“I’m not being funny.” His finger taps along the cord, almost as if readying himself. “I mean, what’s the point of having a handheld showerhead if you don’t use it?”

You can’t argue that he has a point. After all, this was one of the features that drew you to the apartment in the first place, but you also know that he’s deliberately trying to tease you. “Harry, we came in here to shower because we have to leave in thirty minutes—”

“So—”

“So we don’t have time,” you remind him, handing him the loofa. “Okay, so clean yourself off, and we can try it out another time.”

However, he doesn’t accept the sponge, instead stepping even closer to you as the stream of water begins to rise. “That was before I saw how pretty you look…all soaped up and wet.”

You shoot him an amused yet playful frown. “Har…”

“What?” His eyes travel down your dripping torso and toward your cunt, the stream seeming to follow his line of focus. “I’m just helping you rinse off. S’what you wanted, right?”

The warm water feels amazing against your skin, but the pressure feels…

Your lashes flutter as you reach back to press your hands against the shower wall, needing something to brace yourself with as he continues stepping closer. “Harry…”

“What?” he says again, but it’s soft. Dangerous. Keeping the water on your inner thighs before moving up to your clit. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

But you couldn’t tell him even if you wanted to. Because the sensation of the pointed stream hitting you just right is turning your muscles to jello. Your vision is hazy, and your head is spinning, and your body is trembling—

“Har,” you whimper, undone by the look of adoration on his face as he loops an arm around your lower back. Holding you steady as he angles the water a bit lower. “Please…”

“Please what?” His voice is a soft purr. Sexy and silky and you feel powerless to resist him. “What do you want, Bee, hm? Tell Daddy what you want.”

Your head falls back against the tile, needing some stability. You’re too far gone, too lost in his eyes. In his need to unravel you. Legs shaking as the water does everything you need it to.

Slowly, he begins to lower himself into a crouch. Now eye level with your pussy as he readjusts his grip on the showerhead. Studying you with purpose as he works you closer.

“Come on,” he coos, glancing up through wet lashes. “Come on, lovie. Let me take care of you, yeah? Just wanna make you feel good—”

Your fingers reach for his freshly washed curls, tugging hard on the soaked strands as you whine. “Don’t stop.”

He smirks. “Never.”

With that, he lowers the water, and surges forward. Lips wrapping around your clit until you gasp out his name and thrust your hips toward his mouth.

He rotates between using his tongue and the showerhead. Pushing and pulling you toward that sweet release as all other thoughts and cares melt away.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, one hand reaching back to knead your ass in his palm. Practically tugging you down before landing a firm spank to the wet skin.

The sound echoes around the small room, the sharp contact making your pussy clench as you nearly lose your balance.

“That’s my girl.” He massages the flesh before smacking it again, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head. “Gonna cum for me, Bee?”

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you settle into the steam rising around you. “M’so close, Har…please…”

“I know,” he says, dipping down to nudge his nose against your clit. “Can see your pretty little hole fluttering for me. Just so…fucking…empty.”

Two wet fingers slip inside you, and it’s nearly impossible to remain steady with the way he beckons the orgasm out of you.

The pressure of the water against your clit, the fingers in your cunt, the goddamn smirk on his face. It’s everything and everywhere and you lose your grip on reality as you’re dragged through such euphoric harmony.

He rides you through for a couple minutes more before he’s standing back up and pressing his body into yours. Chest to chest, wet and flushed. His lips effortlessly capturing your own as you whimper against his tongue and throw your arms around his neck.

And maybe being late isn’t the worst thing.

Harry is beautiful.

In every way. And it’s not just his face or his body. But his heart. The way he speaks to you. Speaks to others. The way he carries himself, carries you. Protects you, loves you, fights for you.

The way he betters himself for you.

And now, you get to wake up to this man every day. In this beautiful new room with large windows and sunshine and promise. A moment of tranquility reserved just for you as you count the faint freckles across his nose. As you press your finger into the dimple on his cheek. As you study the rogue, messy curls that are matted to his forehead.

You could watch him sleep for hours. Would happily lay beside him until morning turned into afternoon.

But today? You have other plans.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize, eyes shooting open as you take him further down your throat.

He chokes on a strangled breath before glancing down, mouth dropping open with the sound of your name.

You pop off long enough to smile and whisper, “Morning, baby,” before you’re dragging your tongue along his tip.

His head falls back into the fluffy pillows, too heavy to stay upright. Streams of golden light dance through the curtains and hit the side of his face in the most magical way you’ve ever seen. Setting that beautifully structured profile aglow in the warm hue as he sighs gratefully.

Your hands curl around his thighs, squeezing gently as you scoot closer. Getting comfortable while you bob your head up and down the length of him.

His stomach is beautiful. Muscles quivering and skin soft. Littered with a few tattoos. The same tattoos you love to run your hands down. Your lips. Your pussy.

You could stare at him for a lifetime. And your heart feels like it’s going to burst inside your chest as you suck the man you love further into your mouth.

You love waking him up like this. Granted, it’s a rare occurrence, but each time, it’s ceaselessly enchanting.

And it’s another kink the two of you have found you adore. After giving each other consent to use the other’s body as a wake-up call, you found that there was something…safe about the experience. About knowing you trusted each other enough to allow them to decide for you.

It might not happen often, but you’re grateful for the times it does. Like now. When you get to see him look at you with lust and appreciation.

“Bee,” he whispers, reaching out to brush his hand along your head. Cupping it gently and without force. Letting you choose how much of him you want to take. “God, m’so lucky.”

You hum around him, and he groans. “Taste so good, Daddy. Just had to have a taste.”

His thumb brushes along your cheek, feeling the way it swells with his cock. “Can have anything you want, baby girl,” he sighs. “You know that. I’m all yours. Can take whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

You’d smile if you could, instead squeezing his thighs three times to tell him you love him.

“There you go,” he grunts when you lean back to spit on him. “Fucking just like that…shit. So fucking good, baby—”

Your hand works the base of him while your lips and tongue focus on the tip. Spreading the extra lubrication around until the room fills with the sound of your pumps.

His hips are bucking up, but you can tell he’s resisting the urge to drive himself into your mouth. He wants to be gentle for you. Wants you to have the control, but he’s losing the battle quickly.

So, you shoot him a soft grin, and murmur, “Fuck my throat, Daddy. Just wanna feel good for you.”

Which is all he needs to hear in order to weave his fingers through your hair and tug.

“Is that right, hm?” he whispers deviously. “Then be a good girl…and fucking take me.”

So…you do.

The paper towel roll goes flying to the floor, along with a bag of coffee grounds and the mail.

Harry has you bent over the kitchen island, cock deep in your cunt while his hand tugs on your hair.

“That’s a good girl,” he groans, forcing your cheek into the marble. “Fucking take me, Bee. Just like that.”

Your tits are pressed to the cold counter as you whimper something that resembles his name. Followed by a very lascivious moan when he angles his thrusts up.

He’s been insatiable all afternoon. Starting with eating you out at the breakfast table, just to edge you with seconds to spare.

Then, the firm smacks to your ass every time he walked by. Along with sneaking up behind you to scatter hickies along your exposed neck.

And now this.

You’d been unpacking some of the kitchen utensils and newly bought groceries when the idea hit him. Wild eyes watching you closely as you sat atop the island and rummaged through a box.

He’d slipped his way between your dangling legs and began to kiss you. Hand dancing down to your shorts to feel you out. Toying with you until you realized what he really wanted.

Not long after, he had you down on the ground. Your panties shoved around your ankles as he took you from behind.

And you figured unpacking could wait.

“Har,” you whisper now, attempting to meet his rhythm with gentle rolls of your own. “Please…”

“What, baby girl?” he coos, feet kicking your legs further apart. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

And it is. It has been ever since he started eating you out on the newly built table. Warm and deliciously skilled mouth on your cunt as the dishes and plates rattled beside you.

You’d cursed him to hell for stopping before you could finish but you’re more than grateful for his remedy now. Because while his lips and tongue are divine, his cock is what you really crave.

He pulls out and lands a firm spank to your dripping and sensitive cunt. The sensation and the sound nearly making your knees buckle until he has to slip an arm around your stomach and keep you still.

Then, he does it again. And once more for good measure before he’s driving himself back in.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs behind you, his palm still pressed to your head to keep you down. “S’fucking pretty. This sweet little hole just takes me so well, you know that? Gets me all nice and wet. Lets me fuck it the way I want. Fucking begs for me, doesn’t it?”

You nod beneath his hold, nails scraping down the counter in bliss.

“So fucking pretty.” His other hand comes back to your thigh to squeeze it harshly before moving for your ass. Spreading you even further so he can see the way he disappears into you. “God, just like that. So cute when you’re desperate. Know you aren’t gonna last much longer, are you, lovie?”

“No,” you whimper, gasping when his cock brushes the perfect spot. “Shit, no. Can’t…can’t hold it.”

“Then you better fucking ask, hm?” he taunts, quickly yanking on your hair to force you up. “Ask me to cum. Beg me to let you cum on my cock—”

“Please,” you obey without pause. Desolate and deranged. “Please, H, please—”

“Do better,” he hisses, spanking your ass in retaliation. “Know you can do better than that, Bee. So come on, let’s hear it—”

“Daddy, please,” you correct, tears in your eyes as you try to hold back the pleasure threatening to escape. “Please, I’m so close…can’t hold it—”

“No,” he grunts, landing another smack to your skin. “Again.”

You choke on a moan and work to find the right words. Or any words at all. “Please, Daddy. Please let me cum on your cock. Need it so bad, can’t…can’t fucking stand it. Just need you, Daddy. Need you, please…”

You feel him twitch inside you before he’s growling through a clenched jaw and murmuring, “Good fucking girl…go. Right now, Bee. Fucking cum—”

And you do. Only seconds before he inevitably follows, and the overwhelming rush nearly breaks you. The way he spills inside you, the way he holds you upright, the way he presses his fingers to your clit in order to drag you even further.

He ignores your whimpers and cries for mercy, tugging your squirming frame back into his chest until you go quiet. Lips nuzzled to your cheek as he whispers, “There you go, you’re all right. Deep breath, baby. You’re okay, just want one more—”

“Daddy—”

“Shh. Just one more.” His voice is gentle although his touch is anything but. Pressing and rubbing against the overused nerves until you’re actively arching in his hold. “One more, baby girl, you can give me one more. Know you can. Doing so good—”

It doesn’t take long for the second one to find you, and you feel him smile against your jaw as you come down from his fingers.

“There you go,” he praises quietly before taking his hand away and crouching down. The tip of his tongue ghosting up your inner thigh as you sigh.

You feel him smirk.

“Now…let's do something about this mess.”

Next Part:

~ Break Me*

Previous Part:

~ Guide Me*

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

Amazing credit for the beautiful dividers to @firefly-graphics 💞

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream

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starwarsbian · 17 days

Text

stonerboyfriend!anakin <3

this is gonna be smut pls avert your eyes if you’re -18!

enjoy these hot gifs of sam monroe but just.. he is my modern anakin mkay!

your boyfriend, anakin, gets you high in his bedroom and rails you while his halloween party is happening downstairs

3k words and NOT proofread

cw :weed, fingering, oral (f! receiving), spit, shotgunning, intoxicated sex, he fucks u with his rings on, scratching until he bleeds, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kinda

halloween party thrown by ur weirdo emo bf anakin, music is blaring and he has you pulled up against his body: your back against his chest and ass pressing circles against his hips. he sways with you and curses into your neck at the feeling of your hips against his cock..

“fuck.. that’s good. this is so good. you’re perfect. i can’t wait to get you upstairs.”

with that he spins you around and crashes your lips together; teeth almost clashing but it’s mostly just panting in between him languidly.. sucking on your tongue.

it is absolutely intoxicating and ani tastes like weed. you don’t even care that you’re in front of people right now as he grabs your ass.

“come upstairs and smoke with me, baby,” he grins at you and pulls you towards the stairs.

you’re both laughing and excited when you get into his room. the walls are covered in posters and his bed up against the wall isn’t made. other than that it’s not really messy. ani’s bong sits on his night stand and he sits down on the bed.

“wait here, the water is really dirty i don’t want you to have to taste that. deserve better than that,” as he walks to the bathroom.

it’s a nice gesture but really his bong is filthy regardless of any clean water. his grinder is sitting on the table as well, he picks it up and opens it to pack the bowl.

“ah, yes. what a gentlemen.”

“shut up. i didn’t think you’d want to do it? you said it’s annoying before. just shhh, stop being a brat.”

he goes to hand you the bong but you stop him, “will you light it for me, ani?” looking at him with your best doe eyes. it’s far from necessary as you smoke together all the time but it’s intimate and you kind of hope it turns him on more.

he rolls his eyes at you but tells you yes anyway. he lights the bowl for you as you pull smoke into the bong and when he thinks it’s enough for one hit he takes the bowl out; breaking the closed loop of air inside so you can actually inhale it.

he smiles at you as you exhale and cough a few times. he does the same process for himself as you recover.

“you look pretty like this; you really always look pretty when we’re smoking. there’s something about it that’s just hot.”

you take the bong back and look at him confused, even though you know what he means because you could seriously watch him do this all day. the ways his hands look, his mouth pressed against the glass, how he relaxes on his exhales, when he also coughs and looks at you with low glossy eyes.

“yeah, right. don’t make fun of me,” you pout.

“shhh, i’m not. hit this, i’ll light it again for you, pretty girl.”

you do exactly as he says and he brushes your hair behind your ear; making sure it’s not near the flame. you do the normal inhale and exhale, feeling the burning in your throat but nodding to anakin for him to light it for you again; with his right hand.

his left slides up your thigh; you’re sitting criss-cross on his bed even though you’re wearing a skirt. you didn’t even think about it but anakin noticed; seeing just a flash of your panties when you’ve shifted around on the bed. he starts massaging your thigh; gripping and pressing against your skin. you’re smiling as you pass the bong back to him. he takes his hands back and empties the cashed bowl into his ashtray.

“another one, babe?” he asks you.

“yes, actually. if you don’t mind, ani.”

“mmm-mm,” he says shaking his head as he for some reason has the bag of weed in between his teeth. you don’t ask; maybe just think about how you wish it was you he was biting. “i don’t mind.”

the whole process of smoking with ani is always relaxing and repetitive. he really doesn’t make you do anything. if you wanted he’d let you lay in his bed while he does everything but actually breathe. sometimes he’ll do the breathing part too though.

the bowl is packed and he lights it, going to hit it for himself first but instead of actually breathing it into his lungs he holds the smoke he can in his mouth and pulls you towards him. anakin gets his lips so close to yours you might as well be kissing as he holds your cheek and blows the smoke into your mouth. you breathe it all in greedily before kissing him and exhaling from your nose so you hopefully don’t choke. by some miracle you don’t! it goes smoothly and anakin kisses you back until you break the kiss, gasping for air.

his hands are back on your thighs again and he faces you with the biggest smile on his face. “you’re so hot that i can’t even think,” he says.

you giggle and reach for the bong to hit by yourself. he’s moving closer and closer to touching your center but stops to tease and ask for consent.

“i wanna touch you, baby. let me tease you and make you feel good.”

“we’re smoking! wouldn’t want this to go to waste”, you say, teasing him.

“yeah, sure, whatever. let’s smoke more…i love touching you when you’re high and all you can do is babble and whine, anyway. one of my favorite ways to have you.”

you take turns hitting the piece through three more bowls. by the time you’re finished, your throat burns and you’re practically buzzing with excitement for how good this high sex is going to be with anakin. this entire time he’s been playing with your thighs and touching the wet spot in your panties with whatever part of his hand he wants. he tries using his thumb, then his index, then his middle, then both of them; he presses harder or softer depending on what part of smoking you’re on because he really doesn’t want to ruin the mood by making you choke on smoke.

“are you done? i want you on my lap,” he whispers into your ear. sitting the bong down for the last time, you allow him to grab your hips and pull you onto him. he’s laying on his bed with his back up against the headboard. his thumbs press hard into your hips and you moan at the feeling.

anakin presses his lips to yours. they’re soft and warm against yours. you grind your hips down onto his and feel the cold metal of the chain on his jeans against your thigh. his head falls back with his mouth open at the pressure against his cock. he can feel the pooling of precum on his tip already. watching you put your pretty lips on his bong and suck reminded him way too much of how you give him head. he wonders if that just makes him a pervert.

anakin slips his hands under your shirt and reaches up to pinch both of your nipples. you hiss at the sensation and slap his hands away. “too rough, ani. touch me softer there. be rough other places instead.”

“sorry, baby..i just got carried away. i know that’s what you prefer. let me kiss it better. huh?” he asks as he pulls your shirt off. you nod and put your fingers into his hair as he lowers his mouth down to your left nipple. his tongue piercing drags heavy across the area with the metal providing a stark difference in sensation compared to his soft tongue and mouth. he switches to the other, being careful not to neglect either side.

anakin messily drags his tongue up your chest and onto your neck. he latches onto your skin and sucks; ani gives dark hickeys every time even though he says he tries to be gentle. he leaves you covered in blooming blurry bruises from his mouth. he’s using his teeth and Scraping across your flesh. there’s a pinching sensation that’s quickly soothed by his tongue swiping over the spot of irritation. the blood vessels in your breast are below such thin skin that the marks he leaves there would look concerning. those ones come out a pretty purple color with dark shades of red and eventually yellow as they heal. he’s so rough that the marks there always hurt like real bruises the next day. any bruises anakin leaves on you he loves to dig his fingers into the next time he fucks you. maybe that’s why he’s squeezing your hips so hard.

he switched places with you; making you lie on the bed while he kisses and bites his way down your body. he desperately grabs at your body like you’re going to run away from him and you think about it as he sinks his teeth down hard on your hip and then your inner thigh and then the other inner thigh. each time makes you rip on his hair harder trying to get him to let go. he thinks it’s cute but the hair pulling really just makes him want to be even more mean to you.

anakin absolutely adores you but he’s high and he’s horny and wants to make you cry.

with his mouth inches from your clit he pulls your panties to the side and breathes warm air onto your cunt, sending shivers up your spine. “c’mon, anakin. give me your tongue..give me your fingers or your cock just do something i’m right here for you and i need you, god damn it.”

he decides he’s going to make you pay for running your little whore mouth later but for now he takes your panties off. he starts to akes them off really slow and nips behind where the fabric last touched and he taps your hip to tell you to lift up.

you do as he says and he obnoxiously throws them over his shoulder before dropping back down between your thighs.

you’re ridiculously wet but that always happens with anakin. he loves to tease you about it and take time to “clean up his mess” he says. his tongue presses between your folds; warm and wet and soft in a very different way to the way his fingers had been touching you. he spreads you a little to give you open mouthed kisses on your clit before he takes the bud into his mouth and sucks softly.

he closes his eyes and focuses on how you taste, dipping his tongue down to gather your slick. with his lips around your clit, he sucks harder and it makes your hips buck up and your hands pull at his dyed hair.

“fuck, anakin. easy, please?” you ask of him.

he shakes his head from between your thighs and slaps your left one really hard without even thinking about it.

“i’m busy? stop complaining.”

he spits on your pussy before he goes back to sucking and licking everywhere he wants. wet, soft circles are being drawn by him around your clit now while he brings his middle finger to your hole. he does circles around it as he looks up at you for permission.

“yes. yes, please.”

he smiles against your thigh and pushes into you up to last knuckle. you feel what seems like an extra bump around his finger? he’s left his rings on.

“what, baby? is something wrong?”

“it’s just—“ you’re cut off as he presses up into your g-spot.”

“it’s what? use your words.”

“your ring.. you didn’t take it off. you didn’t take any of them off.”

he adds his index finger— with another ring still on it.

“you like it. i can tell that you like it. probably wanted to feel them before this and wouldn’t even tell me,” he says.

it seems they’re just plain bands as there’s no unpleasant scraping and you decide to let him keep going. you’re blushing, though.

“yes, i like it. i’m not objecting, am i?”you say, arching into his hand.

anakin takes to the approach of reaching deep into you and letting the rings be pressing up against the spot you really like. he thinks it’s so hot, seeing you wrap around his fingers. your wetness has his entire hand slick as he speeds up.

“anakin..anakin…oh my god. im close,” you whine.

he immediately removes his fingers and puts them into his mouth to suck them clean. now he removes his rings and leans back down to you, kissing you roughly. he’s using his teeth again, biting and pulling hard on your bottom lip that’s surely swollen by now.

“i want you to cum on my cock, not my fingers. not now at least.”

he shoves you roughly back down on his bed and takes his shirt off revealing his smooth skin and making your heart speed up like usual. crashing his lips into you he grinds himself onto your center, jeans still on.

“anakin,” you whine, “give it to me. i’ve been so good. i’m so high and horny and stupid for you. please fuck me.”

hopping off the bed he unbottons his jeans and takes his boxers off with them. he’s so pretty, all of him. his cock is gorgeous and he loves when you suck him off but you’re begging for him so he doesn’t wait.

the bed creaks as he gets back on and kisses you, lifting your leg up to be bent over his arm as holds it up for you. he pushes into you and you drag your nails across his back hard.

anakin loves when you hurt him during sex and moans at the burning sensation left in your wake. So with each thrust into you, you rake nails down his back.

“do it harder. scratch me harder, make me bleed, baby. please,” he whines into your ear. “it’ll feel so good for me right now, and i’ll be reminded of fucking you like this for days because it stings. don’t you want that?”

you absolutely did. you nod and he speeds up his pace; he’s pounding into you now. he’s not going to fast that it hurts but his skin hits yours over and over. with almost every stroke you’re tearing his skin apart. scratches you’ve already made sting extra for him as you go back over and it makes him hiss.

“god.. that’s so good. you’re such a good girl. you take my cock so well; don’t you love when i split you open like this? you’re lucky the music is so loud or i think everyone would hear the noises you’ve been making for me.”

he stops and tells you to turn over. anakin presses your face down into the pillows and lines his hips up with yours. he’s holding down the center of your back, keeping you in this deep arch. when he starts to fuck you again it’s forceful and so unbelievably deep. you forget how far in he can go in the right position but you can feel in your stomach each time he touches your cervix.

you’re clenching and begging for him to make you cum when he reaches around to touch your swollen clit. as he drills into you from behind he rubs soothing circles on it. the mix of internal and external stimulation making the muscles in your core tense up. you’re even tighter around his cock although he’s sliding in and out like he was made to fit in you.

pulling you against his chest you both sit up, his knees in between yours holding your legs open while he fucks up into you.

he’s gripping your hair and forcing the air out of your lungs as you gasp and shove yourself further onto him. your slick is dripping onto his balls in this position and your pussy is making obscene noises.

“you’re so fucking wet. do you hear that? you let me get you stoned and wreck your hole with all of our friends just downstairs? do you know any of them could come up here and knock, trying to find us? i bet they could hear your cunt through the door if they tried to, or at the very least the sound of my bed frame about to put a hole in the wall from how hard i’m ruining your little cunt.”

your head is so fuzzy with pleasure you don’t even care. he can do anything he wants at this point and you wouldn’t object.

the knot building in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter and each swipe of anakin’s finger against your clit has you on the verge of tears.

“ani. ani, i’m gonna make a mess all over your cock. you’re going to make me cum. please don’t stop.”

he pants in time with each thrust and holds you close.

“i’m not stopping, angel. so hot that you let me use you like this. cum on my cock, baby. show me how good i make you feel.”

you fall apart as he holds you up and try to close your thighs, try to get him out when it becomes too much.

he forces them open and shoves your face down into the mattress to keep using your hole like a fuck toy. as soon as 10 thrusts later though he’s babbling about how he’s going to fill you up.

“i’m gonna cum. i’m gonna stuff you full, fuck it deeper until it hurts. oh, fuck,” anakin chokes on his last words. he fills you to the point it’s dripping out.

both of you taking deep breaths, he uses his finger to push it back into you while you gasp at the intrusion of your hole so soon.

“okay, baby,” he says. “let’s smoke some more so you let me keep going.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin smut #star wars smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #stoner!anakin #modern au #tw weed

339 notes · View notes

soobnny · 10 months

Text

labyrinth — lee minho.

trope. best friends to lovers. college au. slow burn. angst. fluff. a story on second loves.

synopsis. sometimes, the path towards healing involves not only mending your heart but trusting in the love of those who have been there all along, or alternatively, in which lee minho teaches you to love again

word count. 20k words

warnings. drinking, mentions of vomiting, curse words, intoxication, the aftermaths of heartbreak, not feeling good enough

note. hello it’s me again! have this semi self-indulgent lee know fic i wrote

one.

When Mark breaks your heart in the first weeks of summer, Minho doesn’t say “I told you so”. Instead, he becomes your gentle refuge, sitting still and letting you cry on his shoulder.

He’s careful to touch you, doesn’t want to shake you out of the pretense of composure you’ve built for yourself. Though, it only takes a brush of his hand before the inevitable scrunch of your face that follows into a sob. His hands pull your waist closer, running soothing circles down your back.

You bruise yourself for your naivety.

In the tapestry of first loves, it’s easy to be bound to the intoxicating notion that he will be all you’ll ever know. When you fall, you think it’ll last forever. The memory of him emerges from around you, slipping in like sand through your feet. Most of it passes quickly, but some moments sink on your skin, desperately pulling you down and forcing everything down your throat—–the sound of ocean waves bathing the seashore when he held your hand, barefoot and laughing, the birds singing from outside the window as you spend the morning in, the scent of coffee in the morning, the sound of laughter in grocery stores, and the feeling of rain dripping down your clothes as you run for the night train where you tell each other everything.

How are you supposed to forget pieces of him you’ve cemented in your heart?

Loss is too terrible to grasp at once, especially when unexpected. Especially when you had thought the world of him only to have your heart shattered.

Pain only stems from the comfort of memories. It snags on you, clinging onto you and reminding you that they will just be memories now. You will only remember him now, remember falling in love over and over again, remember your first kiss and every single one after. You will only remember how he looked at you, with so much love in his eyes, you thought you would last an eternity.

“I’m going to kill him.” Minho’s voice is soft despite the connotation behind his words. He has his arms firm around you, bringing one hand to pat your hair down.

“You don’t even know what he did.” You mumble, voice coming out shaky and incoherent from sobbing the past few hours. There’s snot running down your nose and staining his shirt, and your prickling tears still haven’t stopped. His favorite shirt is soaked, but he couldn’t be less bothered.

“He—,” Your best friend pauses, taking a deep breath in. It’s something he does when he tries to recompose himself. “He made you cry.” He breathes out, taking the back of your head and pushing it further into his chest. He doesn’t think he can bear the sight of your tear-stained eyes, doesn’t think he can handle the quiver in your lips.

“Maybe I just wasn’t good enough. If I was prettier–”

The words sound practiced in your lips, slipping far too easily that it breaks Minho’s heart to think it must’ve been something weighing in your mind for a while now. He shakes his head rather fervently, carefully peeling your head back from the crook of his neck so your eyes meet.

“I don’t want you to finish that sentence.” His thumb swipes at the tears falling from your eyes, and while Minho hadn’t had the time to switch on the living room lights when you had knocked on his door at close to midnight, you can still see anger swimming in his eyes. You know it isn’t directed to you, know that he’s trying his best to subdue his rage and not drive and crash into Mark’s house right now.

“He’s going to hell for even letting that thought run through that little head of yours. There’s already barely anything in there, and he dares plant something so painfully untrue?” You notice his lips are twitching in effort of a teasing smile.

Despite the unbearable pain, you can’t help but laugh at your best friend’s words, even though it comes out sounding more like a sob. “My head has a few things in there.” You manage to croak out, and Minho pockets the accomplishment of making you laugh to think about later.

“Of course, of course. Definitely not differential calculus, but there are a few things in there.” His eyes are soft when he speaks. “One of them is that you’re enough, and it’s that fucker’s loss for letting you go. Want to hear you say it.”

He follows along with you, accompanying you with every word. “I’m good enough.” He nods his head, urging you to continue speaking. “And?”

“And it’s that fucker’s loss for letting me go.” You almost cry when you say it.

“There you go.”

Minho pulls you back in his arms, wrapping you in his scent and the entirety of his comfort. He says nothing, only listens to your heavy inhale and exhale. You’ve never been here before, never felt this pain before so he lets you feel your emotions. It’s an ache that doesn’t need to be taught, but is inevitable to learn.

“Thank you, Min.” Your voice wavers, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m…” An apology sits on your tongue, but you know your best friend won’t let you. He’s picked you up multiple times before–failed tests, college admissions, family arguments, and never once has he let you apologize for crying. “Thank you.” You say through the clatter of your teeth.

He doesn’t say anything, only squeezes you in his arms. It’s two in the morning now, and Minho can hear your quiet snoring. It’s prominent, sitting louder than the few honks of cars outside. You must’ve barely gotten any rest these past few days.

Your face is still wet when he lays you down on his bed, pulling his covers over you and letting it fall just by your chin. Minho falls asleep on his small, run-down couch.

two.

The process of disentangling Mark from you is a lot harder than you thought it would be. The first time you cross off his favorite candy and brand of milk from your shopping list, you sobbed for two straight hours. At one point, when Minho was accompanying you, you had started crying in front of the sweets section and he’d had to whisk you away embarrassingly and calm you down in his car.

Since the break up three weeks ago, you’ve refrained from doing anything that remotely reminded you of him. For one, you’ve stopped wearing his favorite hoodie, the one tucked away at the back of your closet. You don’t know how to return it to him yet. It’d be too hard to face him when you can barely hold yourself together even by just the sight of it. You stopped viewing his Instagram stories, after making the same mistake a week ago. Minho has told you to block him, but it’s too big of a step to take right away.

Though, you think the most painful was seeing Juyeon on your way to class. You don’t know whether to greet him or not. He was Mark’s friend over yours, but you’d like to think you’d gotten along quite well to consider him a friend. Though, it seems too much of an overstep towards the boundaries created when Mark had called it quits. His friends will take his side on the breakup, and your friends will take yours. It’s no longer a shared “our” friends. It's just yours or his now.

The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, and what starts as stabs of pain evolves to a dull ache. You crave for the time to come where days without him would feel far, especially when you can’t sit still at this stupid restaurant without recalling your second date and how you’d spent everyday thinking forever of him.

“(Name)? You okay?” Felix’s voice is piercing, reverberating through your thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, sorry.” You swallow, propping your elbows on the table and leaning forward to seem more present.

“You spaced out a little bit.” He laughs, taking a sip out of his service water. “Is it cause you miss Mark? I know you had one of your dates here.” His voice is teasing, and you shiver a little at the mention of your ex-boyfriend.

Minho shifts in his seat, scooting a little closer and ghosting a hand behind your chair. He’s looking at you now, unrecognizable expression on his face as he waits for your response. He hadn’t told any of your friends, kept his promise when you had asked him, but he doesn’t like the way you’re cornered into a response.

“Oh…” You blink, eyes scanning each person from the table before dropping down to your glass of water. “We— we broke up actually.” You swallow again, taking the glass but not quite bringing it up to your lips.

There’s a recollection of Mark sitting adjacent to you, his voice sodden and repeating. And you don’t like all the eyes frozen on you as you share the pathetic end of a relationship you thought would be everlasting.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Felix feels guilty, voice growing smaller and smaller with every word. You’re quick to reassure.

“It’s okay. It happens.” You shrug, even though it’s not okay. Even though it wasn’t supposed to happen to you. You were supposed to be an exception to fate's horrible hands.

Everyone’s eyes buzz, and you know they’re thinking of it. You bite your lip, eyes searching for Minho’s in desperation. For a barrier. For someone to break the pity dripping from everyone’s features. It makes you feel small.

Minho’s head peps up, smile pulling on his lips as he suddenly claps his hands. “Hyunjin-ah, do you remember the last time we were here?”

“Why are we suddenly having this conversation?” His friend groans in embarrassment, but rides on the conversation anyway.

Hyunjin pretends not to remember even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the shame of mispronouncing the names of the dishes while you, Minho, and Jisung were stifling in your laughter. You’d almost forgotten the way you laughed until your stomachs hurt when the waitress finally walked away after a cruel 15 minutes of asking Hyunjin to repeat himself.

“The one I ordered was pretty good though. I have a pretty good eye for food.” Jisung joins in on the conversation, heart clenching at the way you quietly retreat in your seat. He’s always had a soft spot for you.

“Yeah, sure, you have eyes, I guess.” Minho replies without hesitation, which has Jisung dropping his mouth and staring at the boy in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Laughter falls in laughter as everyone stares between the two, who are bickering back and forth. You turn to them with a smile on your face, grateful to break away from the impending conversation about Mark. The attention is elsewhere now, and you feel like you can finally breathe properly.

“As if you didn’t order something horrendous too. It was a silly time.” Minho leans towards you with challenging eyes at your input in the conversation. It’s abrupt, the way he suddenly twists his body so he’s facing you, and so Minho-like.

“You had fun.” He points at you. “You had so much fun. You had fun.”

“Okay, okay, damn. You’re being really aggressive right now.” You laugh a little, falling back in your seat and pushing his pointing hand away.

“We enjoyed ourselves.” He says one more time as a matter-of-fact, just as the food arrives. The conversation takes a short pause as hunger hits, long arms reaching out to grab as much food as they can on their plates.

Jisung stares at the variety of dishes, mouth watering as he holds a critical stare–as if he’s about to make life-altering decisions with the food he chooses. There’s everything you could name, variants of chicken and beef and noodles and seafood all plastered on the table. You quietly take a few portions when it looks like no one’s going for the same serving spoon.

“Oh, oh, yes, try that (Name). I tried it a while back, and it’s so good.” He waves his spoon around, eyes lighting up at your choice and you laugh at the way everyone moves away from the table to avoid getting hit by the splattering sauce.

Jisung only stops holding you hostage when Chan moves to distract him.

By the time you fill up your plate, Minho is already digging into his food, chewing diligently with furrowed eyebrows. The steak he ordered for himself looks good, and a smirk forms when he senses your prying eyes. He plays dumb, like he always does, slicing the meat in an annoyingly slow pace before sticking his fork into it.

“Your order looks good.” Your smile is nothing but innocent as you stare at his fork without shame. He mirrors your grin, sly as he picks up his fork.

“I thought you said the food I ordered was horrendous.” He interrupts, lifting up the slice of meat and waving it around cartoonishly. He is so annoying with his rolled up sleeves and his hooded eyes.

“That was before. I’ve changed!”

“No.”

You pout, stuffing a piece of fish in your mouth at failing to coax Minho into sharing his food. All efforts against Minho always end in vain, but you’ve always held pride in the way he takes a second longer to reject you. You’re just about to twist some noodles in your chopsticks, terribly hunched over posture, when a fork is shoved in front of your face.

Minho doesn’t say a word as he waits for you to eat the slice of steak, free hand hovering just under your chin in case the food falls. Your eyes fall on his, horribly failing to hide the smile on your face as you lean forward to bite the meat off.

“Oh, it’s so good.” You huff, chewing carefully with widened eyes. It’s a close second to the steak Seungmin and Minho cooked for you on your birthday last year.

Though, it’s only taking the Number 1 spot because the criterion was solely based on who made it, and how they took time out of their day to cook one of your favorite meals for you. The taste of the steak in this restaurant wins by a landslide, but you don’t think they can replicate the love put into your birthday steak.

Minho makes that face exclusive to his friends when he wants to put up mock annoyance at being forced to do something out of his will, like sharing his food, yet everyone’s accustomed to his cold exterior.

“Have you ever—” Jisung starts after your table becomes a victim of silence, stuffing his mouth with a few chips. He doesn’t finish his thought, though, reaching out for Hyunjin’s glass of water after having finished his before the food was even served.

“What?” Changbin asks the question brewing on everyone’s throats.

“Nevermind. I’m gonna keep it to myself because you guys are gonna say it’s gross.”

The ongoing conversation falls deaf in your ears. You hate to admit you were too busy weighing your options on whether you should have shrimp or not. It takes you a feverishly long time to peel them, and everyone might as well have finished their meals before you can make it to five shrimps. But the sight makes your mouth water, and you’re stuck at a crossroad. Maybe Jisung was onto something when he had stared at the food earlier, as if it was the most important decision in his life.

“Woah, woah, woah. I peed on a tree recently if that makes you feel any better.” Jeongin says without a stutter in his sentence, and everyone pauses from their meals. “Now, what was that gross thing you wanted to talk about?” He nudges Jisung’s shoulder.

“....Have you ever wondered if there’s snot flavored chips?”

“Jisung!” Chan chastises as everyone else shares judging stares. Hyunjin is having a hard time holding his laughter, and Changbin almost spits his water out. Minho is too busy peeling his shrimps to give the conversation the time of day.

“We shouldn’t have allowed you to talk in the first place.” Seungmin grimaces.

You’re too immersed in still deciding whether you should eat shrimps or not to notice Minho transferring the seafood he had peeled on your plate. He doesn’t say anything when he reaches for your plate, doesn’t even look at you when you glance at him. Instead, he resumes eating and listens quietly to the ridiculous conversation from his friends.

“This is why I didn’t wanna say it!”

“Yeah, you definitely should’ve kept that to yourself.”

The breach of silence from Jisung doesn’t last long as the noise quiets down into chewing and Minho’s quiet yet persistent “eat more” when he sees small portions on your plate. He knows you haven’t been having the appetite to eat lately, but he still makes sure you’re at least intaking a healthy amount to sustain your body.

An hour and a half later, you find yourself in the passenger seat of Minho’s car as he drives you home. He lets you connect to the Bluetooth, lets you control the music despite preferring to drive in silence. Though, he’s ill-prepared for you to actually start singing.

“You are an expert at sorry and keeping lines blurry, never impressed by me acing your tests—”

Minho groans, briefly gazing in your direction before keeping his eyes on the road. A half second is enough to see you moping with your head leaned against his window.

“All the girls that you’ve run dry have tired lifeless eyes cause you burned them out.”

“When I gave you control over the music, I didn’t expect you to start playing Taylor Swift.” He shoots you another glance, one hand on the steering wheel and the other just behind your headrest. He’s giving you a judging look, as if he hadn’t blasted Adele when he had his first heartbreak years ago.

“Deal with it.” You stick your tongue out childishly before turning to your mini karaoke session. “Don't you think I was too young to be messed with? The girl in the dress, cried the whole way home—”

It takes four more songs from your Spotify playlist titled Taylor Swift but you’re heartbroken before Minho’s finally pulling up to the front of your dorm building. You know he’s so fucking done with you, with his eyes closed and head rolled back as he waits for you to finish sulking. He doesn’t kick you out of his car, though. He only crosses his arms with his lips pressed into a bored line until you’ve decided you’re done singing for the night.

You don’t think you can take the quiet. Without music blasting in your ears, you’re confronted by a suffocating silence. There is no relief when you see how the night sky looks so peaceful outside his car window because why can the night sky bask in calmness while you have to sit there in this excruciating hurt?

So, you stay there for another two songs. You are too fragile to be nudged right now, and Minho doesn’t think it’s an appropriate time to confront you about the band-aid you’ve stuck to temporarily keep your heart together.

three.

Time doesn’t stop for your grieving. Everyday, the same sun will mockingly look down at you, reminding you that days would go on without you. That despite the squeezing pain in your sternum, time will not stop for your hurt. People will go on about their days unknowing of your suffering.

Ironically, while time stops for no one, it does move excruciatingly slow. When you’re in love, time passes by you so quickly that you don’t know it’s the last time. You’re never given a warning. Endings are always so sudden that it makes no sense. When love unclasps its grip from you, days and nights drag on longer, stretching out the pain. There is nothing to do but rot over your break.

The past two months have felt like a year. It’s strange how one moment you could be in the middle of clinging onto your lover’s hand, and the next it all feels like a very long time ago, and none of it is ever coming back. How are you supposed to cope with the loss of someone you know too much about as life continues to progress around you?

You don’t understand how you’re supposed to endure this. There is nothing to do but to stare at your ceiling until you feel horrible about yourself.

You’re curled up on your bed like the day before, and the day before that, when the sound of your door opening jolts you awake. Though, Minho’s voice is quick to reassure that a stranger hadn’t broken into your dorm. You didn’t know he was back from his parent’s house. He had even invited you, a few days ago, telling you a change of scenery might do you good but you were pretty adamant on crying through your hurt in your dorm room alone.

“I’m walking into your bedroom. You better not be naked.” Your best friend announces before his familiar silhouette emerges from the dark of your make-do living room. He has his arms folded across his chest as he leans against your doorframe.

“What do you want?”

“You’re coming with me to do groceries.” He speaks with vindication, pacing inside your room in search of something for you to wear in your closet.

“I don’t want to.”

He throws a hoodie to your face, standing by the edge of your bed expectantly. You thrash around for a few seconds, mostly for dramatism, before stubbornly sitting up to wear the hoodie he had thrown at you. “What do I even get out of this? Just let me suffer in peace.”

“Vitamin D.” He’s still hovering. “Your bones are gonna break if you don’t see the sun, and we promised we’d race each other when we’re eighty.”

Your heart rises to your throat at the recollection of when you were seventeen and unaware of what the future would hold for the both of you. It had been some stupid agreement you’d come up with when you had snuck a bottle of soju into Minho’s parent’s house. Perhaps it was the excitement from drinking for the first time or the numbness from losing your grandparent just a few weeks ago, but the alcohol had made you cry. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else, not your parents, not your friends, not Minho. The introduction to loss was so overwhelming, and you hated how permanent it was. In an attempt to make you smile again, Minho had promised to buy you a house if you could outrace him when you’re both eighty and frail. Prideful and under the influence, you accepted.

“I’m getting that house.” You say with a lazy grit, unmoving from your spot. He laughs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, dragging you out of your bed.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you even if you’re old and wrinkly. Now, hurry up. I’ll cook for you if we get back before 4pm.”

“Seafood pasta and steak?” Your eyes light up for the first time today, and Minho lets out a long sigh at your request.

“Yeah, whatever.” He scrunches his face.

“And you’ll make it spicy?”

“Hurry up before I take it back and let you starve.” Minho takes his leave, turning his back around heading for your front door as you make it out of your bed in record time. You hate to admit that it’s the first time you’re leaving your house in days. And while you were planning to spend the rest of the break like this, Minho’s temporary accompaniment and the meal awaiting you is very much appreciated. Otherwise, you would’ve let your limited supply of cup noodles suffice and seafood pasta outweighs instant noodles by a mile.

The trip to the grocery store is short, but it’s enough to play a song and a half. When you arrive, Minho makes a beeline to the frozen section to restock on his pudding. You sigh, bowing your head faintly and following the bunny boy.

You have to admit, the lighting from the lined up refrigerators does well in making Minho look adorable with his pink nose and a smile that frames his two front teeth. It’s a shame he only ever directs this look to his cats and oddly enough, pudding.

He throws a few cups in his shopping cart before moving along to another aisle. You match your footsteps with his, walking next to him as he pushes the cart along. The grocery store is dangerous. There are ways to find Mark everywhere. So, you look anywhere but aisles–the ground, Minho’s back, his cart. Anything but his favorite candy and the brand of milk he uses.

“Want anything?” You look up at your best friend, and he looks at you with pointed eyes before gesturing towards the bags of junk food lining up.

“I thought you said this was unhealthy for me?” It’s with incredulousness that you look at him.

“Do you want me to take back my offer?”

Smiling sheepishly, you reach out to grab a few bags of popcorn and some honey butter chips before adding it to the pile you hadn’t even noticed. It seems he’s gone through half of his grocery list as you stared aimlessly at the ground.

He tells you to stay there and have a look around if you want anything else, and by the time he comes back, he has two cartons of milk in his arms that he places in his cart.

You skip past the dairy and sweets section as Minho finishes up.

“I’m gonna have a piece of chocolate as a treat. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it.”

“You’re giving yourself a piece of chocolate?” Minho asks, pulling you back by your wrist to stop you from wandering around.

“Yeah, I think I earned it for leaving my dorm today. I think I earned it.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You ask defensively. “I don’t understand.”

“Not good enough reasoning.”

“Oh, but I worked so hard today. I feel like I really earned it.”

Betrayal seeps through your features as you head towards the cashier, and your shoulders sag in defeat as you begrudgingly help place the contents of your cart on the counter so it’s easier for the cashier to scan. Though, as Minho runs to grab an ingredient he’d forgotten for the meal he had promised you, you notice a box of chocolates tucked under his other arm as he returns. The price of the chocolate is added to his total bill, and he doesn’t look at you as he puts it in the shopping bag with your chips and popcorn.

Minho drives you back to your dorm, and you busy yourself with putting his frozen goods in your refrigerator so it doesn’t melt while he cooks. He can take it out later when he goes back to his dorm.

You admit to being a little useless in the kitchen, so you sit still as Minho shuffles through the ingredients. He looks mesmerizing, save for the Hello Kitty apron too small for him that he had borrowed from you. It does add to his charm though as he moves around like he takes up the whole space of the kitchen. You can tell he’s used to this by the way he moves and the way he uses a knife. He looks focused, radiating. He always has this look on his face when he’s concentrated, plush mouth parted a little with furrowed eyebrows. You’d teased him about it once.

It’s habit the way he cooks, the way his hand shapes around the knife, the way he chops vegetables and measures in a heartbeat. And it’s pattern that he checks on you once in a while, eyes traveling from the boiling pasta towards where you’re seated on the kitchen counter. From time to time, he walks towards you with a wooden spoon, hand habitually falling under your chin so the sauce doesn’t drip.

Minho hums in satisfaction when you make a noise of approval, eyes widening as you nod your head with fervor. He turns away, licking his lips as he returns to finishing up his cooking. The sizzling of the pan, the bowl of the water, and your quiet humming is the sound of his heart right now, and he smiles to himself at the visible peace of being in the kitchen. He doesn’t have much time to cook these days.

It takes almost an hour for him to finish, but it doesn’t feel that way. Unlike the past two months, time moved at a hare’s pace just in this moment, with Minho presently on your heels as he sets the plates down on your dining table.

“Min, this is so good.” You note at how good the sauce tastes, and how the spice ties everything in. The way Minho prepares food is nothing like the ones you eat at restaurants. It’s better.

“I know. I’m the one who made it.” His response almost makes you scoff if not for the fact that he’s feeding you right now. So, you stay silent as you eat. Piece by piece, bite by bite, that you almost forget the last time you’ve sat on your dining table.

You prefer to eat your meals anywhere but—the couch, your bedroom, the kitchen floor. The last memory leaves a bitter recollection on your throat. Dinner used to almost always be with Mark. He’d bring takeout and you’d spend the rest of the night updating each other on your days. Then, those nights became sparse and you were left with Facetime calls until they were nothing at all. There’s still a space for his shoes by your doorway, and you have yet to throw away the spare toothbrush he kept in your bathroom. There’s fragments of him in your dorm, and you hate it.

The past hangs a heavy air around you that you don’t realize the gutted look of heartbreak on your face and the tears slipping past your eyes until you move to wipe them on instinct. You don’t know if it’s the chili oil on your fingertips or the sudden trip down memory lane, but you start to cry even more as you stuff your face with seafood pasta.

“Is it too spicy?” Minho gently leaves his spot adjacent to you, puts his utensils down in favor of standing by your side. “You okay?”

He laughs when a choked ‘yes’ leaves your lips before you’re stuffing even more pasta down, chewing animatedly as you try to blink the tears away. Though, when you make a move to rub your eyes, Minho is quick to grab them, pushing your arms away from your face.

“Be careful. It’s gonna sting even more.” Pulling down the sleeves of his hoodie, he carefully uses the fabric to wipe the tears off your cheeks. He’s gentle with his movements, consciously mirroring your gutted, frowning look in his usual teasing. It makes you laugh, dropping your hands to your sides before suddenly letting out another sob.

It’s a funny sight, seeing you laugh and cry at the same time and Minho can’t stop the periodic chuckles that escape his lips as you whine out for him to stop laughing at you. It only makes him laugh harder, patting down his sleeves on your eyes.

“Do you want to keep eating?” His tone is significantly softer when your tears finally subside. “Do you want to finish it later?”

“Keep eating.” You mumble.

“Keep eating? Okay.” Disappearing to the kitchen, he hands you the glass of water, and takes your hand in his to start wiping away the chili sauce from your fingers with a tissue. It’s only when you finish gulping down the water does he return to the seat across from you.

“You’re babying me.” You sniffle, staring down at your food before twirling some noodles into your fork.

“Because you’re a baby. Stop pouting.” His lips curve into a smirk. “Want some more steak?”

You grumble, and Minho rolls his eyes as he takes the steak he had sliced for himself and transfers it on your plate. “Come on, eat up. I didn’t waste my time cooking for you not to finish my food.”

“Thank you.” He brushes you off, though, it’s with a small smile on his face.

“Do you think you can stay here tonight?” You ask in small. Under normal circumstances, he would have called you clingy. It’s the answer you’re waiting to hear when the question slips out of your mouth. You don’t expect him to just hum, answering, “okay”.

There’s a short pause after his response.

“But only because I know you’ll spend the night crying if I’m not here, and you look stupid when you cry.” It’s his own way of telling you to stop crying. Though, you still sigh for show.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What, what?” He acts oblivious, and when his eyes blinks, it’s almost caricature.

“I just love this.” Sarcasm drips heavy, but your heart flutters anyways. You don’t remember the last time you’ve smiled like this, so much that your cheeks start to hurt even if you’d just finished crying.

“Right!” He grins.

Minho cares in ways that others don’t recognize. You can only see it when you pay attention, can only hear the quiet and gentle underlie in his words. He’s loud with his teasing, but he doesn’t need words for you to know he cares.

It’s nice to be cared for.

four.

Autumn sends a harsh breeze as it takes over Summer without much of a warning. It marks a shed of the things that had transpired over the previous season, almost a big red button labeled restart. You have every intention to use it well, to usher in change alongside the changing color of the leaves.

But what kind of heart doesn’t look back?

You wonder, do the leaves hang on tightly to not fall? Do they beg the trees not to let them go, to stay a little longer?

You sigh. The cycle is neverending, and you’ll have to spend the next seasons without Mark.

“Are you even listening to me?” You’re tugged back to your body at the sudden breach.

Minho’s voice is whiny, plush lips pulled in a pout at having caught you spacing out while he was mid-story. He had made an effort to be especially animate with his story, after numerous previous complaints from you that he was a boring storyteller, only for you not to listen.

“I am, I am!” You’re nowhere near convincing as you defend yourself, trying to recall the last words you had heard from him before you had lost yourself to your thoughts. Something about Jisung and fruit punch? You’re not quite sure.

It was a horrible idea to try and balance your best friend’s stories with your own thoughts, letting the former slip so easily. Now you’re being called out for it.

“Then what did I just say?”

“That… you want to buy me coffee?” You ask with a sheepish smile, head tilted slightly to mimic a feigned innocence.

Minho’s lips press into a line in response.

“I’m sorry!” You apologize almost immediately.

It’s funny the way you give up your act right away, pressing your palms together as if begging the boy to forgive you for your inability to listen to him. You were technically listening, synching your movements with his and staring at the way the words rolled out of his mouth. It wasn’t your fault they had fallen short before reaching your ears.

“You just lost a point on my friend tier list.” He walks a little ahead of you now, refusing to match your pace in the name of dramatism.

“You have a friend tier list?” You snort. “That’s kind of lame.”

“Did you just call it lame? At this point, you’re at bottom place with Kim Seungmin.”

Your reaction is funny despite shitting on his tier list: mouth dropping, eyes boring on his back as you struggle to keep up with his long limbs, hurrying to catch up to him.

“Okay, now you’re taking it too far. First of all, I do not bite you so that should nudge me up a spot.”

“If you say it nicely, maybe I will.”

You know he’s messing around when he starts to slow down his pace, waiting for you to reappear beside him before resuming his walk.

“No, but seriously, what were you saying?” There’s laughter laced in your voice, elbowing Minho gently to coax him into repeating what he had said earlier.

“I asked if you were going to Jisung’s party later.”

Minho notes the way your face visibly scrunches at the thought. As if it wasn’t enough, you pair it with a shake of your head.

“Absolutely not. I hate the taste of alcohol.” You pause, head snapping towards him before adding, “Why? Are you going?”

His eyes don’t hide his disinterest, narrowing in judgment as you ask him.

“No. We have a 9am class tomorrow.” He mutters.

You begin to laugh, always amused by the way your best friend expresses himself, but then you stop. It wasn’t immediately made clear to Minho why your demeanor had suddenly shifted so hastily, as if someone had forcefully switched it, and why your eyes were suddenly glazed. The cogs only stop when he follows your line of sight after having noticed it was drawn somewhere behind him.

Mark’s butterfly tattoo isn’t hard to miss. It’s so potently his that you vaguely register his hand holding someone else’s. Someone that wasn’t you.

She looks beautiful, so radiant that it almost blinds you. She looks like she has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t feel that horrible for hoping she’d break his heart the way he did yours. Though, anger is temporary when pain starts to sift through—especially when Mark is looking at her with the same sparkle in his eyes when he used to look at you.

You try to make the hurt look calculated, the way you will your eyes to draw away, the way you purse your lips. Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself that you were over it, that you were emotionally mature. And while it is half true, there is still pain. No one teaches you how to deal with this. There is no guidebook to tell you what to do when you see your ex with someone else only months after he had called it quits.

It is difficult to look at them without breaking.

A haunting silence settles, before Minho’s scrambling to break it.

“Ah, let’s go. I’m suddenly hungry.”

Minho watches as your shoulders slump in relief when he speaks, turning away from Mark in favor of looking at him. “And my legs are getting tired from standing around. Come on.”

It’s meant to be teasing, but you do not miss the anger in his eyes. It’s always painstakingly obvious when Minho is angry. He didn’t say painful words, never did anything hastily, but his eyes would always tell you he’s angry. They have a look to them, and when they were glassy, you’d know he was angry.

There’s a tap on the back of your hand before he takes it in his, pulling you away from the scene of the crime. It makes your whole face look up at him, and your heart softens when he offers a small smile. It does something inside of you.

“Have you eaten anything since lunch?”

You only shake your head in response.

Minho doesn’t say anything at the sudden drop of your mood, though he doesn’t find any pleasure in seeing your attitude change so quickly. He just squeezes your hand in his. And you’re sure you’re imagining the way he intertwines your fingers because your best friend hates skinship. Lee Minho is always so repulsed when you attempt to take his hand, so why is his hand on yours?

“Don’t think I care about you or anything, but let’s get something to eat first? You know, before we meet up with the guys.”

You hum in compliance, and also because you know he’s teasing you. His hand feels warm.

It’s silent for a while, save for distant honks and the echo of your footsteps. Soft, blinking eyes look down at you when you finally make it to the small food stall, tugging on your hand to get your full attention.

“Come on, get whatever you want.” You lean forward, tilting your head to look at your options. “I’m not doing this again, by the way.” He jokes, looking down at you.

Minho doesn’t eat despite being the one who had said he was hungry. Instead, he hovers next to you, hands in his pockets as you quietly eat your food.

“Are you full?” His voice softens when he speaks.

“A little.” You mumble.

“Okay, now go pay for what you got.” There’s a smug smile on his face when you glare at him, and he only laughs at you when you pull out your wallet from your bag.

“You dragged me to eat here because you’re hungry, and you’re letting me pay.” Your feet hold your ground, flipping through the compartments on your wallet before pulling out a bill—for your pride, more than anything else.

“Of course! What kind of best friend would I be if I paid? I need to teach you independence.”

You scoff. “A good best friend.”

Minho is looking at you up and down as you stretch your hand towards the man to pay for your food, mapping out how he can remember this moment.

“Ah, miss. Your boyfriend already paid.”

“Huh?”

There’s laughter from behind you, and you humiliatingly turn back around and shove your wallet in your bag before slapping Minho’s arm. He flinches, but his laughter doesn’t stop.

“Thanks for paying, I guess.” You mumble, heavy footsteps walking ahead of him the way he did with you earlier. It’s touching, really, and there was a nudge in your heart when the man had told you Minho had already paid. Your best friend’s laugh is too maniacal to ignore, though, so your slap is well deserved.

Kim Seungmin’s face is nothing but irritated when you and Minho finally show up to your meeting spot, hand lifting and pointing an accusing finger at the pair of you for being late. The rest of the boys except Jisung and Jeongin are all sprawled on the empty parking lot’s concrete floor, and you can hear a faint mumble from Minho–something about how the ground was dirty for them to be sitting on it. You sort of agree, already cringing at the thought of rubble sticking to your clothes and the prospect of dusting them away.

“They’re finally here!” Seungmin puts an emphasis on the word ‘finally’, and he’s about to berate you even more when he spots the skewer in your hand. “You guys ate without us?”

It’s so loud and relenting, but Seungmin’s by your side in a second and opening his mouth for you to feed him the remaining of the food Minho had bought you earlier. You suppose you owe him this much for delaying their wait. You know Seungmin’s not very known for his patience.

“We’re all going to Jisung’s party, right?” Chan finds himself asking, head perked up as he plays with his car keys between his fingers.

Seungmin mumbles something incoherent, still glued to your side and still stealing your food. When he moves to grab the stick from you, Minho slaps his hand and tells the boy to leave you and your food alone. It’s like a scene straight out of a sitcom, and all you have to do is stare at the non-existent camera directed at the three of you.

“I don’t think (name) and Minho are?” You hum in confirmation at Felix’s response, spotting him get up from his place on the ground. He asks Hyunjin to dust off the specs of concrete sticking to the fabric of his pants.

“What?” Changbin’s voice is loud, in contrast to the sooth of Felix’s, and he looks his squinted eyes with yours—as if you had wronged him for not going to the party. “Why not?”

Though, the thought of drinking doesn’t seem all that horrible to you anymore. You refuse to acknowledge it might be because of what you had bore witness to earlier, but it is one-hundred percent the reason why. A drink wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Actually… I think I might.” Your eyes are still on Seungmin as he finally finishes the skewer you’ve been holding, though, your gaze shifts in a split second towards a shrieking Changbin who has jumped from his spot on the ground at your change of mind.

“Really? Let’s get it!” He cheers, hands clapping temporarily in a way that is so fitting for him. His smile is etched, pulling you towards where the others are. The exaggeration makes you laugh a little, at how something as simple as you suddenly agreeing to drink has Changbin giggling and smiling. You know he’s always loved when you guys hang out together.

Similarly, Felix and Hyunjin are cheering alike.

“So, you’re coming too then?” In the span of time it took to confirm your attendance, Chan has dragged his feet towards where Minho is standing, nudging his side and looking at the boy expectantly.

Minho sighs. “I guess I’m coming too.”

“I don’t think we’ll all fit in Chan’s car, though?”

Chan’s fancy 6-seater car would have sufficed for them. However, with the sudden addition of you and Minho, there’s a need to adjust the seating arrangement. It seems Seungmin’s realized the problem right away when he hovers by the front seat, basically denying entrance from anyone that isn’t him.

“Let’s just eliminate people instead. Kim Seungmin, start walking.” Minho is too quick with his response, as if he had already been thinking about it. Seungmin stays unbothered, though, still at his post at being Chan’s passenger princess for the afternoon.

“I can sit on Changbin’s lap.” Felix proposes as Chan unlocks his car. It triggers a sinister smile on Seungmin’s face, and you can tell that whatever he’s about to say next will not benefit Minho in any way after your best friend’s comment earlier.

“And (name) can sit on Minho’s lap. Okay, that’s settled, let’s go.” As predicted, Seungmin is already seated at the front, tugging at the seatbelt to solidify his position before Minho can stomp on his newly bought pair of converse for revenge at the proposition. That boy and Jeongin really need to cut down on their shoe purchases.

“Is that fine for you, (name)?” Chan asks, opening the backseat door for you. You nod, not missing the way Minho’s eyes travel to yours in confirmation of your comfort.

“Is no one going to ask how I feel about this?” Minho asks as the boys start to hunch over and take their seats in the back. Seungmin simply says a ludicrous ‘no’ as he twists his body so he can see the way everyone struggles while he has the front seat all to himself.

Minho pulls you and seats you on his lap, as Changbin does with Felix. The position is extremely uncomfortable, with your back slouched and your cheek pressed against the headrest of the driver’s seat, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. In fact, you remember a time when even Jisung and Jeongin were present in this same car. Although, you don’t recall much of what happened, just that your neck hurt so much from being craned the whole ride.

“I’m not holding you by the way, so if Chan breaks suddenly then you’re on your own.” Your best friend feels the need to inform you, his arms pressed to his sides to offer you no support while Changbin has his arms wrapped around Felix’s torso.

You know what happens to kids that don’t wear seatbelts.

“Hyunjin, can I sit on your lap instead?”

Hyunjin laughs, staring at the two of you before jokingly offering his hand to hold onto. You doubt it’ll be much help.

The rest of the ride is spent engulfed in Minho’s warmth and the joint scent of everyone’s perfumes which is a little suffocating. And untrue to his words, when Chan does make a sudden break, you find Minho’s arms suddenly wrapped around your waist and tightening around you so you don’t stumble forward.

Chan mutters something with a smug smile as he looks into the front view mirror, though you can’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart.

five.

The music echoing around Jisung’s house thrums loudly in your ears. It’s the type of volume that solicits yelling just to hear each other, and you’re unsure if you’re prepared for the amount of screaming you’ll be doing tonight just to be heard by your friends.

Jisung is the first to greet the seven of you, a bottle of beer in hand and loud laughing as he tugs all of you in for a hug. You can feel his insobriety, can smell it off of him, but he looks so adorable with excitement basically leaping out of him at seeing his best friends.

Though, his eyes do narrow with a curious brow at the sight of you and Minho who had texted him earlier that you couldn’t make it.

“You made it!” It’s endearing the way his smile grows even more, cheeks protruded as he leans in to hug you. He does the same for Minho, and you can see him whisper something to the boy which earns him a harsh push. You can’t hear it though, and you doubt it’s anything serious when Jisung simply laughs in response.

“Come on, let’s get you guys something to drink.” He yells over the music.

The base from the speakers offers a steady rhythm as you navigate your way across sweaty and drunk college students, and it allows you the time to give the space a good gaze. It’s amiable, as expected from Jisung, and he doesn’t seem to have any form of fear at the lack of supervision of his things during a party. Though, you suppose he must’ve locked up anything important down in his basement.

“Here we go.” He grabs a few bottles for those who ask for a beer, and offers cups to those who want to venture into the unknown mixture of alcohol in the fruit punch bowl. Jisung also apparently has a shot glass, and tells you where he hid the bottle of vodka in case the seven of you want any. He doesn’t want anyone else touching his precious stash of alcohol. Jisung’s lips wrap around the rim of his bottle, chugging down a few gulps, and then he’s pumping his fist up into the air to tell you guys to start drinking.

Chan and Changbin start to take swigs, popping the cap from Minho’s bottle. It’s second nature to them that they don’t even bat an eyelash. You wonder how many times they’ve done this before. Meanwhile, you, Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin take a chance at the mysterious concoction.

Chan scolds Felix for smelling it, immediately discouraged by the familiar scent of alcohol.

With a cup in hand and a countdown falling from Changbin’s mouth, you bring it to your lips and take a big gulp. The taste is strong, scorching down your throat as you swallow it down immediately the way you’re taught. There’s a tinge of spice, and the disgusting bite on your tongue solicits a scrunch on your face.

“Oh my god, I actually hate alcohol. Why am I doing this to myself?” You exhale, pushing the cup away from your lips and squinting your eyes in disgust. It’s a mixture of vodka and some type of juice, but it seems they half-assed the ratio of juice so it’s majorly the hit of hard alcohol. You’d kill to have a Cola in hand as chaser.

Felix mutters the same remarks, and you laugh at the way he puts the cup down. At most, Felix is a sweet boy, and he could never swallow down anything as vile as alcohol so he goes to find some more juice to dump into his mixture while you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin force yourselves to empty the contents of your solo cups.

It doesn’t really take long for the tipsiness to kick in, especially with whatever the hell they put in that bowl because before you know it, everything looks a little hazy and the simple scrunch on Felix’s face has you doubling in laughter. Everything is always funnier when you’re tipsy.

“I’m definitely hit.” You bite down at your lips, teeth gliding and chewing. You feel nothing but numbness, and that’s how you know you’ve taken more than you can handle. “Min, you should be drinking more.”

“Min, you should be drinking more.” Minho repeats your words, almost mocking. In his grip is his second bottle of beer, and he stands by your side unperturbed by your swaying and your yelling over the music so your friends can hear you better.

“Are you mocking me?” You’re on your toes, poorly trying to match his height to confirm whether he had repeated your words in mocking or because he can’t hear you properly. You know it’s the former. “Are you serious? You guys heard that, right?”

“Yo, that was so disrespectful. Personally, I wouldn’t stand for that.” Of course, Seungmin is the first to respond. He’s always the one instigating arguments, though, he can’t do it to the best of his ability when Felix is resting his head on his shoulder, grumbling about how awful the alcohol tastes even after he had dumped every juice he could find in Jisung’s refrigerator.

You almost stumble when you bring yourself back to your original height, and Minho’s arms are around you in reflex. Though, they’re quick to let go so he can laugh at you. “Are you really already drunk off of, like, three cups?”

“Where’s Jeongin anyway? He should be suffering with us.” Felix peels his head from Seungmin’s shoulder, breath intertwined with alcohol before dropping his forehead back, eyes half-lidded.

“Crying over his minor subjects.”

Your small circle falls into laughter at Seungmin’s response. Minor subjects were hell, especially when your professor treated them as if they were a major one. You could still recall barging into Minho’s dorm to cry over a project. Thinking back, you really could’ve half-assed it and still passed the class.

“Oh, that poor boy. I remember crying over Foreign Languages.” Changbin’s laugh doubles in volume at the memory of Jisung crying while mumbling some Russian gibberish.

“No, because why would you think to take Russian of all the languages offered? You were setting yourself up.” The way Changbin’s voice cracks at laughing too much is contagious and has everyone clutching their stomachs in laughter.

“I took German with Hyunjin. What did you guys take?”

“Spanish. I’m actually really good.” You boast, laughter slowing down into broken chuckles as you guys try to recollect your breaths.

Seungmin passes you your newly refilled cup. “Okay. Tell us something in Spanish then.”

“Si Papi!”

There’s a pause before all of you laugh your loudest for the night. It’s the type that makes your ribs hurt, bending over with aching cheeks from smiling too much. It even has Minho almost spitting out the beer he had just sipped from his bottle, taken aback by your response to Seungmin’s question. He had spent the night nursing a beer bottle in hand and listening in to your conversations, almost looking bored, though, you always find ways to solicit pure amusement from the boy.

Only you would ever say anything like that.

Minho has to bite down on the back of his hand to stop him from choking over his own laughter and the beer he had almost spat out.

“Yeah! That sounds… yeah! You nailed it!” Felix interrupts with more laughter.

You’d give anything to stop time at this moment. Perhaps it’s because you don’t want to have anything in your mind but the happiness that you feel right now. You allow yourself the time to enjoy yourself, to take away the scorching image of Mark in your head and replace it with the overwhelming volume of the music.

Hyunjin, who has grown more extroverted after chugging down his cup, pulls you, Jisung, and Felix to where everyone else is dancing. Chan’s gone to look for another bottle of beer while Changbin is singing along to the music at the top of his lungs, your personal karaoke as he sways from side to side just right next to the three of you dancing. Minho is the only one sitting up straight from your group, and while the look on his face can be deceiving, you know he’s having fun watching over everyone.

When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you, unblinking. He throws you a thumbs up with an arched eyebrow and you nod your head before returning your attention to the music and the way you’re jumping around and singing along to 2000s pop hits with your best friends.

Exhaustion hits pretty fast. You can smell the fatigue on yourself after having jumped around for almost an hour. You stumble your way to where Minho’s seated, and he brings your chair closer to you so you don’t drop yourself on the floor. The way you attempt to sit straight is a pretentious act that you aren’t out of it, but you are, and your stomach’s starting to not feel so good. Your blurry vision and the overwhelming lights and music doesn’t really help your case either.

“Minnie.” You hiccup, putting away your cup on the table and bowing your head faintly. “I don’t feel so good.”

Now the alcohol doesn’t seem that much of a great idea because the after effects are hitting you, and you know tomorrow will be much, much worse for you. At least you were offered a short getaway to stop thinking for a while. The temporary accompaniment was good until it wasn’t.

Minho frowns, having already made his way next to you and helping you up. “Come on, I’m taking you to Jisung’s room. Is that okay? Are you done having fun?”

It’s endearing the way he asks if you’re done, though you can’t fathom any other form of response except for a grumble and the way you almost collapse into his arms from your wobbly legs. You don’t really remember how you end up on his back, but when you peel your eyes open, you’re moving past the crowd with your cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung hiccups, making his way to the two of you and helping move people aside so the path towards his room is easier on Minho.

“I think she’s had too much to drink. I’m taking her up to your room, is that fine?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Minho is strong in the way he carries you with his hands on your thighs, crouching down and hoisting you up when you feel like you’re about to fall. When he successfully makes his way to Jisung’s room, Minho makes sure to knock loudly on the door, ear pressed against the door. “Nobody better be making out in here!” And it’s only when silence greets him does he allow himself to twist the doorknob open.

“Sit down for a moment.” You burp when he places you down, body swaying alarmingly as you move to lay on the ground instead. Minho bends down to sit you back up so you don’t accidentally choke on your own vomit. It’s happened before with Chan, and he is not about to have a repeat.

“Just let me get a few of Jisung’s clothes for you to change into. And I should probably get you water. It’ll help you sober up, kay?”

“No, Min… wait!” The sudden movement has you clutching your head and forgetting what you were going to say to the boy. “Ugh.”

“Are you okay?” He takes a look at your heavy eyelids and your disheveled hair, and the way you hold your head in the palm of your hands. Minho moves from his place by Jisung’s closet to crouch down next to you instead. “Why did you drink so much?”

“Stop scolding me.” You hiccup. The music is more drowned out hidden in the four walls of Jisung’s room, and you know Minho’s teasing you by the tone of his voice.

“I’m not scolding you.” His eyes hold yours, and he speaks softly.

Your faces are a few inches apart, and even in the hazy way you’re seeing things, you can still admit that Lee Minho is beautiful. His hair is a little sweaty from the warmth of the overcrowded house, and his cheeks are dusted pink from the alcohol, but you know he’s not hit.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You clear your throat before he can say anything else.

“No, you’re not. I am not cleaning anyone’s vomit. Not today.”

Minho lifts you up from the ground, taking you to the bathroom so you’re seated directly in front of the toilet. He pulls the hair tie around your wrist, taking it from you so he can tie your hair up in case you do end up vomiting.

Tears prick in your eyes in your attempt to puke, though nothing but choked coughs come out. It makes you feel pathetic, so much so that you swat away Minho’s hand that’s rubbing your back. You don’t want anyone to look at you like this, teary eyes and hunched over so you bury your face in your hands where no one can see you.

“I’m so miserable and so unlovable.” You mumble incoherently, banging your head again and again on the wall before it meets contact with Minho’s palm instead. His free hand guides itself across your face, peeling away your fingers so he can see you better.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m misera—”

“Unlovable. You’re not unlovable.” There’s a pause as he exhales.

“How would you know?”

There’s an unreadable expression on Minho’s face when you ask. He looks like someone you’ve never met with the way he stares at you, although familiar. It’s clear that he’s thinking, but of what, you have no idea. He looks so concentrated.

“I just do.”

He’s so soft-spoken that you can’t bring yourself to rebut. And he doesn’t seem to wait for your response when he bends down to scoop you back up in his arms after making sure you showed no more signs of vomiting.

“I’m gonna get water. It’ll help you sober up.” He repeats, placing you down on Jisung’s bed and you immediately roll over to get yourself comfortable. Minho notes to change the sheets for the boy after classes tomorrow.

When he comes back, you’ve already fallen asleep.

six.

“Wake up.”

Minho’s shaking is unforgiving, peeling the comforter away from you despite your protests. He cringes at the way you grab the pillow, gripping it over your face so his whining would come out filtered and a little mumbly. Though, you fail to consider the way the pillow can easily be yanked away from you, especially from someone like Lee Minho.

His shaking are full-blown shoves now, and his voice is growing louder and louder despite the grumbling from Seungmin who had apparently also stumbled into Jisung’s room and fallen asleep on the floor some time in the night.

“Wake up, or we’re going to be late.”

The mention of class causes you to abruptly sit up, and Minho is about to drag you away from the bed when you fall back down, hands clutching your head and eyes squinted. “Oh my fucking god, my head.”

Too much is happening for your liking. The trance of sleep is still lingering in the way you blink slowly, and the headache you’re suckling under is hard to ignore. This is what you get for drinking on a weekday when you have 9am classes the next day.

The sight of your disheveled hair and the terribly grumpy look you’re sporting almost makes Minho snort, but he focuses on the mission at hand, and it’s to get you out of your bed so you don’t miss the only class you have for the day. And, as much as you want to be pissed off at Minho, you know he has your best interest at heart.

“Drink this and go take a shower.”

You rub your eyes, resentfully sitting up once again with Minho’s helping hand on your back. It’s only now you notice his damp hair, and the way he’s standing there with a plain black shirt and the gray joggers he wears almost everyday–you swear he owns ten pairs. He’s holding a whole pitcher of water too, shoving it in your direction as you blink away the restlessness.

You drink straight out of it even though the water seems to want to expel out of your body. You’ve had a few drunken nights to learn this, and it’s best that you finish it so you aren’t dehydrated for the rest of the day. Something about alcohol and the way it causes excessive urination which makes you lose more fluids than you should.

There’s barely any time to adjust to real-time when your best friend starts shoving you to the direction of the bathroom, throwing you a pair of Jisung’s joggers when he was in high school and an oversized hoodie that the boy had stolen from Minho. You don’t process how you manage to take a shower with your headache and the lack of sleep, only remembering the way the cold water felt and how relieving it was to brush your teeth to try and rid the scent of alcohol.

“You ready?” Minho runs a hand through his hair before pressing it down, eyes meeting yours just as you stumble out of the bathroom. He already has Chan’s car keys in hand.

You follow him tiredly, keeping your head hung to try and remedy the aching, all while Minho is gently shaking Chan’s passed out shoulder on the couch. “Channie, I’m taking your car.” The older boy just stirs, hand lifting in approval before it falls limp on his chest.

“Alright, in you go.” Minho reaches over, grabbing your seatbelt for you so he can fasten it. The position is a little compromising, and he’s inches away from you that you get a waft of his scent. He smells like Jisung’s soap, the same one you had used on yourself. Though, you don’t want to obsess about how close he is.

When he’s sure you won’t topple over in the case that he breaks, he stumbles out of your space and positions himself in the driver’s seat.

He doesn’t need to make much adjustments to anything considering he and Chan are nearly the same height. So, he takes the handbrake off and pulls on the gearshift before he’s guiding you out of Jisung’s parkway and towards the direction of the university.

Lee Minho is attractive as he drives steadily down the highway, eyes never leaving the road. His posture is sharp, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and turning it in perfect control when he needs to. It’s a little addicting to look at, and you’re sure you would’ve spent the entire duration staring at him if not for the lingering headache that causes you to veer away from your staring and close your eyes instead. It makes you grumble, head falling back into the space between the car window and your headrest.

“You sound like a dying mouse being suffocated by a small knife.” It slips out of his mouth, and even without looking at him, you know he’s wearing a small smirk on his face.

“...You need to go to a psych ward.”

You spend majority of the ride trying to recall what had happened last night, not that you remember much. You vaguely register laughing over Jeongin’s demise, dancing a lot, and Minho’s voice while you tried to retch out what you had for dinner over Jisung’s toilet. “What the hell even happened last night?”

“Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Why? Was I that embarrassing?” You open your eyes for a second to glance at your best friend, though his eyes remain glued on the road. It only makes you whine even more when he nods, shutting your eyes back closed after feeling dizzy over the strain of lights on your vision. “This is why I should never drink ever again.”

“You really don’t remember anything?” Minho tries asking.

“I remember pieces and chunks of it. I… uh, remember dancing and eating ice cream? Dude, I don’t even know. I think I tried to pick a fight with someone at one point.” You start. “And in the bathroom, when… oh.” You smack your lips together at the sudden memory, a pit in your stomach suddenly forming at the recollection.

You’re not unlovable. His words ring in your ears, hovering over the honking of cars and the bustle of business outside as people start their days. Did he really mean it when he said that or had he taken pity over your self-wallowing? Was he only saying it to comfort you? He didn’t feel cold when he said it though. While you don’t remember much, you can feel the faint warmth and the gentle lull in his voice when he spoke to you.

“What?” He eggs you to keep going, but your mouth suddenly feels bitter, pressed together in trial of sealing the words in your mouth.

It was embarrassing enough to yap about it drunk to Minho last night, you don’t need to repeat it this morning. Clenching your fists, you bring them to shield your eyes, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”

You sigh.

“DoyoureallythinkI’mnotunlovable?” You shuffle out the words as per his request, head tilted away from him so you’re facing the window instead.

“I literally cannot understand you, please learn how to speak.” He deadpans.

“Do you really think I’m not unlovable? Do you actually mean it?” You repeat, slowly this time, like he’s asking of you. You don’t see the way his grip tightens around the steering wheel.

There’s a pause, and he’s silent for a moment. You almost regret bringing it up again had you not remembered that this was a usual thing for your best friend. There’s something about him–in the way he presses his lips together, front lip tutting out, and the way he blows his hair away from his eyes and peeks at you for a second before leading them back on the road. It’s indicative of when he thinks, when he ponders over teasing or being genuine.

“Of course I do.” If you listen close enough, you would’ve heard the way his voice cracks a little at the latter part of his sentence, though it’s well hidden beneath an exhale. “A lot of people love you, (name). The boys love you, your family. I— Soonie, Doongie, Dori too. You aren’t a reflection of what one stupid fucker thinks of you.”

You can’t help the quiet, airy laugh at the way his voice significantly grows softer, free hand patting your thigh for a second before returning on the gearshift. There’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel something inside, a small silver lining piercing through your heart.

“Wow. I didn’t think you would actually… that you had it in you to tell me that.” Your eyes meet his side profile, and you can tell he’s taking quick glances at you before he heaves a heavy sigh.

“Don’t act like I don’t care about you.” He mumbles, and there’s a little hoarseness in the way he said it. You think you might be imagining it.

“You don’t care about me.” You say as a joke, and almost out of impulse at the way Minho is making your bones rattle right now. Maybe if you moved the course of your conversation somewhere lighter, the rattling would stop.

“I don’t care?” He scoffs, but you can tell he’s chaffing by the way his voice increases in volume. “I… don’t… care?” It’s incredulous the way he says it, mouth dropping as if you had dropped the biggest, wrongful accusation his way.

“Okay, okay, okay, maybe you care a little. It’s touching that you give me coffee.”

He hums. “Because for coffee, there’s a minimum order amount.”

You merely laugh.

“That’s right. I guess I’m just a means to match the minimum order amount.”

“Okay, but seriously, you aren’t unlovable, okay? You’re just sad and a little bit angry. Let’s have some coffee after class, hm?” The pace of the car slows down as he puts Chan’s car on hazard. You recognize the building to be his dorm. His words make you look down at the sleeves of the oversized jacket you’re wearing, stomach tying in knots. “Now, wait here. I just need to get my homework.”

That surely makes your head spring up.

“Homework?”

“The one Miss Kim assigned us last time? You know, when she left class early and had us do a few equations.”

“Oh my god.” When your exasperation meets his gaze, he laughs.

“You didn’t do it?”

“I didn’t do it!” You say in panic, eyes widening as he hurriedly jogs into his dorm room to grab the paper hanging on his desk before he shoves his answered worksheet to you. You catch it, immediately rummaging your backpack from the day before for a pen and paper so you can start copying off of Minho.

You don’t finish by the time you make it to your building, and Minho has to push from behind you as you look nowhere but your paper. You don’t even realize you’ve made it to your seats until your best friend pushes you down to sit while he mindlessly scrolls on his phone.

“Minho, Minho, Minho.” You don’t look at him as you call his name, still scribbling down numbers and equations you don’t understand. “If she comes in, please distract her. I’m only halfway done, please, please, please.”

“What do I get in return?” He cracks a vexatious grin, one you want to wipe off his face so bad because of course he’d find a way to profit off of your suffering. He puts down his phone, fixing his gaze on your hunched over figure with the same stupid smirk. You almost want to stab the pen in his eye.

“Please, I would take back every insult I’ve ever said to yo— Actually wait, you’re the one that insults me. I’ll forget every insult you've ever said to me if you do this, please.”

He sighs, body falling limp on his chair in defiance. He’s acting like a three-year-old when their parents don’t get the toy they’re begging for in the mall. “You’re taking me to that cat cafe that just opened.”

“Fine, just do it.” You respond harshly.

It’s with perfect timing that Minho arrives at the entrance to your classroom, just as Ms. Kim walks in and the students start going back to their seats from having gossiped with their friends. This prompts you to look over at your best friend, seeing him pull out his phone and shove it in your professor’s face. You would have laughed if not for the homework that’s staring at you maniacally. You try not to fuck up your numbers.

Minho glances up at you from time to time, and when you’re still bent over the table, he knows he has to keep scrolling through his photo album appropriately labeled Soondoongdori. You better be paying for his coffee later in exchange for the stupid things he does for you on a daily basis.

“Don’t you have a cat too, Ms. Kim?” He asks, tone sickeningly sweet as he forces her to look at another video of Doongie meowing in front of his door. In the first minute, it’s actually kind of cute and sweet for him to show her endearing photos of her favorite animal. That is, until six more minutes pass and he’s still showing her photos when she’s supposed to have started class by now.

“Oh, wait. But look at Soonie and the hat he’s wearing.”

“Lee Minho. I appreciate you showing me photos of your own cats, but please go back to your seat so I can start the class.” She tries to keep an even tone, and Minho all but smiles in faux innocence as he finally returns to his seat next to you just as you finish. “I’ll send you a Google Drive if you’d like!”

She dismisses his offer.

“Alright. Pass your homework.” Ms. Kim announces, and you let out the sigh you didn’t know you’ve been holding as Minho takes both of your papers from you so he can put it on your professor’s table as instructed.

“You’re paying for my coffee.” He whispers threateningly, chucking his phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants before crossing his arms and relaxing in his seat in preparation for your 2-hour lecture.

You would’ve thrown him a gentle punch in retaliation for attempting to steal money off of you, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Lee Minho is your lifeline, and you’re sure you would’ve dropped out of college if not for his constant nagging and the way he saves your ass every single time you need it. In fact, you were fully convinced you would’ve fallen prisoner to your breakup if not for the way he forces you out of your dorm to do something as simple as grocery shopping or eating dinner with him.

“Alright, fine.” You say, turning your attention to your professor as she begins her powerpoint presentation.

You risk one last glance at your best friend, lips jutted out the way they do when he’s concentrated and bored eyes directed to the front. It’s awkward timing to be grateful for him while your teacher rants about something, but it can’t be helped.

It’s uncommon to come across a Minho in your life. Perhaps all the reincarnations of you before had suffered tremendously for the lack of luck on having Lee Minho, so you suppose the price of coffee will suffice in hinting at your appreciation for the boy for the lengths and hoops he goes through for you.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get him again in your next life.

seven.

The Cat Playground is a cafe that recently opened a month ago just outside your campus. You’ve been meaning to head there for quite some time, however, the initial buzz of a newly opened establishment is terrifying. Whenever you and Minho had passed by it, a truck load of people were filling up the space, and you really didn’t want to stress out the kittens.

Though, it’s a little more bearable now that people have gotten over that fizzle. As promised, you take him to the coffee shop for the “embarrassment” you had put him through earlier this morning. Plus, coffee will do the light dizziness you’re still nursing.

The inside of the small building is cold, though the sun does a wonderful job reflecting through the huge glass windows to perfectly balance the temperature. You coo instantly at the sight of the cats, pacing around and jumping to sleep in their little wooden cat houses. There’s a sort of friendliness the place houses that’s striking to you. The paintings lined up give the place a character of its own, pillows on the floor and tables surprisingly stout. You suppose it’s so that it’s easier to play with the cats, though, there is space in the back with normal-sized furniture. You don’t pay it mind. You know exactly where you and Minho will be seated.

You continue to walk a few meters as Minho lines up for the both of you, instructing you to find a seat. The closer you got to where the cats stayed, the more you could distinguish their scent, and there are a few toys sticking out that only look familiar to you because Minho has them back at home for his own cats.

Though, a sharp squeeze turns in your sternum when you spot an empty space only for a huge butterfly painting to decorate its wall. Your throat dries up at the sight.

Oh.

You contemplate whether or not you should just suck it up and sit here, eyes unmoving from the painting that you don’t notice your best friend until he places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you past the painting towards an empty space not far away.

He drops on a beanie bag right away, hand outstretched to start calling the attention of the cats. They come stumbling in, purring loudly and situating themselves by your feet. You wonder if they can sense cat owners, almost convinced they can by the way they comfortably sit by Minho.

One of them jumps on his lap, patting down on his stomach before flopping down to lay down. On instinct, Minho reaches out to rub its head, moving down to its chin and neck. “What are you doing on my belly, hm?” He mumbles, leaning down to bump his nose with the cat’s.

The sight you’re subjected to makes your heart soften significantly.

“Your order is horrible, by the way. How the hell do you drink that?” Minho laughs, face scrunching in faux disgust when you start sipping on your drink. It has way too much cream and sugar for your best friend’s liking. You simply roll your eyes.

“You literally drink straight black coffee. I don’t know who thought that was good for human consumption. Ahh—” You’re immediately distracted by the cats passing by you, trying to coax them to come to you but they don’t. You pout, holding both your arms out to the little group settled around Minho. “They don’t like me very much.”

“They don’t?” Minho coos, eyes full of mirth as he reaches down to one of the cats. A british shorthair. “Can you go to her and make her feel better, hm? She’s being a little sulky right now.”

On command, the little kitten paces towards where you’re seated, hovering around you before you finally scoop the little boy in your arms and place him on your belly, mimicking Minho. Your eyes fall towards the cat before making contact with your best friend’s, big smile on your face so much so that the apple of your cheeks are visible.

“See, they just needed some time, but they like you too.”

The softness in Minho’s gaze takes great effect in whatever the hell you’re feeling inside that you have to avert your eyes back to the small cat lounging on your stomach. This cat, and Minho, and the hot coffee waiting for you on your table makes you so overwhelmingly happy, as little things often do. It’s new, this feeling of contentment.

It’s quiet and nice to just be with your best friend, and the cats, and your coffee. They make you feel like everything will only get better from here on out, make you realize that sometimes happiness is this simple.

“Mark didn’t like cats very much.” Your voice softens, hand scratching the kitten’s head. “So… this is nice.” You mumble the rest of your words, but it’s at the right amount of silence that Minho still hears you.

“Hmm… should’ve ended things right then and there.” He murmurs.

You laugh at his response. “I should’ve. I hate that I can’t— like some things will never be the same.”

Minho scoots his seat closer to where you are.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like—” You sigh, biting your lips and staring down on your lap. “You’re gonna say it’s stupid.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, not diverting his gaze anywhere but on you. “Only if it is.”

“Like butterflies.” Your shoulders slump, and there’s a dejection in your voice. “We were gonna sit there, but then it reminded me of his stupid tattoo and I just… He took away something beautiful from me— I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” He places his hand over yours, stopping you from fiddling with your fingers. The contact makes your heart jump. “Do you think it’s something you can regain?”

You look down at his hand on yours, carefully taking it to play with the ring he wears, pulling it out and pushing it back in. When you look up at him once again, you’re met with his softening stare.

“I want to… I hope to. It doesn’t hurt as much when I buy milk.”

“That’s good. Hopefully, you’ll be able to feel that more than you feel haunted by it.”

You swallow, nodding your head. “I’m trying.”

Minho doesn’t say anything else, taking your order from the table and handing it to you so you can satiate your thoughts temporarily with the taste of coffee. Then, he positions himself next to you so you can rest your head on his shoulder the way he knows you want to. It’s quiet, aside from the gentle chatter of those around you and the purring of the cats walking around. Minho still has a cat in his arms, his knee would nudge yours from time to time just to check on you.

Then his phone rings. It doesn’t look like he wants to make a move to pick it up, groaning at the sudden breach of his peace. Sighing, he finally picks up the call and presses it to his ear just as the cat hops off of his lap.

“What? Don’t call me if you don’t need anything.” He hangs up just as quickly as he picks up the phone and you laugh a little at the abruptness and his urge to return to the moment with you.

“Min?”

“Hm?” He hums, pocketing his phone and turning to look at you. The sound of his name falling from your lips always makes him perk up like this.

The irritation on his face has dissipated, and he looks at you with nothing but gentleness. You treasure these moments with Minho. He might not look like it, but really does care about the people around him. You’re lucky he let you into his circle.

“Thank you.”

You don’t need to specify for what. He already knows.

eight.

Finals season for the semester marks the arrival of winter, sweeping in mounds of snow.

Your university is blanketed in white, frosted windows as students hurry towards their next exam wearing layers upon layers of coats. The winter’s breeze settles heavy, harsh winds nipping at your dorm window. Though, you can’t quite hear the frigid weather over Minho’s unabashed laughter, meshing with the chilling winds outside. It’s so infectious, that if you hadn’t ensnared yourself into this situation, you would’ve been laughing with him.

“Will you stop laughing?!” The perplexity etched upon your face only seems to make Minho laugh harder, one hand clutching at his stomach while the other grips tightly around your notebook. “Minho, I am going to fail!”

You drop on the ground, piles of papers and notes surrounding you. You suppose this was on you for mistakenly thinking your Calculus exam would take place after your winter break, only realizing it was actually in three hours when Chaeryeong had texted you with a picture of her notes, asking you if it was included in the coverage for the exam later.

You called Minho in a panic, knowing he had taken this class a year before. However, when you had told him of your predicament, he had fallen into a fit of laughter. He knows your distress is genuine, yet he can’t help but find it funny. This would only happen to you.

With your face buried in your hands, you kick your feet around messily, akin to a child denied of things they wanted their parents to buy.

“Get up. Come on.” He interrupts himself with more laughter, kneeling down next to you and slapping your legs so you can get his message. “Get up, we can do this! We still have three hours!”

“I didn’t know the exam was later. I thought it was after the break.” Your muffled cries are punctuated by Minho's choked laughter. He’s still shoving your legs, persistence heavy until you actually sit up from your place on the ground.

“Focus!” Minho’s laughter finally subsides, eyes scanning over the pages of your notes. “Okay, you know how to write polar equations in parametric form right?”

“Dude, I don’t know.”

“Oh my god, you’re actually so fucked.”

“Minho, please!” There is no way in hell you can scold the boy. You need his help. Otherwise, you’d have to fail your exam without so much as an effort to even get a passing grade. And you were not about to retake this class next semester.

He’s laughing again. “You can use the standard transformation from Cartesian coordinates to polar coordinates. Come here, look at this.”

He finishes up writing out the equations and formulas on your notebook, propping it up for you to see better. “You just have to memorize these, and you’ll pass. I swear.”

“This is so ridiculous.” You whine, grabbing the notebook from his hand and staring at it as if your life depends on it. You��re desperately wishing you had just checked on your schedule again, clarified with a classmate, absolutely anything that could’ve gotten you out of the hell of cramming formulas you don’t understand in three hours.

“You’re a lost cause.”

Minho flinches when you attempt to hit him with your notebook.

“I know I am, but one of us has to be optimistic and as my best friend, you’re going to be playing that role.” You drop your head back down on the floor, although the collision isn’t as harsh when your head makes contact with Minho’s head.

“Why are you trying to hit your head? You’ll lose everything you have left in there.” His eyes are mirthful, and you know there’s laughter brewing at the tip of his tongue.

“Minhooooooo!” You whine.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you. You’re probably going to fail this test. It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, but there’s just nothing we can do about it now. Besides, you still have that final project, right?” You feel a section in your brain twitch and Minho lifts his hands up when you direct a chilling glare at him.

“Maybe Seungmin can be my new best friend.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Minho!”

“Okay, okay! Memorize the formulas and you’ll at least pass.”

You do better than you expect, and it’s all thanks to Minho’s stupid list of formulas.

nine.

You hate that it hits you randomly.

It had been 2 months since you last saw Mark, back when you had gotten so drunk at Jisung’s party. The pain isn’t so much over him, but the powerlessness that you feel. You’re sure you’re over him, but insecurities are so hard to banish when the breakup acts as a fuel to send everything in flames.

When you feel this way, something as easy as your bracelet snapping can set you off. It’s a silly thing to be worked up over, but you are.

It’s how you find yourself in front of Minho’s dorm, nose red from the nipping snow and snowflakes littering your eyelashes and your hair. There’s visible puffs when you breathe, and you’re sure your tears have frozen over from the harsh winds, though the tug of the breeze does nothing to hide how swollen your eyes are.

Snow pollutes your vision, and it’s a little difficult to trek through the heavy snow, but you make it to his dorm building. He doesn’t expect to find you crying in front of him at eleven in the evening.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice wavers, gently tugging you into the warmth of his dorm room. He positions you by the heater, grabbing the blanket he had been using and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Min…” You try to speak, but your face almost breaks.

He sucks in a deep breath at the sight. “Don’t cryyy. It’s okay, come here.”

Minho dusts away the snowflakes on your hair, tugging you to sit on the couch. He’s careful with his steps, guiding you forward as he walks back.

“Be careful, the floor’s slippery. I just mopped it.” He brings his palms together, rubbing them and blowing into them before resting them on your cold cheeks when you’re finally seated on the couch. There’s a prominent furrow to his eyebrows, but his eyes are soft.

“It’s broken.” Your face twitches, staring down at your clenched fingers.

“What’s broken?” He murmurs, hand wrapping around your wrist to bring your fist closer to him.

“My bracelet. It’s…” You have to bite back the sob that bursts from your throat, opening your hand to reveal the broken string and a few beads that had fallen off when it had snapped earlier. You’re feeling so much—embarrassment, frustration, everything.

“Okay, it’s okay.” He draws himself closer to where you’re seated, wrapping the string around your wrist. “I’ll fix it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Your vision is distorted as Minho ties the string around your wrist, head hung inches away from yours as you stare down at his hands. His elbow nudges your chest gently as he works on your broken bracelet, and you can feel a few strands of his hair tickle your cheeks at the proximity.

“Is that better?” It’s temporarily fixed, string tied in knots just enough so it’s clinging onto your wrist but it’s enough. “See, all fixed now. Nothing to worry about.”

At his words, you start to break into another silent sob, face scrunching as you bow your head so he can’t see you properly. Your free hand goes to fiddle with your temporarily fixed bracelet, sniffling as you feel a few tears dripping down and sinking into the skin of your arm.

“Hey, look at me.” Minho coos, but it only makes you cry harder when you finally lift your head to meet his gaze. You wipe your eyes with your sleeves, taking in a deep breath as you struggle to keep eye contact.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

You shake your head.

“Do you want to eat now? I can cook you something really fast.” He whispers.

You sniffle, blinking back your tears until you can see him enough. “Okay.”

Minho rushes to the kitchen, leaving you with the rabbit stuffed animal you had given him in your senior year of high school. He says it’s to keep you company while he cooks, and that you should take in slow deep breaths with Leebit.

He does return fast, bowl of hot food in hand that he blows into before handing it to you. “Careful, it’s hot.” He blinks at you, voice as soft as you had heard it that time you had cried over his spicy steak and pasta.

“Good?” You nod, chewing into the food slowly. There are still tears bunched up in your eyes, but they don’t fall anymore.

“Of course it is.” There’s a teasing edge to his voice as he leans forward to brush your hair out of your face, soothing it down, and it makes you laugh a little like it did before.

The boy reaches forward, decides to wipe a stray tear away as he sits cross-legged beside you on his couch, eyes staying on you as you continue to quietly eat the food he had made for you. There’s still a lingering feeling in the pit of your stomach, but Minho makes you forget about that.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out shaky. “I don’t— I don’t know why I was crying.”

“Oh, this poor baby.” There’s an intonation in the way he speaks, setting down your empty bowl on the table as he pulls your head to rest on his shoulder. His heart clenches at the way you instantly succumb, eyes dropping from exhaustion as you nuzzle your head on his shoulder.

“Stop babying me.” You whine. “You always baby me when I cry.”

“You make it so easy, though.” He murmurs.

A warm hand comes up to your chin, stroking it like he would a cat. And you don’t understand in the slightest, but it lifts a pressure off your chest just being here with him. It feels familiar here with him, so comfortable. You’ve always been made to think that crying makes you weak, but it’s never been a problem with Minho.

You’re thankful for exactly who he is, and for offering a type of relationship you would have only dreamed of when you were a child. He makes you feel easy to love, that you don’t have to try and make yourself digestible so people will love you more.

You’ll do what makes you happy, and that’s all he’ll ever ask from you.

ten.

You spend the night before New Years at Minho’s dorm room.

He’s out buying a few things for dinner, and he comes home to you staring outside the window. Your lips are parted, like you want to ask him something, but no words come out. He lets you be, feet waddling to stand next to you as he tries to see what’s outside that has so much of your interest.

“What’re you looking at?” Minho stirs, piping down to try and see things clearer, but all he sees is snow.

“Why? Are you so interested in the things that catch my eye?” He looks down at you with a judging eye, lips drawn together into a line.

“I’m going to stick my fingers in your eye.”

“I wanna go out and play in the snow.” He knows the question hanging in your statement, knows you want him to come out with you. But he also knows that you know he’s not the biggest fan of winter, and the heavy snow, and how it’s prone to make someone sick.

“No.” Minho responds, moving away from the window to start arranging his groceries in the kitchen. You drag your feet to follow him, pouting up at him. It’s manipulative, you’re trying to manipulate him with your stupid pout, but it isn’t working.

“Please! I wanna go outside, and it’ll be boring to play in the snow alone!”

“I know a really nice place where we can go.” He suddenly grins, the kind that meets his eyes in a haunting manner, but you know him better than that. You know exactly what he’s going to say.

“You’re gonna say this dorm, aren’t you?” You mumble. “Okay, fine. I’ll just go outside alone.”

“Really? Great thinking!” Minho laughs directly in your face, and it only makes your pout grow. Even reserve psychology isn’t working on him.

“Minhoooooo.” You whine, tugging at the ends of his shirt and smiling bright at him—almost as if a politician begging for his vote.

He finishes putting away his groceries, head hung back as he lets out a sigh. “You are such an old woman. Fine, let’s go.”

“That’s the spirit! You know, I think this should be your year of yes.”

“I say yes to everything though.”

“Yeah, but like begrudgingly.”

“And that’s the best I can do. Now hurry up, you’re taking too long.” He’s already waiting for you by the door, arms crossed as you struggle to put on your coat and your boots.

When you attempt to run outside, he tugs you back before grabbing an extra pair of gloves for you to wear. You smile at him thankfully before running outside and instantly dropping to start playing with the snow. Minho stands by your side, watching as your eyes stay focused on the falling snow. It’s an endearing sight, the way you crouch down and gather as much snow you can in your gloved hands.

He’s not too eager for the season as much as everyone is, doesn’t find the appeal in freezing your ass off, doesn’t have the time to scoop away the snow just to get his car out of the driveway. He’s almost everything that you aren’t. Though, he thinks he can make an exception by the way you excitedly show him the snowball in your hands. You look like an example of pure, unadulterated happiness brought by the season, and in the moment, Minho sees why people enjoy the snow so much.

“Alright, come on, let’s build a snowman.” Your head snaps in his direction, smile so bright that you have to bite down at your lips to hold the giggle that’s trying to escape your mouth. A winter ago, you had complained to him about how Mark never wanted to build a snowman with you. He had taken his side at the time, having hated the snow himself.

“Actually?” Your eyes are wide as you ask him.

He thinks you look like an idiot as you drag him to where there’s a few piles of snow, but he’ll be mute with amusement as you actually start to build one together. He travels the distance of where you are to his dorm twice just to grab a carrot and buttons for eyes as you scour around to look for a few sticks as arms. It’ll be worth it when you jump back in amazement at the snowman you had built.

To be frank, Minho thinks it looks a bit scuffed. His arm is about to fall off, and his head is way too small in proportion to his body, but he watches with an unconscious grin on his face as you excitedly take photos of the snowman.

When your face starts to flush red, Minho ushers you back inside his dorm. “Let’s get back inside. It’s time for you to go into the oven.”

You laugh.

“Thanks for coming out with me.”

He clears his throat at the sudden sincerity. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You jump back when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. It’s his silent revenge for you dragging him out into the cold he dislikes so much. “Your hand is so cold! Get it away from me!”

“Ah, I must be passing away soon. My temperature keeps dropping.”

“Can you stop saying stuff like that!”

Minho laughs at the way you throw the gloves you had worn at him, a cute string of chuckles with his habitual ‘ah’ right after. He catches it with ease, setting them aside on the table in case you feel another sudden spur to go outside.

He makes you hot chocolate a few minutes later. Another begrudging yes upon your sudden request. Leebit keeps you company as he cooks up something for dinner.

eleven.

Winter settles heavily, and you’re handed the hot chocolate you were promised. You eat dinner over quiet conversations, new year's resolutions spilled after small sips of the wine Minho had opened. Though, around an hour before the calendar restarts, his voice falls mute in your ears. You just nod at the right times, smile when he does, and focus on the way the words fall out of his mouth.

This is the most relaxed you’ve ever felt.

You suppose you should feel guilty for your inability to listen to him, but there is something enchanting about the way Minho laughs. You didn’t know it looked as beautiful as this, starting from his throat before bubbling out in a boyish chuckle. You would’ve never noticed otherwise.

The moment only unmutes itself when he pinches your arm.

“Ow!” You yelp, drawing your hand back. “What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening to me anymore.” He whines, setting his empty wine glass down.

“I’m sorry, I’ll listen now. I swear”. You laugh, staring down at the space between your thighs before looking up at your best friend. He’s wearing a pout, but you can tell there’s a small smile threatening to pull at his lips.

“Was just talking about how we should ruin children’s dreams by telling everyone Santa Claus isn’t real.”

It’s such a Minho thing to say, and you can only laugh at the boy fondly as he pushes himself to his feet. You’re about to ask where he’s going when he tells you to wait a second, disappearing into his room with a purpose in his eye. Though, when he comes back, he says nothing as he resumes his place next to you.

“Close your eyes.” He finally says.

“Why?”

“Just close them.”

“The last time you let someone close their eyes, you had violently shoved tissues down their mouth.” You accuse, recalling the time when Hyunjin had fallen victim to your best friend’s antics. A smile ghosts on his face at the memory. He truly is a psychopath.

“I don’t have any tissues on me, so close your eyes before I shut them myself.”

“Jesus, alright, I’m closing them. How have you gotten away with this behavior for years? You should be locked up somewhere.” You joke, finally shutting your eyes.

“Give me your hand.”

“Minho, I swear to God, if you put a bug on my ha—”

“Give it to me.” He interrupts you, taking your hand. You feel a weight being pressed down on your hand. It’s light, and it feels a little scattered.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

You feel yourself freeze momentarily, staring at the bracelet on your hand. You had expected him to pull some sort of gag, to put a fake plastic bug on your hand, not a bracelet that looked identical to the one you had broken almost a month ago. It leaves you speechless, looking up at him but he instantly breaks eye contact.

Minho is looking down at his feet, scuffing it around his floor. His lips are parted like he wants to say something, but it looks a little hesitant. Pondering even. And he does intend to say something, but of the thousands of words he has learned from the day he was born up until this moment, he doesn’t think he can find the right words to say to you.

He still tries.

“I know that Christmas is over, but it took me a really long time to find the exact one you had broken.” He settles on something teasing. It’s what he knows best. “I know, I know, I’m the greatest best friend in the world.”

You look down at the bracelet that he quietly wraps around your wrist. You can only blink, frozen in your spot. He’s wordless as he encases it, and it’s only now you see that something’s different about him. There’s a small butterfly charm sitting at the center, beautiful and dainty. Your heart squeezes.

“The butterfly…” You start.

“Is to regain it. No boy has power to take away the things you find beautiful. I hope… in this way, it can be yours again.” He finishes for you.

You’re sure the nudge in your heart is easily seen in your expression. His name falls from your mouth, looking down at the bracelet before back at him. He looks so beautiful. His smile is too pretty, hair too soft. It’s hard not to look at him. It’s even harder when he does things like this, little by little making your heart feel whole again. He introduces you to a warmth you’ve never known.

“What’s with that face? Don’t get emotional. I’m not saying this to move you.”

His response makes you laugh when he says it because it’s just so him, but even his words contradict with the way he’s holding back his smile.

10…9…8…

There’s silence right after your laughter subdues and you hear nothing but your muted breathing.

“I’m really happy I’m spending New Years with you this year.”

He makes you feel like flying that it feels like you need to hold onto him to keep you grounded. With bated breath, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him. It’s hard to express how grateful you are for him, so you hope that your thoughts get closer to his heart if you hug him like this.

Minho jumps back in surprise, hand gingerly resting against your hip for a split second before wrapping his arms fully around your waist and pulling you closer to him. His fingers dig into your skin gently in a warm embrace.

7…6…5…

Minho’s gesture is still taking root in your heart, everything he’s done for you from the moment you met, and all the things he continues to do. It’s all still processing in your head when something registers in your head. Blood rushes to your ears at the realization. This can’t be right.

A million thoughts rush through your head. Maybe it began with a few brushes of contact, so fleeting that if you blink, you’ll miss it—a hand on your back, a shoulder brushing against yours, thighs pressed together. Maybe it was in your stomach, the butterflies fluttering around that you had thought you’d imagined. Maybe it was in your heart, in its constant thrumming and the unidentifiable nudge you felt once in a while.

4…3…2…

You look up at your best friend, taking a good look at the small smile on his face. When he catches you staring, his mouth morphs into a smirk, but it doesn’t look as teasing as it usually does. His features are softened. You think it might be in how gentle his eyes look, gaze so soft.

There’s a look on his face when he looks at you, and you only realize it now—the look he reserves for his cats, and his stupid pudding. There is no better feeling than having the hope of reciprocation.

1…

“Happy New Year, loser.” He mumbles, and the way he’s smiling down at you right now could mute all the fireworks decorating the sky.

Oh no.

You’re falling in love again.

twelve.

Spring arrives overnight, like an unexpected guest. With each budding flower and unfurling petals and the chirps of birds early in the morning, you’re only reminded that things do get better. Spring’s sudden flurry signifies the coming of change in a sweet promise of healing. The barren branches of winter snow now adorn young flowers

You do nothing about your feelings for three months, allowing them to cement themselves deeply into your heart until you’re sure of how you feel. But you’re unsure if you can keep it in anymore, not when the petals of cherry blossoms float around Minho who’s walking next to you, like he always does.

It feels different, like there has always been a premonition of love sitting on your chest until it was the right moment. Like the young flowers growing from the barren branches of the winter snow, you feel your heart adorn a feeling that is blossoming.

It’s quiet, save from your footsteps and the rustling of petals around you. His eyes glisten with a certain warmth that no one can replicate, and it’s something you’ve grown familiar with. A confession is brewing in your throat, and you try to make it look like your mind isn’t reeling. You fail to consider the way Minho knows you like the back of his hand, watching you closely as your brows furrow purposefully.

“Something on your mind?”

The prospect of confessing to your best friend is scary, almost uncharted territory. The realization that you’ve fallen in love once again is even scarier. Your first love had left you with a kind of sadness that took some time to recover from, but being with Minho had made you believe in everything again, at a time when you thought your whole world had crashed down on you, at a time when you thought you’d never feel this way again.

He makes you happy, so screw everything else. Screw that fear. There is nothing else to do, but—

“I think I like you. No, I think I…” You blurt out, stabbing the silence.

The word is sitting on your throat, but it’s much harder to say out loud. Minho’s eyes widen, caught off guard by your words. He feels the need to reassure you, can see the way you’re bruising yourself over being unable to say it.

“Hey, you don’t have to say it right now.”

“But I do. And I… I need— I need to know how you feel… about me.” Your voice grows significantly quieter. You try to maintain eye contact, but it’s a little difficult when he’s looking at you like that. Doe eyes and soft lips parted.

He meets your eyes, as if searching for something. He looks so entirely Minho that it has your heart tumbling.

“I love you.”

“I… What?” Your heart fills with hope.

“I love you.” He says so easily, as if they had been words sitting in his mouth for a very long time. You look into his eyes, searching for any sign that would indicate any teasing, but you don’t find anything. You only find a type of genuineness and softness unique to him, when he’s stripping himself vulnerable in his truth.

“Do you really mean that?” Your breath is shallow, staring at him straight in the eye. You step closer to where he’s standing.

“I do.” Minho’s face visibly relaxes. “Ever since you visited my house for the first time and met Soonie, Doongie, and Dori.”

You remember that day as if it was yesterday. He’d been so excited to finally let you meet his cats, bag slung over his back as he tugged you towards his door. He’d stopped and stared when you crouched down to his cats’ heights, pulling out a few treats you had bought for them when Minho had told you you’d be meeting them. You thought nothing of it, nothing of the way his eyes flicker from you to his pets, lips curved into a small smile and eyes softening significantly. And then you realize that had been years ago. He had been in love with you for years.

“But that was… that was way before. That was…” You stutter over your own words, unable to believe that he had been harboring these emotions for such a long time, far longer than you could fathom.

“And I have loved you every single day after. Even when you wore those god awful bright red parts almost everyday.” He says, taking your hands in his. You snort at the memory.

“Minho, stop joking around.”

“Me? Joking around? I would never.” He brings your hands to his lips and presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “I’ve loved you, and I’ve loved past those pants, and your snot when you cry, and when you were puking over your toilet after drinking for the first time, and the crumbs you leave on my couch when you eat your chips.”

A soft laugh escapes you, and you jut your lips out in recollection of every single memory. He mirrors your laughter, eyes forming crescents. He’s been so good at hiding how you make him feel, but maybe if you looked close enough, you would’ve seen it.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me.”

“Hmm, but I love you.”

You crack a smile, even though it feels like you’re about to cry from the way your heart is aching from the overwhelmingness of Minho’s softness. It doesn’t take long before the tears start to form, laughter cracking in a stubborn way when a bubble forms in your throat.

“What are you doing? Are you crying?” He teases, letting go of your hands so he can hold your face in his hands, so he can see you better. There’s no need to answer him when it’s painfully obvious by the way he swipes at the tears on the corner of your eyes.

“I’m not!” You sniffle, letting your hands rest atop of his that’s still cupping your face. “Stop looking at me. This is so embarrassing.”

“Even more embarrassing than when you cried over milk when we were doing groceries?” He murmurs, thumb stroking up and down your cheeks and lips brushing over your face that it makes your heart contract.

“Okay, we don’t have to bring that back.” You pout, trying to will the tears away from your eyes. You fail, but it does make Minho laugh. “Why didn’t… If you loved me for so long, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because you were hurting. And I’ll always be your best friend before someone who’s been in love with you.” His words take root in your heart, injecting itself as he leans in even closer. Now you feel all soft and putty in his hands.

“Do you really mean all this?” You’re having a hard time believing that any of this could be true. Your voice falters as you speak, staring into his eyes but all he was fixated on was your lips.

“Mhm. I love you. Get used to it because I’m never saying this again.” His eyes light up, and it squeezes your heart. Then, his eyes flutter closed and he pulls you gently to his lips, finally closing the distance and allowing himself to fall into you freely, in the open. It’s slow and sweet, and it almost makes you tumble that you have to hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself standing.

He kisses you like he wants you to feel the love he’s kept locked up just for you, and you think you imagine the whimper that falls from his lips against yours. Minho keeps his hands on your cheeks, unable to touch you anywhere else, unable to act out on how in love he is with you. So, he keeps kissing you, and kissing you until he can cement every detail into his head.

When you break away from the kiss, he doesn’t fight back the giddy smile on his face, he doesn’t mask the softness he’d bared himself in front of you. Minho only rests his forehead against yours, leaning down to press a few kisses to your face.

You’ve never been this happy, never felt more love than in this moment. Second loves don’t get as much credit for the way they’re able to rebuild a heart you thought would be shattered for a long time. They don’t get enough recognition for the way they teach you that maybe your first love hadn’t been your first love after all. That maybe everything was meant to happen to lead you down a single winding path towards Minho’s heart. Maybe this has always been your predetermined destination.

In a few months, summer will come again, and you’ll be ready to move past the seasons with Minho, the way it was always meant to be.

note. u have made it to the end !!! let me know what you think :’) i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it

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pholla-jm · 4 months

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Klutz

IMAGINE: KLUTZ ~ LAW X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: established relationship. mention of blood. mention of broken bone ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud crash echoes through the submarine which causes Law’s head to snap up. Normally, one would think that something happened to the ship. But he already knows what happened.

With a heavy sigh, he gets up from his chair and walks towards the source of the noise. He wasn’t surprised to see you frantically moving around. You were putting things away. Law could only best deduce that you had accidentally knocked into something and caused it to crash. And now you were putting everything away before someone noticed.

“(y/n)-ya.” He calls out, causing you to jump and knock your arm into a shelf. You let out a small yelp before turning to your Captain with a nervous smile. “Captain, what brings you here?” “Thought I heard something.”

You purse your lips and shake your head, “nope. I didn’t hear anything. Have you gotten enough sleep?” “Are you saying that I’m hearing things, (y/n)-ya?” The tone in his voice suggested that you shouldn’t be playing around with him. But you didn’t care.

Your hands go up in mock surrender. “Hey, you’re the one that said it. Not me.”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t you have things to do?” “Yup! So I’ll be on my way now.” You happily say before skipping past him.

However, you trip over the bottom part of the hatch door causing you to face plant against the floor. You heard a soft crunch as soon as you hit the floor, causing you to let out a whine of pain. Law’s eyes widened when he saw you fall onto the floor.

He doesn’t waste a second to pull you up from the floor. A free hand goes up to cover your nose, trying to relieve the pain that shot through your face. You immediately felt warm liquid cover your hand, signifying that your nose was bleeding.

“How could you trip over that?” He was exasperated from how clumsy you are. If he was being honest, it was a bit tiring from how clumsy you are. He was also always worried about how you were going to hurt yourself next.

You only shrug your shoulders at his question, “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t see it.” “Let’s just get your nose fixed.” “Huh? What are you talking about? It’s fine.” You try to convince him, but you already knew that there was no way Law was going to believe you.

“There is blood dripping down your face.”

You let out a disappointed sigh. Not disappointed in him, but in yourself. “Okay.”

It didn't take long for the both of you to be back in his office. He had you sitting in a chair, with a towel to help clean up any blood.

“Okay, (y/n)-ya. This is going to hurt a bit.” He mutters right before he sets your nose back into place.

“Ow!” You yelp as you flinch away from Law’s hands.

Law is quick to clean up any mess and bandage up your nose. “Take these,” he says handing you pain medication. “Thanks.” You whisper before taking them from him.

Law crosses his arms before looking at you up and down. His gaze made you nervous, and you had no idea what he was about to do next.

He notices that you were wearing a long sleeved shirt and pants. Despite how hot it was in the submarine right now, you were wearing clothes that would make you hotter.

“Let me see your arms and your legs.” He commands. “Huh, why?”

Law shoots you a look which causes you to pout. “Fine.”

You pull up your pant legs and your sleeves. Law can’t say that he is surprised to see you littered with bruises. Most likely from your clumsy accidents.

He shakes his head and goes to grab some ointment for your bruises.

“You really need to be more careful (y/n)-ya.” He starts to apply the cool ointment to the bruises, holding back any winces that resulted from his touch.

“I know. I’m trying, I really am.”

Law hears the desperation in your voice and he starts to feel a little bad. But not too much. “Does it hurt anywhere?” “Mm, you know. This one on my arm really hurts. Maybe a kiss will make it feel better?”

Law looks down at you with a look that shows that he isn’t amused. “That’s not how it works.” “I mean, you won’t know until you try.” “There is scientific evidence-” “But have you tried it?”

It was quiet for a bit and you could tell the gears were turning in his head. “Fine.” He grumbles and leans down to place his lips on the bruised skin. You could see that his cheeks had a pink tint, but you enjoyed the sight and feeling in front of you.

He pulls back, trying to hide the fact that he was flustered. “See, it doesn’t work.” “It totally does! It’s already starting to feel better. I think that you have to kiss the rest of them.” You cheerfully say while holding out both of your arms.

His face goes entirely red this time. “Nice try. But we’re going back to the ointment.”

“Awe,” you faux pout at his words. However, he ignores your pout and continues to treat you.

“There, I think it’s best if you stay here.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. “Okay!” You say while making yourself comfortable.

Law is relieved that you didn’t argue with him.

The truth is, is that Law slightly enjoyed that you were clumsy. It gives him an excuse to keep him at your side. For him to keep an eye on you. It also brought him a sense of comfortability from how clumsy you were.

He wondered why. But then he realized Corazon was also a klutz. Seeing you be a klutz as well reminded him of Corazon. It made his heart warm up from the familiarity. And he swore that he was going to protect you from every threat. No matter how small or large.

#oneshot #one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x you #one piece fluff #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x y/n

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strawbeelemonade · 1 year

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PLATONIC HEADCANNONS: being miles morales best friend but your also a bit insane (Part 2!)

i'm gonna try to remember to start specifying when something is intended to be platonic or romantic.

🕷- I was literally unable to cram everything I wanted to say in the first one.

🕷- Miles is really only comfortable showing you his drawings.

🕷- He's an incredibly awkward guy, but the words come so easily when he hangs out with you. he doesn't choke up like he does with other people at school.

🕷- When he gets his powers his first instinct is to call you. He’s literally halfway through punching your number into the keypad until he stops and decides against it. He knows your number off by heart now.

🕷- You appear and disappear like a ghost its so random.

🕷- Honest to god, he lowkey thought you were homeless until you invited him over to watch Barbie Mermaidia.

🕷- “Bibble is so me.”

🕷- He’s the only person you let over at your place. its small and in the basement of an old apartment complex. the landlord couldn’t get anyone to pay to live there. you live alone.

🕷- You struck a deal, and they let you crash there as long as rent was on time and you fixed their washing machine for free.

🕷- Miles asked how you got to live there for so cheap. You tell him it’s because someone died on the couch he was sitting on.

🕷- He sits on the floor.

🕷- Miles is so eager to share his new powers with someone.

🕷- No seriously, between all the stress and lying and anxiety its nice to let himself get excited about it. To let himself have fun and see what he can do.

🕷- You guys TOTALLY video tape him trying out his new powers for the first time.

🕷- I can imagine you finding an abandoned alleyway on some random ass street after school and filming Miles Trying to do a backflip LMAO.

🕷- You gotta fish him out of a trashcan after he tries to spider climb up the wall.

🕷- You know that thing where a group of friends duck tapes one of their friends to a wall for fun? You get miles to do that to you.

🕷- You guys can’t stop laughing, The best memories of your lives are in those videos.

🕷- He’ll take you up to the top of buildings to show you the graffiti art he painted!! he’ll let you sign it off with a dick and balls or a heart if you want. You guys do homework up there together as well.

🕷- ’M & (Y/I) were here’ has been painted on every available surface of New York.

🕷- You both have the bright idea to hop on his back and go web slinging around the neighbourhood. He can carry you easily.

🕷- Miles decides If you don’t tell him to slow down, then he’s not going fast enough.

🕷- You NEVER tell him to slow down.

🕷- “Faster!!!“

🕷- Now that he’s got super strength he can put you in an inescapable headlock, he doesn’t do it too tight but he holds you there until you tap out.

🕷- He takes you to the coolest spots with the best views.

🕷- You regularly cover for him.

🕷- “We were at Jamba Juice the whole time officer I swear.”

🕷- Miles side eyes you knowing damn well he was no where NEAR a Jamba Juice.

🕷- ’Thanks’ he’d mouth.

🕷- You and Petter B will get along like a house on fire.

🕷- While Miles is extremely unimpressed by him, you don’t seem to care about any pre-existing expectations one might have when you think of the guy behind the mask of Spider-Man, your cracking jokes and feeding your pet rat a couple of French fries while the three of you sit in the diner, planning your next moves carefully.

🕷- Peter B can tell you’re a good kid. He’s at an age where a lot of your batshit tendencies don’t really faze him as long as your not hurting yourself.

🕷- Speaking of which.

🕷- When him and Miles get the chance to talk alone he warns him that he needs to be careful.

🕷- He tells him that normal relationships aren’t possible anymore. And stresses to him what a life like this can mean for your loved ones. especially since you found out his secret. This line of work isn’t just dangerous for Miles, but for you as well.

🕷- Miles is a little shaken after the conversation, no matter how gently Peter tries to put it. But what he’s implying is clear. He tries to shake it off and enjoy the time you both spend together. He won’t admit to himself that Peter is right just yet.

🕷- It’s just so easy to tell you everything and rely on you.

🕷- There will be a moment sometime in the future when reality sets in, but for now Miles makes the same mistake every Spider-Man does.

🕷- He has a best friend. :(

🕷- On the other hand, Peter comes to the staggering realisation that your actually extremely prone to accidents and danger all on your own. And he appropriately does a complete 180 from ‘casually distant bum-uncle' to ‘I am your dad now’.

🕷- It’s Nothing personal, kid. now stop trying to get in the middle of fights with dangerous criminals and let the adult— or at least the guys with super strength, stamina, speed and resilience— handle it.

🕷- He demands you stay out of the crossfire, but, to no one’s surprise you don’t listen.

🕷- You’re willing to throw yourself in front of Miles to shield him from anything, much to your best friends terror.

🕷- You hold your own surprisingly well against opponents that would be considered reasonable threats otherwise. You’re resourceful, grabbing anything and everything you can get your hands on. you get a terrifying look in your eye.

🕷- No matter how impressed Peter is, He will slingshot you around with his web-shooters to propel you out of the way of oncoming attacks. He will do this for both of you, but feels the need to do it less for Miles. He knows he can take what’s on the other end of the punch. But No matter how untouchable you make yourself out to be, you can’t.

🕷- “Do I want kids?”

🕷- He takes you on as his responsibility just as much as he does Miles.

🕷- Spider-Gwen also looks out for you in battle.

🕷- She’s more laid back, and even a little suave about it too.

🕷- She secretly wishes she had someone like you in her universe. What she wouldn’t give to decompress with you after a long day of patrolling New York.

🕷- She’s actually the most normal about you having a pet rat. You know, the one you grabbed out of a garbage can in a subway station. Yeah, That rat.

🕷- Miles watches you both get along like a house on fire and just quietly falls behind you both since he’s not sure what to do or say.

🕷- He’s so awkward, poor guy.

🕷- Your tendency to go off for days at a time ignites everyone’s curiosity. it’s a concerning habit, and Gwen even endeavours to follow you to see where you disappear to so often.

🕷- She’s unsuccessful.

🕷- It's never said out loud, but when she’s facing the one-way ticket home she finds herself wanting to stay just a bit longer. Not just for Miles, but for you to… She wonders what you’ll get up to while she’s gone.

🕷- …

🕷- Peter Porker vibes with you so hard.

🕷- no wait don’t scroll away wait

🕷- he WILL gift you the freakishly large cartoon mallet. Sorry, but miles didn’t appreciate it for what it was.

🕷- He would be cracking jokes and doing bits with you through out the whole goddamn movie.

🕷- Miles can usually let you do your own thing without sparing a second glance, but the looney tunes laws of physics that Porker exhibits WILL rub off on you at least a little.

🕷- It’s contagious. And when you start flattening eachother into to perfect discs it freaks everyone out a little.

🕷- He’s got enough to worry about in the plot,,, Damn,,

🕷- Spider Noir teaches you how to throw a good punch

🕷- in exchange you let him mess with your phone as much as he wants

🕷- "how the hell do you work this thing?"

🕷- He likes you, he thinks you got a lot of guts.

🕷- You were actually the one to design Miles’ suit. He took inspiration from one of your drawings in your school notebook.

🕷- You've always believed in him, and that made him believe in himself too.

#spider man #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #miles morales #miles morales x reader #into the spiderverse #you guys are cutie patooties #spider noir #spiderman into the spiderverse #peter porker #gwen stacy #spider gwen

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elvensorceress · 1 month

Text

not quite tuesday tidbit teases

it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?

tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕

It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed.

He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself.

His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons?

So Buck answers.

“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice.

“Uh, yeah? Who is this?”

“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?

Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.

“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…

They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up.

Lets get you cleaned up.

Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen.

He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.

“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”

Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—

They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—

And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.

“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”

Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there.

He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door.

The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney.

Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both.

He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying.

“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”

Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”

Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.”

There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening.

It can’t be happening.

He can’t be dying.

There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops.

Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.

Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him.

“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter.

Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me— fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”

Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”

No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach.

Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay.

Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him.

He knows.

He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.

Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this.

He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him.

Eddie’s blood was all over him.

“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them.

“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”

Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together.

It’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie.

Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?

What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie.

“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”

There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several.

They give him five minutes.

They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something.

It’s something.

Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie.

Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive.

Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to.

Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.

And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters.

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.

(read now on AO3)

#tease tidbit tuesday #jenwyn wip #buddie wip #mentions of #bucktommy #but this is me okay lol anything and everything is about buddie #911 #buddie #fic: if i should fall

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nmakii · 2 months

Note

Hi! I'm not the one that requested no one is better than I am.... BUT I loved it so much! I was wondering if you could make a part two say maybe the person we ran away with turns out to be abuse or something like that and we're kinda like 'I fucked up' and realize maybe running wasn't such a good idea.... Anyway you can add your own little twist and you can ignore this if you wish <3

- rose anon 🌹

AND I KNEW YOU’D COME BACK TO ME.

— this relationship wasn’t meant to last long. all is forgiven though. alastor will forgive you.

— tangled reimagined 😮‍💨 didnt even realize it until i finished writing HAHAHAHAHA

a month later, the honeymoon period had died out. to be fair, you hadn’t exactly made a plan…crashing at a motel on the edge of mississippi, not exactly what you had in mind.

living off the scraps of what you took, pawning off your belongings. oh, this was not ideal at all. and, how your lover got when he was angry; he’d bruise your arm from gripping way too tightly whenever you didn’t get enough money. how you started to miss alastor, it’s true what they say— you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

if you were able to run once, perhaps you could just one more time? he is not as smart as alastor, you should be able to get away easily in the night.

yes, you should. after trading away many of your items, all you have left is but a satchel worth of dresses. new orleans is not particularly far with a car either.

and so, a familiar memory of running away at the dead of night. only now, it is you returning to alastor, just like he knew you would.

when you returned home, it was 2 AM. the house was just as it was when you left, albeit quite dusty now without your care.

you dropped your satchel on the dining table, just as you left it. it’s almost as if your home was abandoned when you left.

in the bedroom, your husband, sleeping peacefully— an arm clinging to your side of the bed, as if holding onto what little scent of you there was left.

when you opened the bathroom door, a silk nightgown was hung, simply waiting to be worn.

after you had changed, you sat back on your bed, the familiar smell of home coming back to you. as you laid in bed, you found yourself facing alastor.

your hands moved to bring him closer, the warm touch waking him scarily quick. “my love, you’ve returned.” he smiled, bringing you close.

your muscles tensed at the pet name, frightening reminders of the last month coming back. “hey, calm down, dear. i’m not mad.” he reassured you, awfully calmly at that. “running away; it was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

you nodded as you relaxed under his touch. “he was awful… im sorry, alastor…” you frowned. “oh, darling, i told you, didn’t i? no matter, all is forgiven.” he cooed, brushing your hair gently with his nimble fingers. “i’ll protect you from all that is bad in this world. no evil will meet you as long as i live. all i ask… is that you stay here, with me, forever— take care of our house, cook dinner, and perhaps even care for our little ones in the future?” he rambled on, a wide smile upon his face as he thinks of your future together. “ah, i’m rambling, we can discuss that in the future. in the meantime, could you do that, dear?” he asked, offering it to you as if you had a choice.

you nodded, not even looking at alastor. “good. i love you very much, don’t you know that, my dear? all i want is for you to be safe.” he told you. “…i” you started, thinking carefully of your words. “i love you too, alastor…” you said.

did you truly love him? of course you did. he took you back after you betrayed his trust, he’s a wonderful husband.

the moment the words fell from your sweet lips, a wide smile found its way onto alastor’s face. a kiss pressed upon your forehead.

his little doe finally returned his affections. it’s only a shame of his that he had to hurt your delicate heart first.

why would a single man be in a luxury store? oh, words cannot describe how thankful alastor is for your foolish naivety.

word on the street, that eugene was quite the heartbreaker. not to mention, that criminal record of his.

convincing him to go through with it wasn’t hard either. seeing a new toy that knows nothing of his record, he was more than eager to play with you. all it took was a bit of cash for him to keep up the sweetheart act.

and now that his doe was home, there’s no use for trash like that man in this world. the bruises on your arm, they were not what was intended.

all he asked was a simple grab, but it seems he got carried away, that piece of garbage.

as alastor forcefully swallowed his anger, he held you close, massaging the bruises on your wrist. “rest well, darling. you’ve been through a lot this past month.” he cooed, slowly lulling you to sleep.

oh, how excited he is that his little doe is home. to celebrate, we need a special meal, don’t we? say, there is a rare meat that alastor has been dying to try.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #alastor the radio demon #human alastor #yandere alastor #yandere

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theemporium · 9 months

Note

poly drivers where one of them has a crash (nothing serious) but how does reader react and how does the other driver react??

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“AND THERE GOES LANDO NORRIS, STRAIGHT INTO THE WALL!”

Your whole body felt like it had been dumped in ice. A cold shiver running down your spine, making every single hair on your body rise. Your heart felt like it dropped to your stomach, a feeling of profuse nausea washing over you that it honestly surprised you that you didn’t keel over.

You felt like you were watching the whole thing in slow motion.

Watching as the two cars raced down the straight. Watching as the Mercedes of George Russell inched closer and closer to the back of the McLaren. Watching as they reached the corner, as the Mercedes pulled a stupid, stupid move, as the front wheel clipped the back of the McLaren and sent it spinning straight into the wall.

You watched as his car spun and spun and spun until it hit the wall.

And then you waited. You waited for him to say something, to climb out the car, to do something.

But he didn’t.

“Who was that? Which McLaren is that? Are they okay?”

You heard Charles’ radio through the speakers of the garage, straight into the headphones you were currently wearing. You had wanted to be in the Ferrari garage for today, to be that little bit extra support for Charles. But now you wanted nothing more than to be in the McLaren garage to make sure your other boyfriend was okay.

“Is that Lando? Is he okay? Tell me! Is he okay?!”

Your chest felt tight and it hurt to breathe. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision and making your head spin. You could feel everything and nothing all at once, and you just wanted to know if Lando was okay.

“Charles, red flag. Please come to the pit lane.”

“No! Tell me if he’s okay!”

“We have no knowledge at this moment.”

“What?! Fuck!”

“Charles!”

“No, I need to know he’s okay!”

You could hear the commotion. You could hear the race engineers telling Charles to come into the pit lane. You could hear them ordering him to listen to them but he refused.

“He’s okay! He’s okay! His radio is broken. But he’s okay! I’m bringing him back to the pit lane now. Dieu merci, he’s okay.”

You ripped the headphones off your head, not caring to listen to the broadcast on how long it would take to clean the mess. Or what penalties the FIA were giving. Or any of it. You just wanted your boys, you just wanted to know they were okay.

“Lando!”

You were running towards him before you could even think twice. You pulled him towards you, your arms wound around him and holding him tight towards your body. You didn’t care the fact that he was still in his race suit or the fact he smelt like sweat, you just cared that he was okay and he was in your arms.

“Fuck,” he let out a small groan, trying to laugh through the pain. “Still a little sore, babe.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you pulled back, flashing him a shaky smile. “You should go see the medics. Shit, you need to—”

“I’m fine,” Lando insisted.

“Absolutely not, we are going to the medic tent right now,” Charles muttered as his hand rested on the back of Lando’s neck, his fingers tangled in the Brit’s curls. “You need to be seen right away.”

Lando leaned into the embrace, a sheepish smile on his face. “I need to apologise—”

“For nothing,” you said and shook your head. “It wasn’t your fault, baby.”

“Please go to the medic tent, mon amour,” Charles murmured in a softer voice.

“You should head back to your team before the race starts again,” Lando said with an understanding smile.

“No, I’m coming with you,” Charles insisted.

“We both are,” you said as you reached down to intertwine your fingers with his. “Now, let’s go. I want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

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bookyeom · 5 months

Text

A/N: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and a special Merry Christmas to my boo @gyuminusone. This is my Christmas gift to you!! I hope you have the best holiday, M! Sending love across the country!!!

Parties and Pickup Lines

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: friends to lovers Rating: PG (because of the swearing.. i think that's the only reason? also alcohol consumption) Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: kissing, alcohol consumption, reader & squad celebrate Christmas somewhat traditionally (Westernized)? Um... there's a kiss and some swearing also

“Mingyu.” You drag out the last syllable of his name, aggressively dropping your head against his arm as he continues to carry on conversation with Joshua, your host for the evening. He had hosted a dinner party that, in true Joshua Hong fashion, was full of expensive and foreign wines. It was great, but now you’re sufficiently tipsy, tired, and ready to go home, and Mingyu and Joshua just won’t shut up.

“Are you giving her a ride?” Joshua nods in your direction and you narrow your eyes at him from your place against Mingyu’s side. All he does is smile back.

“Yeah,” Mingyu responds with a dramatic sigh, and you can feel him shift as he turns to look down at you. You want to lift your head to glare up at him, but you’re tired.

“Of course you are,” Joshua quips. “Don’t know why I even asked.” He’s teasing, and you can’t see Mingyu’s reaction, but you imagine he uses his free hand to flip the other man off.

You’re used to it — the way everyone teases you and Mingyu. Sure, you’re a little bit in love with him, but isn’t everyone? Sure, you’re always together, and you take care of each other, and sure, every time he looks at you, or smiles at you, or laughs because of you, you feel yourself falling just that little bit more. Sure, the two of you might be on the edge of something more than friends, but you don’t know what, and you don’t know how to get there.

All you know is that right now, you want to go home.

Mingyu finally stands up from the couch, pulling you with him while bidding farewell to an amused Joshua. As he tugs you by the hand through the apartment towards the door, he calls out goodbyes to everyone you pass. You somehow manage a few hugs and waves yourself before you reach the exit, where Mingyu hands you your coat, and then you’re finally out in the fresh air.

“Our Uber is two minutes away,” he informs you.

You nod and regretfully let go of his hand, pulling your gloves from your coat pocket and squinting down at your fingers as you clumsily put them on. You can feel him watching you as you wait, and you meet his eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up when you catch him looking, and you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you manage — quite smoothly if you do say so yourself — but all he does is smile bigger.

“I have lots of those.”

You gasp. “Blackmail is a crime.”

He ignores you and looks away, eyes scanning the road for your ride as he says, “It’s not my fault that you’re so nice to take pictures of.”

You stare at him, and even in your tipsy state, you feel it again — the overwhelming affection that blooms in your chest. You want to push him on it, you want to know, but for the millionth time, you can’t seem to get the words out. So you say nothing as your Uber arrives and drives the two of you back to your place.

Your apartment is basically Mingyu’s second home, and the same goes for you with his. “It’s just easier, convenient to know someone on the other side of town when you need to crash,” is the excuse you tend to use the most. You never say that it has a lot more to do with the way he looks in your kitchen in the morning as he makes your coffee, or the way he always makes you take his bed while he sleeps on the couch, or the way he knows exactly where you keep the popcorn for movie nights.

He knows where you keep everything else, too — makeup remover included.

“I personally don’t care if you take your makeup off or not,” Mingyu points out from his spot by your bathroom door, “but you are going to care in the morning, and I am going to be on the receiving end of your wrath if I don’t make you do it now.”

“Well then, help me,” you say, and it comes out as a whine. You’re too tired to care, and you say as much. You miss the way Mingyu’s entire being softens when you pout dejectedly, exhausted, and lean back against the mirror from where you sit on the counter. He lets out a dramatic sigh, but you know you’ve won when he moves to stand in front of you.

“Sit up,” he instructs, reaching over your shoulder to open the cupboard above the mirror as you do what he says. He’s careful not to hit your head with the door as he takes out your makeup wipes, doting as always. You watch as he opens the package while you sit there waiting, eyes intent on him and his movements. You try to stay still as he lifts a hand to your face, holding your breath as he gently begins to clean your makeup off. His free hand lifts to your chin to steady you after a moment, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You wish you could blame the alcohol for the intense desire you feel to just… kiss him, but it’s not the first time, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.

You realize it again, then, as you watch him — that your feelings for him run so irrevocably deep.

You don’t know how long it takes as he stands between your legs, thoroughly cleansing your face with gentle motions. Once or twice, he catches you staring; the first time, he teases you, and the second, he pulls a face that’s meant to make you laugh (it works). When he announces that he’s done, adding on something about how grateful you should be for his hard work as he leans down to find your trash can, you can’t help it.

Your hands have a mind of their own. As soon as he straightens from throwing the cloth into the trash, they gently find his face, and he stills. He doesn’t pull away. He just waits, eyes wide and imploring, and you let his silence spur you on. You don’t say anything as you begin to map his features out with your fingertips, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire time. The high of his cheekbones, the beauty mark on the very edge of his nose; his mouth, lips softly parting as you brush over them, barely noticing the breath he’s holding as you do.

“You are so beautiful,” is what finally breaks the silence. “I think about you and how beautiful you are all the time.” It’s you that says it, and it takes you a second to register that you said it out loud. You vaguely register an alarm going off in your brain, a loud fuck! Fuck! Fuck! in quick succession, but you don’t take it back, because it’s true.

Mingyu blinks, staring back at you for a few moments before he finally looks away.

“Thank you,” he says as he grasps onto your wrists to pull your hands away from his face. “And you’re drunk.”

“Both of these things can be true,” you quip, and he lets out a laugh at that.

“Come on, brush your teeth. I’m not doing that part for you.”

A week passes, and you’re not avoiding Mingyu, per se, but you’re not not avoiding him, either.

The morning after your slip-up, when you wake up sober and embarrassed, you think maybe you’ve fucked up your friendship for good. You get a text from him, explaining that he’d gone to the gym and that he’d text you later, and all seems relatively normal — everything except for the fact that you’d blatantly ogled him and called him beautiful to his face the night before. He doesn’t say anything else about it.

Throughout the week, his texts seem to be coming in slower and fewer, though you imagine that might have something to do with the short and accidentally-on-purpose delayed responses from you. He hasn’t asked, and you’re grateful. Thankfully, your work had actually been a welcome distraction in the daytime since you were rapidly approaching a deadline. You had only needed to fill your evenings so that you weren’t thinking about him. Today is Friday though, and that means another work week is over — and another holiday festivity is waiting for you at Seokmin’s.

Unfortunately, your feelings for one of your closest friends are waiting for you there, too.

You don’t know if it’s better or worse that Mingyu is already a few drinks deep when you arrive.

He greets you at the door as if the place is his own, ushering you in before pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. You sink into him, eyes squeezing shut briefly before he pulls away, eyes bright as he holds you by the biceps.

“Hi!” He beams. “I missed you.”

That thing in your chest shifts and jumps around as he smiles at you. You are my favourite person in the entire world, you think. And I have no idea what to do about it.

“I missed you, too.”

You had wondered if Mingyu would notice the space you’d taken from him over the week, the space you’d needed to try and gather your feelings, but if he had, he doesn’t show it. He’s just Mingyu, who stays close to you the whole night while remaining the life of the party. Tonight, he doesn’t comment when you don’t return his physical touches or flirtations. You wonder if it’s because of the alcohol or just how excited he is at the idea of Christmas being so close — because Mingyu usually notices everything, especially when it comes to you.

You finally get a reprieve when he’s called into the kitchen to help clean up a spill, and you let out a sigh as you sink further into the couch cushions. You would never have the heart to ask him for the space you need, not when you know how affectionate he always is, but at least you can breathe a little right now. He hasn’t said a word all night about last weekend, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Gyu said you had a busy week. You okay?”

You’re startled when Seokmin plops down next to you.

“Yeah,” you affirm, smiling tiredly over at your friend. “But the project is finally over now.”

“Congrats!” Seokmin lifts his glass in a toast, and you lift your wine glass to clink it with his. His eyebrows furrow as he eyes your drink. “Isn’t that the exact same amount of wine you had an hour ago?”

“No.”

You’ve never been a good liar.

“What’s up? You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want it, obviously. No sober shame here.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, thanks, Seok. I know.”

He continues to look at you, and you wish this was one of those times that Seokmin decided to let something go, but you’re not so lucky. Curse him for loving his people so much.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

You get distracted when your eyes catch a glimpse of Mingyu as he pops his head out of the kitchen to call for Seungcheol, and they linger on the doorframe long after he’s gone.

“Ah.”

“Hm?” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks flushing at being caught.

Instead of teasing like you’d expected, Seokmin’s smile is gentle. “You should tell him.”

You almost drop your wine. “Seokmin—“

You don’t get a chance to say anything else because Mingyu reappears over the back of the couch, his arms lazily hanging around Seokmin’s shoulders as he rests his cheek on the other boy’s head.

“Can we go home? I’m tired,” he pouts.

You don’t hesitate for a second.

You stand up with a nod, all wariness from the moment in your bathroom last weekend flying out the window as you take his hand. Because this is what the two of you do. He takes care of you, and you take care of him. No questions asked.

“Bye, Seok,” you offer, and he sends you another smile as he lifts his glass. “Thanks for hosting.” He glances between the two of you, at your joined hands, and you shrug with a sad smile before turning to leave.

The walk to Mingyu’s from Seokmin’s isn’t very long. It’s cold, but you’ll manage. You feel warm all over from the way he refuses to let go of your hand, anyway.

“I love Christmas.”

You smile over at Mingyu, who’s been fairly quiet since you left Seokmin’s apartment.

“I know.” You squeeze the hand he has attached to yours, and he smiles back. You ignore the ache in your chest at the sight of it.

It’s quiet for another few minutes as you walk slowly down the sidewalk before he speaks again, pulling you to a stop and catching you entirely off guard with his words.

“What does Santa say to Mrs. Claus when she dresses up nice?”

You hold back a laugh. “What does he say, Gyu? Tell me.”

He giggles, and then with a wiggle of his eyebrows, he leans in close and he says, “‘Ho ho ho-ly shit, you look good’.”

“Incredible. Great joke.” You tug on his hand, hoping he’ll decide to keep following you — because you’re not getting his ass anywhere without him wanting to go — but he plants his feet even more and shakes his head.

“Wait,” he whines, “hang on. I’m Santa!”

You snort. “Of course you are,” you try to appease, gesturing for him to start walking. To your relief, he finally takes a few steps, but his hold on your hand only gets tighter.

“No,” he pouts, and you almost groan as he pulls you to a stop again. “I mean, I’m Santa in this story! And you’re Mrs. Claus!”

“Gyu, I’m not following. And it’s cold—“

“‘Ho ho ho-ly shit, you look good’,” he repeats the punchline, but this time, he uses his free hand to emphasize your outfit. “Do you get it now? I’m Santa and I’m saying that to you!”

You blink as you process. A pickup line?

All night, you’d managed to avoid… this, for the most part, because people were around and he was busy. Now, it’s just the two of you. Your body feels warm all over at the silly flirtation, at the insinuation, and you’re not sure how to respond. You don’t even get a chance to open your mouth, though, before he’s speaking again.

“I don’t care what Santa says… you’re at the top of my nice list.” He winks, pulling you in closer to him so quickly that you stumble a little. It’s freezing outside, but you suddenly feel far too warm.

“Can we please go home?”

Mingyu begins to giggle, and you half think he’s going to kiss you as he leans in. Then his forehead is falling into the crook of your shoulder, laughing into your scarf, arms sliding around your middle. You can’t do anything but hug him back while he calms down, your cheeks burning, until he stands up straight again and nods, smile still on his lips.

“I’m sleepy.”

You don’t know how you make it the rest of the way, but you do. When you arrive, you head into the bathroom to try and compose yourself.

“Hey!” Mingyu says abruptly, startling you when you exit his bathroom. He’s got his phone in his hands and he squints down at it, giggling to himself before meeting your expectant gaze. “Are you the Grinch?”

You blink. “Pardon?”

“Because you’ve stolen my heart.”

You groan, ignoring the tingling feeling that shoots through your entire body at the stupid line. “Get changed,” you order, turning around to give him — and yourself — some space. “Where the hell are you getting these from?”

“From my brain,” he attempts. When you don’t say anything, he admits, “from Soonyoung.”

“Can you tell Soonyoung to shut up so we can go to sleep?”

“We?”

You turn back in surprise to find him already in his bed, sheets pulled up around his waist. He’s beaming.

“Yeah,” you stammer, “you in here and me out there.” You jut your thumb in the direction of the living room, and Mingyu pouts again.

“Oh. Well, hang out with me in here for a bit longer, then.”

“Fine. Fifteen minutes.” You cave, moving to sit next to him on the bed, leaving as much space between you as you can.

Mingyu isn’t having any of it, though, as he rolls over and snuggles into your side. He holds up his phone, giggling, canines on full display as he wiggles his brows, before he says, “Mind if we take a picture? I need to show Santa exactly what I want for Christmas.”

“Remind me to kill Soonyoung for this.”

“Rude.” Mingyu is suddenly pouting, the change so quick that it takes you a second to process. “I asked him to send them. I wanted to tell them to you.”

Oh.

“I’m going to go to sleep,” is what you respond with, praying that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are as you stand up.

He catches you by surprise though, his fingers reaching for yours as he speaks, gently closing around them in an attempt to keep you close. “How come you won’t talk to me about it?”

You tilt your head in question. “Hm? Talk to you about what, Gyu?”

His eyebrows furrow, and his frown deepens. With a tug, he’s pulled you back onto the bed next to him, his arm thrown over your legs as he presses his face into your side. You let yourself tangle your fingers in his hair, just one more time.

“This,” he murmurs, squeezing you gently on your thigh.

“Huh?”

You can feel it when he hums against you. “Us.”

Your hand stills its motions against his scalp, and the blood rushes to your ears.

“I’ve given you so much space,” he continues, his voice so sad that your heart sinks even lower. “And I don’t know what else to do.”

“Mingyu—“

“Do you like me?” He interrupts, sitting up abruptly. His honey eyes are piercing as he asks it, as he delves as deep into your soul as he can go. You can tell he’s sobered up quite a bit as he looks at you, as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah, I do,” you finally say. It’s quiet, soft, but he hears you.

Mingyu tilts his head, voice low as he presses on. “And do you really think I’m beautiful?”

You feel your cheeks flush even deeper. “You are.”

Mingyu sits back, shoulders suddenly deflating. “Then why won’t you talk to me about it? Why do you keep it to yourself?” He looks away before he adds, quietly, “I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.”

His name comes out in a whisper. “Mingyu…”

He sighs, falling back down onto his bed and throwing an arm over his eyes. “Y/N,” he mumbles back.

You’re frozen. Your mind is racing, heart stumbling over itself as you search for the right words. You can’t find them. “Goodnight,” you say softly.

Mingyu nods, but he doesn’t look at you again as he responds, rolling over and away from you. “Goodnight.”

Needless to say, you don’t sleep very well.

Y/N [9:13am]: morning

Y/N [9:13am]: I had to go home to prepare for Jeonghan’s party. I didn’t want to wake you up

Gyu [9:47am]: you should have woken me up.

Gyu [9:52am]: I’ll see you there

You’re a bundle of nerves when you reach Jeonghan’s, every nerve standing on edge as you try and prepare yourself to see Mingyu. You know that tonight is the night – you can’t ignore what’s happening, not when he means so much.

You greet the rest of your friends, trying to play it cool. You follow Chan into the apartment and to the table, freezing when you catch sight of Mingyu. He’s got on an ugly, green Christmas sweater with bells attached, and his hair is gently falling across his forehead as he chats to Jeonghan. Everyone turns as you walk in, but your eyes can do nothing but find him first. All he does when he sees you is raise his glass in your direction in acknowledgement, before he’s turning back to his conversation. It hurts, but you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.

His words replay in your mind over dinner and during the entire movie afterwards, where you happen to somehow be sat across from and beside anyone but Mingyu. It’s funny, you think, how you’re finally ready to face this, and you can’t even get close to him tonight.

The entire night, you can feel him watching you from across the room. Every time you look back, he just smiles a bit and looks away. He doesn’t go out of his way to try to come find you, and you can’t say that doesn’t hurt. Should you have stayed this morning? Should you have talked about it? Probably.

You miss him, but he’s in the same room.

I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.

You know you have to be the one to initiate this time – you know that he was vulnerable with you yesterday. It’s your turn now.

When the movie ends, Mingyu is the first to start cleaning up. You follow him into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from your friends as you practically trip over yourself to get to him.

“Mingyu.”

He turns around from where he’s placing dishes in the sink in surprise. “Hey.”

You take a deep breath, debating starting with small talk – but you can’t do it. “Will you come outside with me?”

His hands stop halfway to the sink when you blurt the words out, abrupt, and you hold your breath. You don’t know if you’re imagining how tense he is. You hate this. You’re sure you’re about to be sick when he doesn’t respond for a moment, before he nods and dries his hands off on a towel.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

When you step outside, the awkward silence continues. Then the two of you are speaking at once.

“Mingyu, I need to—“

“We should—“

You let out a nervous laugh, biting down on your lip, and gesture for him to go first. He looks down, kicking at the ground with his boot, but your eyes are rooted to his face. Snowflakes are getting stuck in his hair as they fall, his lip drawn between his teeth, and you can’t look away.

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

Your heart leaps into your throat. “I was the sober one, Gyu. Of course I do.” you try to joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“Did you say it just to shut me up, then?” His eyes fly to yours again, piercing. He’s tense, jaw clenched as he waits, and your stomach flips.

“Why would I do that, Mingyu?”

He shrugs. Then he shoves his hands into his pockets, the bells on his ugly Christmas sweater chiming as he does, and you’d laugh if you didn’t instantly recognize his reaction for what it is: a defence mechanism. A defence mechanism to protect him from you. You can practically feel your heart begin to shatter.

“If you meant it,” he says, voice soft and low, “then say it again.”

“Mingyu—“

You’re caught by surprise when he takes a step forward, cutting you off as he says, “I like you, and I need you to say it back right now if you meant what you said. If you don’t, I’ll never bring it up again, but I’m not going to keep guessing how you feel about me.”

“Of course I meant it.” The words come out so quickly, so desperately that you stumble over them a little. “I really, really like you, Mingyu. So much that I feel sick to my stomach about it sometimes.”

Another step closer. “So why did you leave this morning?” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. His voice is soft, almost uncertain. It’s you that closes the final step.

Your arms wrap around his waist and you pull him in tight, face muffled against his coat as you murmur, “I’m terrified about what this means for us.”

He moves back just enough to see you, hands finding your face. “What are you so scared of?”

“I don’t know.”

“I like you,” he says again, eyes intent on yours. Your eyes flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “And you like me.”

You nod, your hands lifting to rest on his chest. “Yeah,” you whisper.

“I know you better than anyone else.”

You open your eyes, leaning back so that you can look at him this time. “You’re my favourite person in the world,” you say, and you watch as his smile begins to grow. You feel all sorts of giddy, fingers grasping the material of his coat tighter as he beams down at you.

“Yeah?” He teases, and your eyes fly to his mouth.

“Mhm.”

His expression grows serious again, eyes flickering across your face as he asks, “Do you want to give this a shot, then?”

You hope the kiss you press to his lips answers his question well enough.

A/N: please please please reblog if you liked! it's what us writers rely on :)

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