#proud of this despite fucking up the date for my final and turning it in late lol

[idonutlose]

doing the thing where I make the face of the person I'm drawing and it's actually accurate for once (I'm drawing myself and it's 3am in both the drawing and irl as;dlfkjasdf)

anyways uhhh look at a part of my art final boy sorry she's so dark

#I edited it to be a little less weird #ie cropped out my booba and the part where my torso splits in half #proud of this despite fucking up the date for my final and turning it in late lol #might post the full version some other time idk tbh #donu's art #digital art #does this count as a face reveal? #I draw myself a little prettier than I am irl lol I'm bad at likeness

[gavisuntiedboot]

Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

~

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

#gavisuntiedboot #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi imagine #pablo gavi x reader fluff #pablo gavi x y/n #gavi x yn #gavi #gavi fluff #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi fanfic

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.15 bffs with the rookies+ "come pick me up I'm scared"

Okay, I was in my feels when I wrote this one, sooo- it's sad as shit 😭, this is a CW, I think?

| Masterlist |

"Well, I didn't ask," You responded to Logan, who kept you company as you walked from your dorm to your university in the UK, he had been struggling with jet lag as he was back home for the two-week break for the Vegas GP.

"Well, why didn't ya?" He called out, you told him to do jumping jacks to help go to sleep, you didn't know how it would help but the thought of him jumping around made you laugh.

"Mate, I've gotta call you back," you looked at the huge crowd of men and women with expensive cameras and microphones in front of her university's gates, "Bruv, there's gotta be a celebrity or someone dead."

"Okay," he said, panting, "I think it worked, imma go sleep," he cut the call.

"Scuse me, imma just pass through, to actually study here," you pushed through the crowd till someone grabbed your book bag and yelled, "IT'S HER- IT'S Y/N L/N."

And then, the chaos started.

The cameras began flashing till you couldn't see, mics shoved in your face making scarps and bruises as people pushed and pulled you, yelling questions in your face.

"How do you know the F1 drivers?" one yelled,

"Are you dating any of them?" came another,

"Is it true you're related to Fernando Alonso?" A woman asked, grabbing your hoodie.

The whirlwind went on for a few more minutes, you tried your best to get out of the storm without saying something that might negatively impact their reputations, but then came those questions.

"How's the cushy life since you've got baby Schumacher's pockets?" you heard someone yell.

You finally found an exit, that's it, just five more feet and you'd be free, you know you could outrun them, "Hey, y/n! Who fucks better?" Some guy called out from behind you.

"Your Mother," you yelled back, throwing a punch at the disgustingly proud-looking, fifty-something-year-old man. Shock rippled through the crowd where laughter had run at the question just a few seconds before.

You used the distraction to run back to your dorm room, only your phone in hand, your bag having been yanked off your back in the mess.

"What the fuck?" You panted as you saw your dormmates outside your room, cash in hand, you pushed them aside and ran in, only to find your laptop and iPad missing, along with the camera Lando had gifted to you, the signed 'inchident' from Max and Charles, the polaroid of you, oscar and Logan camping in when you were teenagers and the 'Build a bear' Arthur had gotten you with him saying an inside joke.

You felt your face warm as anger and tears pricked at you.

You turned around to find the unreadable faces of your dormmates, "Where the fuck is my stuff?" You asked, hoping it was all a joke like you hadn't just lost everything that gave you hope, that gave you happiness.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SHIT-" You yelled, slamming your hand on the room door, making your friends move back, one tried to speak, trying to make excuses, "DON'T CHAT TO ME, FUCK YOU-" you could hear your voice breaking, "fuck you," you did your best not to cry but it was becoming tough to not.

You ran out of the building, and despite their protests, you made your way through back alleys and corridors that only locals would know of, pulling up your hood in case anyone recognised you.

You thought of who you could call, Logan was in America, god you wished Logan was here with you, he wouldn't have let this happen in the first place, you laughed to yourself. Oscar and Arthur weren't around either. Max, Charles and Lando were all in Monaco, and you definitely not going to let Mick, someone you'd known barely for a month see you like this, and he wasn't in the UK.

You wiped your hands down your face, and dialled on your phone, "Alex..." your voice trembled against his cheerful greeting, making him worry, "Can you come pick me up please," you tried not to break down. How did it get to this?

"Yes, give me a few, are you okay? Y/n? Hey-" You cut the call, sending him your location. How were you asking for Alex's help? The same man who'd pat you awkwardly on your head every time he saw you. Someone who'd begun treating you like a little sister, along with Logan, bringing you food from the cafeteria, sneaking in Redbulls. Someone who you'd tease calling your older brother, making him cringe about 'I'm not that much older', so maybe he was the right one to go to.

You saw a car pull up and you knew it was Alex, seeing him through the driver's side window. You got into the car, only phone in hand and the clothes on your back. "Hey, what are-?" Came a protest from George, who was in the passenger seat, but stopped as soon as he saw you sitting in the seat, you really didn't want this to be your first impression.

The car didn't move, like he was waiting for some form of explanation, "You'll see," you whispered, making him sigh and drive.

As he passed the gates of your university, they saw what you had been running from, and both their eyes widened. Alex looked into the back-view mirror at your face and decided not to say anything. George on the other hand, began cursing the crowd, calling some people on his phone.

You couldn't make out what he was saying, too tired and too scared.

"Hey, y/n wake up," Alex moved your arm, startling you awake, you saw you were in a car park and got out the car, following mindlessly, behind George, who was typing his code in. If Alex noticed it, he kept it to himself, but you could tell he was concerned about something.

You followed as they led to the apartment, you sat on the couch, if it were a normal, visit you'd be off the walls about the beautiful place, with floor-to-ceiling windows and plants everywhere, terracotta furniture to match the gloomy blue-grey sky.

"Um, George's place was closer, hope that's okay," Alex spoke, softly like it would spook you. He was right.

"I'll make tea, then," George nodded and walked off.

"M-My phone's dead, I think," you sniffled out.

"Y/n, that's not really-" He began,

"Can I charge it please?" I asked, if I tried to pretend this disaster didn't happen, maybe it would be like it wouldn't have.

He took the phone out of your half-stretched hand, attaching it to a charging cord, a small 'ding' telling you that it was indeed charging.

"Y/n, what happened?" He asked sitting next to you on the sofa.

"They took everything," you began, making him frown, George too, was out of his depth, placing the tray with three mugs of tea, "M-My frie- roommates, sold my laptop and iPad, and all the things I'd gotten from you all." You began, but this time you couldn't hold in the tears that pricked at your eyes.

You cried into the sleeve of your hoodie, curling into yourself on the sofa.

All those memories were lost. You had photos all the way from your childhood on that laptop and now they were gone.

"Oh, um," He went in to hug you and patted your head, making you laugh.

''See! There we go!" He smiled wide, making you laugh more, "Here," he passed you a mug of tea, it had cooled off a little, so you could drink it.

"You punched someone?" Came George's voice, it was the only thing he'd said to you.

You looked sheepishly at your right fist, the knuckles of which had turned a nasty red.

"No worries, I'll go get a first-aid," He said, walking to get it, when he was back he sat you on your other side, "You know," he poured some anti-septic onto a cotton pad, "I think, you handled it quite well, they were some stupid questions," He said as he moved onto your face.

You hissed, "Wait, what?" You asked, "It's already on the net?" You felt another wave of anger and tears.

"Yup," Alex said, moving his phone to you, showing a reel on Instagram, where the man was asking you that question, edited with the 'your mom' sound and a 'thwack' when the punch landed, ending with an edit of you in cat ears and a high-pitched fast-paced song.

"What... the fuck?" You didn't know where to laugh or cry.

"Mate, why the edits?" George asked scoffing.

"Wait, check Twitter," You suggested suddenly seeing the hilarity of the situation, "ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME?" You yelled, gulping the last of your tea, "YOUR MOTHER IS TRENDING??" it wasn't on top of the trending list but it was there.

"Y/n... I think you're going to love this," George showed something on his phone, they'd turned your voice into an audio, and there were already hundreds of videos being made on it on TikTok.

"Fuck my life."

.xX A few hours later Xx.

George had given one of his flannels, noticing how dirty your hoodie had gotten.

The three of you ordered takeout and watched The Walking Dead all afternoon, he genuinely reminded you of a posh London Mother.

In the middle of season 2, George got a call, "Hello-" He began but was cut off almost immediately and you could hear the man on the phone's voice till out.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Another voice yelled, "IS SHE OKAY??" All the sudden noise made George flinch and pull the phone away from him.

He quickly passed the phone off to you, and you were bombarded by three heavily accented Monganesque accents, "Hi, guys it's me," You responded making the call go silent for a second and then they all began screaming again, loudest was Arthur, then came Charlie's voice. Lastly, It was Lorenzo who got both the others to keep quiet.

You used the peaceful moment to excuse yourself to another room.

"Are you okay, y/n?" He asked and you replied with a small yes, he hummed and passed the phone.

"Y/n, oh my god, I saw the posts," Charles began, "Those people were stupid to attack you like that," He comforted you.

"Thank you, Charlie," You said, a small smile on your face.

You waited as words were exchanged in French and you heard footsteps on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry Y/n, that should have never happened, it is all because of us," his voice rang sad.

"It's okay, Arthur, we'll talk about this when we're together okay?" You responded, and he kept apologising as he cut the call.

Next came Logan's call, just as you were about to call him, "What the fuck is wrong with people?" He questioned, his tone angry, "You could have gotten hurt. Like seriously hurt. This is bullshit." He yelled, but then his voice softened, "You aren't hurt are you?"

"No, not much, I've got a few bruises and cuts but all mint other than that." He hummed as you spoke, and began asking you other questions and you told him about what your roommates had done, you could hear that he was livid but kept trying to be calm for you.

And when Oscar called, that's when it finally hit you again, that feeling of losing everything that you held dear, "Y/n, please don't cry," came his voice from the other end, "Please don't cry while I'm away cause then I can't do anything about it," his voice broke.

"They took all our stuff, Osc, all the way from the first time we met to the last time we got McDonald's together, everything," you sniffled and you could hear the frown in his voice.

"I'm sure we can get it back, don't worry y/n, we'll figure it out, ya know, we've all got your back, speaking of which, you'd better call Max right away, he's with Lando, his bombarding my phone as we speak," He complained, returning some normalcy to your situation.

You cut the call and called Max, and it was Lando who spoke first, cursing at the media and complementing your punch and quick response and then Max took over.

"Firstly, are you okay?" He asked, making you say yes, "Secondly, I've got a lawyer ready, tell me and we'll fight this. We can find a way to get your stuff back." you didn't know what to say.

"Yes, yes, please," you spoke for a little longer before you had to excuse yourself. You had to call someone, someone you know who was going to be livid.

"Hiiiiii," You spoke into the phone, awaiting a response.

"Y/n, how are you, kiddo?" Your uncle's voice rang out. He had been taking care of you ever since you were a teenager, not that you needed much, a place to stay and school.

"I'm fine, it was bound to happen one day," you exhaled at the unfairness of it all.

"I know, I heard what your bastardas friends did," and you could hear the anger in his voice, "Names, and I will get it sorted," He asked making you giggle, he'd always been like this ever since you had showed up on his doorstep.

You told him not to do anything rash but that Max had gotten you a lawyer, he seemed proud of Max for that.

You told him you had to leave since it wasn't your phone you'd been using.

You walked inside, apologising for hogging the phone but George just waved his hand, too invested in whatever episode that was playing. He'd gotten out a bottle of wine (Of course he had,) and he and Alex were busy deep-diving into the show's lore.

He'd kept you a glass, which you gladly accepted.

As the day progressed, you took your leave, but not before George offering you the guest room, saying Alex would take the sofa, which made the other man kick the taller blonde, as you took your leave, having booked an Uber and hotel room for the week, you could still hear them play fighting.

As you were in the car, Mick called you, and you were surprised he had.

"Hey, Y/n! How are you?" He asked,

"Good, you?" You were good at pretending everything was okay, you got an A+ in coping mechanisms class in school!

"Can't be worse than, you know, punching someone," he laughed, you had realised, that the both of you had a sense of humour that really just clicked.

"Oh mate, that was the good part!" You made sure that your payment had gone through with the Uber driver and walked into the hotel. They already had your room ready (courtesy of George, you were sure,) and you only needed to show an ID to be led in, without any other questions.

"Yeah... I saw all the clips on Instagram," He sighed.

"It was kind of crazy, I can't even imagine how it must be for you guys!" You put the phone on speaker and looked through the room service options.

You were going to have lunch in your dorm's cafeteria but that loan had kind of fallen apart, and anyways tea and wine wasn't nearly enough to make you forget the shit show that happened today.

"Mate you won't believe what else happened," You told him about the laptop.

"What the fuck,"

"RIGHT- anyways, I hope they don't get into my drive 'cause I have some in there that is not for public eyes, like imagine they saw the video of your horrible Ghostface impression?" You laughed at him, making him remember the party.

"Oh, Please, it was amazing, I scared you!" He yelled,

"And then you shrieked when Logan did the same to you,"

"Well yes, but he was dressed as Anakin, y/n! I'm not competing with that!" He gasped, shivering at how the hair on his neck raised when Logan did the voice.

"Oh mate please, but that's not even the worst of it, I've got a video of Max and Charles, slow dancing, and literally everything Lando and Carlos do is incriminating."

"That is true, I didn't see them for half of the party," he insinuated.

"Well, you and Arthur were pretty busy seeing who could down more shots," You snickered.

"Well, it wouldn't have become that big if Oscar didn't egg us on!" He complained as he had for days after the party but all he got from Oscar was a smug smirk, with an evil look in his eyes whenever he did something like that.

You spoke till room service came in and then excused yourself to drown in pasta and Netflix.

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat @allenajade-ite @megatrilss1885 @squirreljoe @jsjcue @s4turnsl0ver @yl90 @elijahslover

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #lando norris #max verstappen #george russell #george russel x reader #alex albon #fernando alonso #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #f1 smau #smau #social media au #fake texting au #fake texts #fake text #lorenzo leclerc

[shogunish]

𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿.

pairing. student! gojo satoru x reader

genre. fluff, slice of life, idiots in love

warnings. tooth-rotting fluff

summary. and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.

words. 901

note. don't imagine falling in love with toru in autumn, sharing hot chocolate, cozy movie dates and him giving you his sweater bc yours don't keep you warm enough

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

satoru doesn't know why you love autumn so much when it's not only the busiest time for sorcerers, but also annoyingly windy with sudden downpours out of nowhere. days are cut short since the sun would set earlier than usual and dark skies would envelop tokyo at five pm instead of at nine in the late evening. autumn is the season in which everything starts dying or hiding away; may it be trees drying out and shedding their once lush leaves or that small hedgehog across the street searching for a cozy, safe place to hibernate.

a scowl rested on satoru's handsome face. the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks are bitten red by the chilly temperatures lingering in the streets. snot runs from his nostril and he sniffles. even the coat paired with the scarf wrapped around his neck can't stop his runny nose. satoru isn't sick, oh no. if anything, he's sick of the weather.

chilly temperatures always equal a runny nose for satoru.

he sighs, cerulean eyes rolling behind pitch black shades. "next time, you go on that walk by yourself. my doctor will hear about you if i get sick."

a light bounce is in your step. turning to face satoru, you smile at him. "stop exaggerating. i just wanted to see you and spend some time with you." satoru is right next to you, eyeing you from his peripheral. "you've been away so much ever since autumn came."

he just scoffs. luckily, satoru's cheeks are already red or else you would've called him out on the blush blooming across his cheeks. he likes to pretend to be tough and immune to your words when in reality, each of your honeyed words cut through his defenses like butter.

"must miss me real bad, huh? how cute." satoru puffs his chest out, proud of the comment he's just come up with.

a little pout rests upon your lips and all of a sudden, you feel a little shy, because yes, you do miss satoru real bad and feel almost..lonely without him. but with an ego as massive as satoru is tall, you can't give him that sort of satisfaction. so all you do is huff in response. "all i heard is that i'm cute."

selective hearing, hm?

despite the several layers of clothes hiding your skin and keeping you toasty warm, satoru knows how to worm his way through every single layer until he is underneath your skin, flustering you and making you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

popping into your personal bubble, he wears a smug smirk on his chapsticked lips. "ohhh, you do miss me!" satoru chirps, tosses his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

occasionally, satoru forgets how strong he is compared to you and is a bit rougher with you than he should be. the pull is sudden, makes you squeak as you slip on a damp leaf and lose your balance. instead of finding yourself in satoru's arm, your butt lands in a pile of dried leaves.

dumbfounded you stare at satoru, owlishly blinking at him while a few leaves get stuck on the top of your head. he thinks he fucked up, will get a real good scolding from you, telling him to be more careful, but your nagging never comes.

instead, you laugh heartily with round cheeks and your teeth showing off. a melodious sound that fills the park and drips right into the cracks of satoru's heart, turning the snow into sweet, saccharine honey.

his heart does this funny thing again. the thing where it skips a beat and pumps just a tad bit harder, making him feel warm from the core up.

before satoru can even think about teasing you, a handful of leaves is flung right at his face and he finds himself laughing along with you. "what was that for?"

"for letting me fall and getting my ass wet!" you're still laughing, then your face scrunches up as satoru flings his own fistful of leaves at your face.

you begin chasing him with two fistfuls of leaves. suddenly, red, yellow and orange is stuck in his hair and you realize..it makes his eyes look even more mesmerizing than they already are. how unfair.

"not my fault you're getting your ass wet over me!"

oh, he's having the time of his life chasing you around the park, flinging dried leaves at each other and laughing so carelessly without a worry in the world. your laughter mixes with his, creating a symphony that only something akin to love could compose.

"oh, shut up, will you?!" playfully, you shove satoru into a pile of leaves, but if he's going down, he's taking you with him.

grabbing you by the collar, satoru falls into the pile of leaves with you and laughs alongside you. a tangled mess of limbs and puffs of white smoke fill the space around you. your head rests somewhere on satoru's chest while his arms and legs are sprawled out like a starfish.

"i'll only shut up if you make me, darling." satoru wiggles his eyebrows at you, all in good fun.

and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.

taglist; @torusmochi

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you

[twogyuu]

Love Me Out Loud

Pairing: Mingyu x fem!reader

Featuring: BooSeokSoon, the rest of team ENFJ, Kim Taehyung, Irene/Joohyun, Younghee

Synopsis: Kim Mingyu was your first, but to him, he was for sure you were his endgame. One year out from university, no one expected you to be dating the former campus heartthrob. It's why you had to hide it from everyone – Mingyu's 14.5K Instagram followers, at least. However, the return of your childhood best friend Kim Taehyung to Seoul for a wedding, forces Mingyu to rethink the secrecy of your whole relationship. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, smidgen of crack, established relationship, secretbf!mingyu, medschoolgrad!reader, childhood bestfriend!taehyung, bestfriend!younghee, title inspired by Chungha's Love Me Out Loud

Warnings: Use of profanity, mentions of food and alcohol, inaccurate statistics about couples, lack of communication, insecurities, yes I chose cliché wedding songs . . . I think that's it?

WC: ~14.6K

A/N: Surprise 🤡 This fic was inspired by Mingyu's IG thirst photos. Also . . . high-key low-key me projecting my beef with him onto the couple in this au😳 I deeply apologize in advance if the main conflict of this fic is kind of stupid 😭 I needed to . . . uh, vent out some steam :') Only Kim Mingyu can make me feel this deeply to the point where I can smash out almost 15K words in three sittings, despite recently declaring Vernon (and maybe Jihoon) as my new biases . . . (I am not proud).

I was this close to throwing out this fic, but @onlymingyus encouraged me to follow through with it, so here's the final result. Thank you for believing in my hot recycling writing when I can't, fam 😭

Other things: Per usual, this is unedited, so I'm sorry for any grammar and error mistakes. One of these days when I'm feeling ambitious, I will come back and fix them. This will probably be my last update in a while! I have a couple big exams coming up I need to focus on. I also need to work on those 1K fic drabbles (and finishing my 2 other series 🤡)! I'll be lurking around simping over Vernon, but for the most part, I'll see you all on the other side in a few weeks, hopefully having passed my exams with flying colors and with some new stories and updates in hand.

Last, Kim Mingyu if you're reading this: Sir, please love me back in my dreams at the bare minimum!!! 😭💔 #iykyk

Permanent taglist: @sleeplessdawn @woozarts @wonuziex @rockwidthyou @bibinnieposts @jeonghanniehae95

“He looks like a . . . a fuck boy.”

Her brows knitted together with a frown set on her lips, Younghee sank down into the wooden chair and shot you a concerned look. Mirroring her disappointment, though for different reasons, you pouted and lowered the image of your new boyfriend closer to your chest. Silently, you clicked the side button of your phone that turned your screen black. 

“He’s not,” you mumbled, your feelings hurt that your best friend would think you were that dumb to fall for a fuck boy. 

Younghee let out a heavy sigh, running her hands through her long wavy black hair. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear and clasped her hands together, tilting her head curiously to the side. “What’s his name again?”

“Mingyu,” you replied promptly, “Kim Mingyu.”

“Kim Mingyu, Kim Mingyu, Kim Mingyu,” she repeated like a mantra, tapping her chin curiously. She narrowed her eyes, “The name sounds familiar.”

“He . . . went to the same uni as me,” you added – not that it mattered a whole lot. Younghee didn’t know many of your friends from university as she didn’t attend with you when the both of you graduated from high school. Rather, she went down her own unique path, opting to attend culinary school and now owning her own bakery. Busy with your post-graduation and adult lives, the two of you hardly found the time to sit down like this and catch up anymore – it’s almost been a year since you last saw Younghee and had a lot to update her on, your relationship Mingyu being the main new occurrence. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, she asked, “I don’t remember you talking about him.”

“That’s because I didn’t,” you cleared your throat and took a long sip of your own drink before replying. “We didn’t run in the same circles – I mean, we did, he’s friends with Seokmin and Seungkwan, but I was hardly around when he was because ya know, medical school is busy . . . We met after I graduated.”

“Ah,” Younghee nodded slowly. 

“He’s really nice – a sweetheart,” you volunteered. You rubbed your arm, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Treats me well . . . and s-stuff.”

“I mean, I hope he does,” Younghee replied. She shrugged and turned back to her iced coffee, twirling the straw nonchalantly as the ice sloshed against one another inside. 

You frowned and let out a heavy sigh. Your shoulders slumped forward. “What don’t you like about him already? You haven’t even met him yet”

“I never said I didn’t like him.”

“You said he was a fuck boy and keep giving me these weird looks.”

Younghee rolled her eyes. She hated how observant you were at the wrong times. “I said he looked like a fuck boy,” she pointed at your phone, “And I don’t know? It’s the air, the vibe, about him in his pictures? He’s definitely good-looking and you can tell he knows it – it’s like . . . arrogant?”

“He’s not–”

“And don’t lie to me, you can tell, the man has had bitches before you.”

“Okay and? We’re nearing our thirties, haven’t we all dated someone at this point?”

“You’ve never dated anyone before Mingyu and there’s a chance that there will be bitches after you.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” you scoffed. As much as you loved your best friend, she was quick to judge and did not know how to filter herself at times. “Also, I did date before this! There was –”

Younghee pointed at you, her eyes wide and playful as she was trying to make a point. “Hoseok doesn’t count – you both were so shy, nothing came about it.”

Annoyed, you pressed your lips tightly, waiting for Younghee to finish rattling off nonsense about Mingyu. She wasn’t wrong per se, but she also wasn’t right. Mingyu was one of three major heartthrobs at your university, and unironically, they were best friends with one another: Kim Mingyu, Joshua Hong, and Lee Chan. Like those cheesy coming-of-age movies set in high school, people gawked at them in the hallways while they blessed everyone with their presence. Women flocked in their direction at parties, hoping at a shot to be their companion for the night, or perhaps even the next few months. 

They each had their own charms, it just depended on what you preferred. Joshua Hong was the soft “indie” type. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts, daydreaming and sketching away in his notebook or strumming his guitar during his free time, the former Film major was quite the romantic. He was warm, kind, and soft-hearted. He was the owner of the gentle tinkling laugh that had women and men alike on their knees. Lee Chan was the youngest, but the boldest, of the trio. Effortlessly, funny and shameless, he was quite the flirt; yet known to be quite serious when it came to studies. And last: Kim Mingyu – arguably the most popular out of the three of them. He was a man written by a woman: Handsome, tall, well-built, respectful, and friendly. His photos on Instagram surmounted hundreds of likes within hours of posting them. Rumor had it that brands had offered him deals for modeling, but he always turned them down, opting to focus on pursuing his career in architecture instead. He was practically a university socialite, though that did come with a downside. 

“Are you done?” you asked when you saw Younghee lean back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

She nodded. “All I’m saying is you need to be careful with men who look like him. Looks can be deceiving.”

“I understand where you’re coming from and thank you for your concern,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “But . . . give him a chance? Mingyu’s . . . the first guy I’ve really liked in a long time.” You peered up at Younghee through your lashes, gnawing at your bottom lip. “I also thought he was going to be like that in university, up to when Seungkwan first introduced us: arrogant, only here for an ego boost and to play with me and go about his life, but . . . I don’t know, he has his flaws, but something’s . . . different about him. I promise.”

Younghee eyed you curiously, chewing the tip of her straw between her pearly white teeth. She turned your words in her head over and over like she was observing a stone in her hand. To her, Mingyu was an interesting shift from your type, which you had claimed your last crush, Hoseok, was. He wasn’t ugly, but from the first look, you knew that wasn't all there was to him like Mingyu. Hoseok was cheerful – he added color to your dull, gray life. His style was definitely unique to put it kindly, but he was supportive and got along well with all of your friends, especially Seokmin. She hadn’t met him yet, but one look at the picture of Mingyu wearing a black T-shirt reading, “ART THAT KILLS,” and coyly looking at the camera while putting on his headphones was enough to set off alarms in her head. 

Younghee let out a sigh and dropped her empty plastic cup onto the table. Her lips contorted as her eyes wandered around the cafe before they landed on you. Reaching over to place her hand over your clasped ones, she leaned in, trying to read your face. Clearly, you were upset with her. She wasn’t sure if you were just so far up Mingyu’s ass that you didn’t see the red flags, or maybe, she was wrong and Mingyu really was a good guy, so you genuinely did like him. 

“How long have the two of you been dating again?” Younghee asked. 

“Seven months,” you mumbled. 

She nodded. It was a sizable amount of time and you usually did have a good read on people to break things off before they got toxic – but maybe Kim Mingyu was a different breed. “And why is that I’m only finding out about him now? As your best friend, I kind of expect you to blow up my phone the day you made it official.”

“We agreed to keep it on the down-low,” you played with your thumbs, avoiding her eyes. Your mind flitted to the day, Mingyu and you talked about it on his old beat up blue couch. You still remembered the way his hands gingerly crept up to caress your own, his eyes silently pleading you to give him a chance.  “A secret, if you will?”

“But I’m your best friend,” Younghee frowned. She felt her stomach churn, though she was trying to keep calm and let you explain your side of the story before she misunderstood.

“You are!” you exclaimed, covering her hands with yours now. You folded your thumbs over her fingers. “B-but for my sake, I chose to keep it a secret and I asked him to do the same – he was only doing what I asked him to do . . . Not many people knew about us. Only Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and Seokmin really did – Seungkwan set us up anyhow. Mingyu only told his friends recently too.”

“Okay,” Younghee replied slowly, “Why did you want to keep it a secret then?”

“I - I . . . Mingyu is, err, famous?” you offered. 

“All of it in one go, girlie, don’t stutter,” Younghee encouraged you, “I won’t understand otherwise.”

You huffed out a breath, blowing off the fringes in your eyes. “This is so cliche,” you muttered, “But Mingyu . . . was the, uh, ‘campus heartthrob’ at our university. A lot of people liked him and, uh, you were right, he dated a lot of people before me. With those people, he . . . was very vocal about his relationship with them on Instagram – you know, like, posting cute couple pictures and stuff. You knew when they were together, and you knew when they weren’t anymore, or when he found someone else. As much as I like him, I don’t want everyone from university who follows him to be all up in my business – especially since we graduated already. I-I like my privacy and the small world I built in university. You know too, I hardly use my IG account.”

“Anything else?” Younghee offered, giving you the space to add any sparing details. 

Biting your bottom lip, you replied, “I’m also scared about how my parents, especially my mom, will react when they find out I’m dating Mingyu . . . You know how they are.”

“You didn’t even tell your mom!?” Younghee exclaimed. 

“I know I’m almost twenty-six and I shouldn’t be scared of my mother, but I am,” you wailed, burying your head in your arms. “I wanted to be sure before I introduced Mingyu to them, let alone, tell them about him because I’m scared they’ll give the same scolding you did – but worse.”

Younghee let out a chortle. She rounded the table to sit in the seat next to you, pulling your form into her arms. “You’re the cutest.”

“Stop finding joy in my misery,” you whined. 

“But in all seriousness,” Younghee rubbed circles into your back, “I get it now. It makes sense why you kept it from me, especially when we run such opposite lives – you at the hospital and me at my bakery.”

You nodded, letting out a soft hum. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Though,” Younghee started teasingly. You glowered at her in annoyance, only eliciting a playful smile dancing on her lips, “You must really like him if you’re this cautious and scared.”

You shrank back against the window. “I’m just . . . not sure he feels the same. What if I do like him more than he likes me?”

“What makes you think that?”

“He’s Kim Mingyu, and I’m me – I didn’t see this coming.”

“Did he approach you, or did you approach him?”

You thought for a bit. “The former.”

“And what made you cave in?”

“ . . . Seungkwan?”

“You dated him for Seungkwan?” 

You shook your head furiously. “No, no, no – I, um . . . Mingyu . . . after we met at Seokmin’s birthday party, we, uh, hung out a few times – as friends, friends only. But one day, he just casually asked me out on a date.”

“And how does Seungkwan play into all of this?” Younghee shook her head. 

“At first I told him no because I thought he was joking, but he was persistent. The first time turned into a second, then a third, then a fourth. I thought he’d give up by the fifth time, but he asked again, and he probably told Seungkwan about it because shortly after, he gave me a good long talk,” you peered up Younghee, “You know, Seungkwan and his long talks.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she chuckled and replied, “I know them the best.”

“But yeah,” you said in a small voice, perching your chin meekly on your hand. 

“Well, I think he’d be blind not to like you as much as you like him,” Younghee reassured you. 

You scoffed. “You’re obligated to say that as my best friend.”

“Y/N,” Younghee rolled her eyes, “You’re ambitious, pretty, humble, easygoing – you’re a fucking doctor for heaven’s sake. You’re everyone’s dream girl. Give yourself some credit.”

“I don’t know, Younghee,” you muttered. 

Younghee wanted to shake you. As amazing as you were, your insecurity was one of the things that always seemed to get the best of you. It made her heartache that after all your achievements at such a young age, you still succumbed to self-doubt. If only you saw you through her eyes. 

“When do I get to meet this ‘Kim Mingyu’?” Younghee asked, hoping to get your mind off of things. 

“You . . . want to meet him?” you asked nervously instead. 

She nodded. “I need to scope him out – make sure, he’s not here to play with my best friend’s heart.”

“Oh god – don’t. Soonyoung already gave him a hard enough time,” you chuckled at the memory of Soonyoung’s shocked expression when the two of you showed up hand-in-hand, the older man eventually pulling Mingyu aside and giving what Mingyu described as a “stern dad warning.” “But I do really want you to meet him . . . and he wants to meet you too.”

“Oh?”

“I talk a lot about you to him,” you nudged her in her ribs. 

Younghee smiled and pulled you into another hug. “I’m happy for you, truly – though, I don’t trust Mingyu 100% yet. Come by the bakery after work or on the weekend sometime. We’re gonna play on my turf.”

“Younghee,” you warned, jokingly. 

As you pulled away, your phone lit up, Mingyu’s caller ID, a photo of him with his dog Bobpul that he insisted on, displaying on the screen. Younghee wiggled her eyebrows at you playfully. 

“Hello?” you answered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Younghee moved to press her ear next to your phone, hoping to also catch a word or two from your boyfriend.

“What are you doing right now? Where are you?” Mingyu asked softly. His voice was rasp and low as if he just woke up from a nap. 

“I’m meeting with Younghee, remember?” you peered up at your best friend. She smirked at you, lightly slapping your shoulder in excitement. 

Mingyu let out a soft hum. You heard ‘poof’ in the background, assuming he rolled onto his back and collapsed on his bed. “How much longer are you gonna be there? Do you work today? I miss you – I want to see you.”

“I don’t work today, but I was hoping to spend more time with Younghee,” you side glanced at her, heat creeping across your cheeks. She was angrily holding up her two pointer fingers in a cross, suggesting you cancel your plans and run home to Mingyu. You rolled your eyes and shoved her away. “You know I only get to see her every few months and I saw you two days ago.”

“Mmm . . . it’s been too long though,” Mingyu groaned. 

“I’ll see you tonight? After the movie?” you offered. 

“I wanna see you now,” he chuckled. 

“Gyu.”

“Y/N.”

“You are insufferable,” you chortled. 

“But you’re stuck with me, so,” you could just picture him skittishly shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ll come over after, okay?”

“Okay,” he pouted jokingly, “Don’t be too long, love.”

“Bye, Gyu.”

“Bye.”

When you ended the call, you were met with Younghee’s shit-eating grin. A moment of silence passed before she erupted in a thunder of squeals and giggles. 

“You two are so gross, but so cute!” she latched onto your arm. “‘Love’? What other pet names does he have for you? Babe? Honey? Sweetheart?”

“Stop,” you groaned, reaching for your purse. “Let’s just go to the movies.”

“Sure thing, love,” Younghee winked facetiously. 

. . . .

As promised, you returned to Mingyu’s apartment that evening. Initially, you had only planned on staying a few hours before returning to your own home; however, like more times than not, he managed to convince you to stay the night. Hence, why you were lying in the crook of his arm on his bed, wearing one of his many black T-shirts that were much too large for you, the hem hitting you below mid-thigh.

Because Mingyu couldn’t sleep unless it was completely pitch black, there wasn't a trace of light. He had chosen a windowless bedroom, so not even the slightest sliver of moonlight would seep through. Your only sense of him was his large body half underneath you and the steady rise and fall of breathing. 

“I told Younghee about us,” you muttered, tracing invisible circles into his abdomen.

Mingyu replied with a soft hum, followed by a sigh of relief. You felt him shifting underneath you, turning until you were laying on his bicep. You peered up at him through your lashes, the light from outside reflecting off his deep brown irises shining like stars. Mingyu’s hair was getting long as his messy dark bangs were starting to skim the tops of his lashes. 

Mingyu reached over and brushed a few strands of loose hair from your face, letting his fingers linger a little longer along the curves of your cheeks. He gave you a small smile. “And?”

“Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to sugarcoat it a little?” you whispered. 

His smile grew into a grin – he was already expecting to not be well-received by Younghee as you’ve told him she was rather blunt and critical. It took her almost half a year to warm up to Seokmin because she claimed he was too nice to be true. Especially in the case that he was your first boyfriend in a while, Mingyu knew he’d have to be more than ‘nice’ for Younghee to welcome him into your life. 

Mingyu slipped his arms lower, wrapping them around your waist. He pulled you closer to him; you automatically placed both of your hands on his chest in efforts to create some distance between the two of you. It wasn’t that you didn’t like his physical affection, but rather, you weren’t used to someone being so clingy and touchy with you like this before. 

“Lay it on me, love,” Mingyu whispered, tucking your head underneath his chin. “I have to hold you in case it hurts too much.”

“You can just hold me if you want to, Gyu,” you giggled. 

“You’re my emotional support teddy bear,” he insisted. 

You rolled your eyes. Nonetheless, you found yourself snaking your arms around his waist as well. “Younghee thought you looked like a fuck boy.”

“Hhmm,” Mingyu hummed. You could already picture the slight pout setting on his face. You knew he didn’t like it when people made this assumption about him based on his appearance. 

“She’s . . . kind of nervous about you for me,” you continued to explain. It was as Mingyu expected, “But . . . I reassured her that you were good and she wants to meet you – but she thinks we’re gross.”

Mingyu let out a breathy chuckle. “Why?”

“When you called, she overheard you calling me ‘love’,” you squirmed a little in his hold. 

“Do you think it’s gross?” Mingyu asked instead. 

You pressed your lips into a tightline, answering his question with silence. Had you been an outsider watching the two of you, you might have said the same thing as Younghee: gross. However, admittedly, the pet names he gave you like, ‘love’ and ‘teddy bear’ made you feel warm and fuzzy inside – almost special if you will. There was a small voice inside of you that questioned if he did the same with his various past girlfriends. 

You buried your face into his chest, the scent of floral laundry detergent filling your nostrils. He must’ve pulled this out of the dryer recently. You felt a rumble bubbling through his body as Mingyu let out another chuckle at your reaction. You had a feeling, he already knew what you were going to say. You’ve only been dating seven months, but he already read you so well. 

“Kind of,” you finally replied, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“I . . . don’t blame you,” he reassured you. He planted a brief kiss on the crown of your head, while rubbing your back. “We are kind of gross, but . . . I wouldn’t have it any other way. I like it when you call me ‘Gyu.’”

“It’s not that special of a nickname,” you pointed out. 

“It is when you say it,” he immediately replied. 

You were glad he couldn’t see you right now as your cheeks grew warm. Again, you found yourself burying your face deeper into his chest – as if it could take anymore of you. Simultaneously, you were silently cursing yourself for swooning so easily at each flirt he shot your way. You shouldn’t let him have this much of an effect on you. What happens when the honeymoon phase is over? Will he still be calling you ‘love’? Will you still feel this special for doing the bare minimum?

“What are you thinking about?” Mingyu asked, his voice soft. 

“Nothing,” you lied. 

“You’ve been quiet for a while now though.”

“I’m just getting tired,” you sighed. You pulled back from his chest, fluttering your eyes shut. “We should sleep.”

Because he didn’t want to argue, Mingyu chose to leave it at that. Perhaps another day he’ll ask what’s been keeping you so preoccupied. With a deep breath, Mingyu turned and tightened his grip on you, molding his body against yours. He could feel you moving in his arms, trying to find a position to get comfortable. 

“Good night, Gyu,” you whispered when you had stopped turning. 

“Good night, love,” Mingyu replied. 

. . . .

You spun around at the familiar sound of his Leica camera shutter going off. Mingyu smiled softly, a fond look in his eyes as he admired the photo on the back screen. Placing the pumpkin spice candle back on the shelf, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your peacoat and walked over to him. Leaning over, you tiptoed peering over his shoulder looking on as well. The picture was of your profile as you read the label of the candle, your hair spilling over your shoulder. You knew Mingyu loved photography and you could appreciate it, but you couldn’t help but frown at the thought of him taking photos of you unaware. You just didn’t like taking pictures unless you had to; they made you uncomfortable, even if it was just Mingyu. Silently, you nudged his side, snapping him out of his musing. Mingyu lowered his camera and turned to face you, a nervous smile dancing on his lips. 

“Gyu,” you said softly, “You know I don’t like pictures.”

“You looked nice though,” he mumbled. 

You frowned at him. 

“Candid pictures are the best,” he tried to convince you. 

When you didn’t respond, only pressing your lips into a thin line and looking away, Mingyu finally relented with a soft sigh. He only wanted to love and appreciate you for who you were and that included taking pictures. He wanted to show you, you through his point-of-view; yet, you didn’t want it. Hooking the red camera strap around his neck, he reached over to place his hand on the crook of your elbow, tugging you closer towards him. 

“Hey,” he said more firmly this time. You peered up at him silently through your lashes. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but . . . I just like taking pictures of the people I love.”

Though you understood where he was coming from, it didn’t necessarily make you feel any better. Especially when the Instagram images of Mingyu with his previous girlfriends have flashed through your mind. 

“You’re beautiful and I just want to remember small moments like this with you,” his hand trailed from your elbow, down your forearm, naturally fitting them into yours. He gave you a reassuring squeeze. “But if you really are against it, I’ll stop.”

Guilt flooded your system at his words – it was the same unsettling feeling you had when you had asked him to delete his first Instagram story of the two of you. It was a photo taken by Seungkwan, Mingyu’s arm wrapped loosely over your shoulder while your head was tucked away in the nape of his neck with your arm resting on his chest – a closer look would reveal the bashful smile on your face. 

“Why?” Mingyu had asked innocently through the phone when you had anxiously called to ask him the favor. 

“I just like my privacy,” you had simply told him. “I would also rather . . . uh, keep our relationship out of the . . . public eye right now,” you chuckled nervously, “On the down-low?”

It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. 

“Okay,” he replied. Little did you know, his heart sank a little. He was excited for your relationship when it started that late spring – as corny as it sounded, it was as if the cherry blossoms bloomed late that year, just for the two of you to come together. Nonetheless, Mingyu wanted to try and be understanding and accommodating – you weren’t quite like any of the other girls he dated previously. “For future references though . . . would you be comfortable if I post pictures of us? Photography,” Mingyu let out a breathy, but nervous chuckle, “It's kind of a hobby of mine and I like sharing the ones I took.”

You had taken a minute to reply, your mind running at 100 miles per hour, weighing the pros and cons of the situation. It was as if the course of your whole relationship flashed before your eyes, the end seemingly soo and grim. 

“I-I . . . um, for now, let’s not,” you stuttered, “Maybe as we go along I’ll be more comfortable – just ask.”

But as time continued, the situation didn’t seem to get better. Similarly to today, you’d only get quiet when he took pictures of you, quickly reminding him not to post it on Instagram. Though he was curious if there was more of a reason beyond your privacy, Mingyu never dared to question you. Yet, it made you all the more guilty as time went on. 

He loved photography and he loved you – Mingyu was an altruistic and rather pure soul, so you knew his words weren’t without substance. You didn’t want to cut him off from his passion either – refraining from sharing your relationship was already a huge sacrifice for him. Mingyu was extroverted, confident, and unafraid to show himself to the world, and this included his photos and you. For that, you loved him, but you wouldn’t want him to change that for you. 

“It’s fine,” you finally muttered. 

Mingyu frowned, unconvinced. “Is it though?”

You pulled away from his hold, though not letting go of his hand. “J-just . . . give me a heads up next time okay? Like ‘hey, babe, I brought my camera and I might snap a few pictures,’ okay?”

A mischievous smile replaced the sullen look on his face. He cocked a curious eyebrow in your direction. “Babe?”

You rolled your eyes. “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”

Mingyu nodded, acknowledging your point. “I know, I know – I’ll let you know next time.”

“Don’t post it on Instagram,” you added. 

Mingyu felt his heart drop into his stomach, unsettled. It’s been seven months and most, if not all of your friends knew at this point. Were you still so worried? Nevertheless, he shooed away the turbulent feeling and nodded. “Promise.”

Looking down at your watch, you tugged Mingyu along towards the exit of the store. “C’mon, it’s almost time to meet Younghee.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, nervous. 

You chuckled at him, “Just be you and she’ll love you.”

“I purposely wore this jacket instead of my leather one because I thought it wouldn’t make me look like a fuck boy,” he noted as you pushed open the door. A clang sounded through the store as you walked out, being met by the crisp air of autumn. 

You paused in your steps, turning to him and grabbing either side of his collar. Pulling him towards you, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Mr. Kim,” you teased, “I think we’re past the point in adulthood where you can refer yourself to a fuck boy.”

“Mr. Kim? Are we getting–”

You pecked his lips again to stop him before he could say anything suggestive. “We’re not in university anymore,” you explained, “Nor are we . . . the young adults we used to be.”

“Babe,” Mingyu interrupted, dragging on the word. “You don’t have to be in university to be called a ‘fuck boy’ – Joshua has a full-time job and I can assure you, he still is one!”

“But you’re Kim Mingyu and you aren’t one,” you tilted your head coyly at him. 

He pouted, stomping his feet. “I’m just still . . . mildly offended that she would think that.”

“Admittedly, I showed her a very hot picture of you,” you joked, hoping to take the edge off of him. You patted away an invisible crease on his jacket. 

 Mingyu wrapped his arms around your waist. His eyes darkened as he leaned in, replying in a low voice, “Did you now?”

“I did,” you placed two fingers on his forehead and pushed him away, eliciting a whine from him. You chuckled and marched along. “Younghee doesn’t like people who run late, so we gotta hurry.”

For a moment, Mingyu watched you walk down the street, your hair swaying behind you. He was grinning stupidly and happily, and people were probably staring at him on the street, but he didn’t care. Serendipity was the best way to describe your presence in Mingyu’s life. To this day, he still wonders why he didn’t notice you then when the both of you still attended the same university, your friend groups even clashing through Seungkwan and Seokmin. Nevertheless, he was grateful to have you now. You had problems and differences, but he was hopeful the two of you could work them out. You had to – it’s what people who love each other do when things get hard. 

When you were a good distance away and noticed the lack of Mingyu’s presence, you turned around, eyebrows furrowed at him still standing by the streetlamp where you left him. He was grinning, though you weren’t quite sure at what. Just as you were about to call his name, he came jogging in your direction. Immediately, he linked hands with you and marched forward towards Younghee’s bakery again. Though he paid no mind to you, you stared at his profile curiously. Sometimes, you wondered what went on in that pretty head of his.

. . . .

Mingyu liked to think that he was a confident man, always willing to stand up to a challenge. If there was anything he wanted to do, he could put his mind to it and see it through. Yet, sitting here in front of Younghee with coffees that had grown lukewarm and half-eaten cranberry scones on the table, his cheeks burned with shame, the feeling of failure settling in the bottom of his stomach like a rock sinking to the bottom of a lake. Even with your presence next to him, Mingyu couldn’t help but feel like he had just flunked one of his university exams – it was like that, but ten times worse because he knew that there were no revisions. 

To put it plainly, rather than this being a pleasant meeting between new friends, Younghee had just grilled him and Mingyu stumbled through it like a rat lost in the sewers. Interestingly, however, the first meeting seemed to go differently for Younghee, your friend, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, with a sly, but pleased smile dancing on her lips.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Underneath the table, you felt the warmth of Mingyu’s hand previously resting on your thigh leave your leg, nervously clasping his hands together in his own lap. His eyes fell from Younghee, choosing to take up interest in the creases of his hand instead. Mingyu’s short lashes fluttered quickly . . . almost as if he was blinking back tears? Concerned, you reached over and placed your hand over his, gently pushing them apart, so you could slot your hands in one of them. It didn’t require much effort as Mingyu knew, he needed your reassurance more than ever right now. 

“Well, I should probably get back to work,” Younghee casually glanced down at her watch. “Gotta close the shop and prepare for tomorrow – lots to do.”

“Of course,” Mingyu replied softly. He looked up and smiled at your best friend, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

In contrast, Younghee grinned and leaned over the table. “It was an absolute pleasure to meet you, Mingyu,” her eyes flickered to you before they rested on his figure again. “I guess . . . you’re . . . much different from what I was expecting. I can kind of see why Y/N likes you now – I hope you stick around, get to know you better, make sure you’re the right fit for my best friend.”

“Younghee,” you warned.

She winked at you playfully. “I’m kidding, Mingyu – but really, it was a pleasure.” Younghee stood up from her chair and wiped her hands on her worn brown apron, stained with blotches of flour here and there. She extended a hand for Mingyu to take. “Come by again, okay?”

Mingyu was utterly confused at the invitation, but took her hand nonetheless. He moved towards the door of the bakery to grant you and your best friend a few moments of privacy to say your goodbyes. You were making your way over, adjusting your purse on your shoulder when Younghee suddenly called your name again. You responded with a soft hum. 

“Joohyun’s getting married at the end of next month,” Younghee announced.

Mingyu watched the way you gripped onto the leather strap, your feet stuttering to a stop at the drop of the news – at least to him it was. 

“Taehyung,” she continued, stretching out the last syllable. Mingyu noted the way your eyes visibly widen at the sound of the name, “He’s coming back for it, ya know?”

“Taehyung?” you choked. You spun around to look at your best friend, your mind reeled back to the lanky teenage boy with the round chocolate eyes and boxy grin, his hair neatly cut into a bowl cut. “As in Kim Taehyung?” 

The space between Mingyu’s eyebrows dipped at the tone of your voice. It was definitely surprise, but was it the good kind? As in you were excited to hear again about this person? Or was it the bad kind, in which he left a dent in your heart? Either way, Mingyu did not have a good feeling about it.

Younghee nodded. “I’m surprised he hasn’t contacted you.”

“He hasn’t,” your voice trailed off, “We haven’t chatted for a while – lost touch the first or second year of university because we both got busy.”

“You’re going, right?” Younghee asked. You saw the way her eyes trailed to your boyfriend standing behind you, her lips pulled mischievously between her teeth.  “With Mingyu?”

Right – Mingyu. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know the way Mingyu’s lips were already set in a small pout, a crease between his sharp brows now softened in a dispirited expression. He thought he knew everything about you – good, straightforward communication and no secrets, like the two of you agreed. But why was this the first time he was hearing about Joohyun and her upcoming wedding when you seemed to have known for a while now? 

Pressing your lips together, you nodded once stiffly. “Y-yeah, I think so.”

The hesitancy in your voice wrung Mingyu’s heart in a funny way. 

“Good,” Younghee chuckled, hiding her smile behind the back of her hand. “Him in a suit would make for a dashing Instagram photo with lots of thirsty comments underneath.”

. . . .

“Who’s Joohyun?” Mingyu finally asked. 

The two of you were on your way back to his car parked a few blocks away from Younghee’s bakery. The first half of the walk was oddly quiet, but you had chalked it up to Mingyu feeling disappointed about his conversation with Younghee. His usual charming ways did not quite work on the girl as it did with most people. You figured he needed his time and space to process the situation, only asking every now and then if he was okay and where he wanted to go for dinner. However, it seemed like it wasn’t Younghee on his mind, but rather someone else. 

Mingyu reached into the pocket of your jacket, intertwining his fingers with yours that were tucked away inside. He eyed your side profile carefully, giving you a soft squeeze, waiting for you to return the gesture – it was your thing. He did this when he was nervous (which was not often) and needed reassurance, but too shy to tell you the truth out loud. 

“She’s, uh . . . a friend,” you explained, squeezing his hand, “From high school.”

“How come you never mentioned her?” he pressed on. 

“She wasn’t ever really relevant in our conversations,” you replied softly, “And we weren’t that close really.”

“But close enough to be invited to her wedding – in a month,” Mingyu huffed, “That you didn’t tell me about.”

“I-I was going to tell you,” you stuttered, “Ask you – eventually. I just wasn’t sure how.”

Mingyu let out a half-hearted chuckle. “How hard could it be? You know I would happily go anywhere with you.”

You shrugged, jostling your linked hands. “Our . . . agreement, you know?”

Even though it’s been months since the two of you decided to keep your relationship fairly hidden, it still didn’t fail to send a sting through his heart. He tried to be understanding and respectful of your values of privacy, but Mingyu liked to love loud. Holding your hands at events with friends, kisses out on the sidewalk, and cute Instagram photos of the most seemingly boring things were beautiful to him. 

“How much longer do we have to keep it this way though?” Mingyu asked quietly. 

“Mingyu,” you started slowly. 

“I mean, at this point, all our friends know, right?” he pressed on, cutting you off. You could hear the exasperation in his voice overtaking his thought process. “Seungkwan, Seokmin, Soonyoung . . . I told Josh and Chan recently, and today we met Younghee.”

“I know,” you muttered, “B-but . . . there are just . . . so many other people who’ll be at the wedding.”

“I don’t care about those other people,” Mingyu deadpanned. 

“And if I do?”

At this point, the both of you had stopped walking, your hands still linked. Mingyu searched your face for an answer – anything, yet you always managed to stay so stoic somehow. In contrast to him who wore his heart on his sleeves and his current emotions written all over his expression, your heart was hidden in the folds of your jacket while an expressionless mask shielded your true feelings. It made you seemingly strong, but sometimes, for him, Mingyu wished you would let your guard down and tell him what was bothering you. 

“Is this about that Taeyong guy?” Mingyu asked abruptly. 

Your eyebrows ticked, furrowing together momentarily before they returned to their places. A small frown on your face, you corrected him, “Taehyung.”

“Taehyung, Taeyong – tomato, to-mah-to.”

“Why are you asking about Taehyung?” 

Mingyu shrugged, “I . . . dunno – you seemed pretty shocked to hear his name again and I was wondering why.”

“He’s just a friend who Younghee and I grew up with.”

“You seem to have a lot of friends I don’t know about,” Mingyu mumbled. 

“He was a neighbor from down the street and we went to school together, but he ended up going to a different university. I really mean it when I say I haven’t seen him since the first year of university,” you quickly summarized, hoping to calm his nerves. “Any other questions?”

Mingyu twisted his lips, glancing at the crack along the curb. “Who was he to you?”

“A friend,” you answered promptly. 

“Anything more?” 

You shook your head fervently. “Why are you so curious?”

“I mean, Younghee specifically mentioned him. Seokmin and Seungkwan went to high school with you too, but she didn’t talk about them going,” he shrugged like a child upset on the playground, “Frankly, I’m curious – perhaps, mildly jealous.”

“Mingyu,” you frowned. You leaned in and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Taehyung was just a good friend of ours and neither of us have really heard from or seen him in a while. We see the other two fairly regularly. I’m surprised Tae’s even coming back for this.”

“Tae?” Mingyu repeated. You’ve only ever shortened his own name – he assumed he was special.

“Gyu,” you scowled at him for latching onto the miniscule change in detail. 

Mingyu gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He should give you the benefit of the doubt, right? It’s been years and if there was something between you and this Taehyung, it would’ve happened already. If you said you were friends, then you must’ve been. He had no reason to question you otherwise. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, Mingyu nodded and stepped towards you, bringing his hands up to your waist too. 

“Okay,” he relented. He peered up at you, “But . . . the wedding?”

“What about the wedding?”

“Are we . . .” his voice trailed off, hoping you’d finish the thought for him. 

But your answer was something he didn’t want to hear. 

“I, uh . . . I do want to go with you,” you stuttered, “A-as my plus one.” 

Visibly, Mingyu’s eyes lit up. 

“But, I’m not sure yet,” you finished, your voice soft followed by a shaky breath. “Let me think about it, hm?”

The light in his eyes dimmed as quickly as they came. "What is there to think about?"

"It might not seem like a big deal to you, but it's a big deal to me – just . . . Be patient, okay?"

The corner of his lips sagging, he nodded slowly. “Okay."

Because that’s all he could do right now. 

Be okay with it. 

. . . .

Leaning against the pillar of the front office, Seungkwan cocked a curious eyebrow at you as you walked in, yielding a red lunchbox that you weren’t holding before you left. A wolfish grin grew as you neared with your eyes wide, silently warning him to keep any snark comments he had to himself. It didn’t deter Seungkwan from teasing you, however – it never did, especially when it came to Mingyu. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he jovially joined your side. 

“Mingyu came by again, didn’t he, love?” Seungkwan asked, using the nickname, he’s heard Mingyu call you more than a thousand times at this point. 

“Shut up,” you grumbled. 

“He packed you lunch too?” Seungkwan pointed to the red lunchbox in your hand. “You guys are so domestic.”

“He didn’t – I just forgot it at home,” you tried to explain as you got onto the metal crate. 

“Oh so he spent the night?” Seungkwan pondered aloud, hiding a chuckle behind his hand. 

Aggressively punching the button reading ‘9’, you turned to your supposed friend and glared at him. “Boo Seungkwan if you know what’s good for you–”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Seungkwan let out a boisterous laugh as the elevator door closed. He wrapped his arms around your shoulder. “I just think it’s very cute to see you so in love – I feel like . . . a proud mother, that’s all.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake him off your shoulder as the elevator door opened. If there was one bad thing about working at the same company as your friend, it’s the constant teasing when you were trying to be serious. The two of you weaved around the hallway towards the lunchroom, engaging in a light conversation about your weekends.

“Younghee finally met Mingyu,” you announced when the two of you settled down at a lunch table. 

“Oh yeah?” Seungkwan stuffed the egg salad sandwich in his mouth. “How’d it go?”

“You know Younghee,” you shrugged, “She was all ‘no shits’ and serious – her talk was worse than Soonyoung’s! I’m pretty sure she scared Mingyu.”

Seungkwan chortled, taking a quick swig of his sparkling water to wash down his food. “Sounds like Younghee.”

“He did well though,” you nodded, poking your chopsticks at your vegetables. “I think she likes him enough for now.”

“Is she the last friend you have to tell?” Seungkwan asked, knowing well about your decision to keep yours and Mingyu’s relationship a secret from the beginning. 

You paused, letting the chopsticks that were halfway to your lips drop with a clatter against the container. Your mind reeled back to the part you left out of meeting with Younghee: Joohyun’s wedding and Taehyung. 

“Younghee brought up Joohyun’s wedding,” you started, your voice suddenly growing soft. 

“And?” Seungkwan pressed on. He was confused with your change in demeanor. 

“I . . . hadn’t told Mingyu about it yet.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan puckered his lips. 

That was kind of bad. 

“Then Younghee said Taehyung was coming back to town for it.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan reiterated, as if it couldn’t get any worse. He remembered Taehyung very well. 

“Yeah,” you muttered. 

Silence ensued while you picked at your food. Seungkwan watched you carefully, questions about your situation spinning in his mind as they always have since you asked him, Seokmin, and Soonyoung to stay quiet about your relationship with Mingyu. Initially, the request to keep it a secret made sense: it was a new relationship, let alone with Mingyu. However, the two of you got along so well, it didn’t make sense for you to be insecure now. You telling Younghee was the final step to ending all of this, no? From Seungkwan’s point-of-view, all your dilemmas and inner turmoil could be solved with one simple solution. 

Holding his sandwich up to his lips, Seungkwan let out a sigh and shook his head. He looked up at you, his round eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it – why don’t you want people to find out about you and Mingyu still?”

You chewed slowly on your rice, taking your time to grind each piece and swallow it down with a sip of ice water. Seungkwan refrained from eating his sandwich until you replied. 

Your eyes flickered hesitantly up at him before they fell on your tray again. Bringing your fist to your lips, you faked a cough, clearing your throat of your food. 

“Y/N,” Seungkwan said sternly. 

“I-it’s . . . too early, okay?” you stuttered. 

“You’ve been together for almost a year now,” he deadpanned. 

“It’s only been seven months,” you corrected him. 

“And?”

“Mingyu’s best relationship lasted six months and we just barely made it past that,” you explained, the pace at which words were flying out of your mouth was astronomical. “I just want to make sure it’s not just a honeymoon phase and our relationship works out okay before it . . . gets out there. I’m comfortable with our close friends knowing, but not the whole world and Mingyu knows quite literally, the whole world.”

“What do you mean?” Seungkwan scrunched up his nose. “He’s friendly, but he doesn’t know the whole world – you're exaggerating.”

You sighed heavily, slumping over on the lunch table. “Unlike me, he’s quite friendly and makes friends anywhere he goes – it could be a rock and he’d somehow make relations with it! His Instagram following is also insane for a regular, non-celeb person.”

Seungkwan frowned and shook his head. “And that matters because . . .?”

You suddenly felt small and bare – vulnerable in a place where you shouldn’t be so. For some reason, however, the small voice at the back of your head told you that maybe you should share this insecurity with someone – and perhaps that someone could also be Seungkwan. “Mingyu’s been in a lot of relationships before me and, uh, I just . . . don’t want to be another girl who dated Kim Mingyu.”

Seungkwan’s eyes soften at your response. 

“Is that why you don’t want to post a picture with him on Instagram?”

“Partly,” you shrugged, “Research also shows that 67 percent of couples who post about their relationship consistently are insecure and about 45 percent of those social media couples break up.” You sucked in a sharp breath and lifted your eyes to meet Seungkwan’s gaze. “And as you know, Mingyu’s past relationships kind of . . . followed that trend.”

“Aaaww, my dear, Y/N,” Seungkwan cooed. He ruffled your hair lovingly. “You really think Mingyu is unsure of your guys’ relationship, so he needs to upload pictures to reinforce it?”

You swatted Seungkwan’s hand away and brushed your strands back into place. “Shut up,” you grumbled. 

Seungkwan smiled at you apologetically, stars shining in his eyes. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Love is a stretch,” you stammered, “But like? Yeah, um, I like him . . . a lot.”

“Honestly, Y/N,” Seungkwan took a bite of his sandwich, “I don’t think you need to worry about anything. You’re different.”

“What do you mean, different?”

“Different from the previous girls,” he replied with his full. He took a swig of his iced Americano to wash the food down. “He’s different with you.”

“As in . . .?”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, shooting you a look of disbelief – as if you grew antennas from your head. “I guess it’s not fair to assume you’d know, but I’ve been around when Mingyu dated other people and I’m currently around while he’s dating you, and honestly? I hope he keeps dating you. Of course, getting engaged and marriage aside, but I’ve never seen him so . . . calm and sure before? I’m not sure if ‘sure’ is the right word, but there’s a sense of stability and content – maturity, maybe? I haven’t seen it before. Sure the other girls might have been prettier or more fun, and he squealed like a thirteen year-old girl getting tickets to a BTS concert after amusement park dates, but with you? He looks like he’s actually having fun cleaning with you.”

You tuned out as Seungkwan continued to ramble on. It was indeed nice to get an outsider’s perspective rather than being stuck in your own head. Your friend was probably right, and you were being irrational. But that’s what fear did to you. Mingyu was understanding and you know if you brought it up eventually, he’d be more than willing to listen and reassure you to the world's end. There was a piece of you that still hesitated, nonetheless. What if he got mad at you?

“If you’re that worried about it, I’d just bring it up to Mingyu – he’s understanding and has a good head on his shoulders,” Seungkwan finally finished ou. 

Stuffing your cheeks with rice, you gave Seungkwan a small nod. “I’ll think about it.”

. . . .

[unknown number]: hey

[unknown number]: this is tae :) 

[unknown number]: kim taehyung from high school if you remember me haha

[unknown number]: younghee gave me your new number – i hope you don’t mind:)

[unknown number]: i just wanted to say hello and see if you were free to meet up?

A warm mug of coffee in his hand, Mingyu paused and stared blankly at your phone as each new message from Taehyung flashed across your screen. He frowned, tightening his abdomen as if it would do anything to control the nerves swirling in the pits of his stomach right now. Baseless thoughts flooding his mind, he failed to hear your padded footsteps behind him.

“Whatcha doing, Gyu?” you asked, reaching for your coat.

Swiftly, he turned around and smiled at you, though it didn't reach his eyes like most times. 

“Ready?” Mingyu asked, avoiding your question. 

He didn’t miss the way the space between your brows dipped slightly at him avoiding your question. You chose not to hound him on it, however. 

“Yeah,” you untucked your hair from the collar and reached for your phone. 

Holding his breath, Mingyu watched you carefully as you swiped at the screen. His heart sank a little when the little smile on your face formed at the new messages from an old friend. It was the smile he pictured you would have every time he sent you something. 

Tugging on the arm of his jacket, Mingyu asked softly, “Who’s got smiling like that?”

You stopped in the middle of tapping away at a new message to Taehyung. You pulled your lips into a slight pout. “Like what?”

Mingyu waved his hand at your face before tucking them into his pockets. “Like that – the small one where you’re incredibly happy but you’re nervous to show it.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, clicking off your phone and dropping it into your purse instead. You extended a hand for him to take. “Only you Mingyu.”

“You sure?”

“With my whole heart.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me it was Taehyung messaging you?” Mingyu muttered. 

It was now your turn to frown. You didn’t have anything to hide from him nor was it the idea that he was snooping at your texts that made you upset. It was the fact that he was withholding his feelings from you. He was upset, jealous maybe, and he didn’t want to tell you. 

“Gyu – are you still hung up on that?” you asked.

His gaze drifted to your hands. He rubbed small circles into the back of your skin, opting not to answer. 

Gently, you pulled your hands from him and moved up to cup his cheeks instead, forcing him to look at you. He stared at you reluctantly with his puppy-like eyes. 

“He’s just a friend, Gyu,” you reminded him, “No one’s taking me away from you.”

Mingyu gulped, scared. You’ve never been quite this certain with your words before. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Wrapping his fingers around your own, he pulled them off his face, lacing them together in the space between you. He took note of the new coat of baby pink nail polish on your fingertips.  Silently, he brushed the rough pads of his fingers over them – they were calloused from the barbells at the gym. 

If you told him not to worry, there was no use in worrying, right?

You loved him and he loved you. 

“Okay,” Mingyu finally relented.

“Let’s go get those groceries now, hm?” you hummed, tightening your fingers around his. 

He nodded, his heart swelling once more. It was simple, grocery shopping, but it was in the ordinary things like this that were all the more precious because they were with you. 

. . . .

“Kim Taehyung?” Seokmin sits back, wracking his brain for a mental image of the man. 

Despite your reassurance, Mingyu was growing skeptical – more of Taehyung’s intention than he was of you. These past few days, you had been texting Taehyung non-stop and it was making Mingyu nervous. Your giggles were becoming more frequent and whenever Mingyu asked, it was always “back in high school Taehyung and I did this” or “Taehyung just said the funniest thing” when it wasn’t even that funny. 

It was bearable until it wasn’t. 

When you broke the news to him yesterday that you had agreed to meet up over coffee with Taehyung, it really pressed Mingyu into acceleration mode – nearly veering off a cliff. 

Was Mingyu worried that you would intentionally cheat on him? Absolutely not – you loved him and it showed enough. You were just happy to see your childhood friend again. Admittedly, the two of you did have some pretty bizarre memories. The story of when Taehyung got Hot Tamales stuck in his nose in detention was quite entertaining – Mingyu choked on his salad at that one.

Was Mingyu worried that Taehyung might try to pull something funny and sweep you up from under his nose? Absolutely. You were smart, pretty, shy, but outgoing enough. You had a charm to you that was attractive and alluring. Not to mention, Mingyu has done his research (read: Instagram stalking) and Taehyung was undeniably gorgeous. His aesthetic was classy and sophisticated, sprinkled in with a touch of goofiness. 

He definitely seemed to be “your type” – Taehyung was every girls’ dream type: a handsome gentleman with a touch of humor. 

Hell, even Mingyu almost fell for the man.  

Hence why today, Mingyu recruited the help of Seokmin to prevent you from falling for Taehyung and Taehyung from falling for you.

In an attempt to help jog Seokmin’s, Mingyu slipped his phone across the table, the screen displaying Taehyung’s Instagram page. Seokmin narrows his eyes curiously at his friend and reaches over for the phone, slowly scrolling through the pictures. As he gets further and further down, you could see the epiphany forming on Seokmin’s face. 

“This Kim Taehyung!” Seokmin screeched. He snapped and pointed at Mingyu. The latter winced back in confusion at his friend’s sudden excitement. Hands clasped tightly over Mingyu’s phone, Seokmin leaned over the table as if he had a secret to share with Mingyu. “Taehyung from high school – yes, I remember him. He hung out with Y/N – and so Younghee by default too, a lot. I thought it was a little weird at first, but didn’t think much of it since they just seemed like good friends and he was a nice kid! He grew up on the outskirts of town, kinda grubby, to be honest, but very sweet and goofy – shy too.” 

Seokmin wiggled his eyebrows as if he had the hottest tea to spill. “But,” he dragged out, “Senior year at someone’s graduation party, we found out he did actually have a crush on Y/N!” 

Seokmin glances down at the pictures again, his eyes latching on a black and white photo of Taehyung staring mysteriously into the camera, a hand placed teasingly by his temple. His forearms were ripped. Seokmin shook his head in amazement, letting out a shocked groan. “Wah, I can’t believe he grew up to look like this! He’s gorgeous! Almost identical to V of BTS!”

Eyes downcast on the chipped mahogany table, Mingyu couldn’t help but frown at Seokmin’s reaction. If his friend was this excited and shocked to see Taehyung again, how would you react? Let alone, knowing the two of you were close friends too. 

Seokmin finally took the hint when Mingyu remained quiet, calming down from his marvel. “I mean,” Seokmin coughed, thumbing through Taehyung’s profile some more, “He’s not that handsome – nothing compared to you Mingyu. You’re much better looking than him.” He stopped at a photo of Sesame plushies lined up on the couch. “I mean look at this – he likes stuffed animals like a kid!”

“Seok,” Mingyu deadpanned. 

Seokmin shrugged back, mumbling a soft apology. He cleared his throat. “Okay, um, well, why are you asking if I know him?”

“Y/N’s meeting up with him tomorrow,” Mingyu explained. 

“Aahhh,” Seokmin nodded slowly, starting to put the puzzle pieces together. “You’re nervous she’s gonna fall for him, aren’t you?”

Mingyu’s eyes flickered up timorously at him then downcast at his fingers. 

“Eeeyy,” Seokmin dragged out, “Have a little faith in Y/N? She’s whipped for you even if she holds back a little.”

Mingyu frowned even at Seokmin. 

“Okay, well maybe not a little – she holds back a lot, but she’s just nervous, okay?” Seokmin tried to reassure him. 

“About what? I try my best to remind her she’s the only apple of my eye every day,” Mingyu pouted. 

“I mean, I would be scared too if I was dating you,” Seokmin noted. 

Mingyu furrowed his brows at Seokmin, wondering what his friend was getting at. However, that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting though. He had to get to the main point – it was easy to get caught up in tangents with Seokmin. 

“I need you to help me tomorrow,” Mingyu started again. 

“Huh?” Seokmin frowned. 

“I’m gonna follow Y/N and Taehyung to their coffee thing tomorrow,” Mingyu told him, “Make sure he doesn’t pull any funny moves on her.”

“Mingyu, don’t you think that’s a little –”

Mingyu sighed heavily, cutting off his friend. “I . . . just want to make sure, Seok,” he fumbled with his thumbs. “I . . . really like Y/N – like really, really, really like her.”

“So you . . . love  . . . her?”

“I . . . think so,” Mingyu pressed his lips into a thin line. “I just . . . don’t want her to slip out of my grasp.”

MIngyu looked like a kicked puppy, his eyes literally sagging at the thought of losing you. The sad expression on Mingyu’s face tugged at Seokmin’s heartstrings (granted, he cried very easily, but still). What's worse could happen if he just lets Mingyu follow you this once? Mingyu would only be reassured because Seokmin was sure you wouldn’t swoon so easily for Taehyung. If you had, you wouldn’t be here with Mingyu all these years later. 

“Fine,” Seokmin sighed. “Whatchu got for disguises?”

. . . .

Detective trench coats, sunglasses, and a fake mustache. 

Very original. 

Seokmin rolled his eyes behind his Ray Ban sunglasses as Mingyu looked not very covertly over his menu, craning his neck to get a better look at you and Taehyung. A bell of laughter erupted from yours and Taehyung’s table. You threw your head back, covering your fabulous smile with the back of your hand. 

“Can you hear what they’re talking about?” Mingyu whispered. “What’s so funny?”

“Mingyu,” Seokmin tugged at the fake mustache that his friend made him wear. Fuck, it was itchy. “You’re being ridiculous – why would we be able to hear what they’re saying? We’re literally on the opposite end of the cafe!”

“Am not!” Mingyu pouted. “You just need to listen better.”

“They’re literally just laughing like old friends,” Seokmin peeled the mustache off, wincing in pain as it tugged at his upper lip. “Mingyu, when you said we were following them, I thought you meant just standing from afar to make sure Tae doesn’t put his hand on her ass or something.”

Seokmin had expected his friend to protest in return, but Mingyu just remained silent. Through the sides of his shades, Seokmin could make out his hardened gaze was hardened on you and Taehyung. You were leaning over the table while Taehyung held up his cell phone aimed at the two of you. Seokmin presumed he was just taking a selfie. Your pink-glossed lips were spread wide in a happy grin, Taehyung holding up a playful peace sign. Why was Mingyu so upset?

“Uh, Mingyu?” Seokmin called. 

Still no answer. 

The moment Taehyung set down his phone, swiping at his screen, Mingyu whipped out his own device. He quickly logged into Instagram and typed in ‘thv’, pulling up Taehyung’s page. 

“Mingyu –”

Aggressively, Mingyu pulled the toggle down to refresh the page. He did it again and again, until a new photo popped up in the upper left corner. 

‘Reunited </3,’ the caption read under a photo of you and Taehyung he had taken just moments ago. 

That was the last straw for Mingyu. Aggressively, he got up from his chair, nearly toppling it over. He ripped off his sunglasses and started walking – stomping, towards your table. 

“Oh – oh my god, Mingyu! Stop!” Seokmin hissed as he lunged forward. Mingyu’s pace was a tad too fast for Seokmin, his fingers barely grazing against his coat. Before Seokmin knew it, they were both standing at the foot of your table and you were blankly staring up at Mingyu.

Taehyung peered up innocently, his face lighting up when he saw Seokmin. 

“Seokmin!” Taehyung called cheerfully. 

“H-hi!” Seokmin laughed nervously. He punched Mingyu’s shoulder, but his gaze was hard and set on you. 

Taehyung looked back to you, then Mingyu, and back at you. He figured half as much as you and the tall, handsome man were acquainted with one another. 

“Who’s this?” Taehyung asked curiously. He brushed his wavy bangs out his eyes, tucking hand into his pocket. A gentle smile on his face, his eyes scanned your boyfriend up and down, oblivious to the daggers Mingyu was sending his way.

“This is . . . Mingyu,” you explained hesitantly. It was as if time was moving through viscous honey, all eyes on you waiting for a further explanation beyond his name. Yet in this moment, all you could see was the man who’s name just slipped from your mouth. Usually, it tasted like cotton candy, but the shift from envy to desperation in his eyes as he anxiously gnawed at the inside of his cheek, waiting for you to tell them the truth, the taste of iron spreading across your tongue. 

“He’s . . . a good friend,” you finished, your voice soft.

And that was the final nail in the coffin. 

“Oh!” Taehyung chuckled innocently, already extending a hand towards Mingyu. “We’re the same. I’m Taehyung, Kim Taehyung – also a friend of Y/N’s. Nice to meet you!”

Silence, then a beat. Only the chatter of the other customers and the hissing of the espresso machine filled the air.

Mingyu pressed his lips into a thin line, clearing his throat and offered Taehyung a tight smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Taehyung.” 

“Do you guys want to sit with us?” Taehyung offered, moving his Boston bag from the chair next to him, already making room for the two. “We were just about to order.”

Mingyu chortled half-heartedly and shook his head. “Thank you, but we should be on our way. Just . . . stopped to say ‘hello.’” Mingyu’s eyes flickered to you once more. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

And with that, Mingyu was gone. 

. . . .

Coffee with Taehyung was anything, but fun after Mingyu and Seokmin’s departure. As much as you tried to stay engaged and keep up with his stories about traveling across Europe with his new job, it was clear your mind was elsewhere. You were on edge, eyes flitting to your watch every five minutes, your fingers tapping at your phone screen every chance you got to see if you got any messages from Mingyu (spoiler: you didn’t). It was Taehyung who cut the hangout short. He knew something wasn’t quite right between you and your so-called “friend,” but was a polite man and pretended not to notice. Taehyung fibbed and told you he had forgotten he had a meeting to attend instead.

After bidding him goodbye, you sped walk back to the safety of your apartment, already rehearsing in your mind what you would say to Mingyu when you call him later. You paid no mind to the fact that his car was parked in the guest lot. Nor did you bother to listen to Mrs. Lee who worked the front desk, when she tried to tell you she saw Mingyu coming in earlier, only offering her a brisk nod. 

Hence, when you finally opened the door to your safe haven and let out a deep breath, pressing your body against the silver handle, you didn’t expect the familiar sound of Mingyu clearing his throat.

Your eyes shot up to find him sitting at your kitchen island, his elbows propped up on the table. The trench coat he was sporting earlier was draped over the chair next to him, suggesting he immediately came to your apartment after leaving the cafe. He had a key to your place after all.

Your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of what to say. You knew you had fucked up introducing him as a friend to Taehyung, but your thoughts were jumbled and you couldn’t dare face him now. All you had prepared earlier vanished from your brain. 

You had to move (and think) fast as Mingyu was already making his way towards you, getting out of his chair. You pushed yourself off the door, preparing yourself to walk past him and drop your stuff off in room in an effort to give yourself a little more time to think. You should've known better that Mingyu would never let you make it that far though – not with this large of an elephant in the room.

Mingyu stood 187 centimeters tall and showed in his reach as his hand latched onto your bicep, stopping you abruptly in your tracks. His head turned robotically towards you, staring holes into your head. You could see in the side of your eye, the hurt in his face, silently begging you to say something.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply before you spoke. "Can we not –"

"No," he said softly.

“Mingyu–”

“No,” Mingyu stated more firmly this time. His voice was loud and commanding, taking you by surprise. He’s never raised his voice at you before. You caught sight of his grip on the edges of the granite counter; he was holding so tight, his knuckles grew white. 

“We’re not going to wait anymore – we’re talking about this now,” Mingyu continued. He took note of your stunned expression. “I’m tired and this is wearing on me, Y/N; I’m not sure how much of it I can take, but I also know I don’t want to lose you over something that could’ve been easily solved if we were just . . . honest about our feelings. I truly want this,” he waves his finger between the two of you, “to work . . . So please."

You gnawed the inside of your cheek, staring into his sharp dark brown eyes. You weren't used to them filled with so much sorrow and anger, and it pained you knowing you were the cause of it. As much as you were afraid of the dark path where this conversation may lead, you also knew it needed to be had if you wanted your relationship with Mingyu to progress – and you did.

With a heavy sigh, eyes downcasted on Mingyu’s hand on your arm, and nodded, silently agreeing to talk this through. His hand slipped down the expanse of your arm and laced his fingers with yours. His grip, but even in trying times, he held your hand ever so tenderly – because this was Kim Mingyu: unshakeable, yet soft hearted. 

“Where do you want to start?” you asked quietly as the two of you settled onto your blue couch. He still hadn’t let go of your hand. 

Swallowing harshly, you could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Are you ashamed of me . . .? Of dating me?”

Your heart sank; though his words were minimal, the look in his eyes was deep. That was the thing about Mingyu. Perhaps he never cried in front of you (or anyone for that matter) and he never got outright angry, but one look in his eyes and they were a dead give away about the feelings swirling in his heart and the thoughts tumbling in his mind. Right now, his eyes told you heart was bruised and his mind was confused and set on one thing only: you. 

“It’s not that Mingyu,” you muttered. You could feel your airway tightening, your esophagus growing stiff. It was getting hard to even swallow your own saliva. 

“Then what is it?” Mingyu asked impatiently, “Why is it that you didn’t tell anyone outside of our mutual friends about our relationship? Why did you wait seven months to tell Younghee? Why did you introduce me as “a good friend” to Taehyung? Why can’t I post pictures of you, of us, on my Instagram, but Taehyung can?”

There was a long pause before you spoke again. It only grew harder for Mingyu every ticking second, he could feel an uncomfortable warmth spreading across his chest, threatening to boil over. 

“I’m scared,” you replied in a small voice. If it hadn’t been dead silent, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have heard you. 

“What?” Mingyu frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

“This,” you shook his hand, gesturing between the two of you. “Us. You and me. I’m . . . like, it’s too good to be true --you're too good to be true. And it's not even because you're handsome or whatever, Mingyu. It's your patience and consideration. It's your willingness to drop everything for the people you love. Do you remember that time Seungkwan got a flat tire? You had a big presentation at work, but rescheduled it and left early to go help him. You love so . . . so openly and loudly, not just through words. 

"Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve you? I’m scared that it’s all a dream and tomorrow when I wake up, you’ll be gone. I’m afraid that I’ll grow too attached – fuck, I'm probably already in too deep, and when we don't work out, it'll hurt more than it needs to.”

Mingyu sucked in a sharp breath, nodding slowly as he digested your confession. So this is what Seokmin must’ve meant when he said he would be nervous too if he was you. Truthfully, it was hurtful to hear all of this, but not necessarily irrational. Mingyu too thought you were too good to be true – all his past relationships were rather vain, ending because he wasn’t who they had dreamed him to be. They found his love for architecture boring and when he couldn’t meet their expectations of extravagant dates, they pouted until Mingyu came running with flowers and chocolates. It got tiring - fast.

However, the difference was in that Mingyu trusted the process and let himself grow attached to you. Never mind the thoughts of no longer having you by his side while taking Sunday morning strolls or staying up until 4AM on Friday nights because you both thought it would be a good idea to try the Starbucks PSL at 8PM. He lived in the moment, and while this didn’t mean he didn’t think about a future with you, he wanted to relish in all phases of being in love with you. What hurt him was the fact that you harbored all these feelings to yourself, not trusting him to understand your emotions and insecurities.

"And is that why you want to keep us a secret? Because you're scared I'm going to leave you?" Mingyu finally asked. 

"It’s not . . . Completely baseless," you muttered, looking away from him. 

"Then tell me more."

"It’s stupid."

"I'm sure it's not." He raised his eyebrows at you, silently warning you not to be stubborn but also reassuring you that he just wanted you to be heard. He knew how stuck in your head you could get when you were overcritical of yourself.

"When . . . we were in university, I followed you on Instagram because you know,” you shrugged, picking through your mind to find the right words. “And I saw all the girls you dated and how . . . they didn't last.

“And one day, I was doing some light reading on Pledis Times and there was a study that talked about couples on social media . . . How they felt insecure and overcompensated with photos and videos of each other . . . And ultimately, most of them broke up. I, um . . . as much as I lo– I mean like you, I feared that the louder we were about ‘us,’ I’d just end up being ‘just another girl’ who dated Mingyu.”

It was nothing to be shameful of, yet, your cheeks burned. You couldn’t bear to look at him. As the silence between you grew louder, the urge to flee to the sanctuary of your room became overwhelming. You squirmed in your seat, inching away from him. 

“Love,” Mingyu chortled. You felt him give your hands a squeeze in an attempt to stop you from moving. 

“I told you it was stupid,” you muttered. 

Rather than replying to you with words, however, Mingyu leaned over and captured your lips instead. He pressed against you with just enough pressure to reassure that you were his whole world, but not enough to scare you off. The kiss was firm, but tender – like Mingyu. 

When he pulled away, an apology spilled from your lips as if on instinct. You weren’t sure why but you felt you owed him one. Mingyu shook his head slowly as rested his forehead against yours, while his fingers played with the loose ends of your hair. 

“You don’t need to be sorry for your own feelings,” Mingyu said. 

“I ended up hurting you though,” you whimpered. 

Tucking your head under his chin, he hummed. “I think I’m more hurt by the fact that you didn’t tell me you were feeling this way. I just assumed you just wanted to keep things under wraps because we were a ‘new thing’ and wanted to take things slow.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again. 

“It must’ve been hard, hm?” Mingyu noted as he stroked the crown of your head. “I don’t know what else I need to do, but trust that I’m utterly heads over heels about you, alright? If you need me to tell you every day until you believe me, I will.” he tugged your hand out of your lap and placed it over his heart. There was a fast, but rhythmic thump.

”You feel that?” he asked.

You chortled softly. “Mingyu, I think I know where you’re going with this and it’s kind of corny.”

“I don’t care – you’re the only girl who has made me feel this way. The sight of you excites me, but it all feels . . . right. I’m scared, but I’m reassured things will fall into place in due time.”

You curled your fingers around his heart, letting his voice vibrate from his chest and flow into your ears melodically. 

“As unreal as I seem to you, you are equally a dream I don’t want to fade either,” Mingyu continued to explain. “No one has ever sat patiently and listened to me ramble about cameras for two hours, let alone when you don’t know the first thing about photography. You match my ‘grandpa’ energy, willingly going on hikes with me on the trails hours away from the city to keep me company. Heck, you didn’t even blink twice when I accidentally sneezed on you or scratched my ass in front of you during the first month we dated.”

“Gyu,” you chuckled, burying your face into his chest. 

He kissed the crown of your head. You could feel smiling into your hair. “Instagram, old girlfriends, old boyfriends–”

“Taehyung was a childhood friend,” you remarked.

“Old childhood friends,” Mingyu corrected himself, “And statistical data aside, it sounds like we’re both scared – and that’s not a bad thing, okay? It means we both care deeply about this relationship and neither of us would let it slip away so easily. That said, I also don’t want that fear getting in between us. I love you and I trust you – I could only hope you feel the same for me.”

And for the first time in your relationship, you decided you wanted to be strong for Mingyu – you needed to be. Too long you’ve locked away your feelings and let them run how you act around him with others. Rather than hiding away in his embrace and kissing him in secret, perhaps it was your time to love him just as loudly as he has loved you all this time. 

Rising from his chest, you peered up at him through your lashes. There was nothing but adoration for you gracing his face, patiently waiting for you to say something. 

“I do,” you replied hesitantly, “I . . . love you and I trust you too, and I’m sorry if I’ve struggled to show it, but I’ll be braver – I’ll change.”

“I don’t want you to change,” Mingyu cupped your cheeks, squishing them together. “I love you for you, and If you don’t want to be vocal about it, we don’t have to.”

You pushed his hands away and pecked his lips, shaking your head. “I want to – no more hiding. Let your 14.5K Instagram followers know that I’m utterly head over heels for you, Kim Mingyu.”

He grinned from ear to ear, his cheeks puffing up like marshmallows. He leaned over and gave you another breathtaking, yet simple kiss. How he was so relieved to be able to show you to the world.

 “I have a lot of pictures to choose from, you know?” 

. . . .

Joohyun’s wedding was a success – the blizzard outside and blustery wind seeping through the windows aside. Her and her new husband’s wedding photos were going to be absolutely stunning with all the winter white snow though, Mingyu had whispered to you during the ceremony. Bellies full of chicken and mashed potatoes, garters and bouquets tossed to all the single people, the reception was finally getting started. The DJ played bopped to the upbeat dance music, people starting to stream in and join the bride and groom.

Mingyu had an arm thrown over your shoulder, his hand resting on the head of your chair. Arms crossed, you leaned into his chest and watched your friends sing and dance happily to Tao Cruz's Dynamite. You had that smile on your face that Mingyu adored so much – the small one where you knew you were incredibly happy, but afraid to show too much of it.

Mingyu watched the crowd while pointing out funny occurrences on the dance floor. Soonyoung getting top excited and wrapping his tie around his forehead. Chan and Seungkwan were krumping in the corner as a small crowd formed around them. They both backed away when Seulgi pushed between them, however, a round of "oohs" and "ahhs" at her sharp and playful dance moves.

"Hello, Y/N," a familiar voice called from afar. Your attention turned to the source of the voice, your face spreading into a grin at the sight of Taehyung weaving through the tables. Though Mingyu knew he was ultimately no threat, he couldn’t help but stiffen at the presence of the other man.

Taehyung tipped his head in Mingyu’s direction. "Y'N's good friend," he teased, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Tae," you greeted him with an eye roll, "How's the party going for you?"

"Splendid," he tucked his hand into his pants pocket. "Got myself a nice cocktail earlier, caught up with Younghee, and even caught myself a garter," he pulled out the thing and waved it in the air.

"Gross," you chuckled.

He winked at you playfully and tilted his head at the dance floor. "What do you say, old friend? Wanna dance? Make it up to me when you went with Seokjin to prom instead?"

Instinctively, Mingyu found himself wrapping a hand around your waist, tugging you protectively into his side. Taehyung took note of this. "Your good friend is rather possessive."

You gave Mingyu a warning look, gently pushing his hand off your abdomen. You gave him a reassuring squeeze in an attempt to calm his nerves. "Mingyu’s actually my boyfriend."

Taehyung nodded. "I figured when he looked like he was ready to take me out at the cafe," he clicked his tongue against his teeth. He laughed at the sheepish look that crossed Mingyu's face. "It was worth a shot though," he shrugged, "In all seriousness, I'm happy for you, Y/N. He seems to like you a lot."

"Thank you," you turned and peered at him shyly through your lashes. Mingyu took it as a cue to press his lips against your temple.

"Alright, alright," Taehyung waved you off, shielding his eyes. "I'm gonna leave you lovebirds alone," he pointed at pretty blonde in a silk spring green gown sitting in the corner, her eyes wandering the venue. "I'm gonna go shoot my shot over there."

"Sure thing, buddy," you giggled.

He gave you both one last wave of goodbye. "The next wedding I see you at, it better be yours!"

"You caught the garter, Tae!" you shot back.

He gave you both one last boxy grin before he turned his back to you. Immediately, Mingyu let out a brisk 'tsk'.

"I like him, but he sure knows how to push my buttons," Mingyu huffed.

"It’s Tae," you giggled watching your friend approach the girl. She blushed when Tae extended a hand. "He teases a lot – it's his thing."

"Ladies and gentlemen, why don't we slow it down for the night?" The DJ tapped into his mic and announced, not giving Mingyu a chance to pout further. The gentle strumming of the guitar in Ed Sheeran’s ‘Photograph’ filled every corner of the room.

Mingyu brushed his lips gently against your cheek. His hot breath hit your skin as he asked, “If you won’t dance with Tae, will you dance with me?”

You rolled your eyes as if the answer wasn’t obvious. Your hand was already reaching for his own, leading him to the dance floor. Not letting go of him, you spun around to rest your free hand around his neck. The two of you settled into a gentle sway, Mingyu holding you by your waist and guiding you through the waltz. He grinned at you, his canines peeking out. Even under the dim lighting, his sharp eyes twinkled with fondness. Your face reflected his joy, the small smile spreading into something bigger. 

You loved him and he loved you, there was no denying it.  

“Bro,” Seungkwan sipped on his drink, nudging Seokmin. He pointed at you and Mingyu on the dance floor. Seokmin grinned widely, fishing for his phone in his pocket. He aimed his camera at the two of you, zooming in and adjusting the lighting to best capture all your features in the photo. 

“They’re so in love, I’m kind of regretting introducing them to each other,” Seungkwan grimaced, swallowing down the bitter taste of his alcohol. 

Seokmin slapped his arm. “Don’t say that – they look cute.”

Seungkwan leaned over and peeked at the photos on his friend’s phone. He nodded in approval at the one that captured your grin over Mingyu’s shoulder, your dress swirling at your calves very prettily. 

“Post that one to the ‘gram,” Seungkwan chuckled.

“Ew, don’t say that,” Seokmin looked at him scornfully. “You sound like an old fart.”

“They’ll thank me later,” Seungkwan shrugged. 

Even after your intervention, neither you nor Mingyu had posted anything onto the web to suggest that you were dating to your followers – not that it was a big deal to either of you at this point. If a good photo comes up, you would. It was just not on the forefront of your mind anymore and the both of you had been too busy to look through Mingyu’s gallery. 

Seungkwan figured, if you guys wouldn’t be loud about your relationship, he would – it was the least he could do to support the Mingyu-Y/N agenda. 

Nonetheless, it didn’t take an Instagram post to know you were mad about one another. 

Without words, pictures, or even a peep of your voices, Kim Mingyu loved you loud enough and you loved him, equally as clear.

#mingyu x reader #mingyu angst #mingyu fluff #mingyu crack #kim mingyu #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen crack

[lightseoul]

asymptōtos

synopsis. you needed him to meet you halfway. he couldn't.

cw. fem!reader, student-turned-worker!reader, busy prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~22 yrs old), established relationship, fluff, hurt/(may or may not have) comfort

word count. 5.8k words

The first time it happens, it leaves you more in a state of awe and adoration than worry and disappointment.

In your defense, you never thought you’d end up dating anyone in college, let alone during your very busy senior year marred by senioritis and thesis woes, but the universe decided it has other plans for you.

And so here you are, on your first date with the #2 Pro Hero, no less.

Of course, credit must be given where it is due. All of this wouldn’t have happened without the notorious meddler and your elementary best friend Ashido Mina, who took it upon herself to be Bakugou’s wing-woman during her housewarming party two weeks ago.

Not only did she serve as the pesky glue that resisted all of your attempts to stray away from Bakugou’s immediate circle, but she also later on confessed to having begged him not to delete your number that she not-so-sneakily saved in the man’s phone.

You got so embarrassed when you received your first text from him, imagining him being held at gunpoint by Mina just to send the darned message. You contemplated not replying to save the poor guy but decided against it. You’re glad you did, though, because he ended up surprising you with his responsiveness and consistency, resulting in daily texts until he finally asked you out on a date.

In a very roundabout way, too:

Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime.

Which brings you to the present, post-said dinner, seated on one of the benches in a park you’ve never heard of until now, admiring the view.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head whips to look at Bakugou, surprised at his sudden statement. Things have been silent since you left the sushi restaurant.

Well, until now.

“What—go out on a date?” you joke, meaning to lighten the mood.

At that, he visibly reddens, and looks away.

“Dumbass,” he mutters under his breath.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “I just thought—you being you—you’d have far more experience than I have.”

You can see him hesitating before looking you right in the eyes, “Wow.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “This is the first time someone’s referred to my being ‘me’ as a compliment.”

“Really?”

He merely gives you a firm nod. You can tell he’s trying to be cool about it, despite how much vulnerability this topic is requiring out of him.

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, that’s bullshit.”

His voice is quiet when he replies. “...Ya think so?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him, “I mean, I like you. Being Bakugou Katsuki should make you proud.”

You don’t realize the carelessness of your comment until you see his eyes widen in shock. Yours follow suit upon realization, “I mean–”

“Yeah–”

“I didn’t–”

He interrupts, “Don’t worry. I get what ya mean.”

You could only stare at each other in astonishment until you look away in embarrassment.

Fuck.

You’re about to change the subject in the hopes of clearing the air and replacing the awkward silence that has befallen the two of you when you feel a feather of a touch graze your pinky.

You hold your breath in anticipation—willing your palm’s sweat glands to magically close in case Bakugou’s making a move to hold your hand—but that’s when it happens.

A piercing wail echoes throughout the park, and you both rip your hands away from each other.

Embarrassed (Bakugou), confused (you), and alarmed (both), you whip your heads towards the source, only to find a crying kid and who seems to be his father crouched down, frantically shushing him.

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what’s the matter from your spot on the bench.

“Kid’s dumb cat got stuck in that tree,” Bakugou points with his right hand, and sure enough, an orange Tabby cat is perched comfortably on the sakura tree near where the kid and his father are standing.

How he managed to figure out the problem in a millisecond is beyond you, but you couldn’t spare a single moment to marvel at his hero senses because Bakugou’s now standing up, palms cracking with mini-explosions.

He sighs heavily, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was annoyed.

Whatever scowl he might’ve had on his face is schooled into a neutral expression when he turns back to tell you to give him a second.

You nod, too stunned to speak, and the explosions on his palms begin to heighten in degree. He starts toward the direction of the civilians, before hesitating in his steps.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, back still turned towards you.

“...For the record,” he looks up to the cat still balanced expertly on the tree’s branches, possibly to avoid your gaze for what he’s about to say next.

“I like you, too.”

The second time it happens…is a bit different. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware this sort of thing was coming. On the contrary, you anticipated it, knowing full well what you were getting yourself into the moment you agreed to become Bakugou’s girlfriend.

But expecting and dress-rehearsing for pain doesn’t make it any less wounding once the actual thing does roll around.

It was your graduation day, and everything was going swimmingly. Bakugou got to officially introduce himself as your boyfriend to your parents while you were waiting for the ceremony to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but just by his body language alone, you could tell he was fucking nervous.

(Later on, during dinner, he’d whisper to you how he barely got any sleep the night before. Who was the one graduating between the two of you, again?)

Your parents’ reception of him was favorable, thanks to the briefer you gave them about his media presence not at all being an accurate depiction of the real thing. Your father tossed you a somewhat withering look after the encounter, but you chose to let it go. You weren’t going to let anyone rain on your parade today.

By all accounts, everything was going great. At the end of the program, everyone who you wanted to be present was there congratulating you, giving you bouquets of flowers, and taking pictures for remembrance’s sake.

After bidding goodbye to your college peers, you then headed to your favorite high-end restaurant to celebrate, where you sit now, listening in amusement as Bakugou gets grilled by your family and friends.

“So, Bakugou-san,” your mother continues, “what do you like about our Y/N?”

“Mom!”

Needless to say, you didn’t expect to be dragged into the grilling session.

Your mother only looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost your marbles. To your left, you can hear Bakugou snicker under his breath. You elbow his side in retaliation.

“What? You can’t expect me not to ask him that.”

“Yeah,” your cousin chimes in from the end of the elongated table, “we’re curious.”

You glare at her, “Shut it, C/N.”

“Y/N!,” your mother exclaims, “Don’t be rude.”

You could only pout in response while Bakugou clears his throat beside you, and you find yourself anticipating his response despite the circumstances.

“Well, she’s the most caring person I know,” he eyes you, and you can’t help but look away, feeling bashful under his gaze. “And is incredibly sharp, and she makes me feel understood and appreciated.”

Squeals and cheers erupt from the table, and you laugh in embarrassment at his words and everyone else’s reactions.

Bakugou pinches your thigh to catch your attention, “What?”

You snort, “You’re so cheesy.”

He smirks, “Says the one blushing.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s sporting redness on his cheeks the same way he’s saying you are. You can’t help but grin in response.

The noise dies down upon hearing your father clear his throat, “Bakugou-san, what do you do for a living, again?”

You internally roll your eyes. On the outside, though, you look at Bakugou, who straightens his posture at your father’s questioning.

“I’m a Pro Hero, sir.”

Your father hums in acknowledgment, “You’re Pro Hero…Dynamight?”

“Yes, sir.”

Everyone’s silent as you watch the tense conversation unfold before you.

“You face a lot of danger in your line of work, then?”

Bakugou remains unwavering as he goes through the kind of questioning that would otherwise annoy him, “Yes, sir. But we’ve undergone extensive training and immersions to be able to handle them accordingly.”

This time, your father only grunts in reply, returning to his plate of Grilled Akita Beef Sirloin as if he hadn’t just interrogated a guy. In the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou deflate, from relief or disappointment, you can’t tell.

“Anyway, Bakugou-san,” your mother interjects in an attempt to salvage the conversation, “what’s it like having a job of a Pro Hero? Nobody in our family took that career path, you see.”

“Well, I—”

He barely gets two words out when All Might’s voice comes booming throughout the entire restaurant, and you see Bakugou lose his cool and scramble for his phone to turn it off. Everyone’s eyes are bugged out, probably reeling from the fact that the #2 Pro Hero has such a corny ringtone.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. You chance a peek at the caller ID, which reads ‘Deku’, and you look up to see the frustration in Bakugou’s eyes.

Despite yourself, a sense of worry settles in your stomach. Midoriya never calls Bakugou unless it’s something important, and he’d already been informed about Bakugou being MIA for tonight. Surely he’s not calling for nothing…

“Who was that?” Your mother asks.

Bakugou presses the lock button on his phone and pockets it. “Sorry—it was just a colleague,” he frowns, “I don’t know why they’re contacting me, I already filed a leave for today.”

“Well, if it’s nothing important, I guess we–”

The ringtone, once again, floods the entire room, but this time you urge him to take it as he tosses you and everyone else an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Please excuse me.”

With that, he stands up and heads towards the corner of the restaurant, leaving you with the rest of your family and friends in silence.

“He seems nice,” your cousin offers, and you shoot them a look of gratitude.

“Are you sure about him, Y/N?” your other cousin asks, and you can’t help but freeze upon hearing the question. “Dating a Pro Hero doesn’t seem like easy business.”

“I bet it isn’t,” your father adds gruffly.

You’re about to spit out the best defense in history when Bakugou rushes toward your side, although he doesn’t sit back down. You brace yourself for what’s about to come next.

“That was Pro Hero Deku—there’s been a sighting in the Chofu district of this high-profile villain we’ve been tracking down for weeks,” he fixes his gaze onto you, “And they need both top heroes on the field, ASAP.”

You spring onto your feet with no hesitation, “Okay, but be careful, Katsuki.”

He nods, “Of course.”

With that, he faces everyone else and bows, “I apologize for having to leave early. I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He doesn’t wait for their responses, attention now shifted back to you.

“Congratulations again, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, forcing a smile on your face in the hopes of easing his worries. He bends down to kiss your forehead, shooting you an apologetic look before excusing himself for the last time and heading for the exit.

You hold onto that congenial smile plastered across your face as your eyes trace his disappearing figure. Once he’s gone, you go back to your seat and will yourself to meet the eyes of those around you.

You see the all-too-familiar worried look on your mother’s face, while your cousins and friends have their eyes down on their plates. Your father, on the other hand, has the same withering look he’s been wearing around you and Bakugou the entire day.

“I bet it isn’t,” your father mutters under his breath, but you heard him clearly.

The third time it happens, it hits closer to home than you expect it to.

After a flurry of important firsts with Bakugou, as well as major life changes that have gotten you breaking down more often than you’d like to admit, your birthday finally rolls around.

As you’ve gotten older, birthdays have indubitably become more mundane. Nevertheless, you went ahead and took the day off of your new job as recruitment personnel in Mirko’s agency, not to celebrate it in crazy ways but in the hopes of spending the entirety of it at home with Bakugou.

Ever since you landed your first job, time spent with your boyfriend has become more and more negligible, with schedule conflicts and inflexibilities of work commitments barring you from seeing each other.

Today was no different.

You wake up to the scent of Bakugou and his citrus body soap, who, as per your request, spent the night prior in your apartment. When you reach out to his side of the bed, though, you’re met with cold emptiness, and your heart sinks in disappointment upon the realization that he’d left.

You at least wanted a good morning kiss for your birthday.

Half awake and reaching blindly for your phone, you bring it up to eye level and check your messages.

It’s only 9:07 AM and your inbox is already flooded with greetings, but none of them is Bakugou’s. Instead, the one text message from him reads:

Hey. Sorry I had to leave early, got some agency-wide meeting Shitty-hair and I are presiding today or something. See you when I get home.

Despite yourself, you deflate at his lack of acknowledgment of your birthday. You shake your head, feeling the ugly emotion of hurt creeping up your spine. Instead, you choose to focus on the fact that he just called your apartment home. Besides, he’s probably just busy right now, you think to yourself. He’ll remember later.

He didn’t remember.

At least, as of 11:45 PM, he hasn’t.

You were still optimistic about things when the day started, going around the house—cleaning to soothe your racing mind, as well as opening the gifts your friends and family had sent to your apartment. By the time lunch rolled around, you had food delivered from your favorite restaurant, which you happily devoured while rewatching a comfort film.

Now and then, you’d thumb at your phone to check if Bakugou’s messaged you a greeting or an update, only to be met with messages and notifications that were the least of your concern.

You lost count of how many times you’ve sighed in discontent, restless for the moment he comes home and proves to you that he absolutely, positively, certainly, hasn’t forgotten.

But before you know it, it’s already 11:45 PM and he still hasn’t walked through your doorway—the last you’ve heard of him being the one text message he left you this morning.

You’re staring blankly at the dinner you’ve prepared for the two of you, devoid of any more expectations, when the door finally clicks open at 11:47 PM and he stumbles in, decked out in his hero costume and visibly exhausted.

“Oh, you’re still awake.”

He seems stunned to see you.

“Patrol went overtime,” he curtly explains as he toes off his boots, “I’m fucking beat.”

You only stare at him from your position on the couch, eyes following his figure as he marches towards the bedroom, possibly to wash off the day’s dirt and grime, barely sparing you a second glance.

“Hey, babe,” Bakugou calls out from the bedroom, who, from the sounds and smell of it, has already come out of the shower.

You hear a rustling noise, “What’s with all these fuckin’ wrappers? Is it your birthday or some shi–”

He falls silent as realization dawns on him, and you shut your eyes in dreadful anticipation. Earlier, when you were still fired up with the day’s anger, you thought you could handle this confrontation (if he ever realized what day it was), but you might’ve overestimated yourself.

Because now, you’re on the couch, hugging your knees and feeling completely pathetic as you hear his footsteps get closer and louder.

Suddenly, your face to face with Bakugou Katsuki, who’s kneeling to peer at you.

And he looks absolutely guilty.

“Y/N, I am so sorry—”

You shake your head. That shuts him up.

“I’m not in the mood for apologies, Katsuki,” you start, “I’m—I’m not mad at you for not having prepared or set aside anything.”

Swallowing the ball in your throat, you press on, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I understand.”

He eagerly nods. You sniff to help hold back the tears that are threatening to spill out, and Bakugou’s hand shoots up to cradle your face in response.

You let him.

“I’m just…” you look down, unable to meet his eye, “disappointed, Katsuki.”

You will yourself to look at him again, “I figured you’d at least remember what today was.”

“Fuck,” he warbles, and now you’re both crying, “I’m sorry, princess. I…”

He trails off, and some twisted part of you is thankful for it. You already know what was going to come out of his mouth—either their staff was a pain in the ass today and he had to step in, or a villain came around to stir shit up, resulting in overtime and him not having the time or energy for anything else.

This way, he could spare both of you the excuses that have seemed to etch themselves onto the tapestry that is your relationship.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says instead.

You don’t know how he plans to do that, but at this point, you’re too tired and hurt to ask or fight back. You gingerly nod your head in agreement.

And with that, he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, all the while trailing soft, almost hesitant, kisses at the expanse of your neck.

He lays you down gently on the bed, and he climbs on top of you, hovering, until he has his forearms at both sides of your head.

You find yourself melting under the intensity of his loving, albeit guilty gaze.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Bakugou whispers, before diving in for a scalding kiss.

And make it up to you, he did.

The day after your birthday, he files for a leave in his agency, as well as cashes in Mirko’s favor from when he saved her ass in a past mission together, successfully giving you an extra paid leave for the day.

He ends up taking you out to a fancy soba restaurant recommended by Todoroki, and to an exhibit you’ve been wanting to see for the longest time, but haven’t gotten around to due to the ungodly wait (thanks to his Pro Hero card, though, you were able to get special passes).

And, it was at the end of that art exhibit when Bakugou pulls you into a private room and tells you he loves you for the first time.

Needless to say, you were over the moon.

But as a great author once said, one can’t undo the pain one caused. One can only atone for it.

Despite yourself, a seed of unease takes shelter and grows inside of you.

The fourth time it happens, it finally escalates into a full-blown fight.

It was a Saturday night, and you were enjoying a nice, stay-in dinner with Bakugou in his penthouse. By some miracle, he was able to take the night off despite the busyness that came with December and the looming holiday season.

“Stop staring at me,” he had said while expertly chopping the assortment of vegetables you bought fresh from the market earlier that day.

You grinned at him, “Not my fault you look sexy when you’re cooking.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted, but there was no bite to it. If you knew any better, you’d say he was blushing. “Now come help me with this.”

And that, you did. More like fumbled around his luxurious kitchen while he took the lead, but you tried your best. Which brings you to now: you, seated across from Bakugou at his corner coffee table, overlooking the city skyline.

“Eat,” he commands.

You happily indulge him.

Scooping a spoonful of the imoni stew he graciously prepared for you, you bring it to your mouth, all the while not breaking eye contact.

“Mmmm!” you exclaim the second the flavors explode in your mouth, “this is so good!”

He only smirks in response, but you can tell he’s pleased with himself with the way his chest puffs up with pride, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot.”

You giggle at how his words juxtapose the way his tone sounds so smitten. Hastily chewing the cabbage, you regard him after you swallow, “Right, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

At that, he visibly stiffens, and your stomach drops, feeling a shot of dread replace the elation that’s been coursing through your blood ever since the night began.

“Yeah,” he starts, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” you mentally slap yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looks you dead in the eye, “And I think it’s about time we move in together.”

You can’t believe your ears.

That’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he places his utensils back on the table, “Think about it, we’ve been dating for almost a year now, and my place is closer to the agency and Mirko’s.”

He shrugs, “And we rarely see each other these days. I figured we can solve that by having you move in with me.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out stilted, “Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to move in with you, Katsuki.” At that, he deflates in what you think is relief.

“But I have to ask—what prompted this? We’ve never talked about living together before.”

He looks down at his clenched fists on the table, and you can’t help how your body tenses in anticipation of the worst.

“This has nothing to do with asking you to move in with me,” he starts, “but there’s another thing I have to tell you.”

Your voice comes out meek when you reply, “What is it?”

“I got chosen to go on a very important solo mission.”

What’s the caveat? your mind immediately conjures the thought. Instead, you say, “Really? That’s awesome, Kats. Congratulations!”

He flashes you a grim smile, “Thanks.”

You force yourself to smile back, chuckling, “But?”

At your utterance of the three-letter word, he sighs, smile now erased from his face, “It’s overseas. Estimated to take about two months.”

You stay silent, just staring at him. He takes this as a sign to drop the last bomb.

“It starts next week.”

At that, you spring onto your feet, “Seriously? Do you even know what you’re gonna miss?”

He follows suit, “Of course! Shit—I’m not a fucking idiot,” he looks to the side in frustration, “I know, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I can just pass up.”

The snarky rebut of ‘It actually is’ dies in your throat when the fact of how much being the best matters to Bakugou crosses your mind.

“...But you promised me you’d spend the holidays with my family.” Your tone is quiet now, in stark contrast to earlier. You don’t even get started on the two-month absence.

He huffs, “I know. But I—”

“I’m sorry Katsuki,” you look down in shame, unwilling to look him in the eye, “and I know this is unfair of me, but I just can’t help but feel like you’re choosing your career over me.”

“But this mission could possibly make me number one,” he pleads, “Over shitty Deku, Y/N.”

You can practically hear the pain in his voice when he murmurs the next few words: “Number one.”

You shake your head in resignation—you know where this is going. You’ve gone through the motions of these arguments a hundred times before.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

“I know.”

At your quiet affirmation of his reasoning, Bakugou circles the table and wraps his arms around you, albeit cautiously. Tightening his hold on you, he whispers a soft thank you, and you feel your heart clenching in pain at how awkward and distant he feels despite being so close to you.

You have the urge to ask him if he only asked you to move in with him to soften the blow of what he was going to say next, but you hold your tongue. The last thing you want is for you to go on your separate ways for two months while in the middle of a fight.

You did end up going back to your hometown for the holidays, although with one less companion. Having to answer your family about Bakugou’s whereabouts was a huge pain, with you eventually resorting to terse responses the more times the question got reiterated.

Your family got so involved in the state of your relationship, with your father dropping I told you so’s ever so often that you finally decided you’ve had enough on the night of Christmas, and resolved to leave for Tokyō the next day.

You were planning to just spend the rest of the holidays in your apartment (you never got around to moving into Katsuki’s home), and wallow in your sadness over your relationship, but fortunately (or unfortunately), you ended up going out of your unit to spend New Year’s at Mina’s instead.

You note the profound role her persistence has played in your life.

Fast forward to now, with you having stepped out of the crowded party in her living room and onto the balcony, grateful for the cool, night breeze.

You hear the sliding door creak open behind you, and you don’t need to look over your shoulder to see who it is.

Footsteps pitter-patter against the floor until you find Mina standing there at your right, uncharacteristically quiet.

You don’t want to hear any comforting words about Bakugou’s absence, so you speak ahead, “Thanks, Mina.”

Her head whips to look at you, and she smiles warmly, “For what?”

“For inviting me to celebrate here,” you will yourself to smile back, “I think I needed this.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes you, “Of course. I—uh,”

She pauses, and you look over at her expectantly, “You what?”

She slowly lets you go and fully turns towards you, the ledge supporting her body weight as she leans into it. A serious expression now adorns her face.

“Just that…I’m not the one you should be thanking.”

You mirror her stance, facing her and narrowing your eyes, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, “Don’t tell him, but Bakugou’s actually the one who told me to check in on you.”

You take a step back from her in surprise (or hurt, you’re not sure—the emotions you’ve been feeling these days have been nothing but complex), but Mina’s quick to step forward and grab your hands, holding it in hers.

“He sounded really sorry about having to leave you alone for the holidays, you know.”

You feel the pinprick of tears at Mina’s words, bringing you to look down at your feet as a means of hiding your sadness from your best friend, even if you know that barely conceals how you’re feeling.

“Come here,” she ushers you in for a gentle embrace.

And you do.

You both stand there for what feels like an eternity, with her rubbing small circles on your back and you crying silently on her shoulder.

“He really loves you, you know,” she whispers, after a long pause, “Eiji and I have talked about it with the rest of our friends—we all agree how it’s practically clear as day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and allow yourself to bask in the gravity of Mina’s words.

“I know.”

The fifth time it happens, you astound yourself with your lack of resistance.

While Bakugou was out in the US for his solo mission, you decided it was the perfect time to put in the extra effort in your own work.

Whether it was to make something of yourself or to distract yourself from the loneliness that came with Bakugou’s absence, it didn’t matter. The bottom line was you finally had something to work towards, and it felt good.

You’ve been eyeing this promotion to be the Recruitment Lead in Mirko’s hero agency for over three months now, with the deliberation process taking longer than you’d like, only for it to end with you falling short of the other candidate.

You clench your fists at the thought of having received the news earlier that day.

Insecure and dismayed, you’ve been waiting for Bakugou to come home so you can tell him about it. It’s gonna have to be a long story, seeing as you haven’t even gotten around to telling him about wanting the promotion in the first place. In anticipation of the conversation, you stocked up on his favorite snacks and drinks.

Finally, at 8:54 PM, you hear the lock open with a click.

You rush to the entryway of your now-shared home, and flash him an inviting smile, “Welcome home.”

He’s in his regular clothes, having stripped himself of the grime and dirt back in the agency. Good, you think to yourself, you’ll have more time with him like this.

You’re about to ask him if he’s eaten dinner and if he can spend the night talking when he practically, and unceremoniously, collapses on top of you.

You’re agile enough with your arms shooting up to help carry his body weight, clutching his waist and arm to keep you both steady.

“Katsuki?” you squeak.

He only burrows his nose in your neck and huffs, “I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Let’s go to bed, please?”

You can’t help but ache at the sight and sound of you Katsuki beaten to exhaustion like this. So, like the good partner that you are, you nod in affirmation and assist him as you walk to the bedroom, and help him out of his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

Now lying on the bed and under the covers, he holds his arm out open for you.

His voice is low and rough: “C’mere.”

And you do.

You climb into bed next to him, settling into his side as a muscled arm drapes across your waist.

You look up at his face, and a part of you hopes his eyes are still open and twinkling with invitation.

For conversation. For intimacy.

For anything.

But you’re only met with the peaceful, sleeping face of your lover.

That was the fifth time it happened.

And the last.

“Is there any reason you dragged me out of my pajamas to come here at–,” he checks his phone, “8:14 PM?”

You ignore Bakugou’s incredulous question, choosing instead to look around the view of the park from the bench where you’re both seated.

You glance at him, all in his bedhead and glasses-wearing glory. He had a long day, as per usual, having arrived home thirty minutes after 7 PM, but you had to have this conversation sooner than later.

“You seriously don’t remember this place?”

“‘Course I do,” he says in a heartbeat. “This is where I took you out on your best first fucking date ever.”

You snort, “That was yours.”

He sits up and scowls at you, offended, “Fuck that shit. That was both of ours.”

You laugh, unable to tease him any longer, “It was. You even flexed your hero skills to me and all.”

He slinks back into the bench, huffing as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Damn straight.”

You roll your eyes, “Show off.”

He snickers, “Simp.”

You shake your head, trying to fight off the grin that’s spreading across your face. Now was not the time for flirty banter. Not with what you’re about to tell him…

“But really, though,” Bakugou pipes up after a few minutes of silence, “what’s up?”

You can tell he’s trying to sound more playful than he usually does. Still, there’s an air of tense anticipation surrounding the both of you, and it’s been there since you asked two weeks ago if he could clear out tonight’s schedule, as you had something important to say.

Here goes nothing.

You exhale, albeit quite shakily, and close your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, Katsuki. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him holding his breath, visibly on guard.

Bakugou’s smart. You’re sure he knows what you’re talking about, if not because of his intelligence but of the way he gulps nervously, no matter how imperceptible that was.

But he still retorts with, “You can’t do what anymore?”

You gesture vaguely at the distance between the two of you. That’s only been growing in the past few months.

“This. Us.”

You heave in a deep, shaky breath, refusing to look at him. He takes your hand into his.

“I can’t bear it anymore. Forcing you to choose between your hero work and me.”

You chance a glance at your Katsuki, and he’s staring at you, eyes brimming with tears and with such intensity that knocks your breath away.

Still, you march on. You have to get this out of your system before you chicken out.

“It hurts me to make you choose. Especially knowing how much you love what you do and how much you’re needed by other people.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but you still end up choking, “But I need you, too, Kats.”

“And, I can’t keep on getting disappointed and hurt like this every time I don’t get chosen.”

At that, you finally let the tears you’ve been holding onto fall down your cheeks, “It’s all too much.”

A part of you still hoped he’d hop onto his feet in protest and beg for you to stay with him and proclaim how he’ll try harder, despite knowing, more or less, that no objections will pour out of his mouth.

True enough, Bakugou remains silent, like the tears that quietly drip down onto his clenched fists.

Because deep down, he knew.

He knew, from the very beginning.

Before he even decided to keep your number. Before he plucked up the courage to send you that first text. Before he sucked it up and asked you out on that first date.

He knew—that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t meet you halfway.

tagging. @katsukis1wife

extra credits. katsuki's first date line (tweet). quote about atonement.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugo x reader #HSJAHSJAHSAJ i hope yall like this T____T #i wrote this in two days and significantly hurt myself in the process #i love and hate angst

[dragonmaiden39point5]

No Escape (1)

Been working on this for months, was a one shot but now it's not. Lol. As usual hope you enjoy.

All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

Summary: You grow tired of Bakugo's bad behavior and after 4 years as a couple, you make a run for it.

Katsuki Bakugo x Black!Reader

Darkfic. Stalking, humiliation, dub-con, mild Daddy!kink. Potentially some untagged triggers.

@palettesofrenaissance as requested I am tagging you on my first part!

The stars had abandoned the sky, leaving the night black as pitch. The bladed edge of the cold air sliced at your ashen skin as you shuffled through woods. Here amongst the silent, barren trees, you were safe-- Far from the disaster of turbulence that was your relationship.

Katsuki was not right for you, a fact that you realized all too late after you were already involved. He didn't come on super strong when he first asked you out; He honestly had behaved as if he could've cared less if you were interested. However, within weeks of that first date, he was blowing up your phone with calls and texts every second of the day. It was cute-- even endearing at first, but as the honeymoon phase ceased, it was beyond overbearing.

With no regard for when you were at work, he was ceaseless in his seemingly sudden obsession. When you finally did hang out, he was all over you in near desperation, yearning for your completely undivided attention. It felt like you were suffocating as he consistently crowded your space and cut out all of the people in your life that mattered. You're not even entirely sure when you moved in with him. More and more of your stuff just kept turning up at his house, until he 'convinced' you not to go back to your apartment.

The clingy attachment got worse after you yielded to the pressure of living with him. You weren't allowed to keep a code on your phone anymore and only hung out with people he knew personally (most of which looked as if they wanted to go into a rut when they saw you). These things weren't something you took quietly though. There were countless screaming matches and arguments, all of which ended with him taking advantage of your heightened emotions and fucking you stupid across the nearest surface or piece of furniture after you had given up and started crying (you weren't exactly proud of that fact).

The highest point of contention after you'd yielded everywhere else, had been your job. His parents died and left an unspeakable amount of trust-fund money, so he didn't work which (to him) meant you shouldn't either. Plus, with you being in real estate, he outright said that he didn't want you, "Dressing up to be surrounded by a bunch of low-life bastards." There was also, the fact that you could ride around sometimes one or two towns over for hours ignoring him-- which especially caused him grief.

His solution was to track your car, stalking your every move when you left the house and actively attempting to make you quit. At one point he'd slashed all four tires of your car while you showed a house so that of course, you had to call him to pick you up. A different time, you took a (male) client and his son out to lunch to show him what the local attractions were like, and you went outside to a kicked in windshield, as well as all 4 windows busted out. Not even the sideview mirrors were spared.

Your management team was able to turn a blind eye those times and let you lie and claim random acts of vandalism or mistaken identity, especially with all the love you got from clients and other customers alike. However, not to be defeated, Bakugo upped the ante and had his buddy from the police force send SWAT to a house that you were doing a walkthrough on. They kicked in the doors and windows with guns and helicopters claiming that they received an active shooter notice for the address. You had been scared shitless, that is until the SWAT team carried you out and you saw Iida suited up, looking completely unbothered despite the 'severity' of the situation. He actually lit a cigarette and subjected you to an entirely unnecessary, way-too-thorough body search behind one of the police cruisers. Seconds later a familiar orange mustang with orange rims drove by and you knew what was going on. Luckily, the police presence spared you from being fired, as management had believed there was real danger. (The event was breaking news and blocked traffic for hours).

With that one having backfired and you crying and throwing a fit, he bought you a dog to 'apologize' though he never actually said the words. He later proceeded to double down on arguments about you quitting your job and broke your phone. Of course he ended up replacing it with a fancier more expensive one-- But you soon realized that it had only the contacts of people that had earned his approval and a monitoring software.

It was never ending with him, but trying to leave or break up face to face only made him hold you hostage until you promised not to leave. After waking up handcuffed to the headboard the last time you tried that, you chose not to try it again.

💥💥💥💥💥

Meanwhile, hard work and dedication (and screaming matches with your boyfriend) afforded you the senior salesperson promotion, meaning you were one step from a sales management position. With this title under your belt, you could step into a leadership role with more freedom than before.

To build reputation and show management potential, you were given the chance to sell a house of your choice and then would go through a shadowing and training process, meaning you were about 6-8 months shy of your dream position if everything worked out okay.

You'd spotted the perfect property and bought it on behalf of the company. There hadn't been too much confidence in it due to its age compared to other homes in the area, but with the right renovations and staging, and a well advertised open house, buyers would flock; that much was certain.

Late nights, early mornings, a dozen gallons of coffee. There was nothing your heart desired more than for the success of this house-- the success of you. It would be perfect and even set a new standard for open house events within the company.

There were unfortunately several out of budget expenses, like hiring a caterer and setting up before and after photoshoots for the property. The cost of landscaping had gone over due to several rotted tree removals, and sod placement for quite a bit of the back and side yards. There was also no way you were going to fill in the inground pool, which would become a major selling point after fixing it's disgusting condition. Repiping, rewiring, new insulation, trash removal (it was previously a hoarder's house), and a pool remodel... Everyone warned you about taking on a foreclosure sight-unseen for your first solo reno, but in your excitement, you tended to be exceedingly ambitious and with no HOA there were no limits.

At this point your job was the only thing you had control over, the only thing that gave you relief. And as you nitpicked yourself to a perfectionist's standard, your boyfriend remained oddly quiet. He actually volunteered his own money so it didn't look to anyone that you had technically far exceeded the company budget. The words of encouragement he offered while you worked were foreign, but you appreciated not having to fight when you were so tired. He was acting all warm and supportive like everything mattered to him so much..

💥💥💥💥💥

The house had turned out incredibly. Inside and out, there was no sign of the safety hazard that it had been, only an amazing dwelling that would belong to a happy family, hopefully in the near future. Before leaving home, you checked that all of your equipment was fully charged and ready to go: Laptop, tablet, phone, and USB that contained all the photographers pictures and video edits of the newly revived property.

Bakugo had a prior engagement and would be at the grand opening of his friend Midoriya's gym (a timing overlap that was very intentional on your part), though he would be dropping you off to the open house. The ride was silent, but not due to the aftermath of a huge argument; it was because something was up with Bakugo. All of his body language read that he was on edge, frequently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He only behaved this way when there was something on his mind.

"You good, Kats? You look really tense."

He smiled gleefully before glancing your way with sharp red eyes. "I'm alright."

"Aight then." You shrugged. "Make the next right and the place is at the other end of the street, on the cor-"

"I know where it is."

"Of course you do." You sighed, throwing your hands up.

Pulling up to your destination a few minutes later, you got out of the car and Bakugo followed suit. Grabbing your bag for you, he stood on the sidewalk for a moment.

"Wow." He commented, admiring the property. "Way to turn this shithole around. Nice job."

"Uh, Thank you." You smirked, heat creeping up your cheeks. "You look surprised."

"Well, I haven't followed you in like a month. Been busy helping Deku with his shitty new hires."

You sighed, rolling your eyes. It wasn't like you didn't know that he did it, but you preferred he not mention the stalking.

Showing Bakugo around the inside, you wanted to make sure that everything was in place for guests. Design wise, it was perfect; Every accent wall on the first level of the house had the same pattern which became the theme for the furniture colors and pillows. The upstairs followed the same trend, just with a different color/pattern combination. The curtains for each level were in the respective opposite color of the accent walls-- But it was the little details that mattered, so you went from room to room spraying air freshener and placing a scented candle in each; it combatted the smell of recently dried paint. You also needed to sit out the gift bags that had your business card and number tucked within and set up the projector so that it linked to your laptop.

Bakugo was actually impressed and would've stayed to watch you all day (his own words) but he had to leave for Izuku's event. Meanwhile, the caterers had arrived and were putting together shrimp cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, in time for the early bird guests showing up.

It didn't take long before a steady stream of potential buyers filled the property. They were encouraged to mingle and look around on their own or join in as you gave a tour with details about the artwork on the walls, insulation, and the re-pipe/rewire. One of your assistants also helped you to do a live stream showing each room, while another managed the gift card raffle, and the third made sure that every single guest left with a gift bag.

The event went on for roughly 2.5 to 3 hours, which you were on your feet networking for the duration of. You'd picked up 4 more potential buyers for a few different properties after chatting up countless people, as well as several who wanted this one. A bidding war was most certainly on the horizon.

For everyone that stayed to the end, a film reel of before and after shots was assembled. You and your co-workers had the remaining people gather in the media room of the home, where the projector had been set up at. "Alrighty ladies and gentlemen! This will be the final act of our showing. We will put on display what each room looked like before the transformation, with side-by-side images recapping the final product you've seen here today-- The point of which is to highlight just how hard earned the beauty of this house is, and why it would be perfect to live and raise your beloved family in."

The video came on in clear, perfect hi-resolution, starting with a series of credits for all the companies involved in the renovation of the property (clean up, photography, landscaping, pool fix etc). In the meantime you slipped out of the room and down the hallway, heading to the mother-in-law suite on the front side of the house and closing the door. You wanted a hair and makeup touch-up before it was time to shake hands and say goodbye.

Pushing your blazer off and stepping out of your heels you went and opened the chest of drawers to pull out your tote bag. Out of habit, the first thing you did was grab your phone but strangely enough, there was only one text message from Katsuki awaiting you from about half an hour after the open house had started. "Made it."Was all it said. You hummed curiously, tossing it on the bed in favor of your makeup bag, flats, and spray bottle. It was severely, out of character for him, but you had to worry about closing out the evening.

💥💥💥💥💥

The audience sat politely through the first minute or two of the presentation. It consisted of the credentials and numbers for the separate business entities that collaborated on the house. Completely normal.

However--

Things took a turn for the worst just moments later after you stepped out.

The screen went black for about 5-10 seconds and the gruff voice of a male could be heard in the background. When the image on the screen resumed, it was of a man in peak physical condition from the chin down, proud erection sitting between toned thighs as he stroked it rapidly. There was a plain black band on his left ring finger with a diamond studded behemoth on the middle one. He had a sleeve of colorful tattoos and spider bite piercings under the right corner of his mouth ."I love these little tantrums you throw, Baby." He grunted through his teeth. "Gets me so fucken hard when you act like a spoiled brat..." He stopped stroking with his hand and began to thrust fiercely into it instead. "But no matter how mad you get..." He said, breathing ragged and labored, "You'll always belong to Daddy." He moaned, shooting his load straight up, allowing it to land on his incredible abs.

It felt like an eternity for those watching, but the clip was less than 20 seconds long. Some astounded viewers quickly vacated, while others lingered feigning disgust, gasps and whispers.

But not one of your coworkers-- the so-called 'work family' moved to stop it, even as the next clip started immediately.

This one was of the same man, face still obscured, but from the point of view of the woman he was on top of; you. The camera seemed to have been recording from just above your head and tilted downward, so your face wasn't showing either. It was likely placed in the headboard.

Length buried fully into you, with your legs wrapped around his waist, his usual tone was down to a gritty pur. "Shit girl... I fucking love when you act like this...You want Daddy to make you cum?"

Your hands ran up his arms as you pulled him down flush against you. "Yes please.." you whimpered from beneath him.

"Louder." He hissed biting your neck.

"--Yes, please Daddy! Make me cum!"

"Hehehe...Of course.." He pulled completely out for a moment and you began to protest.

"Wait, please, I--" you whined, before he soothed you:

"It's alright Baby Girl, just hold on."

Pushing your knees up to your chest so that your ankles were on his shoulders and getting into a kneeling position, he sunk into your tight pussy from a new angle-- both of you groaning unified bliss. Suddenly, his pace was fast, breathing labored as he fucked into your wet hole.

That's what you saw when you were finally coming back from your bathroom break-- just in time to look down the corridor that opened up into the media room and see yourself squealing in delight as you squirted all over your boyfriend.

It was so astonishing you stopped dead in your tracks, staring confusedly down the hallway for a minute as you tried to figure out what you were seeing and why. A vicious pang of sadness struck your heart as tears began to ruin your freshly redone make-up.

Meanwhile, a third clip started-- This one with you standing, facing the camera from the neck down, with Bakugo sitting behind you on the edge of the bed. There could've been plausible deniability that this wasn't you, that this was a data breach of some sort and the computer had been hacked-- but right there, dangling between your gorgeous bouncing titties-- was the necklace that currently adorned you. It was too distinctive, (a diamond studded hand-grenade with a flash behind it, engraved with the date you and Bakugo met) and you wore it every day.

Less than 2 minutes of footage, had effectively ruined your entire professional life.

Had you not been afraid of someone keeping or distributing this imagery, you would've marched right out of the front door and never looked back. Instead, you dragged your feet the rest of the way down the hall into a room full of scornful sneers from colleagues, and horny perverts that didn't care to avert their eyes from the video of you getting fucked.

It looked too good; with him having pulled you back on to his lap and lifted your legs up. The view of how accepting your tight cunt was of such a big dick would live forever with these people, partnered with the sound of your moans as your pussy was filled with cum.

You slammed the laptop shut and snatched it free from the cords of the projector, numbly walking out of the room to get your bag and go. After all of the measures that were taken to keep something like this from happening, it still ended up being a disaster. The laptop that you were using was at least 6 years old. You kept it as messy as possible, with file folders saved across the home screen and the taskbar full of miscellaneous interests. It wasn't synced to any accounts, all apps that weren't games were deactivated for the most part. No Docs, no Cloud, no Adobe suite. Just plain PowerPoint, which was over a decade old at this point. You wracked your brain, trying to figure it out; Where had you gone wrong? How did Katsuki even manage this!?

Heading down the walkway, the orange monstrosity that he drove was parked on the sidewalk waiting for you. The negative emotions within you undulated like snakes in a pit. You slammed the car door as you got in and didn't spare him a glance.

He didn't react, other than the smirk that he forced himself to suppress, expecting a blow-up any minute but it never came. Instead, you cried silently. The tears just started pouring down your face as you stared straight ahead. Immediately he felt a wash of guilt. He hated when you cried but you really forced his hand; You liked to go to work and pretend he didn't exist, like you were single and work was your everything. So it was your own fault. Still, he would forgive you with no hesitation as soon as you shed a tear.

"How?" You asked, voice low, still not looking at him.

"I switched the videos when you dozed off last night...You left everything open."

You didn't bother to respond, a massive sob coming from you instead as tears kept coming.

Bakugo was certain that he had never seen anyone cry like that; almost completely silently with no noise other than the occasional sniff and nose wipe with a handkerchief. Definitely a far departure from your usual. You winced when he rested his hand on your thigh but otherwise did not protest.

"Kats, I'm tired. Please head home, I've been on my feet all day."

"Uh, yeah." He didn't know how to respond.

"Thank you."

The rest of the ride was silent. You had screamed, shouted, and broken things more times than you could count and at this point, you just didn't have the energy to do that. Tired and angry for sure, but at the core of it all you were sad. That he could do such hateful things. That he could care less about what you wanted for yourself. That he would be so unnecessarily cruel, while still claiming to love you.

This was the last straw.

💥💥💥💥💥

For a few months, you plotted and played your role. If you wanted to go somewhere, you asked him to bring you. You wore overly revealing clothes and climbed all over him in public. You stopped using his name, referring to him exclusively as Daddy no matter who was around. You would initiate sex, begging him to fuck you; beg to fuck him. You even took to sending him video and pictures of you playing with yourself when he left you at home, sometimes in his oversized clothes, other times nothing at all-- (which would make him come back much faster, if he could help it). You really made him feel his victory.

Kats was too busy loving that you didn't resist him anymore and was all too eager to have you all to himself; You, he, and the dog had been to 5 countries in the three months since. It was easy to get swept up in the gifts and vacations (and mind-blowing orgasms) and forget he was something that you needed to get away from, since he had been absolutely perfect since you started acting the way he wanted. You almost felt bad about your brewing plot to leave.

Well, it actually wasn't much of a plot, you were you going to take a few thousand out of his home safe, get the dog, and ghost. He was just too unstable and insecure, and at this point it was clear that he could only behave properly when you were 'obedient'.

💥💥💥💥💥

The sole opportunity to leave came with the passing of another month. When he wasn't traveling, Bakugo habitually visited his parents' headstones on the Saturday of every third weekend, at sunset. It was the absolute only time that he left you devoid of incessant phone calls, messages, and his suffocating presence. A cloud of guilt shrouded the decision to leave at such a time... But you'd never know peace if you didn't. What other choice did you have? You had learned from the last several times you attempted to break up with him that it would only intensify his crazy.

When he left that evening, you waited until receiving the text that he was there to make your move. You left absolutely everything behind other than Thunder with his dogfood and cash from Bakugo's safe-- On foot, hence lurking through the woods that started on the edge of the property instead of taking a main road. The location of motion cameras on the edge of the acreage that surrounded the house were something that you had carefully mapped out the boundaries of-- And after almost 4 years, you knew where they were by heart.

There was also a small plan that was put into play as a distraction; He always took the smaller, more low key of the cars when visiting the cemetery. In turn, you sent his chef to a store over an hour in the opposite direction of where you were going, in his easy to spot orange car.

It would be hours before he knew you were gone...

💥💥💥💥💥

#dragonmaiden79 #dragonmaiden39point5 #black oc #black mc #black reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #dark fic #mha #mha darkfic #smut

[seokmthw]

crying eyes | shen ricky

⇢ pairing: insecure!ricky x reader

⇢ warning: angst, fluff, mentions of poor self-esteem but nothing major

⇢ word count: 955

prompt(s): #3 "hey, it's okay to cry" + #5 "you don't have to be so brave with me" + #6 "how long did you think you could hide this?" + #19 "oh sweetheart, come here"

⇢ note: hello to the anon who requested this! i took a bit of a different spin on this one, so i hope it's everything you wanted! i wrote this so quickly and i genuinely don't know how, but i'm pretty proud of it! enjoy~

ricky stared at himself in the mirror as he danced, eyes trained on every single move and every single mistake he kept making despite his efforts. he had stayed well after practice, trying his best to perfect every part of his routine for his upcoming show, but just could seem to get the ending right no matter how many times he redid it.

nearing the end, he spun, but instead of landing how he was meant to, he lost his balance. he cursed at himself under his breath, angrily shutting off the music and standing there for a moment in disbelief. he wasn’t quite sure what to do from here, but his frustration was beginning to get the best of him as he worked.

he took a swig of his water before turning the music back on, but skipping to the ending to try and perfect one of his final spins. much to his dismay, he was off-balance again, this time tumbling down to the floor with a thud. he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, hair messy and sweat dripping down his temples, and all he could say was, “this is so fucking pathetic.”

he quickly rose to his feet, beginning to mutter things under his breath about how horrible he was and how he didn't think he deserved to have this dance solo. unbeknownst to him, you'd been watching him the past few minutes, feeling your heart break each time he beat himself up over making a mistake.

unable to handle seeing him like that anymore, you walked into the room, snagging the boy's attention with your presence almost immediately. he looked tired, the bags underneath of his eyes evident of his hard work over the past few days. you gave him a sad smile, softly telling him, “i thought i might find you here.”

“i was just finishing up,” ricky attempted to lie, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, but it was no use. he knew you'd caught him in the midst of him beginning to break down.

“i know better.”

upon hearing your words, something shifted within the boy’s head and tears began dripping down his cheeks, though he angry wiped them away as soon as they fell, “sorry, i didn’t think this would happen.”

“hey, it’s okay to cry,” you reassured him, stepping forward to get closer to him. ricky hung his head, finding a new interest in his shoe laces the more you approached his figure. more tears fell, but this time, he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“i just don’t understand what i’m doing wrong, y/n,” he managed to sputter out in between his cries, “no matter how hard i word, not matter how many times i try to fix it, i just can't. and i feel like all i’m going to do is let my team down,” by now, his shoulders were shaking with with sobs, and before you knew it, the barrier he had built up was slowly beginning to break down right in front of you.

you were finally in close enough proximity to grab onto one of his trembling hands, “oh sweetheart, come here.”

upon hearing your words, the blonde practically melted into your touch, allowing you to hold him as he let out a noise you'd never heard him make the entire time you'd been dating. he buried his face in your shoulder, balling his fists up into the fabric of your jacket, almost as if he believed you would disappear from his grasp if you didn’t.

you stood like that for a while, allowing your boyfriend to cry as much as he needed to. you sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. you almost felt bad you hadn't detected this sooner, but you knew ricky was capable of putting on a front that was believable, even to you.

“do you want to talk about it? would that help?” you offered, rubbing small circles on his back as a way of comfort, “you don’t have to be so brave with me, you know.”

he nodded, voice muffled against your skin as he spoke, “i know i don’t. it’s just a lot of things bottled up that picked now to explode. the pressure of getting my routine right, of not letting the other members down, and not burdening everyone around me.”

you pulled ricky away momentarily, surveying his face intently. you forced him to meet your gaze, questioning, “how long did you think you could hide this? it’s not healthy to keep all of those emotions to yourself.”

“i don’t- i don’t know, truthfully. i just didn't want anyone to worry about me.”

“you listen to me right now,” your voice was stern, but gentle, “you will never, ever burden me with talking about how you feel.”

“y/n-”

you stuck a hand up to shush him, “i’m not done, mister. you can always come to me, no matter what. and for what it's worth, you are extremely talented and you're severely underestimating that. you put everything into your practice, so just because you keep making mistakes doesn't mean you're bad. got it?”

you could see him fighting off a smile, “yeah, i think so.”

“good. i’m never going anywhere if i have any say in it,” you stood on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips, “no let's get you home so you can rest.”

he nodded, pulling you in for another hug, his chin rested on your shoulder and eyes fluttering closed upon feeling you squeeze him back. he sighed, “thank you for reassuring me. it means more than you know.”

“anything for you, my love.”

#seokmthw #zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #zb1 #zb1 drabbles #zb1 scenarios #zb1 x reader #zb1fics #zb1 zhang hao #zb1 sung hanbin #zb1 seok matthew #zb1 ricky #zb1 park gunwook #zb1 kim gyuvin #zb1 kim taerae #zb1 kim jiwoong #zb1 han yujin #zb1 imagines #zb1 icons #kpop

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Get a Little Action In

Set in The Shape of Youniverse 

Summary: A standard date night with your boyfriend ends by revealing a side of him you’ve never seen before.

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader (Reader eventually marries the system)

Word Count: 2.7k 

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

CW/TW: Minor violence involving a gun, references to Marc’s trauma and emotional distance, relationship angst and insecurities, shower sex, fingering, p in v sex, and a nearly unbearable amount of ~softness~

A/N: Despite the title of this fic being a line from a rather jaunty Elton John song, this came out with mucho feels and romance! It’ll be reflected on the masterlist, but for all you friends following along at home, this takes place in the first year of reader and the boys’ relationship where she only knows about Marc. 

Also special shoutout to darling @romanarose​, this is kind of a leftover, unrequested 500 follower celebration prompt that she inspired me to go ahead and write it!!

It began as a normal date night. You met up with Marc after work, your overnight bag in tow, since the plan was for you two to convene at the restaurant you’d all but harassed him to take you to, and then spend the weekend at his place. 

You didn’t think anything of the neighborhood Casa Fofó was in. Hackney, and the whole of the East End of London in general, had long been gentrified. Which is why, as you two ambled back to the Tube, the man accosting you came as such a surprise. 

“Gimme your wallet. And her purse.” 

Your heart dropped. Yet where you froze, Marc fought. He pivoted right away, moving so swiftly and smoothly his body nearly blurred, instantly disarming the mugger and wrenching the gun –oh my god he had a gun?!-- from his hands. 

Your boyfriend didn’t stop there. Although the mugger clearly admitted he’d been had, backing away with his hands in the hair, Marc advanced on him. 

“Hey…hey! Alright bruv…m’sor–” he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence however. Marc pistol-whipped him, forcing the attacker onto his knees with the weapon. 

Until then, you’d felt as if you were in the midst of an out-of-body experience, simply too stunned to act, reduced to merely watching everything unfold. Something about the image of Marc towering over the mugger got your mental faculties whirring back to life again, and you hollered, “It’s enough! Please…just stop!!” 

Marc turned to look at you, horrified, as if he’d forgotten you were there. You thought he would heed your request, but instead he delivered one final blow to the mugger with the barrel of the gun, so hard that it knocked him out cold. You watched in cold-blooded shock as the assailant’s body collapsed. Meanwhile, Marc calmly ejected the magazine from the weapon, wiped his prints from the gun, and tossed both at the unconscious man’s feet. 

“Holy shit,” you exhaled. Even though you’d spent the entire confrontation just standing there, you were out of breath. 

Marc approached you cautiously. “Honey…”

“Fuck, you really weren’t joking about the combat training, were you?” 

“Yeah. Listen, I’m–”

“I’m gonna to call an Uber,” you announced.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Well, yeah. We’re going back to your place, right?” 

“If you still want to.” 

“I do…don’t really want to be alone right now,” you confessed. Before Marc could respond, your phone trilled. “The driver’s 2 minutes away from the high street, I picked there because—“

Marc didn’t need you to explain. “Got it.”

He followed you to where you’d set for the car to collect you. All the while, he kept a safe distance, regarding you like a startled animal. 

It fit, didn't it? Marc had been quite the predator just now, and it was both jarring and concerning to see such a casual display of the lethal power your boyfriend could channel. You knew he’d served in the American military, and had even done some work as a mercenary that he wasn’t proud of, but it was one thing being told this information, and quite another to witness it for yourself. 

Even more distressing however, was how attractive you found it. It was one of those frustratingly primal things that your psyche couldn’t override your biological programming on. Your big strong boyfriend had protected you from a threat and as stupefying as the violence was, you hated the part of you that relished he was capable of it, and that he’d chosen you. 

Despite the ride back to Marc’s flat being all but silent, an internal war of reason versus instinct waged in your head. You were grateful that Marc had protected you, angry that he used such excessive force, turned on by the display, then angry at yourself for being turned on….your mind ran in circles. Only when the driver pulled up outside of Marc’s building did you shake yourself out of your thoughts. 

The quiet persisted until you two were within the privacy of your boyfriend’s place. Marc shattered it with, “So what, are you mad at me?” 

“I…I don’t know, actually.”

“You don't know? Because you didn’t say a single word in the car. Usually the silent treatment means you’re angry.” 

“Marc, I didn’t say anything in the car because I didn’t want the driver overhearing us,” you countered, “besides I was trying to figure out how I felt.” 

“Really? Because it’s written all over your face.” 

“Okay, you tell me then,” you challenged him, taking the bait. 

“You’re shocked and disgusted–”

“I’m not disgusted–”

“My mistake. You’re just terrified then, you’re looking at me like you don’t know me.” 

“I’ve never seen that side of you before, okay?” you replied, “It was intense, because usually you’re so contained. You’re the one who said we needed to wait until your contract was up before we started dating, and I know you’ve mentioned the military and the merc stuff before but God, Marc, you turned on a dime! I’m allowed to be a little freaked out.”

“So you are scared of me.”

“I didn’t say that!!” Marc was really riling you up now. “I was also…I don’t know, weirdly comforted that you protected us? Or my inner cavewoman was very pleased by it. I’m not judging you, alright? So why are you now all cross with me?” 

Marc muttered something you couldn't hear. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“As usual,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Marc had a pesky habit of speaking under his breath to himself, and it never failed to piss you off, since you suspected he was saying something about you. 

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Marc said, his voice so low and menacing it came out as a growl. “The door is right there!” 

“But I want to be here! I want to talk about this with you! I hate when you do this, you push me away and I haven't even done anything! And okay yes, I am scared. Not of you…I’ve never been attacked like that and it was fucking terrifying and I don’t want to go back to my place alone!” You tamped down on your quivering lip. Marc was not going to see you cry over this. You could handle yourself like an adult. “And you did take it too far actually! You didn’t need to knock the guy unconscious!” 

“I was trying to protect you! The safety was off on the gun!” Marc hollered. 

You didn’t know that. How could you? You’d never so much as touched a gun. 

When you didn’t reply, Marc continued, “You know I’d never lay a hand on you, right? Is that what you’re so worried about? Because I’d never, I’d rip out my own fingernails before I did tha–”

“No, no Marc,” you crossed to him, but he didn’t let you into his space just yet.

“The ride back here…it looked like you were doing the math if you thought I was capable of snapping on you.” 

“I wasn’t,” That was a lie. “It crossed my mind, I’ll be honest, but the thought left as soon as it came. My brain’s been a mile-a-minute, and I think I’m in shock, and I’m angry at myself because I completely froze. Baby, it’s clear you just saved my life just now, but I don’t want you hurting anyone for my sake either.”  

“I’d do anything for you,” Marc admitted quietly. 

You stepped toward him again, and this time, he allowed you to wrap your arms around his torso and lay your cheek against his chest. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want you to have to.”

“You think I push you away?” he asked in a murmur. 

You didn't think it so much as you knew it. But the fact Marc was even somewhat copping to it was major. You could work with that.

 “A bit, yeah. It’s something I’ve noticed,” you tipped your head up to look him in the eyes. “You’ve built some high walls around your heart it seems.” 

Marc bristled under the openness and trust in your gaze. This was hard for him. It occurred to you then that perhaps he was the frightened animal in this scenario. He needed to be approached with caution and compassion, otherwise he’d lash out like he did with the mugger. 

“Yeah. And then you showed up with a sledgehammer,” he added with a small grin. “It scares the shit out of me. I’d rather fight a hundred muggers.” 

You chuckled at his candor. “This doesn’t have to be a fight. At least, I don’t want it to be. Can we promise to give each other the benefit of the doubt going forward?” 

His back muscles under your hands at the suggestion. “I mean, I’ll try but sometimes I–” 

“All I ask is that you try,” you assured him. 

“Okay,” he agreed. 

Both of you stood there quietly, simply reveling in the other’s closeness. The steady rise and fall of Marc’s chest lulled your still-racing mind, and you began to ponder what made Marc construct the walls he had. He’d never mentioned his family to you, though he did share that he’d been married before…whoever had hurt him had left quite the scar. As you continued to ruminate, it dawned on you that his defensiveness about your reaction likely came from his own shame and judgment over how he handled the mugger. Marc expected you to blow up at him for it, he’d nearly craved it. 

Problem was, despite not speaking it aloud yet, you were madly in love with him and weren’t going to give up on this relationship that easily. You could maintain your boundaries and meet Marc with compassion, something he seemed to lack in his life up until now. 

You gently extracted yourself from his grasp. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“‘Kay,” he whispered. 

Halfway to the bathroom, you turned and tossed a come-hither glance at Marc over your shoulder, “Well, aren’t you coming with?” 

The corners of his lips quirked upwards before he followed suit. Despite the invitation to get naked and wet with you, your boyfriend was nothing but tender. You individually stripped while the water warmed, refraining from touching each other until you were under the spray. Strangely, the fact you hadn’t pounced on one another right away made the act feel more intimate, more domestic, as you were comfortable enough with each other to just be.  

…it didn’t last very long however. Marc offered to wash you, and the sight of him with his wet hair slicked back, his criminally striking bone structure so close, took your breath away. His sure, strong hands, capable of so much violence, delicately soaped the most vulnerable parts of your body, while he dropped gentle kisses on the length of your shoulder. His worship of your skin made you tilt your head back in search of his lips. 

Marc couldn’t deny you much, therefore he met your silent plea, slotting his mouth against yours, his palms tracing up the curves of your hips, then your waist, to their destination of your now-heaving bosom. He cupped your breasts as you traded passionate, desperate kisses. 

His erection bumped against the small of your back and the swell of your ass, and while your boyfriend didn’t seek any friction beyond the involuntary twitch and shudder he’d wring from your slick body against his, you were ready for more. You slithered out of his gasp only to shut off the water and step out of the shower. It was time to take this to the bed. 

After a cursory toweling off, you reconvened atop Marc’s turned down sheets. He coaxed you open with his fingers, his mouth all but devouring the sensitive skin of your neck as he did so. 

You communicated your readiness to take him inside of you with a particularly pitiful keen, and Marc straightened up, guiding you to the edge of the bed to straddle his broad thighs. You captured his lips once more, probing the cavern of his mouth with your tongue, then reached between your still-damp bodies for Marc’s straining cock. 

In an effort to draw out your lovemaking, you merely circled his tip around your entrance, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the feel of it. Marc groaned, his grip tightening around your waist, and unable to deny either of you any longer, you sank down on him. 

You let out your own strangled mewl of ecstasy at the feel of becoming one, and draped your arms around your boyfriend’s shoulders for the leverage needed to begin moving on top of him. Barely a word had been exchanged between the two of you since you stepped into the bathroom, tonight you and Marc were communicating with your bodies. Words were not enough, not to mention unnecessary, for what you two were sharing right now. 

While sex with your boyfriend was always stellar, tonight felt different. Instead of using sex to express your attraction, your appreciation for each other, it felt as if the meeting of your bodies were helping you to truly connect and express the depth of your emotion. If you could stay caged inside his bulging biceps forever, your bare skin pressed against his, you would. 

Marc glanced down to where you both were joined, where you writhed on his thick girth, and looked back up at you, his gaze heavy-lidded, blissed out, and oh-so-seductive. His hips began to meet yours. Usually, Marc liked to make a show of his strength in the bedroom, something you unabashedly enjoyed, but his movements were softer than usual. He moved languidly, using his grip on your waist to guide you further, both of you finding the perfect pace and force in which to bring your bodies together. 

“Wanna make you come,” he husked in a rumble that drifted into your ear. 

“Touch me,” you gasped. 

Marc didn’t hesitate, his hand dropped from your left hip to the apex of your legs. He took a quick detour to feel where you were stretched around his manhood, ripping a whimper from your throat, before his finger skirted back up to your clit. He brought you to release with confident, practiced strokes on your bud. 

You buried your face into the juncture of his shoulder and neck while your climax flooded you. All you could say was his name, coming in a fit of ecstasy and litany of “Maaaaarc”. Once the blinding pleasure had somewhat abated, you found the strength to lift your head from his muscled chest and collide your lips together once more. Marc welcomed the liplock, dominating your kisses until he had to break away, his respective peak surging through him. 

You watched him, bewitched, as your lover’s pleasure played across his face, a mix of grunts and groans leaving his lips as you felt his cock pulse inside of you. At last, his eyes focused and met yours, though neither of you knew what to say. You couldn’t think of a single word in the English language that could begin to capture how you felt. 

Marc lifted you carefully, still inside of you, to deposit you amongst the sheets. He gingerly pulled out of your channel, whispering “I’ll get you a towel” before disappearing and emerging from the loo.

His attentions made you feel like glass, not in the way earlier in which you believed he saw you as a fragile object, but rather a treasure to be adored. Your heart swelled at the thought. But after he’d toweled off, tossed it away to be dealt with in the morning, and collected you into his arms, your words, the ones you were so sure of, died on your tongue. 

It was too soon. Well not too soon for most relationships, but too soon for Marc. He needed time and more healing. An errant, reckless part of you wanted to say it anyway, but you couldn’t risk the inevitable devastation if your boyfriend couldn’t return the sentiment, or worse, left you altogether.

Marc surprised you however, when he asked you, “Why didn’t you get angry with me?”

“Because I could tell you wanted me to.”

He let out an amused short at your immediate reply. You burrowed impossibly closer into his side, demanding another kiss from his lips before you both surrendered to sleep. 

A/N: Sometimes Marc and reader just need to have tender, romantic, sexy sex, alright?!?! IS THAT A CRIME?! Working through the asks/fic requests in my inbox as inspiration strikes and time allows, but I’m also *dangerously* close to 1k followers and have a special fic planned for that milestone too! 

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight smut #marc spector fanficiton #marc spector x female!reader #Marc Spector #Marc Spector x reader #Marc Spector smut #Marc Spector x you #oscar isaac x reader #Oscar Isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction

[sysakiddo]

I finally edited chapter 6 of diplomacy au y'all! I struggled a bit with a burnout after getting my degree in january lol but hopefully it won't take so long for another chapter to appear!!

ao3, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“It's like watching the most awkward first date happen in front of your eyes. And you know, of course, that they are not going to fuck.” Max says after taking a long sip of his third gin and tonic. 

Everybody who hears him laughs, already watching the couple standing by the bar. Charles tugs his ear in what seems to be a nervous tick while Sebastian casually leans on the chair, even though he is everything but casual. He watches every move of the man in front of him, shuffling his feet a bit when Charles licks his lips after a sip of his skinny bitch. 

“Pathetic,” Alex laughs, not unkindly. “It seems to me like there is no salvation for them,” George adds, leaning forward on the couch they all squeezed on to see the show in front of them. 

Anne doesn't feel like this is something she can ask them about. That is not to say that she is not terribly curious and confused about how one could refuse Charles Leclerc giving them heart eyes while biting his lips. Instead, she breaches a topic she thinks is a safe zone. “If you think this is tacky, how did you guys meet?” 

Daniel looks at his hands immediately, a nervous huff escaping from his lips. He hates telling that story. He rarely ever thinks about that time now unless he really needs to. The swirling of the ice in his negroni makes a loud noise. 

Because truthfully, Max met Daniel at his lowest. It was in his LA house, where he spent most of his time, the D.C. office vacant more often than not. They turned up just as the sun was setting, Sebastian and Max. It was the older man who insisted on introducing them.

Daniel straight out refused. He didn't care about Sebastian’s little charity project. It went too far, saving aggressive puppies, Jesus. He did not want to meet anyone named Verstappen when he wasn't paid to do so. 

Daniel was barefoot, his swimming trunks still a bit wet. The LV shirt had an obnoxious pink print and it was slipping from his shoulders. It was late enough that he was glowing from the sun, the diamonds on his necklace shining. He looked at the wunderkind, at Max, the youngest ambassador in the US ever. 

Max wore a three-piece suit despite the day being too hot for it. His Berlutis were gleaming, and he was straight-up glaring at Daniel.

“Howdy,” he grinned at them. Sebastian assessed Daniel's pupils, shaky hands and a sheen of sweat on his forehead with a grim face. He gave him the pep talk about easing off the drugs just a few days ago. Max extended his hand, and Daniel shook it. It was a reflex. Max’s palm was warm and soft. 

Sebastian cleared his throat. “As I told you, Max, this is Daniel-” 

“I, of course, know who he is.” Max didn't let Sebastian finish his sentence, coming off unnecessarily rude. Daniel laughed awkwardly. 

“Sounds like I'm famous, baby.” he winked at Sebastian and from the corner of his eye, he saw Max visibly cringe. 

“We met at work, Anne. Sebastian introduced us when we were all in the USA. He is painfully proud of that, calls himself a matchmaker and everything.” Max huffs out a laugh. He knows Daniel feels uneasy and puts the target on his back to protect him. Like usually.

“Who did the first move then?” Anne asks, just as Charles, who lost Sebastian somewhere on the way between the bar and the table, makes it back to them. 

“Oh, Daniel did. It was very romantic.” Max says matter of factly. When Daniel finally looks up, he is surprised to see his eyes foggy, as if he is experiencing the moment for the first time again. 

Nevertheless, Daniel huffs, mad that Max always uses his version of the story. “Romantic? You slapped me!” 

“Well, it is only right I did,” Max shrugs. “I, of course, thought you were making fun of me.”

Charles giggles, which is honestly progress. He was the one who took the fall, consoling Max after he returned from their dinner, fidgeting with his fingers, two red stains high on his cheeks. His voice sounded like he was eating gravel for dinner when he told him Daniel had kissed him. He was rapidly blinking like he was trying too hard not to cry, and Charles still thought it was the best proof of his professionalism, the fact that he hadn’t laughed to his face right there. But. He locked himself in the bathroom after Max somehow calmed down, turned on the faucet, and laughed hysterically. 

Max originally feared Daniel had figured him out and was just playing mind games. He thought Daniel was ridiculing him, or worse, he tried a new technique to manipulate and eventually blackmail him. What enraged him the most was the fact he wasn't prepared for it. He hasn't read a tutorial named what-to-do-when-your-counterpart-kisses-you in any of the assigned readings in the university. 

The only emotion Daniel felt when Max slapped him across the face immediately after the kiss was pure humiliation. He couldn't believe he read the signs wrong, him, Daniel Ricciardo. It was unheard of. Plus, Max did kiss him back for a few seconds. But then. 

And Daniel felt stupid and walked home alone and got drunk alone and fell asleep alone. 

Now, Daniel looks at Max with deep empathy. He squeezes his thigh, smiling. 

“Well, that shitshow was still a lot better than Baku,” Charles says with a grimace. That wasn't Max stuttering and rubbing his red eyes furiously; that was Max throwing random things across the room, his scream ricocheting through the whole hotel floor. 

Daniel snapped at Charles, “No, we’re not talking about Baku!“ Charles smirked, looking at him with a look that meant trouble. But Daniel has never in his life been scared of Charles. He was such a sweet kid before he fell under Seb’s influence. He takes a second to mourn the version of him he knew before he introduced Seb to him. 

“Always you are mad because you don’t want to admit you were wrong. Christian also said you of course did not act according to the protocol.” Max buts in, chronically unable to get over things. 

Daniel turns to Max with a stormy expression, the empathy all but gone. “Christian would also suck your dick if you asked, I don't see how his opinion is valid in this situation.” he spits out.

Charles hums, taking another sip of his skinny bitch. “He does seem to touch you an awful lot, when you are together, Max.” 

“That’s exactly my point, thank you, Charles.” Daniel is done, scoffing. 

Max, however, is just about to start another rant. “But Daniel, I told you your tactic wouldn't work. You pulled out of the negotiations too soon, it was very amateurish from you, you must admit at least that. Who leaves the negotiating table with no backup plan?” he gets into it, flaring his hands around like an octopus. “It just buggs me, you know, that you still blame me. You of course made a mistake, Daniel, and that happens but it was a stupid rookie mistake and you should have apologized-” 

Daniel stands up abruptly. “Hey, Max?” 

For a frightening second, Anne thinks he is going to deck his husband right there.

Max just hums, looking up. “I love you,” Daniel says surprisingly, bending down and giving Max a loud, smacking kiss. Then he turns around and leaves to the bar to stand next to Sebastian who resurfaced in the meantime. 

When Anne looks at Max, he is red as a tomato, glaring at the straw in his drink. “Well, what was I saying-” he stutters, interrupted by the laughter of the men sitting across from him. 

“I can't believe this shit is still working out for him, oh my god.” Alex wheezes. 

“Manipulative bitch,” George quips, still giggling.

Max is unimpressed. “Don't call him that.” he snaps and glares at him, George shutting up immediately. 

Charles looks at Anne and smiles a little. “I think maybe it is time for us to go home. I'm terribly tired. What do you think?”

Anne nods, pointedly not saying anything about noticing how Sebastian kept yawning at his spot beside Daniel. 

||

Daniel doesn't understand why he wakes up at first. It's pitch black, the blackout curtains doing their job properly. He stares at the ceiling for a bit, then closes his eyes to make himself fall back asleep. 

“Ik zal het oplossen.” Max meowls in Dutch next to him. “I just need more time! Ik zal het halen, dat beloof ik. No, no!” 

It clicks for Daniel, Max's rigged breaths, which he has not noticed before. The night air is suddenly too cold. 

He runs his hand up and down Max's forearm, not saying anything but his name to wake him up. When Max snaps out of his dream, his whole body violently twitches, and he slaps Daniel's hand away. 

“Hey, it's okay now,” Daniel isn't deterred, his hand finding a way to Max's hair, waiting him out. “It was just a dream. You are safe.” 

Max's breaths come out staggering like he just returned from his run. After a few minutes, he finally opens his eyes and looks at Daniel. A macabre grimace is on his face, something that wanted to be a smile. 

“I wasn't prepared again, Daniel,” he whispers. Daniel hums, not answering in any way, even though he subconsciously clenches the fist that's not playing with Max's hair. 

“You are safe with me,” Daniel says, trying to ease Max's shivering and make the haunted flicker in his eyes go away. He never shared any gruesome details about his time in military school. But. It's not like he had to. “Do you maybe want to take a shower?” he asks him and Max hesitantly nods.

They only fall back asleep when the birds are already chirping outside.

#maxiel #diplomacy au #f1 rpf #f1 fic #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #my ficlets #my writing

[daisynik7]

Primetime

Part 3 of Dirty Thirty

🎶 Baby it's a prime time for our love, ain't nobody peekin' but the stars above. It's a prime time for our love, and heaven is betting on us. 🎶

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: Switching POVs (Kishibe third-person, reader second-person), vaginal sex (cowgirl, doggy, missionary), nipple play, spit play, cunnilingus, spanking, breeding kink, daddy kink, lots of fluff, pet names (princess, baby)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Summary: You and Kishibe are officially a couple. These are the little moments that all lead up to the big one.    

Notes: I did it. I wrote a Part 3; I hope you all like it! Title inspired by the song “Primetime” by Janelle Monae ft. Miguel, definitely recommend listening to this to set the mood right! Please read the first two parts, linked below! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated, would love to hear what you all think!

Part 1 - Dirty Thirty | Part 2 - After Last Night | ao3

Kishibe doesn’t know how to be a good boyfriend. 

It’s been almost a month since he and his girlfriend started dating. This morning, he displays a photo booth picture at his cubicle. She convinced him to do it while they were at the beach boardwalk this past weekend, and of course, he couldn’t refuse her. He never can, despite being opposed to corny shit like that. But even he can admit that the photos turned out decent. 

Nobody is at their desk unless they’re filling out paperwork, so he doesn’t think anyone will notice. However Himeno, one of his current protégés, is keen, observant, and a goddamn nosey pest. 

“Master, is this your girlfriend?” She points at the photo strip, a hint of excitement bubbling behind her typically calm demeanor.

Not wanting this to be a bigger deal than it needs to be, he casually answers, “Yes.”

“I see.” There’s a clever smirk on her face, as if she’s plotting something cheeky to say. He’s surprised when instead, she comments, “That is a very nice picture.”

He grumbles in response, not used to small talk involving his personal life. 

“How long have you been dating?”

“Almost a month.” He pretends to be preoccupied with organizing all his forms, avoiding eye contact, wishing for this conversation to end. 

“What are you doing for your anniversary?”

This gets his attention. “Huh?”

“Your one-month anniversary. What are your plans to celebrate?”

Finally, he meets her gaze, setting aside his stack of papers. “People celebrate that?”

“Well, couples do, yes.”

He stares at her, unsure how to react. It’s been decades since his last relationship, probably during grade school if he’s remembering correctly. Obviously, the standards have changed since then, but to celebrate a month of dating? It seems trivial to him. Then again, he hasn’t had a serious girlfriend as an adult. It’s going extremely well between them, and he doesn’t want to mess this up, especially only after a few weeks into it. 

Too proud to ask his junior for advice, he takes his lunch break to eat a bowl of ramen while scrolling through his phone, searching every article he can find on how to celebrate anniversaries. He finds a few ideas that he can get on board with, and some he completely tosses out the window because of how fucking ridiculous they are. 

By Friday night, the actual day of their anniversary, he has a plan. A little before 6:00 PM, he buzzes her in and waits for the familiar knock on the door. When he opens it, she greets him with a warm smile. “Kishibe.”

She wears a modest dress, having just come from the office. Overnight bag in hand, ready to spend another weekend here at his apartment. Once inside, she drops her belongings and wraps her arms around him. “Hi.”

He returns her embrace, inhaling the pleasant scent he yearns for on the days they’re not together. “How are you?”

“Tired. I’m ready for a nice, relaxing weekend with my boyfriend.” Every time she calls him that, his chest swells with an odd sensation. He hasn’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s not unwanted. In fact, he quite likes it.

As she removes her shoes by the door, he sneaks into the kitchen to retrieve the bouquet he purchased earlier from a local florist. Thirty red roses, one for each day they’ve been a couple. He read online that this is considered romantic. 

He walks towards her with the bouquet in his grasp, her eyes and smile widening at the scene before her. “What’s this?”

“Happy one-month anniversary.” He thrusts the roses forward, hoping she takes it. She continues to stare at him with a big grin on her face.

“What?” He’s blushing now, nervous that this is all wrong. “Say something.”

She grabs the flowers, lifting them towards her nose to sniff. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “We also have reservations at your favorite restaurant in an hour.” 

At this, she lets out a small squeal. “Really? You didn’t have to do any of this,” she says, face still buried in the flowers, clearly enjoying this.

“I wanted to.” 

She sets the roses down on the counter, stepping towards him to tug playfully on his tie. “You really are the sweetest. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I’m such a terrible girlfriend.” 

“The worst,” he smirks, sliding his hands around her waist. 

“Can I make it up to you?” She kisses him, slow and passionate, using his tie to pull him deeper. “Show you how sorry I am?”

He plays along, knowing exactly where this is leading. “You better be sorry. I’m pretty upset.”

“I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, then.” 

“We’ll see.” They walk to the couch in tandem, gazing into each other’s lust filled eyes.

When he’s sat, she straddles him. “Do you remember the night we first met? We were right here on this couch.”

“How can I forget?” He roams up and down her back, the fabric of her dress silky on his calloused fingers.

“Well, my memory is a little hazy. Remind me.” She guides his hands to her chest, kneading her breasts.

“You’re being very naughty right now,” he mutters in his low voice. “First, no gift. Now this. Seems like you want to be punished.”

“Yeah, I do. I need to be punished. I’m a very bad girlfriend.” She peers at him with a desperate expression, eyes gleaming with desire. He can’t help but falter under her gaze.

“Fuck, you’re asking for it.” He lifts the hem of her dress over her ass, feeling for her panties. Sliding his fingers beneath the lace, bunching it in his fist it to bury between her ass cheeks, exposing her beautiful bottom. Perfectly bare for a good spanking. She sucks in a breath, anticipating it, aching for it. He presses a gentle kiss to her ear before delivering a loud smack, focused on the jiggle of her supple flesh upon contact. 

“Fuck, baby. Do it again,” she demands, grinding on his lap.

He repeats, this time on the opposite side, massaging the tender skin after. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She presses her forehead to his. “You never do. Don’t worry.”

They kiss as they strip their remaining clothes. Soon, they’re completely naked on the couch, her on his lap, kissing along his neck. He reaches his fingers towards her pussy, caressing his thumb on her clit. 

“Baby,” she whines. “I want you inside me. I want to ride this cock until we both come.”

“Then do it, sweetie. I’m all yours.” 

It’s reminiscent of their first time. They were hasty that night, desperate for a quick fuck with a total stranger. Indulging in wicked fantasies they both needed satiated. This time, it’s more intimate. He pays attention to the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth in her cheeks, goosebumps forming on the most sensitive spots of her skin, the angelic sounds coming from her lips. Memorizing it all until it’s ingrained in his mind.

His cock is sprung against his abdomen, already leaking precum at the tip. He grabs hold of his erection, rubbing the head onto her puffy clit, tapping it loudly. Wet slaps spurring her to rut into his lap faster. Her hands are clasped around her tits, fingers pinching at her hardening nipples, erotic as ever in front of him. It’s a captivating sight he’s seen before, but always marvels, still in disbelief at his luck one month ago when he first laid eyes on her.

He strokes himself, spreading precum along the shaft, though it’s not enough. “Spit on it, princess. Get it wet for me.”

She nods, bowing her head to dribble a warm stream of saliva down onto his cock, coating his dick. Slick enough, she lifts up to position him at her entrance, sinking down gradually until she’s sat on his lap again, wiggling her ass to get herself comfortable. 

He hums, relishing the sensation of being nestled inside her precious cunt, holding her in a snug embrace. They stay like this for a moment, him sliding one hand around her breast, kissing her nipple. 

“Kishibe,” she breathes out, eager for more. 

He sucks it plump against his lips, flicking his tongue on it, listening for her pleasured moans with each lick. His cock twitches inside her, still hard, surrounded by her wet heat. The temptation to fuck her is almost irresistible; however, seeing her in this blissful state is too marvelous to rush. 

“Baby, fuck,” she whines, as he works on her other tit, pulling it taut with his mouth. It’s his favorite, witnessing her unravel on top of him. And tonight is a celebration. It makes it all the more special.

Releasing her, he leans back, holding her sides once more, watching her slowly rock back and forth on his thighs. “Go ahead. Ride me. Fuck me till we both come. You can do it.” 

Using her knees for leverage, she rises slightly, keeping just his tip inside, them sinks back down, repeating so that she’s bouncing on his cock steadily. 

“There you go. Use that cock, baby. Just like that,” he whispers, staring at his dick disappearing into her pussy. He stays still, letting her do all the work, resisting the urge to slam his hips into her. He wants to savor this, indulge in it as long as he possibly can. 

Cupping her face, he teases her lips with his thumb, slipping it inside her mouth for her to suck on. She holds his wrist, sticking it further down her tongue, spreading her saliva around him. He pulls it out, a string of shiny spit connected to her lips as he reaches down to touch her clit. 

“Ah, Kishibe. That feels so good,” she praises, riding him faster. 

“You’re getting close, I know it. Come for me, baby. Make us both come.” He holds her close, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, messy and wet. His thumb toys with her swollen clit, her wanton moans vibrating against his lips. His abdomen is clenched tight, ready for release. He wants to spill inside her, give her his all, just as she does for him.

Unable to resist any longer, he grips her bottom, holding her in place. He starts thrusting up into her, feet planted firmly to the floor, couch squeaking with every plunge of his hips. She’s tight around him, slick already creamy on his shaft, her fingers rubbing fast on her bud to reach her climax faster. Her high-pitched whimpers and obscene squelches of arousal spur him on, driving him further and further off the edge. They come together, cum filling up her pussy until it’s leaking between them, the sticky aftermath evidence of their passionate love making. They catch their breaths, Kishibe relaxing on the couch as she slumps over him, face buried in his neck. Soon, she starts giggling. He can’t help but join. 

“You really are a terrible girlfriend, making me come right before dinner,” he teases her.

“I had to do my part after you planned such a lovely evening.” She sighs happily. “I’m so lucky to have a thoughtful boyfriend.” 

“It’s really nothing,” he waves off.

“It’s definitely something. I’m truly so lucky,” she reiterates, nuzzling comfortably against him. “So lucky.”

A while passes before he reluctantly suggests, “We should get ready soon.”

“Wait. Let’s just stay like this for another minute or two,” she murmurs, clinging to him tighter.

He chuckles, thankful she suggested it, because that’s exactly what he wants to do too. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Happy anniversary, Kishibe.”

“Happy anniversary, princess.”

~~~

The first time Kishibe tells you he loves you, he’s drunk.

He has an assignment outside of the city, food and lodging included, staying at a hotel with his protégé, Himeno, who you’ve met several times in the three months you’ve been dating. You’re well acquainted with her, so much so that you even have her number, in case of emergencies. However, she often texts you anyways just to chat, which you don’t mind at all. 

On the last day of his mission, he informs you that he’ll be out for drinks with his partner and a few other members of Public Safety. It must have been a successful job, considering there were no deaths, either civilians or devil hunters. It’s always a relief, knowing that Kishibe has survived another day.

You lie in bed, scrolling through the myriad of texts you’ve exchanged with him over the past week. Although he considers himself a man of few words, he never fails to send you a message whenever he can, whether it’s a good morning text, a quick check in, even a snapshot of what he’s eating that day. Tonight, he barely contacts you, busy celebrating with his comrades. You can’t blame him, but there’s no denying it; you miss him.

Being in your own bed on a Friday night, in the dinky apartment you share with your not-so-stellar roommate, is a feeling you’ve happily become unfamiliar with. You wish you were in Kishibe’s luxurious king-sized bed instead, snuggled in his strong arms, being kissed and licked all over. His gruff voice hot in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that make you melt. 

Without thinking, you send him a text, simply stating I miss you. You don’t wait for a reply, distracting yourself with a show, surrounded by blankets and pillows to fill the void left by his absence. When did you become so needy? 

On the verge of sleep, the vibration and ping of your phone stirs you awake. It’s almost 11 PM. Your heart flutters, hoping it’s your boyfriend. You’re surprised to see Himeno’s name on the notification. 

It’s a picture of Kishibe, slumped over at a table, clearly drunk. His other colleagues pose beside him, some waving peace signs, others sticking their tongues out, all of them holding beers. You chuckle at the image, happy to see all of them smiling and lively. Even if your boyfriend is intoxicated out of his wit’s end, at least you know he’s alive. Death is a new fear you’ve inherited since being seriously involved with a devil hunter. You spend every waking moment together, treating it like it’s your last, because you never know if it is. 

As you admire the photo, you suddenly get a call from the sender. “Hello?” you answer.

Himeno’s voice is soft through the speaker. “Hi there, friend. Did you like what I sent you?” You imagine her leaning on the wall outside the bar, preparing to smoke.

You laugh. “I do. Thank you for that. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“On the contrary, he was our source of entertainment tonight.” On the other end of the line, you hear the drag of her cigarette.

“Really?”

She lets out a puff before answering, “Yes. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing his girlfriend is.”

A rush of heat surrounds your cheeks, either from flattery or embarrassment. “What?”

“He kept gushing on and on about you, it was non-stop.”

“That doesn’t sound like Kishibe. Are you sure you’ve got the right one in there?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she chuckles. “To be fair, he’s had quite a lot to drink. And his tolerance has turned to shit. What’s up with that?”

You’ve recently noticed the subtle changes in his drinking habits. His flask stays on the dish rack all weekend, coincidentally whenever you’re visiting. He rarely orders liquor when you’re out to dinner. He only indulges in a bottle of wine the two of you share occasionally over a home-cooked meal. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, not wanting to admit anything on Kishibe’s behalf. 

You hear her hum in response, taking another hit of her cigarette. “I think it’s because he’s happy. He doesn’t need to forget anymore because he’s got you.”

The words hang tight in your throat, leaving you speechless.

She giggles faintly, aware of the depth her statement holds. “Anyways, I called in case you want the address to our hotel. Master is staying in the room right next to mine. Given the state he’s in, he may need his lovely girlfriend to take care of him.”

You think about this for a minute, still reeling over her touching sentiment just a few seconds ago. Before you can refuse, she offers, “I’ll call you a cab and charge it to work. Consider it a service you’re fulfilling for Public Safety, assisting our highest ranked Devil Hunter.”

Eventually, you agree, thanking her for the idea. She chats with you a while longer as you hastily pack a gym bag with all the essentials, excited to reunite with Kishibe. You hang up with her once you’re out of the apartment, cab already waiting for you. Ten minutes to your destination, you text Himeno your status, allowing her time to bring him back to the hotel to meet you. 

You’re waiting in the lobby when you hear the doors open to see Kishibe hunched between Himeno and another colleague. Her face lights up when she sees you, prompting her to nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, Master. Guess who’s here?”

He lifts his head up slowly, eyes completely blitzed, as he rasps, “Huh?”

You approach them, grinning from his ridiculous expression. It takes a while for him to process, blinking rapidly, as if correcting his vision. When he finally realizes it’s you, he stands up a little straighter and whispers your name. 

“Surprise,” you say, waving in front of him. 

He repeats your name again, removing himself from his coworkers to wrap his arms around you. The smell of liquor is intense, indicating just how drunk he really is. 

“I guess our work here is done,” Himeno smirks. “I think Master is in good hands now. Let’s go, Arai.” She passes you the key card to the room, giving you one last wink before they leave towards the elevators. 

“Kishibe, let’s go to the room now,” you tell him, his body drooped over you. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whines, voice husky from inebriation. 

“I’m not, we’re going to your room together,” you explain, rubbing his back. “Can you walk with me to the elevator?”

He nods languidly, dragging his feet beside you as you make your way up to his room. Inside, he immediately shrugs his overcoat off and collapses into bed face first. You sit at the end of the bed, patiently removing his shoes from his feet. 

In the bathroom, you soak a small bath towel in warm water, wringing out any excess liquid. You grab a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and crack it open, pouring it into a glass for easy access. Kishibe grunts into the pillow as you sit beside him, rolling him over so he’s face up. When he sees you, he grins. “Am I dead?” 

“Of course not, sweetie,” you answer, placing the warm towel on his forehead, gently pressing your palm on top. 

“Then why is there an angel here with me?” He lifts his arm to point at you. 

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your sleeve. “The only thing that’s ridiculous is how fucking beautiful you are.” He lays your hand on his cheek, nestling into your palm like a puppy. It’s a side of him that you’ve seen brief glimpses of, but never to this extent. 

“You’re drunk,” you tease him, tapping your thumb at his chin.

“Drunk in love,” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Love. Maybe you’re both too old to put such meaning into words. There’s no doubt that it’s there, never admitted out loud. Why bother saying it when it’s so obvious?

You caress his cheek, tracing the scar that you love so much. He’s told you the story behind it more than once, each time, a new detail added that you tuck away into your treasure box of him in your brain. 

You love everything about him. His past, his present. Flaws and perfections, or the lack thereof. He’s rough around the edges, definitely not sugar-coated, even a bit intense. His immense strength is hidden beneath his stoic demeanor, reserved specifically to hunt devils, never fully revealed to you. Still, you feel safe with him, as if all potential dangers are thwarted in his mere presence. You’ve heard it enough to know that he’s a force to be reckoned with, a serious outlier in a job where young people die and growing old doesn’t exist. He’s the exception. 

And you’re the same for him. A life beyond the confines of devil hunting. An escape that doesn’t involve a bottle. A chance at normalcy in a world where nothing for him is normal. It almost never happened. The first night you met, he warned you about his lifestyle, watched you walk away for your own sake. And now, you’re the exception. 

He gazes at you with half-lidded eyes, still intoxicated, but fully aware. Smiling, he whispers your name. “I love you.”

You stare at him, startled by his candid confession. The words are on the tip of your tongue, easy and effortless, because you truly feel it. But you don’t say it back, thinking he’ll forget this conversation in the morning. You want it to be special, not in the midst of his drunken stupor. 

So, you keep quiet, gradually removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his belt. After you change and brush your teeth, you return to him, coaxing him into drinking water, which he does, before you both settle under the covers, cuddling. Eventually, he falls asleep, you following him soon after. 

In the morning, you wake up to Kishibe caressing your cheek, delicately petting your temple. He’s turned towards you, shirtless and smiling. “Good morning, princess.”

You bite your lip, happy to see him. “Good morning.”

“You surprised me last night, didn’t you?” He pulls you in closer. 

You burrow your face against his bare chest, last night’s booze almost completely worn off. “You can blame Himeno for that. She’s very convincing.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her. Somehow, she knew that I needed you.” He cradles you, kissing your forehead. “By the way, you owe me something.”

“What?”

“You know what.” 

You look up at him. “You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispers, “I love you.”

The second time Kishibe says it, he’s completely sober. And this time, you say it back. 

~~~

When he asks her to move in with him, he almost doesn’t go through with it. 

It’s a Sunday morning. They’ve been dating for six months now, spending most of their time in his apartment, snuggled in his king-sized bed. She often complains about her place, the typical grievances of an adult woman living with a roommate she doesn’t particularly get along with. But it’s not her woes that convince him to ask her. It’s his own selfish desires. 

He wants to wake up every single morning to her pretty face, to that warm smile that ignites every nerve in his body, that cute laugh that plays like the most majestic melody in his head. He doesn’t need drugs or caffeine to give him that energy boost. He needs her.

Today is different than other Sundays. She warned him the night before; she needs to leave early to attend to some roommate business. They’re having issues with the refrigerator, and she, apparently, needs to be there to deal with it. 

They cuddle in bed, enveloped by blankets and body heat, kissing each other softly. This usually leads to something steamy, but not today. When she pulls away to get ready to leave, he’s disappointed, enough that he mutters, “Don’t.”

She turns to face him with a confused expression. “Don’t what?”

He pauses, doubting himself if this is the right moment, so he keeps quiet. 

She returns to the bed, hopping on top of him, palms at his cheeks. “Don’t what, sweetie?”

“Don’t leave,” he musters, through gritted teeth.

Giggling, she nuzzles her nose against his. “You know I have to.”

“You don’t. Not if you live here with me.”

“Are you asking me to move in?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She squeals, smile incapable of being any bigger. The reaction he was hoping for. “Took you long enough. I can’t believe I get to live with you.” She kisses his scar, then his forehead. “My baby.” A smooch on the lips. “My new roommate.” 

He keeps her there, kissing her deep, tongue slipping inside her mouth. She moans into him, grinding her hips on his lap. 

“I’m taking this as a yes, then?”

She nods, sucking on his lower lip. “Mm-hm.”

“Don’t you have to meet your roommate soon?” he reminds her, slipping beneath her shirt to fondle her breasts.

“I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m going to be living with my boyfriend soon. She can get mad at me all she wants.”

He never gets sick of hearing her call him that. Her boyfriend. He’s hasn’t been anyone’s for the longest time. It feels good to be hers. “Are you still sore from last night?” He reaches his other hand down to rub her clit over her panties. 

“A little bit,” she answers, scattering kisses along his neck.

“Let me eat it then,” he whispers, sucking on her ear lobe, slipping past the fabric to slide his finger up and down her folds. “Ride my fucking face. Give me my breakfast in bed. Want to eat this pussy until I’m full.”

It’s safe to say that the relationship with her old roommate is properly ruined this day, in favor of her new one.

~~~

Kishibe is the first to mention having kids. 

A year into your relationship, he tags along to your niece’s birthday party. The mother, Hina, who is your best friend, has already met Kishibe on multiple occasions, but never in a setting like this. A children’s party is another level of crazy that even the insane devil hunter himself might not be able to bear. 

After the usual round of greetings, your niece, Maki, immediately stands in front of him to peer at his face, curious. In his gruff voice, he greets, “Happy birthday, Maki,” proceeding to pat her awkwardly on the head. 

She continues to stare at him, a glint of suspicion in her expression. “Are you an FBI agent or something?”

For some reason, he decided to wear his work attire to a children’s party. You’re trying to contain your laughter as he clears his throat to answer her. “Actually, I am a devil hunter.”

Maki’s eyes go round. “Devil…hunter…?”

“Yup.”

Without taking her gaze off of him, she starts yelling for all her friends, who come running immediately, all marveling at Kishibe. He glances at you, brows twitching slightly in concern. All you can do is grin at him, knowing he’s in for it.

For the next hour or so, the kids take advantage of this opportunity to entertain their premiere guest, challenging him to see how many of them he can carry at once, demanding to be shown his “special” moves, even go so far as to gnaw at his overcoat, acting like true devils. He takes it all in stride, his stoic expression cracking occasionally into the tiniest smile.

You sneak him a few slices of pizza as he bicep curls three of the kids, including birthday girl Maki. Before he eats, he gives you a smooch on the cheek, indicating that he’s actually enjoying himself.

From the other side of the room, you sit next to Hina, who’s carrying her other child, baby Kenji. You’re playing peek-a-boo when your friend asks, “So, do you think you and Kishibe will ever have kids?”

“We haven’t even talked about marriage yet, we’re for sure not thinking about kids.”

“You two don’t talk about that stuff?”

It’s been a year now since you’ve been with Kishibe, and it’s still going extremely well. You’ve been preoccupied with enjoying the relationship that you haven’t thought to discuss important matters yet. You shrug and answer, “No, not really.”

“Well, don’t you think you should bring it up?” 

You think for several seconds before answering, “We’re taking it one step at a time. We’re fine where we’re at now.” 

She gives you a look, as if she wants to say something else, but she ends up dropping it. Maki’s voice rings out from the living room, calling for her. “Oh shoot, can you hold Kenji for a bit? Maki needs me.”

You agree, holding your arms out to cradle him. He peers up at you with the whimsy and wonder that most babies radiate. You smile, finding a comfortable position to hold him in. 

“You’re a natural.” You look up to see Kishibe standing in front you, a birthday hat on his head, probably forced there by the rugrats.

“And you’re a hit,” you reply, grinning. “The kids love you. Are you having fun?”

He removes his hat to place on you instead. “I don’t mind it.” He hovers over your face to give you a playful pinch on your cheek.

Kenji starts to fuss, to which you focus your attention back to him, cooing until he’s peaceful again. From your peripheral, you spot your boyfriend watching you intently.

“You’d make a good mother,” he states, quietly. 

You look up at him, surprised by his statement. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look good like this,” he comments, nonchalant, as if he’s playing it off. You remain silent, still unsure how to respond. 

Then, he comments, “I think we’d be good parents, you and I.”

“You do?” You beam at him, impossible now to contain. 

“Yeah. We’d be great,” he reiterates, gazing at you with a soft, loving expression. 

On the drive home from the party, Kishibe rests his palm on your thigh as he steers with the other. There’s a new vibe between you now, knowing that you’re both on the same page about having children. He actually seems excited about it. 

Back at the apartment, after you put away all of the leftovers from the party, you both retreat into the bedroom to change. While you’re stripped almost bare, aside from your bottoms, he approaches you, hugging you from behind as he kisses your nape. 

You giggle, craning your neck to face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers, grazing your ear with his lips.

“About what?”

“Making a baby with you.” His voice is low and sultry as his hands glide to your waist, slowly slipping under the elastic of your pajamas. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“Mm-hm.”

His fingers find your pussy, rubbing the fabric against your clit. The other hand tugs your pants past your ass, causing them to fall to the floor, bunched at your ankles. You let out an exasperated moan, almost annoyed at his timing, but most definitely turned on. You lift your feet to shove your clothes away, reaching behind to palm his erection. Of course he isn’t wearing clothes, clad in only his boxer briefs, which are tight around his growing bulge. You’ve been ambushed, and you don’t know whether to be worried or horny. Probably the latter. 

Within a minute, the two of you are naked on top of the bed, not bothering to lie under the covers. He kisses you all over your body, starting at your needy lips, dragging his tongue down to abdomen to nestle his face into your plush stomach. Seconds later, his mouth is surrounding your clit, swishing his spit, swirling his tongue, your whimpers filling the room. You spread your thighs wider, grabbing onto the top of his head, binding his hair into a fist to pull him off when it gets too sensitive. Though he never lets you, always relentless when he eats you out. 

When you come, he slurps on your slick until he’s satisfied, dipping his tongue deep into your pussy walls, collecting every drop of you into his mouth. Once he’s finished, he climbs on top, kissing you on the lips, still wet with your arousal, tasting it for yourself. You wrap your fingers around his hard cock, stroking him before he stands at the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him to position himself in front of you. You hear him open the bedside drawer, retrieving the regularly used bottle of lube, the snap, squelch, and click a familiar sound.

He guides his dick into you slowly, pulling away at the slightest resistance, only to thrust back in gently. Your cunt squeezes around him as he fucks you, bent over your chest to suck on your nipples simultaneously. Without warning, he releases you from his mouth to hoists your legs up onto his shoulder, cock plunging farther into your pussy. 

Surprised, you cry out, “Kishibe!”

His eyes are wild, an animal in heat, fucking you harder and deeper. “I want to fuck a baby in you just like this. Breed you until you’re round in your belly.” He slides his palm over your stomach, stroking around your navel. “Right here.”

There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, your throat dry from the excessive moans he’s drawing out from you. All you can do is take it. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you? I’ll be such a good daddy to you and our baby,” he grunts.

You nod your head erratically, babbling, “Fuck, I want that so bad. I want that so bad, daddy.”

He chuckles, breathing staggered. “You like calling me daddy now, knowing I’m going to breed you. Knowing I’m going to give you my fucking seed.” He’s hitting your sweet spot over and over, fingers rapidly toying with your clit. 

“Fuck, right there!”

“Daddy’s hitting it good, huh? Giving it to you so fucking good. Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all of my daddy cum, isn’t that right, princess?” He huffs filthy words at you, completely immersed in whatever carnal instinct is controlling him in this moment. 

You tremble all over, skin hot with passion as you climax. He pumps his cock into you, spilling his load until his balls are emptied out. He pulls out slowly, watching his creamy cum leak out of your slit, enjoying it like a masterpiece that he helped paint. 

He lies beside you, both of you calming down from your orgasms. “Was that too much?” he asks, rubbing your belly again.

“No. It was great,” you reassure him, smiling as you cover his hand with yours, entwining your fingers. “Didn’t think you’d have a baby fever all of a sudden.” 

“To be fair, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids. Not since recently.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because now I have a chance at a life like that. I never knew that was possible for me until I met you.”

Your heart swells at this, blinking your eyes to rid any residual or oncoming tears. You lean close to kiss him softly on the cheek. “I love you, Kishibe.”

“I love you too, princess.”

~~~

He proposes on a sunny afternoon in the middle of the week during spring. Cherry blossom season. 

A few months ago, on a whim, they went ring shopping, for shits and giggles. She got her finger sized, which he noted, and she gazed at a particular ring for a good two minutes, a twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable. He knew that was the one, just as he knows that she is the one. 

He bought it two weeks later, and since then, it’s been in his pocket, rolling around in there for months now. He’s been close a few times already, grazing the box with his fingers, ready to whip it out during an especially romantic moment. Still, it never felt right. 

That is, until today. 

They’re both on their lunch breaks, walking off their meal at a nearby park, fingers interlaced seamlessly. This has become routine for them, something they’ve become used to. But every time, he craves it more and more. The intimacy of it. The normalcy of it. He’s getting accustomed to feeling human, and not solely a devil hunting machine. And it’s all thanks to her. 

It’s been two years now, living together in domestic bliss, practically inseparable, aside from their day jobs. He’d carry her around in his pocket if he could, or he’d shrink himself down to be in hers. Either way, he wishes they were always with each other. 

He’s become a man dependent on a woman. If you’d ask him three years ago if he’d ever become like this, he’d scoff and deny it. Now, he doesn’t bat an eye to admit it. He’s fucking needy, and unashamed about it.

They are by no means perfect. A relationship without flaws doesn’t exist in the real world. They argue, as regular couples do, but never going to bed angry. No matter who’s right or wrong, they both listen to each other and talk it out. What he loves about her is that she’s neither a dream nor a fantasy; she’s real. Perfectly imperfect, just as he is. He never has to worry about waking up and finding out it was his imagination all along. He knows she exists by the way her body feels around him, the warmth of skin against his, the lingering scent of her shampoo on the pillows and sheets. Bits and pieces of her scattered through their apartment, mixed with traces of him, combining into a beautiful, cohesive mess. 

Kishibe never considered himself a sentimental person, not until her. Now, everything has meaning. Nothing is too little or insignificant to cherish. Movie stubs, blurry polaroid pictures, a Dirty Thirty! sash and sparkly tiara still hanging on the corner of the vanity. It’s reminders that their time together has never been wasted, especially when life can be cut short in any moment. 

They find a park bench to sit at, watching soft, pink petals float lazily through the breeze. She rests her head on his shoulder, observing all the blossoms falling from the trees. “I wish we could stay like this forever. I don’t want to go back to work.”

He squeezes her hand, hoping his palms aren’t sweating. “Me too.” It’s rare for Kishibe to be nervous, but for some reason, he is. In his pocket, he feels for the vechalvet box, housing the ring. Second guessing himself if this is really right.

“Let’s run away. Quit our jobs and live off the grid,” she teases. It’s not the first time she’s joked about it. They often do, wishing they could neglect the responsibilities of the real world to indulge in each other endlessly. 

“Why don’t we get married first. Then we’ll plan our escape.” 

“We’re practically married, aren’t we?” She nuzzles her cheek against him. “I already consider you my husband.”

He swallows hard, adrenaline coursing this his veins. The moment finally here. “Let’s make it official then.”

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, as mundane as the last, when Kishibe asks her to marry him. It becomes the most special day of his life because she says yes. 

--------------------

End Notes: Thank you all for reading this Kishibe fic! I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Taglist: one of my fave people on here @liliorsstuff-blog! thank you for always showing me love and supporting me, love you! 💜

#kishibe #kishibe csm #chainsaw man #kishibe smut #kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #kishibe x y/n #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #csm kishibe #kishibe brainrot #chainsaw man kishibe #dirty thirty #primetime

[lolokouhm]

FUSHIGOVER pt. I [THE LEAKING]

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

this ff is a fix, we’re living post 235 chapter. The rest is irrelevant

Loving him felt like cheating.

I was a fucking cheater.

I've cheated countless times in my life. There was a part of me that was convinced that this incredible luck I for some reason possessed would finally run out one day. I mean, everyone had their limits.

Well, that day definitely was not today.

I was in love with Megumi Fushiguro.

And I was more that ready to tell him that.

Actually no, scratch that. I wasn't. Despite being relatively brave (I was a jujutsu sorcerer after all), I'd much more prefer to exorcise another curse than tell him the truth. Reasons? Multiple. He was my friend. A good one at that. And the blood-freezing amount of shit we've been through together...

I mean, it takes two to tango, right?

Well, let's just put it that way. I didn't see myself tango-ing with Fushiguro anytime soon.

Maybe I was blind. Maybe I needed Gojo's Six Eyes to see what I've been so desperately wanting to see for the past few months, but unfortunately, this technique was, for some reason, reserved only for him. Well, that sucked. Almost as much as my mental state that morning.

'Didn't sleep much?'

The bed was definitely too small for two people, but I didn't really treat Nobara that way - she was a part of me by that time. A whole year of studying together, training together, shopping together, crying together was enough to blend us into one human being. Sort of.

'I'm so done.' I sighed. What would I give to hide under the bedsheets and never come out. At least for the next 15 minutes. 'It's insane that we still have classes.'

'It is', she nodded and snuck under my bedsheets to hug me tightly. 'Two more years and you'll be in the clear. So get up and let's go. We've got things to do.'

I stood up and slowly went into the bathroom, to make sure nobody would confuse me with a curse and I wouldn't get exorcised by mistake. That would suck. I shivered in front of the mirror, fixing my hair and putting on some sunscreen. Nobara joined me a moment later, being the only girl in the whole school that actually understood the importance of SPF filters, especially in this field of work. We were exposed to the weirdest shit on the entire planet, so the least we could do was putting on some cream.

'I've heard that he's coming back.'

'Today?' I tried not to sound too excited, but I apparently failed, as my best friend suddenly chuckled.

'Yup, today. So, is that it? Is that THE date? Should I prepare for being the only single person out of us two?' Nobara put the cream back in the drawer, delicately tapping the rest onto her right cheek.

'No.'

'Phenomenal. I've endured your mental breakdowns for the past four months, so I'll guess another few won't kill me. I mean...' She pointed at the left side of her face. The scars were getting less red by the day, but we both knew - they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. 'I've survived that. But still, (Y/N). You're hopeless.'

'I'm considerate.'

'You were.' Nobara nodded, catching my glance in the mirror. 'But he's fine now. Or... relatively fine.' She shrugged. 'Whatever. It's not gonna get worse. Someone has to unpack his trauma. You're the best choice. You were the first one to crack the 'fushigover' joke, weren't you?'

I was. And I wasn't particularly proud of that.

'I was drunk. And you were the one who gave me that... Vodka Sour, so it's technically your fault.' Alcohol wasn't my best friend, but Nobara and booze got along pretty well, so sometimes I got dragged somewhere in between them. 'I... Can you even imagine that?' I turned around to face Kugisaki. 'What would I say? Hi, Fushiguro. I've just wanted to tell you that I think I might kinda love you. I know you probably have more important things on your mind than that, but I was about to explode, so please, just don't think about it too much.'

'You're hopeless.'

'I'm realistic', I corrected. My morning routine was over. I was ready to go out. Finally. ‘I can’t just go out like that. It’ll be a disaster.'

'GIRLS!' Somebody opened the door and barged inside my room. 'Have you heard? He's back!' Yuuji suddenly appeared next to Nobara. His eyes shone in excitement. 'Fushiguro's finally back!'

My heart skipped a beat.

'Already? Gojo's back too?'

'Yup.' Yuuji nodded and looked at me. 'Oh, (Y/N). He wants to talk to you.'

I frowned. Gojo wanted to talk to me? Right after he and Fushiguro came back from Kioto? That was... surprising, to say at least.

'Now?'

'Yeah. Asap. That's why I came actually.' Yuuji smiled. He was an angel. 'I kinda got too excited. Oh, is that THAT SPF?'

I exchanged a look with Nobara. She seemed quite amused, but a small crease forming on her formed made feel me a little anxious.

Praying I wouldn't see Fushiguro on my way to the Gojo's office, I almost run through the corridors. I've been desperate to see him for the past few weeks, but when the day finally came, I wish I could fall under the face of the Earth and never come back.

It's been almost a month since Gojo got Fushiguro out. Or rather, since Gojo got Sukuna out of Fushiguro's body. That day... I couldn't say I remembered it very well because of the sheer amount of emotions I went through, but even the slightest thought of Megumi's body, laying there lifeless, was making me shake. Oh, that picture was tattooed in my head.

If only you could erase it.

'You're leaking.' That was the first thing I've heard when I entered the room.

'Huh?'

The white-haired man sat in front of me. His gaze was piercing. Gojo smiled and pointed a finger on me.

'I've been wondering for a while now. Sukuna is hiding somewhere, so some disturbances are normal. I'd be surprised, if there weren't any.' Gojo scratched his head. 'But the amounts of cursed energy in this school are ridiculously unbalanced. So I figured, someone has to be in a very bad state.' Gojo crossed his arms, but he didn't really look intimidating - rather amused. 'And it's you.'

'Me.' I repeated after him, not really sure, what to think. 'That's...'

Gojo tilted his head a bit, looking like a curious puppy. No way this man was the most powerful sorcerer.

'That's a very suggestive thing to say.'

The sorcerer chuckled and stood up.

'That was a good one. But nah. Your cursed energy is leaking out of you.'

If Gojo was joking, then the joke didn't sit right at all. What was even worse, most of the jokes we usually cracked together landed perfectly, so combining that with his piercing gaze made me feel even more confused. He wasn't joking. He was serious.

'(Y/N), I seriously adore you. And your sense of humour is just the best. But I've had my eyes on you since that day.' The stronger sorcerer alive, my ass. He suddenly looked somehow apologetic. 'I don't think...' He sighed and I felt weak. 'Let me put it this way. I felt your cursed energy during the fight, even though you were pretty far away. How is that possible?'

'I...' I was speechless. 'I have no idea.'

'You lost control. And you haven't regained it ever since.'

'It's not possible.' I panicked a little when I realised that my voice was actually shaking. 'I've got it all under control. I don't feel bad. Or any different.'

'You're lying.'

I was.

'You have to get it sorted out as soon as possible, otherwise we're going to have our hands full again. And I seriously want a break.' I've never heard Gojo speak like that. Right there, in that moment, he seemed... tired. 'But anyway, congratulations.'

'What for?'

'For getting him out.' The air in the room suddenly became colder. 'If it wasn't for your cursed energy, things might have been... different.' Gojo's gaze wandered for a second, looking for something behind the window. When he finally turned back to me, his fatigue vanished instantly. 'Whatever. I'm glad it happened. Just get it under control. Want some mochi?'

'Yeah.' I needed the sugar to process everything my teacher has just said. 'Maybe even two.'

'Take three.' Chewy rice balls felt somehow calming. 'Oh, and Megumi can't wait to see you. He was sulking most of the time in Kioto, but seemed weirdly excited to come back. And I'm good at connecting the dots. If your cursed technique was able to get his will to live back, then I guess he'll be more than happy to see you.' Gojo stretched his arms. 'Just don't scare him.'

'With what?'

'You know.' Yeah, I had it coming. 'The leaking. Megumi's inexperienced.'

'That was awful.'

'I know. But you laughed.'

I guess I really did.

———

It's really going to be an unhinged series. But we're going to have a lot of fun. Muahaha

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushiguro #jjk trio #itadori #gojo satoru #jjk x reader

[kukuma-kit]

Club Night

Ao’nung

┯━━━━━━━━━━ ●●● ━━━━━━━━━━┯

☆: * parings: human!Ao'nung x curvy! human!reader ☆: * warnings: AGED UP! 22 characters, maybe oc Ao'nung?, attempted proofread, cursing, mentions of Ao'nung and readers body, maybe some flirting? not rlly fluff or angst ☆: * Na'vi glossary: skxáwng- idiot ☆: * word count: 5,971 ☆: * Note(s): I was just experimenting with this and how tumblr works, feedback would be really helpful! I haven't wrote in a while but I've been wanting to write and I use to, so this'll be my first one. Not really proud of it but we'll see:) credit to the person who drew Ao'nung as a human! by @CrazyTom0712  on twitter!

┷━━━━━━━━━━ ●●● ━━━━━━━━━━┷ ✧* Summary: Having to be stood up and accompanied by the rain isn't exactly an ideal introduction of meeting a new possible friend..

The sound of raindrops falling on a quiet night would have been a soothing and peaceful experience, if it weren't for the fact that you had just left a noisy strip club and were stood up by a blind date set up by a friend. Frustrated and grumpy, you shouted into the empty sky, "As nice as it would be to enjoy the rain right now, now's not the time!!" You knew deep down that the guy wasn't going to show up, but you were still angry at the wasted effort and the terrible weather conditions that made it impossible to get a cab or any other transportation.

You cursed yourself for not checking the the hours of transportation properly before leaving, as you quickly pulled out a spare jacket from your bag, thanking yourself for checking the weather. The thin material of your dress was no match for the cold rain, and you rushed to find a chair to sit on one of the bar's patios. As you sat there shivering, you couldn't help but think of the friend who had dressed you in the black dress that didn't provide any warmth, putting the jacket you brought around your shoulders. While skin tight clothing was never really your thing, your friend convinced you to slip into a black dress that reached down to your mid-calf. The dress had a subtle slit on the side that reached right below your panty line and hugged your curvy hips. Although the fabric was stretchy, it still felt snug in all the right places. The thin material was perfect for your sensitive body heat, and you appreciated how it was loose enough to allow for easy movement. Despite all of this, you still cursed 'Otxä for forcing you into this dress and for having the nerve to dress you!

As you sat there lost in thought, the door to the patio opened and out walked a tall, muscular man with a tanned complexion and a thick accent that immediately caught your attention. He let out a sigh of relief and stretched his broad shoulders, revealing the outline of his muscles underneath his shirt. Ao'nung wasn't fond of his co-workers and their silly antics, he wanted some space so his headache would go away.

"ah..finally, some fresh fucking air" You couldn't help but notice the way his accent slipped off his tongue and melted into his words, making you feel a little more alive and a lot more turned on. Thighs clenching instinctively to put some sort of pressure on the throbbing that happened in between your legs, you pull out your phone to distract yourself from the man. The sound of your sigh fills the air as you look at your unanswered messages, left on delivered. Making said man avert his eyes to your screen, not realizing someone else was there with him. The impatience within you grows and you stand up, almost colliding with the man.(why he so close?) You feel his hands grip your biceps, causing your jacket to fall as your phone slides off to the side. As you stare up into his ash-blue eyes, you gulp, taken aback by his sudden rudeness. "Do you not look where you are going?" he huffs at you. You snap out of your daze and remove yourself from his grip, irritated by his behavior. Furrowing your brows, you create a crease in between which he can't help but notice.

"Well, excuse you. You were the one near me, why are you even that close?" you cross your arms underneath your breasts, making them pop out as you lean on one side of your leg, your hip poking out as you stare at him. He's surprised by your response; no one has ever spoken back to him like that before. You were also very pretty, even gorgeous, causing him to feel flustered and intimidated. His eyes scan over your figure, lingering on certain parts for a few seconds. "R-right, are you alright?" he asks, briefly regaining his composure. You chuckle before sitting down at the nearest table, facing him. He picks up your phone and jacket, walking over to you and setting them on the table.

"You aren't the best with words, huh?" you say, observing him as he gruffs. He feels bad about getting your jacket wet and sees you shivering, unable to resist a glance at your breasts as they pop out more. "Uh- yeah, something like that," he stammers, handing you his blazer. You inspect it, leaving him speechless before he blurts out, "It's like it's dirty! Why're you- just put it on or give it back, woman!" You laugh and put on the blazer, sighing at the warmth it provides. "I was only kidding. Thank you…uhh?" you trail off, realizing you don't know his name. Ao’nung, a member of the Metkayina clan, leans on the table as he introduces himself. You're left wondering about his clan, but before you can speak, you accidentally say out loud, "Metkayina..? As in one of the clans from Pandora, the reef people?". Ao’nung confirms your suspicion, grinning at your knowledge and causing his face to glow in the moonlight. As you continue to chat, you can't help but notice his earrings reflecting the moon, giving him an almost ethereal glow. When you inadvertently stare, Ao’nung asks why, and you quickly come up with a silly excuse. "why're you looking at me like that, woman?" "well that's one way to address me, fishface. besides no one's looking at you with that attitude" you huff out in annoyance at his rudeness. Taken aback he quickly defends himself before you burst out in laughter, Ao'nung wasn't having it as he yells at you. You both engage in some good-natured teasing, sharing laughs and quick insults that lead to a competition. As the night grows late, he offers to give you a ride home. Seeing that he was your only way of transportation, you accepted. The ride was surprisingly comfortable, and you both enjoy chatting and getting to know each other. You end up exchanging numbers with the promise to hang out again soon. As you step out of the car, he warns you not to wear certain clothes in a club where guys might stare at you, but you tease him about having a "fishface". You say goodbye and head inside, collapsing on the sofa and falling asleep with a smile on your face.

#ao'nung #avatar way of the water imagine #ao'nung imagine #avatar #atwow x reader #aonung x reader #kuniblurbs #suggestiono #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water 2022 #avatar ao'nung

[igotanidea]

Lost: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x reader

Summary: Red Hood make a mess and leaves Jason to deal with aftermath. Requested by angst lover.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) version of this plot is here.

A/N: reader is older than Jason, member of the old Titans, Jason's only ally when he was still Robin. There;s no romantic relationship between them, more like an older sister - younger brother vibe.

„Jason?”

„Yn?” former hero, now self-appointed Red Hood stopped and turned around to the voice of the only person who could made him do it. “what are you doing here?” he put the gun down and took a step towards the girl.

“I could ask you the same question, Jay. Or should I say Red Hood? Because that is what you are now, huh? A villain? How does it feel?”

“Yn, listen to me….”

“No, I won’t. I’m done with all the bullshit and playing around. Just because you had a fight with Bruce or Dick or whoever, I don’t care. It does not give you any ground to terrorize Gotham. Do you even see yourself? What happened?”

“Titans happened! You all are the very same! Always making me look like an outcast! I was done with it! Being put aside!”

“I never put you aside!”

“Didn’t you?” he smirked mischievously “really? You go round listening to Grayson like a lost puppy you are. Never had an opinion of your own.”

“Jason…..”

“Look at me and tell me I’m lying. You let him pull all the strings, order you around and you blindly follows. Wasn’t it like that during the old Titans days as well? I wonder why is that?”

“Don’t you dare…..”

“oh, wait…. “ he titled his head and tapped his chin in fake reverie “it’s because you are soooo in love with him, isn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up!” she was angered like never before. And all because Jason Todd was right. He saw right through her, exposing all her insecurities and worries. Always had this effect on her since, whether they both liked it or not, they were a lot alike. She might have been older than him, but she saw a lot of herself in the boy taken by batman as a replacement. He was right about the old Titans. It was a team but she never felt like she truly belonged. Doing all she could to get respect and acknowledgment but being left behind on everything. It always felt like she wasn’t good enough despite all her skills and abilities. And Dick…. Well, better not to talk about it.

“Oh, you poor thing” he mocked “always put in the second place. Tell me, how was it like to watch him date Barbs? And Dawn? And now, that he clearly takes interest in Starfire? How was it like when he was constantly putting you aside. And still does, doesn’t he?” he shrugged knowing well enough what effect this words would have on her.

“That is enough!!” she jumped forward trying to tackle him to the ground but he was just too fast. Red Hood grabbed her arm and twisted it, making her gasp in pain of a broken bone.

“You are pathetic.” He hissed towering over her, while she winced on the ground “full of fear. Look at me, I finally got rid of that! I’m invincible, everyone’s at my mercy! I even got you, the famous H/N down.”

“Are you proud of yourself then?”

“What?”

“Like you said, you used to be an underdog, so how does it fell to raise to the top of the world?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he squinted “don’t turn this thing around.”

“I am not. You used to have family, maybe a bit broken and messed up, but still. What do you have now, hm? Mr. fearless?”

“Don’t you have enough pain for once?” in a blink of an eye he was crouching next to her grabbing her chin in an iron-clad grasp “you are clearly masochistic playing with me like that.” He put more force into the it, making sure to leave a bruise.

“You turned into a monster” she hissed, not able to hold her tongue and not caring about the pain. “Face the facts and ….”

“Will you shut up!?” he lifted her up by a throat making her choke and fight for air “this is bullshit! This city! This fucking town! They need someone to put order to it!”

“And…. And…. You think…. That is ….. what you are doing?” she panted, her legs dangling above the ground in futile attempt to get some footing.

“YES! The fuck yes!”

“Well …. Maybe…. “ it was getting impossible to get any air into the lungs “ look around you…..” she was seconds away from passing out.

“Why can’t you see it?!” he yelled “they will abandon you as well! You mean nothing to them! You hear me?! Nothing! You never did!”

“That is not true….” She whispered, her face pale like never before. It was even more terrifying given the fact she was illuminated by the blue neon light, reminding him of the dead people he saw while fighting alongside Batman. That memory slowly crept inside his mind making him realize what he was doing but before he could react a voice from behind made Jason drop the girl and release her from the grasp.  

“JASON!” an escrima stick flew in his direction making him loose balance. Nightwing and Conner came for the rescue and were prepared for the fight but Red Hood just looked at them, then turned around and focused his gaze on the girl, who was now clutching on her throat breathing heavily and  without taking any further action run from the place.

“ You’ll see…..” he interposed towards the girl “you’ll see it soon….”

*** A few hours later YN woke up in one of the many rooms in Wayne manor. Memories of what happened and harsh words of her former friend still fresh and painful in her mind. She could not clearly say when Jason became so violent. Maybe it was after his fall? After the failed mission he was so dead set on succeeding in? Anyway, it did not give him any right to turn this anger and pain as a weapon aimed at her. The thing was, she was always on his side. Sometimes, standing against the rest of the team. Even when Hank, Dawn and Donna got mad at her for defending him. Even when Dick called her crazy and irresponsible for protecting Jason. And now, he was a villain in the story. The worst part, he was hurting not only her, not only Gotham but also himself. He just didn’t realize yet, how destructive burning the bridges was.

“Yn? Are you all right?” Conner stood up from the nearby chair.

“Besides a broken bone and a few mental bruises I am fine. I will be fine. Thanks for coming to the rescue, Superboy.” She smiled lightly and the younger boy reciprocated, looking at the ground sheepishly.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad I could do something good”. Conner was with the Titans for a while now, but he was still worried about his darker part, coming from Lex Luthor, so every time he did something positive it made him shy.

“You are a good person, Conner. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

“Thank you, YN. Do you…. “ he hesitated scratching his head

“What, Conner?”

“do you want to talk about what happened? I don’t really know this Jason guy, but wasn’t he a part of the team? Isn’t it a hero turned villain situation?” there was almost invisible glance of fear in his eyes.

“It won’t happen to you.” she simply said squeezing his hand reassuringly “Jason…. got lost. I feel like it was partially my fault. I think I let him get lost and ….”

“It’s not your fault….” Third voice came into the discussion and Connor and YN turned their gaze towards Dick who walked into the room “I pushed him away too far, should have listened to you when you warned me about the consequences…”

“Not the first time, right? Guess you will never learn to listen to the smarter people” she smirked

“Good to see your injury did nothing to your sense of humor. Conner, can you give us a minute please. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Sure. I will wait outside, but. …. I’d really like to talk to you more, YN.”

“Won’t leave you hanging” she smiled and the boy left “he’s worried he might turn into a villain too” she sighed looking at Dick. “we can’t let it happen. We mustn’t repeat that mistake.”

“We won’t. But speaking of villain…..”

“What happened?” she propped herself up on the healthy arm, getting nervous.

“Jason wants to meet you.”

“When?”

“You cannot be serious YN” Dick scoffed “after everything he did you still considering going?”

“Where?” she turned deaf ear toward his words

“YN!” Nightwing was appalled by her words “You are not going anywhere!”

“You won’t tell me what I can and cannot do!” she spat, remembering Jason’s words “sorry…” she mumbled soon after

“Is that how you feel? Really? Like I’m ordering you? Yn…. I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“What did he tell you?” Dick became suspicious “was he trying to play with your mind? YN, you know you are an important member of the team, right? It would not be the same without you….”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes not feeling in her best capacity to deal with this matter now “we can discuss this later, we have more urgent things to take care of. Tell me the details.”

“You really want to go? You are hurt, you need rest and healing.”

“Dick.” She warned him.

“Fine. But you can’t go alone. I will go with you. Or you can take Gar, he is the second person after you to have any faith in Jason left. “

“Dick. It’s my problem to solve, all right? I appreciate your effort, but I’m going by myself. Hoping for the best.”

“You have always been too stubborn for your own good.”

“Details, please, Nightwing.”

*** Of course Jason picked the abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere for a secret meeting in the middle of the night. Darkness, quietness and remoteness of the place fitting well with his new imagine of Red Hood. There was not a soul around and even her quiet footsteps echoed through the entire building. It made her even more vary of the surroundings. He could be hiding anywhere and despite her high hopes she was prepared for everything, for any potential danger from his side.

“Jason!” she stopped in the middle of the space looking around “I’m here.  I’m alone. Stop playing hide and seek and come out.”

“You came…” a dark figure emerged from the shadows in front of her “wasn’t sure if you will, after what I said. “

“What you said?” she scoffed “I don’t care about the words…” that was a lie on her part “but all you did…..”

“For what it’s worth I am sorry. For everything. Mostly for hurting you…. I.. I don’t know what’s happening to me….”

“Is that what you said to Hank before bombing him?” the memory made the boy freeze. “is that what you are going to do to me?”

“YN….” He took his helmet off and she saw tears and pain in his eyes “you know I would never….”

“I don’t know a thing anymore, Jason. I don’t know if you are telling the truth or playing  a part in Crane game. How can I tell the difference?”

“I need your help, YN. You are the only one who…..”

“Right, now you see it.” She shook her head “why didn’t you notice it earlier? We could have prevented so much damage, Jason.”

“I’m sorry….” He looked straight at her “please….”

“Jason….” she sighed

“Please, YN. I want out…. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know. Not now, but maybe in the future…..”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We still got damage control to do.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Of course you will, you have no other option. And there’s one condition.”

“What?”

“You will stay down.  Titans won’t know about you helping”

“So, I’m a dirty secret now. Grayson will figure it out in no time.”

“I don’t care. It’s not about him. I’m making my own choices. Look, Jay, I want to help you and even if you will never be a titan again….” she shook her head again and sighed deeply “I still feel like I owe you this much. So are you game?”

“You’re the only person who could make me, so yes, let’s safe this fucking city.” @pinksirensong @somest1

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood angst #jason todd angst #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc titans #dc angst #angst #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction

[romanarose]

Life update if anyone cares.

I only post this bc i was posting my depressing shit for months and a lot of people were reaching out in concern <3

cw sever depression, self harm, suicide, csa, SA, all the bad. but also lots of good <3

TLDR: Despite a god-awful semester, i got all a's and b's

Everyone thats been following me the last few months has seem my personal posts about how fucking awful things have been for me.

I've dealt with fact I can no longer deny that what happened to me was CSA, despite being on a milder side of things. That sparked an absolutely spiral. I didnt sleep for months which made things worse. School, I got an F on a midterm and i NEVER get F's on writing assignments.

Work had its complications and i quit and then rescinded that quit two days later. I was so constantly depressed in my dorm my roommate literally told me i needed to go to the basketball game with them bc i was sitting in a depression hovel none stop. I only went to services twice this whole time, one shabbat and once for Rosh Hoshannah.

I burned the ever living fuck out of my fingers, yall remember that one? lol.

In novemeber i had relapsed so severely on self harm i thought i had accidentally killed myself. I should've called 911. I thought I was bleeding out and/or going into shock. I then worked myself up more by going down pages of the internet about medical shook and people dying from it. that did not help my heart rate. I couldn't stand, I couldnt see straight for a while.

I could not afford an ambulance or a hospital stay as i am uninsured and only ork 25 hours a week. not a lot of money.

All this happened and I didn't miss work. This is not a brag, this is me not being able to makegood choices for myself.

Finally, thanksgiving break hit. Thank fucking god. I WANTED to use those 4 days of absolutely nothing to get to my TWO BIG RESEARCH PAPERS I HADNT STRTED YET but alas, I was SICK. I was so sick, in fact, and so hoped up on cough medicine for 3 days i was incomprehensible.

I was so physically ill, i couldnt even think about how mentally ill i was. I slept and slept and slept. And by the time sunday hit, I felt so recharged.

My failed midterm was so bad and so not me my professsor reached out to me. Im close with him (in a v appropriate way lol, hes a bruce springsteen fan too) and i felt comfortable telling him essentially that for a few months there things were severe, and I really should've gone in for a 72 hour hold multiple times and i was not safe. through a few lines of resources, I ended up back in therapy bc my school added a new therapist that is a woman (i stopped going last year bc i didnt like seeing a man)

I like my new therapist.

Anway, in about 2 weeks I wrote 2 12 page research papers, 2 book report papers, 1 science paper did 2 presentations, took 2 finals, wrote 2 more finals with essay questions, and at the end of it all, not only did I not fail any classes...

I GOT ALL A'S AND B'S! Which means my gpa is still high enough to renew my scholarship for my last year

I am so fucking proud of myself for accomplishing all this despite suffering so fucking badly. I havnt felt pain like that in years, just agony.

I had a down turn again over christmas bc my siblings were literally ass, upto and including making fun of me for not ating (i am multiple accounts of sexual trauma from several people, so im scared of dating), making fun of my eating, and my sister slapping me and my older brother hitting me. Was a bad time. But for right now, im in the place im staying for break (all january) im back at my old day care and they love me, and olive garden at this store has been going great

Im hoping next semester to be better, im hopful at least

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has supported my writing has supported me through these times. It makes me happy that i came her to share my silly little moon knight x reader series, not really intending on writing a whole lot, but next thing i know, i have friends and a lil community. so thank you <3

#romana personal posts #cw suicide #cw self harm #cw csa #cw sa

[andithiel]

End of year wrap up

I am so super late to this, but I’ve done this in the last few years and I think it’s a nice tradition to look back at the accomplishments I’ve achieved. 2022 was a very bleak year writing wise, and I’m happy to say that I’ve slowly started to get my mojo back a bit. My AO3 wordcount for 2023 was 36,936 words, but I’ve also posted some shorter things on tumblr, and I actually made a spreadsheet to track my progress and tally all my written words, including those that get deleted and also those not yet posted, and according to the spreadsheet I wrote 10k more. I still have a lot of WIPs hanging around in my drive, but I’ve managed to finish some of them, and I feel like I have more energy and excitement to finish some more, so, here’s hoping that 2024 will be the year that I actually end up with fewer WIPs at the end than at the beginning (something I tried back in 2020, before the world went up in flames).

Under the cut is what I published in 2023:

January 

Fading in Love (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 5k) I wrote this as a belated birthday present for @sassy-sassy3, it’s an 8th year secret relationship with a lil’ sprinkle of magical theory regarding the Dark Mark. 

February 

I decided to try a few prompts for HD Candyhearts and ended up having a lot of fun with them: 

Second Date AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 1,3k) with an insecure Draco after having spent the night with Harry.

The microfic Taste the love (for the prompt Sweet treats)

How deep is our love? AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 762 words) featuring established Drarry bickering and absolutely ridiculous Valentine’s cards.

The secret language of flowers AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 2k) featuring the classic tumblr post the fuck you bouquet.

Pillow microfic with Draco being a little shit

Charm me 8th year drabble FWB/secret relationship sort of vibes.

March

Take that ride (Drarry, Teen, 1,6k) I finally managed to write a fic idea that’s been scrambling around in my brain for ages. I wanted to create a mood and a feeling with this and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

I also wrote a short fuck or die drabble that I’m super proud of: Let me show you  

June

Hold back the tide (Drarry, Teen, 2k) Another idea that’s been with me for years that I finally got out (despite not having written the fic that preludes this).

October

Thunderstruck (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) My god, my beast, this fic resisted me and to top it all off I got covid right when I was about to finish it. I struggled with this so damn much, also wanting to create a vividness that doesn’t really come natural to me, but I’m so happy with how it came out in the end. Plus I got to collab with the amazing @fictional who, as usual, knocked it out of the park with her glorious art.

November

The Potter Malfoy bathroom war of 2007 (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) Another fic that’s been with me for some time, although “only” a year. I saw the prompt for last year’s Suds when claims had closed, so I tried to forget about it but it wouldn’t leave me. I had so much fun writing this, I love writing Harry and Draco bickering and fighting with each other when we as readers know it’s basically their form of foreplay. 

December

When it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night (Drarry, Teen, 6k) This was also a fic one year in the making. I started writing it to post on last New Year’s Eve, but I couldn’t finish it in five days (to my own astonishment), but I’m happy it got to marinate for a while because I added a scene with Scorpius that I’m very fond of.

I wasn't tagged by anyone and I'm sure people have already done this, but if this means you get another tag, consider pointing me to your own year wrap up so I can see it! @sassy-sassy3 @fictional @mystickitten42 @uncannycerulean @goblinmatriarch @phdmama @crazybutgood @dragonbornphoenix @wo2ash @rei382 @nv-md

#fic year in review #ao3 wrapped #andithielwrites #drarry