#PLEASE if it exists drop it in the comments

[sequinsmile-x]

Bezel

He couldn't fix or change her past, but he could give her this.

-x-

Hi friends,

As we all know, I have a very famous lack of control. The lovely @eyesontheskyline posted a gif set and made a comment about Emily's giant watch in 2x20, my mind went haywire and once again here we are.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this - please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Mentions/references to loss of a parent

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs contently as she takes a sip of her beer, the coolness of it removing any last bits of tension in her shoulders that the case they’d resolved had created.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

She turns her head to look at Aaron and smiles as their eyes meet, his eyes soft in a way they rarely were outside of either of their homes or the hotel rooms they shared. There was something strangely empowering about him looking at her like that in front of their friends and it warms her from the inside out. She nods and reaches for his hand that is slung over her shoulders, linking their fingers together as she leans in to kiss him, the taste of the scotch he was drinking passing from his lips to hers. She smiles into the kiss when she hears the others groan, making a point of deepening it for a moment before she pulls away, squeezing his hand tightly as she leans in further to his side. 

“Okay, we get it, you guys are adorable,” Dave says dryly, a fond glint in his eyes as they both turn to look at him, “I think I preferred it when you two were pretending not to like each other.” 

“I didn’t,” Penelope says, her glee at seeing them together obvious, her entire body practically vibrating with it. Her gaze drifts to Emily’s bare wrist and her smile drops, the corners of her lips turning downwards into a slight pout, “Sorry about your watch, Peaches.” 

Emily looks at her wrist, her bare skin peeking out from underneath the sleeve of her shirt. Her watch had been damaged during the takedown of the unsub, the glass face of it smashed against the wall as he tried to evade arrest and shoved her out of his way. She’d cried out when it happened, more in shock at being pushed than anything else, her worst injury a slight graze of her palm against the brick wall, but it had been enough for Aaron to overreact. Her usually reserved and stoic boyfriend had briefly forgotten where they were and gone out of his way to make sure she was okay, barrelling into the room she was in as if he’d heard a gunshot, accidentally revealing their relationship to the team as he checked her over for injuries that didn’t exist. 

It was why she’d allowed herself to get dragged into going for drinks with the team when all she wanted to really do was snuggle up with Aaron in his bed or hers. The news had travelled fast and Penelope had called her before the unsub was even in the back of a cop car, demanding they all went out when they landed back in DC because she wanted to see them.  Aaron had been hesitant, his embarrassment at overreacting clear, but Emily had talked him into it. Her smile and a promise of later enough to convince him a few drinks with their friends was a good thing. 

They’d told them what they wanted to hear, answering their friend's questions in a way that still allowed them to keep their privacy. Emily felt a certain sense of pride blooming in her chest when they told them they’d been together 8 weeks without anyone noticing, although Dave claimed to have known the entire time. Even though Emily knew they would both miss their relationship just being for them, she liked sharing it with the people she cared about. It made it feel impossibly more real - the three words she hadn’t said outloud yet, the three he hadn’t said either, on the tip of her tongue. 

“Oh, that’s okay,” she says, smiling as her gaze drifts to where her hand is linked with Aaron’s for a second before she looks back up at her friends, “It wasn’t expensive. I have plenty of others” 

“Are you talking you expensive, or regular person expensive, Princess?” Derek asks, hiding a grin behind his beer, “Because those are two different things.” 

She laughs humourlessly as she makes a point of rolling her eyes. She makes eye contact with Penelope again and sighs when she sees that she still seems worried, a crease between her brows that lets Emily know her friend is still thinking about the smashed watch in her go-bag. 

“I mean it, Pen,” she assures her, “It’s just a watch, it’s not like held any great sentimental value.” 

There’s something about the way she says it that makes Aaron pause, his brows furrowing for just a second as he looks down at her, a smile still fixed on her face as she carries on talking to Penelope. Emily had always been very purposeful with everything she’d ever said. She’d been taught at an early age that words mattered, that everything had weight to it. She was never calculated, but she never said anything she didn’t mean, so it makes him curious and leaves him wondering if she meant that she did have a watch that held sentimental value. He files it away for later, sure that whatever it was it was something she wouldn’t want to share with the team. 

When they get back to his apartment, it’s late. They shower together, their laughter and muffled groans lost under the roar of the water, neither one of them wanting to wake Jack up by mistake. By the time they climb into bed, Emily is tired, her body relaxed and sated as she crawls half on top of him, her eyes already closed as she relaxes into his embrace. He hauls her closer and smiles as she giggles, a sound she’d deny if he ever brought it up, her hand fisted in his t-shirt as she anchors herself to him. 

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, his lips against her forehead as he trails his hand up and down her back. She hums as she settles further into his embrace, her arm over his waist and her leg over his hips. 

“Always,” she murmurs, turning her head just enough to kiss his chest, “But make it quick, the combination of the beer and your magic touch is sending me to sleep.”

Aaron chuckles and kisses her forehead, taking a moment to breathe her in before he asks the question he’d been thinking of since they were in the bar, “Earlier, you said the watch you broke today wasn’t sentimental. Does that mean you have one that is?” 

A part of her wonders if she should be annoyed that he noticed, that he was so good at his job it bled into their personal lives, but she can’t bring herself to be. Instead, she realises she wants to tell him, that she wants to reveal another part of herself to him simply because he’d asked.

“Do you remember that big watch I had?” She asks, her gaze locked on the wall of his bedroom, “It had a leather strap, the face of it was wider than my wrist.” 

He nods before realising she isn’t looking at him, “I remember.” 

“It was my dad’s watch. When he died…” she clears her throat and presses her lips together, giving herself a moment before she carries on, “My mom gave it to me. I kept it and one day I couldn’t find my watch so I wore it to work,” she lifts her head to look up at him, her hands on his chest as she rests her chin on them, “It was huge on me. Big and impractical and so obviously not made for me,” she chuckles, “But it made me feel weirdly close to him. Which probably sounds insane.” 

“It doesn’t,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, smiling encouragingly at her as she leans into the touch, “It doesn’t sound insane at all,” he assures her and her response is to turn her head to kiss his palm, “What happened to it?”

He’d picked up on how she was talking about it in the past tense, had seen the wistful look in her eyes as she thought about the watch. She smiles sadly and slips one of her hands into his, pressing their palms together to test the size difference. 

There was something comforting about how big he was in comparison to her, something about it that made her feel safe. She didn’t need him to protect her, didn’t need him to hold her together, but she wanted him to. She wanted to share things with him that she’d never shared with anyone because she knew nothing would scare him off. He’d seen the very worst of her and he was still here, he still wanted to know more. 

“It was sold with everything else when I died,” she says carefully, making sure to link their fingers together as she says it, hoping the way she squeezes his hand lets him know she doesn’t blame him, his guilt for making that decision for her still lingering every time it was mentioned, “I was surprised Mother didn’t take it - she was the one who got it for him. But…she had all my things sold,” she smiles sadly, a shaky breath slipping past her lips as she thinks about it. About how her mother had all but wiped any memory of her from the face of the earth. She knew it was likely a defence mechanism, a way of dealing with the fact her only child was dead, but Emily liked to think if it had been her she’d have made a different decision. 

Aaron drags her in for a quick kiss, his hand on her cheek as he encourages her closer to him, unable to bear to not kiss her any longer, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You deserved better than that.” 

She smiles and kisses him, letting her lips linger against his for a moment longer than necessary as she tries to convince herself that he’s right, drawing the comfort from him that only he had ever truly been able to provide. 

“I never understood their relationship. They loved each other, just not in the way I ever wanted to love someone,” she says, looking down at his chest again, at the random patterns she was drawing on his shirt as she willfully ignores the fact they hadn’t told each other how they felt yet. The words unspoken but felt in everything they did for each other, a gentle kind of love they both thought was beyond them, “Mom got Dad the watch for his 40th birthday. It had this engraving on the back of it - See You in Paris,” she smiles sadly as she sighs, “It was their favourite place. It’s where I always remember them being at their happiest.” 

“Paris?” 

She laughs, an edge of bitterness to it as she nods, “Yeah, Paris,” she says, her eyebrow raised as she looks at him, “The universe has a sense of humour apparently.”  

There’s so much he wants to say, an apology he knows she won’t accept trapped in his chest as he stares at her, but in the end he settles on kissing her, pulling back just enough to speak as he rests his forehead against hers.

“Thank you for telling me.” 

She smiles, familiar love for him burning in her chest, desperately trying to escape as she presses her lips together to hold it in place, still worried it was too soon to say anything. 

“Thank you for asking,” she replies quietly, kissing him once more before she rests her head on his chest, sighing contentedly as he wraps his arms around her. He immediately re-starts running his hand up and down her back, the warmth of him drawing her in, making her feel heavy and light in equal measure, “Goodnight, honey.” 

He hides a smile in her hairline as she yawns and he kisses her forehead, “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

He lays there as she falls asleep against him, an idea forming in his mind before he joins her, his grip on her never loosening.

___

Aaron pauses outside Penelope’s office, his hand frozen in place as he hesitates to knock, wondering if he is making the right decision. Before he can talk himself out of it the door swings open and Penelope shrieks, her eyes wide as she places her hand on her chest. 

“Sir, sorry,” she says, clearing her throat before she steps back to let him into her office, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

“That’s okay,” he says as he closes the door behind him, “I wanted to ask you something-”

“If this is about the checks I did on Henry’s school, I was only checking if-”

“No, it’s not about…” he frowns as he trails off, raising his eyebrow at her, “Should it be about that?” 

She shakes her head, “No definitely not,” she says, taking a seat at her desk, “How can I help?” 

He sighs, scratching the back of his head, hesitancy he doesn’t like washing over him, “If I ask you to look for something for me, can it just be between us?” 

Penelope’s eyes go wide, the idea of being in on a secret exciting her, “Of course,” she says, before she gasps, her eyes somehow even wider, “Is this Emily related?” 

He hides a groan as he shoves his hands into his pockets, “Yes.” 

Penelope covers her mouth, physically holding her excitement in as she shifts closer to him on her chair, “Oh my god, are you going to propose?” She asks, and he glares at her, his stern gaze forcing her to calm down, “Okay, no proposal…yet,” she says, “How can I help?” 

“When Emily…” he clears his throat, “When she died all of the things in her estate were sold on in an auction. Do you think you could track one of those things down for me?” 

He sees the flash of pain across her face, how she struggles to push it away before she nods, “Just tell me what you need bossman, and I’ll find it.” 

He smiles gratefully at her and pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket, all of the details about the watch written down on it, “And remember-”

“Not a word of this to Peaches or anyone else,” she says as she takes the piece of paper from him, a sense of determination overtaking her as she turns back to her computer, and he knows this is one secret Penelope Garcia will keep.

___

“Are you sure I can’t help with anything?” Emily asks, smiling as Aaron meets her eyes from  where he’s standing. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, giving her a delicious hint of his forearms, the muscles shifting under his skin from where he’s washing dishes. 

“I’m all done, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for a dish towel and drying off his hands, “Do you need more wine?”

She shakes her head and grumbles, “What I need is my boyfriend to come over here and make out with me.” 

He chuckles and nods, pulling one of the drawers in his kitchen open, blowing out a quick breath before he lifts the large jewellery box out from where he’d hidden it under a towel. The search for the watch had been a little tricker than he’d hoped. In the last couple of weeks, he’d almost given up hope, and at times he’d only been bolstered by Penelope’s seemingly unending optimism that she’d find it. When she did she’d called him, her excitement so loud Emily had heard her from his phone while standing on the other side of the room. He’d brushed off her curiosity and was grateful when she didn’t ask any further questions. The nerves he’d felt when he first thought of doing this for her return in full throttle as he walks over to the couch, a piece of her history gripped firmly in his hand. 

“Before we get to that,” he says, sitting next to her, holding the box out so she can see it, “I got you something.” 

She hums curiously and sits up straight, placing her glass of wine down before she takes the box from him, “I haven’t forgotten our 10-week anniversary or something have I?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head, his hand heavy and warm on her thigh, “Is that a thing?” 

She shrugs, “If it is, I owe you a blow…” she drifts off, her joke dying in her throat as she opens the box, her mouth hanging open as he looks at the watch. She chokes on a laugh as she looks between him and the watch, words escaping her for a moment as she shakes her head, the conversation they’d had a couple of weeks ago coming back to her, “They don’t even make this model anymore.” 

Aaron squeezes her thigh as he watches her run her finger over the bezel, her touch delicate as if she’d damage the steel, “It’s not a duplicate sweetheart,” he says gently, his smile soft as she looks up at him, her eyes shining, “It’s your dad’s.” 

She frowns as she pulls the watch out of the box and turns it over, her breath catching in her chest as she looks at the engraving on the back, as if she hadn’t quite believed him until she saw it. 

See You In Paris

She presses her thumb into it, and feels the dips and curves of the metal, a habit she’d picked up when her mother first gave it to her. One of the few ways she felt close to her father after she lost him. She looks up at Aaron, her vision blurry as tears push at the back of her eyes. 

“Aaron…” she breathes out, his name caught on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, “How did you find this?” 

He shrugs as if it’s nothing, as if he hasn’t just given her back a piece of herself she thought was lost, “I asked Garcia to help,” he says, smiling when her eyes get wider, “She found the guy who bought it and I bought it back from him.” 

She holds the watch tightly as if it would disappear and presses it against her chest. She closes her eyes and blows out a shaky breath. She places her other hand over her mouth, her fingers pressed against her lips as she tries to gather herself, her nerves shot at the unexpected kindness and love he’d shown her. 

He watches her carefully, his eyes fixed on her face as she sits perfectly still, the watch grasped against her chest and her eyes screwed shut. Anxiety bubbles in his gut and he squeezes her leg, “Sweetheart, if this was a bad idea-”

“I love you,” she says, her eyes flying open as she cuts over him. Tears splash down onto her cheeks as she laughs and shakes her head. She looks at the watch and then back at him, her spare hand cupping his cheek as she drags him into a kiss, “This is…this is the best thing anyone has ever done for me. And I love you so much.” 

He smiles and hugs her close, her hand with the watch still clasped in it pressed in between them. He kisses her temple and then her cheek before he tilts her head up to kiss him.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again, “I love you.” 

She laughs, the sound wet as it sticks in her throat, and he wipes some tears from her cheeks, “Thank you,” she says, the words not feeling anywhere close to enough as she rests her forehead against his, “This is…” she blows out a shaky breath, “Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I can’t give you the 7 months you lost back,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “And I can’t undo anything you’ve been through,” he wraps his hand around the one holding the watch, “But I can do this.” 

She shakes her head at him and rests her cheek on his shoulder, “I love you,” she says again, the words she’d been afraid of saying for weeks suddenly the only thing she could say, slipping past her lips with ease now she’d said them. 

“I love you too,” he repeats, running his hand up and down her back. She sinks into his embrace, her eyes closed as she breathes him in.

“I can’t believe Pen didn’t let it slip,” she says as she pulls back, wiping her cheeks, “She’s terrible with secrets.” 

He laughs loudly, the sound reverberating around them and he nods, “Well, I think I won’t be so lucky if I get her to help me propose when the time comes.”

She presses her lips together to stop her smile from getting any wider, the thought of marrying him, even this early on in their relationship, not scaring her as she knows it would with anyone else, “I think she might surprise you.” 

When they get married 18 months later, Aaron wears her father’s watch, the weight of it against his wrist feeling like a promise as he watches Emily walk towards him. 

-x-

I think I might have to add 'watch' to the list of inanimate objects I've made emotional thanks to these two...

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#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss

[cruscribbles]

don't worry bennett you're not alone anymore

#art #glycherriiart #glycherriirambles #genshin impact #genshin fanart #fanart #bennett #genshin bennett #bennett we love you #i wanna see a fanfic where bennett is the mc #and he accumulates an adventure team along the way #PLEASE if it exists drop it in the comments #see if you can guess every single one of the shadows depicted here #i bet you can't #bennett is so underrated tbh

[muzzlemouths]

READ CHAPTER 1

#icfy intro #fnaf #fnaf sb #daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #IT'S HERE IT'S HERE FINALLY #I've been wrestling with this thing for months i don't even CARE if it turns out to be shit #i'm just happy it exists at this point #if you ended up liking it please reblog or drop a comment! #i'd really appreciate it

[dreamertrilogys]

going into instagram comments is crazy it’s like seeing into a (much MUCH) worse alternate reality like You ppl live such unfathomably terrible lives to me….

#aside from the general everything they’re just so boring and miserable. Btw #sorry it’s just i’ve had insta on my phone lately (unfortunately i can’t delete it until the party ☹️) & every SINGLE time i see some sort o #reel and i’m like HA yknow what i think? and then everyone in the comments is saying the complete opposite thing #every single time without fail #the other day i saw a reel where a bartender dumped all the leftover stuff from the thing (idk what it’s called) into a cup and every1 in #the comments was like ugh yucky disgusting / yk ppl put even grosser stuff in their mouths like genitals. besides if it’s cleaned regularly #enough it should be fine / that’s a big IF. meanwhile i’m like Yum jungle juice 😋 #also one time i saw ppl talking abt how they sleep in binders at sleepovers COME ON reddit is free transtape exists. please #<- these r like the worst examples ever but it’s ok #also like the insane casual misogyny. it’s so bad out here guys #.txt #ppl arguing in the comments like ‘that’s like 2k calories’ / ‘why r u being negative besides it’s only like 300 at max’ / ‘it’s not #negativity’ GUYS. WHAT THE FUCK. CALORIES ARE GOOD I <3 ENERGY???? YOUR BODY ALSO LOVES ENERGY. COME ON. BUTTER 4 LYFE BITCH #OH AND ONE TIME someone made vanilla extract and the comments were all panicked muslims like oh no im rethinking all my vanilla extract #buying GUYS do you or do you not eat bread. great now figure out the alcohol content of fermented yeast vs a drop of ethanol in a cake (that #is being baked anyway!)

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Miguel O'Hara manhandling you,

grabbing you by the hips, tossing you onto the bed or the couch or whichever piece of furniture is closest.

The moment you get to his place, he's just on you, his touch everywhere, enormous hands lifting you up effortlessly.

“Ven acá,” come here, he murmurs, his mouth hungry for yours, his every kiss sloppy as he takes over your mind and your body.

You're a toy to him, a little doll he can dress up and dress down, move however he wants, play with to his heat's content.

While he fucks you, he just tosses you around, puts you into whichever position he wants you in without a drop of effort. He grabs you and flips you upside down, placing you on all fours. He spreads your legs with his huge hands, pushing your thighs apart. He arches your back, one of his hands forcing your chest against the mattress while the other one angles your hips. And then he's ramming into you again.

“There you go, muñequita, just let me do the work,” he groans, watching as his cock slides in and out, your slick dripping onto him.

He loves how you're putty in his hands, so soft, so easy for him to use as he pleases. You become a pretty little rag doll, all obedient and pliable the second he kisses you or touches you.

Let's not even mention when he actually fucks you. You might as well exist just for his pleasure. There's nothing you won't do for him, not a single thing you'd deny him. And he knows it. He never takes advantage of that, but the fact turns him on.

You're his pretty little toy, his muñequita, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

-----

@yagirlheree @sukioyakio @obi-mom-kenobi @celestia80s @manlikemilesmyguy

*if you want me to add you to my taglist, comment or send me a message <3

-----

Blog masterlist

#miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara

[astraystayyh]

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz oneshots #skz recs #skz reactions #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #minho fluff #minho fanfic #minho angst #skz au #skz x you #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #lee know scenarios #stray kids fic #skz soft hours

[solaireverie]

cl16 | salute to me, i'm your american queen

pairing: charles leclerc x f!sargeant!reader

summary: [ social media au ] what the fuck is a kilometer?!?! or: charles and his girlfriend's adventures

warnings: language

faceclaim: elle fanning + pinterest

author's note: i can't explain this except that it was funny in my head. i should probably be working on the next part of deep blue but ehhhhhh. enjoy!

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant, vogue and 763,913 others

yourusername Overjoyed with becoming an official @.tiffanyandco ambassador 🩵 Shop the Formula 1 Commemorative Grand Prix collection on their website, now available worldwide.

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charles_leclerc so this is why you couldn't come to monza? 😨

↪ yourusername sorry babe it was scheduled in advance 🥲

user damn tiffany's marketing department really popped off with choosing THE y/n sargeant to rep this line 💅

↪ user like if you think about it it's really smart, y/n isn't just one of the most popular models rn, she's also directly connected to the sport bc of logan and charles

↪ user she is literally all i want to be in the best way 😤

logansargeant where's my charger y/n? i know you have it

↪ yourusername this could've been a text message logie boy

↪ logansargeant wtf don't call me that

↪ logansargeant also you haven't unblocked me yet from that time i stole your life-size cardboard cutout of charles and brought it to williams hospitality

↪ yourusername you're not helping your case here 😒

↪ carlossainz55 silvia was looking for that y/n 😱

charles_leclerc has added to their story

seen by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 7,159,233 others

694,332 likes

f1wagupdate @.yourusername is in the paddock today for the US GP after being spotted yesterday in a hotel near the track! She has been seen in the Ferrari garage.

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user uhhh why isn't she in the williams garage???

↪ user uhhh probably cause she's dating a ferrari driver???

↪ user chill 😭 i'm sure she'll drop by

↪ user just say you're a hater and move on bro

charles_leclerc has added to their story

seen by yourusername, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 2,392,106 others

yourusername has added to their story

seen by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,985,274 others

logansargeant replied to your story

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 4,128,293 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc Happy birthday my love 🥳❤️ I'm glad you had fun at your party 😉

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yourusername DELETE THE THIRD PICTURE

yourusername HOW COULD YOU

yourusername WHAT IS THIS BETRAYAL

yourusername count your days, charles leclerc

↪ logansargeant she just left the restaurant, i think you need to take her threats seriously dude

user charles is just like all the other sassy boyfriends out there 😂

user damn the road's looking real comfy tonight (i want what they have)

↪ yourusername oh dear don't do anything rash please 😭

↪ user this is why i love y/n lmao even when she's pissed at her bf she finds time to be the nicest human being ever

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant, yourbestfriend and 6,129,320 others

yourusername just a bit older 🤟

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gigihadid happy birthday darling 🥰

↪ yourusername thank you gigi!

logansargeant happy bday sis :)

↪ yourusername AWWWW LOGAN 🥹

user is charles still alive??? 😭😭😭

↪ yourusername who knows? 🤷‍♀️

↪ charles_leclerc i already said i'm sorry!!!

↪ yourusername do y'all hear something?

↪ charles_leclerc we're literally on instagram y/n... 😐

carlossainz55 y/n, charles says that he'll do anything if you'll talk to him again...

↪ yourusername he knows what i want 😪

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charles_leclerc Thank you for making my life so much better just by existing in it. I love you more than words can express. At the end of the day, you're who I want by my side. I'm so glad that I'll get to call you my wife for the rest of my life 🤍

💍 11.11.23

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yourusername je t'aime 🤍

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #charles leclerc #logan sargeant #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau

[wonyrs]

౨ৎ like the movies

pairing enha hyungs x fem reader genre fluff , established relationship, scenarios warning cursing

lee heeseung | embarrassing and embarrassed

will definitely yell out "I LOVE YOU" in the loudest voice he can muster up before dropping u off to class and won't leave until u yell it back. he does this with the most shit eating grin ever

he's so dreamy when ure together but sometimes he just gets that burst of energy where he absolutely NEEDS to do something that makes u question why u even liked him

"um she asked for no pickles 🤓☝️"

he buys u guys those ugly "if lost return to her" "hi im her" shirts and forces u to wear them everytime u go on a date

unironically likes it and is a proud matching shirt buyer

everytime u post he'll spam ur comments with all the compliments in the entire world, tags all his friends and old people he doesn't even know saying shit like "hey this is my gf you know my gf go follow my gf"

"hey babe does my hair look good?" and its a picture of him smoldering, showing off his godly jawline. probably thinks hes the sexiest guy alive (he is)

park jongseong | chivalrous and princess

u guys saw that one vlog w his mom? jay literally gave her the more appetizing plate while he just dumped everything on his

opens the car door, cooks ur meals, helps u w hw, and even buys ur parents flowers everytime he visits

"open the door for a big surprise (not clickbait)!" and he doordashed u ur fav foods after his spidey sense told him u felt down

ok i imagine him buying a 100-recipe cook book and making every dish whenever u stay over

"but babe i'm ful-" "please just one more, i promise this will be the last"

spoiler alert- it's not! dw tho, extra servings get sent to ur friends/family. ur mom teaches him some of her special recipes while ur dad is his assistant chef (taste tester)

he's a gentleman, yes thats true. but once u too get real comfortable w/ each other is when the side of chivalry u never knew existed revealed itself

he pampers u when ure tired but still likes to tease u if he sees the oppurtunity to. ex: massaging ur legs after an intense cardio workout, "ur feet are smelling kinda stinky. no need to worry, i'll lick the dirt away for u babe 😉 " NASTY.

he pays for all ur cafeteria meals and always says something along the lines of "let's go out on saturday, except ure paying for everything"

do u ever end up paying? no.

he'll distract u the moment ure at the counter and pays w his card before u can even look back. "i guess they gave us a free discount for being their best customers 🤷" u know what he did even if he won't admit

it's okay, u buy him a cheeseburger using ur free mcdonalds app awards

sim jaeyun | rizzler and rizzed

no lies here: sim jaeyun is the dreamiest man ever

casually explaining to him what happened in ur day blah blah, u look to ur right and the softest eyes are staring at u with so much love u almost combust

but not only was he staring at u, bro was unconsciously licking his lips, tilting his head and holding ur fingers so delicately like it might break any second (cute and sexy?) u had to stop talking for a sec and scream into ur hand

ESP AT SCHOOL DUDE he'll run to u after a soccer match and hug u so tight ur friends start puking

like ewww sweat but at the same time omggg ur bf's sweat 😝 u still have to push him off before u starting stinking too tho

he's defo the type to lift his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face and it kills u everytime... u look to see if anyone's looking before snapping a quick pic (who wouldn't)

when u guys r studying together, he'll either pull u by the waist or by ur chair so u can get closer to him without having to stand up

struggling to see the paper? no need to fear, dikeu is here :3

he'll slide his hand (purposely) under ur shirt and scooch u over to his side of the table, never even stopping the conversation

mind u, his hand is still on ur waist

park sunghoon | socially awkward and socially awkward

ur relationship makes ur friends giggle at how silly u guys r

imagine: blah blah blah ure in a really interesting conversation with ur boyfriend and someone interrupts, asking if u guys did the hw last week

"oh uh" "uhm" "idk" "sorry" UR REPLIES. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

cue the intense eye contact until that person leaves the room. then u go back to whatever u were talking about. "so yeah lebron should honestly retire this season"

since u have all classes together, ur teachers always make sure to pair u up as partners since no WAY in hell will either of u be able to talk to someone else willingly

if ur friend group isn't at the cafeteria, the top 3 lunch spots would be @ the field, rooftop, or back of the classroom

when u accompany him to skating/dance practice, all u do is record him reviewing a program or choreo and silently cheer him on

both ur parents share concerns about u two not having any friends at/outside of school 😢

no one really knows that yall r talking about the weirdest shit during class... they just think ure being little nerds and working on math answers

"messi is literally better than ronaldo what are u on about boy" "ok buddy but who has more insta followers" "HOW IS THAT RELEVANT TO THE WORLD CUP"

@ wonyrs 2023

requests are open !! click here to see request guidelines :>

#wonyrs #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung x reader #park jongseong #enhypen jay x reader #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake x reader #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #female reader #love tropes #enhypen hyung line x reader #enhypen hyung line

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter. 

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway. 

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence. 

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan. 

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life. 

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together. 

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you. 

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk. 

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop. 

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in. 

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.” 

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.” 

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day. 

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually. 

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid. 

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did. 

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.” 

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner. 

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude. 

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.” 

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked. 

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” 

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.” 

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?” 

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word. 

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his. 

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.” 

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of. 

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked. 

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked. 

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.” 

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot. 

God, you were down bad. 

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face. 

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed. 

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible. 

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little. 

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting. 

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual. 

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken. 

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.” 

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?” 

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger. 

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.” 

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm. 

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed. 

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece. 

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice. 

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!” 

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his. 

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive. 

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless. 

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

[onlyhuis]

drenched

member — junhui x f reader  genre — smut word count — 2.4k  synopsis — the pool isn't the only thing that gets jun all wet. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), squirting, body worship, pussy drunk jun, mentioned that reader wears a bikini (+ other clothes), they're so horny for each other it's actually just gross notes — requested by anon for my 🐈 1k event — thanks to @onlymingyus for looking over this for me <3 sorry the synopsis is boring asdhgsj i couldnt think of a cooler one. also very very sorry again that it's taken me so long to get to these old requests but i hope you enjoy! please be sure to reblog with comments or send an ask if you liked this :)

if there's only one thing in this world that jun is obsessed with, it's your pussy.

practically every night he comes home, throwing his bag on the chair and pulling you onto the couch, begging you to let him eat you out, just really quick before dinner, please? i'll make you cum so fast, promise, just let me have ten minutes with you.

most of the time he slides your pants down and finds you already wet, knowing the kind of mood he'll be in when he gets home. it's almost impossible to force your mind out of the gutter when you can't stop picturing him kneeling between your legs, his dark brown eyes turned even darker with lust as he watches your face and every single tiny little reaction you have to him.

it's not your fault that you really can't help it if your mind wanders during the day, sending a shiver down your spine every time you think about how desperate he is for you. he'll never pass up the opportunity to bury his fingers inside you, moaning about how good it feels to have your cunt clenching him so tight and how pretty your legs look as they tremble around him.

jun loves nothing more than how wet you get and he'll clean you up with his tongue, his cock throbbing because he knows you're like this for him and him only. he'll gladly spend hours between your legs, groaning about how you're straight out of his dreams; what other explanation could there possibly be for the fact that he gets to come home to the prettiest girl he's ever seen every single day? not only that, but that you let him play with you whenever you want? he feels like he's died and gone to heaven every time you spread your legs apart and let him spend as much time as he wants in that spot.

of course, he has other favorite things, too. he loves fucking you from behind so he can see your gorgeous ass bouncing in front of him. he loves laying back and letting you do whatever you want to him, pushing his shaft between your breasts and grinning when he covers your face in his cum. but nothing compares to having his face smushed in your pussy, his skilled tongue and long fingers reaching places inside you that you didn't even know existed before you met him.

tonight is no different than every other night that he comes home and begs for your pussy. except this time he's got one thing and one thing only on his mind, and it's going to drive him insane if he doesn't have you right this second.

the first time it happened it caught you off guard. your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as the drops rolled down his abs coating the both of you in liquid, your legs still wrapped around his waist when he stops thrusting. you started to apologize, until jun lets out a long, low groan and tells you don't you fucking dare apologize for the hottest thing he's ever witnessed in his whole goddamn life and now he's made it his life's mission to making you squirt as much as is physically possible.

you didn't even know you could squirt at all before jun, but he brings a side out of you that you didn't know was there. a side of you so absolutely insatiable, like an unquenchable thirst, and now that it's been unlocked you're addicted to it.

with the rising temperatures and clear, sunny skies that have come after the rain and cold, it's obvious that summer is quickly closing in. it's one of his favorite seasons for many reasons, but the main one is that hotter weather means seeing you in more revealing clothes.

he had never been the type of guy to go feral at the sight of an ankle or an exposed shoulder, but around you it's like he loses all control. the way your shorts hug your ass—jean shorts, pajama shorts, bike shorts, any and all of them. his mind goes blank and all he can imagine is your perfect pussy hidden so teasingly from his view, and he'll do anything to get a taste. teasingly, because you know exactly how he gets and you love to play into it just to make him even more riled up.

you've started buying shorts that are just a little bit too small, just a little bit tighter that show another extra inch of skin. and you grin in satisfaction every single time he tears them off of you and pushes his hand down past the waistband to feel how soaked you are… until he wipes that smile right off your face with just a simple brush of his fingers.

the same goes for your shirts, too. the crop tops that expose your tummy; he loves to run his fingers over your skin, and the short length makes it so much easier for him to slide his hands up to feel your breasts. and don't even get him started on the tank tops; he feels like a virgin all over again, unable to stop his cock from twitching in his pants. when he sees that little extra bit of cleavage sitting so perfectly.

god, he loves every fucking thing about your body. but there is, however, one downside to the summer season.

okay, so it's not exactly like they banned him from the public pool, but they did tell him (in not so nice words) to stop feeling up his girlfriend in the locker rooms, and now he's too embarrassed to ever show his face there again. which honestly is more than fine by you, because if your hand wasn't down his swim shorts jerking him off as you lazily sat beside him in a chaise lounge, then was it really even a good day?

but besides that, the problem is that he can't see you near water without thinking about making you squirt. there hasn't been a single time when you've been out on the backyard patio, drops of sweat glistening on your skin from the summer heat as you hold a garden hose in your hand watering the tomato plants, that he hasn't wanted to push you against the side of the house and take you right then and there. to curl his fingers in your pussy until his hand is more soaked than the vegetables.

or like the time you both stayed at your parents’ house for a weekend while they were on vacation. he'd found you sitting out by the pool reading your book after you've just finished swimming, and the drops of water on your thighs that hadn't yet dried from the sun had reminded him too vividly of how you looked after he made you squirt with his cock. that day you'd needed a second shower, and it wasn't from the chlorine in the pool.

if your mind is in the gutter when you think about him, then his mind is in a place further than hell when he thinks about you. 

so really, you can't blame him for tonight. you can't get mad at him after you sent him pictures of the pretty new bikini you'd bought for the upcoming cruise you were going on next month. but not just pictures of the bikini; pictures of you wearing it, your knees spread temptingly in a way that you knew for a fact would get him hard as a rock in seconds.

he's pissed, but more than that he's needy, because he already had to jerk off in the bathroom at work because he couldn't get his hard-on to go down any other way. his own fist will never compare to how good your pussy feels against his face, so it seems as good a place as any for you to start making it up to him for your bad behavior.

he barely gets the front door closed behind him before he's pushing you against the wall, his fingers clawing desperately at your sides as his lips capture yours. it's hot, he’s hot, and the temperature outside has nothing to do with it.

even the air conditioning in your house can't cool you down as he drags you by the waist to your shared bedroom, telling you it would be in your best interests to be waiting naked by the time he comes back with towels because he's not feeling very patient tonight.

you love it when he gets like this, and you grin triumphantly as you pull your panties off and leave them hanging off the edge of the bed, the glistening wet spot on them purposefully noticeable. you already know that you won't be leaving this room until the towels and sheets beneath you are equally soaked, and just the thought alone makes you dizzy. 

the grin on jun's face is wide enough to rival yours when he comes back to find you laid out so prettily on the bed, on display for him like a gourmet fucking meal.

you lift your hips for him as he spreads out a towel beneath you, kneeling at the foot of the bed with your thighs on either side of his head. just one look at your dripping folds and he's already gone, throwing your legs over his shoulders and digging his fingers into your thighs to spread you apart even more for his eager mouth.

you've had jun's mouth on you more times than you can keep track of, but every single time still feels like the first. no matter how often he does it, you don't think you'll ever be prepared for the first lick, when he flattens his tongue to cover as much of you as possible at once before he begins.

the way he immediately and easily finds your clit, sucking messily before moving lower to slide through your folds, is always enough to bring you right up to the edge, but it doesn't last. it's a constant battle between making you cum as fast as possible, or prolonging it and moving around until you can't take it even for one more second and your orgasm is ten times stronger. 

this time he chooses the latter, but you already had a feeling that that's how things would go. he's focused, honed in on your pussy; he is going to make you squirt all over his face, and if you don't think that's a guarantee, then you'd be sorely mistaken.

it's not the first time you've played this little game with him: sending suggestive photos and texting flirty messages, until you inevitably end up under him with enough orgasms to last you a week. but it's never enough to last, of course, and it's not long before you do it all over again.

he likes to act like he's teaching you a lesson, but you both have been through this routine enough times to know it's the thrill that keeps you coming back more than the need for punishment. you could always just ask him, but where's the fun in that? it's much more exciting to push his buttons and let him take over. it would almost be funny how his reaction is exactly the same every single time, if your reaction weren't also exactly the same. it's a habit you fall into together, but you wouldn't trade it for anything.

jun's fingers slide up your body, stopping at your waist to grab you and pull you harder against his nose. it's impossible not to let yourself get lost in it, moaning and threading your fingers in his hair as your pussy throbs in his mouth.

he points his tongue at your clit once more and he doesn't let up until your thighs start to shake, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. you're close and he knows it, almost even better than you know it yourself because he's spent so much time between your legs that he knows how to read your body like an open book. 

your fingers in his scalp squeeze tighter, pushing his head further into you, and he groans at the feeling. he loves how quickly you get fucked out from his mouth alone, that you’re barely even processing how roughly you're moving his head because your body is on fire from the stimulation.

he'd live and die in your pussy if he could, and that's exactly what he plans to do tonight as his tongue flicks faster and harder. he can feel the wetness already gushing out of you and he knows you're right there, ready to give him what he so desperately wants.

with one final suck to your clit you go rigid and your muscles release, whimpers and whines flowing from your lips like liquid as you cum. it drenches his face, running down his cheeks and his chin and soaking his hair.

he drinks you up like a starved man, like he's been wandering alone in the desert and finally found his oasis. your head rolls back and your body writhes under his hands, but his grip is too tight and he is far too committed on getting every last drop from you to allow you to squirm out of his grasp.

it's overwhelming nearly to the point of pain but you don't want him to stop, you desperately need him to keep going until you're drained. and that’s one of the best things about jun, is that by now he can practically read your mind and he can tell when you need more and when you don’t.

he can tell what you want without even having to ask, so he reaches up and squeezes your hand in his as he looks up from between your legs, meeting your eyes and giving you that look that makes you shiver because you couldn’t imagine anyone else but him in this position. you don’t want to stop, not yet, and he nods at you knowingly with a hazy little grin and slides his tongue right back where you want it.

he’s more than willing to spend the rest of the night kneeling in front of you until you’re spent, if that’s what you want. honestly, he’s willing to spend the rest of his life there, too.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

taglist will be in the comments under this fic since tumblr is having problems with mentions, i can't add them as i usually do. if you'd like to join and be notified when i post a new fic, you can fill out this short form here! :)

#kvanity #kflixnet #k-labels #caratlibrary #[📌] — june.writes #jun smut #junhui smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #junhui fanfic #junhui scenarios #junhui x reader #jun imagines #jun fanfic #jun scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios

[navybrat817]

Smartie: would you love me even if I were a gecko?

Stud: I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko and this would be us: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMVoXtHD/

BAHAHA. Nonnie, I burst out laughing watching this and reading the comments.

Like Animals

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You ask Bucky an "important" question and he gives you a thorough answer. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Humor, fluff, implied explicit sexual content, inner monologue, TikTok video, pet names, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Apologies to geckos. A/N: Some Stud and Smartie for your Tuesday. Had to do it, @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A smile pulled at your lips when you saw Bucky relaxed in his chair, engrossed in his newest book. Soot and Alpine cuddled up together nearby, both letting your man have some peace as he read. Naturally, it was the perfect time to interrupt him. Because you had a very important question for him.

One that would shape the future of your relationship.

He’ll understand why I bothered him.

“Hey, Stud?” You asked as you took a seat on the sofa, his steel eyes peering up from the pages to gaze at you. Your heart would always skip a beat from that look. “I have something very important to ask you.”

He put his bookmark in to give you his undivided attention. “What’s up? Is it about the wedding?”

“No,” you smiled. You were aware that some men didn’t care about wedding planning, but Bucky was. He wanted it to be the perfect day for you. “But the question is kind of related to love and our relationship.”

His brows furrowed when you didn’t elaborate. “Okay. What’s the question?”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Would you still love me if I turned into an animal?”

Bucky blinked once. Twice. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile or laugh. “An animal? What kind of animal?”

You huffed when he didn’t immediately say “yes”. That should’ve been his answer. “I don’t know! A gecko! Yeah. A gecko.”

I have to keep a straight face.

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but he still tried to remain as stoic as he could. “A gecko? Why a gecko?”

“Because geckos are cool!” You replied, close to bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the questioning and logic. But wasn’t part of the fun of having a partner being able to discuss stuff like this? “They can climb walls, can live a long time, they make great pets-”

“You wanna be my pet, Smartie?” Bucky asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Yes.

“You’re…” you sighed when he ran his tongue along his lips. He was a sexy bastard and you would soon call him your husband. “You’re distracting me. Answer the question, please.”

“So, that’s a yes,” he smirked, pushing his hair back and causing you to stare a bit again. “You’re asking me if you were a gecko, would I still love you?”

“Yes,” you said, rolling your eyes to try and play it off as something silly. Which it was. “Would you love me even if I were a gecko?”

Bucky set the book on the table before he moved from his chair to the couch. Your heart raced when he took your left hand and kissed over your engagement ring. “Smartie. Doll. Baby. Love of my life, of course, I would,” he said, your cheeks warm when he smiled at you. “In fact, I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko so we could be together properly.”

Right answer, Stud.

“You would?”

“I would,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t want to exist in a world where we can’t be together.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I don’t either,” you whispered, your heart full. “And no matter what, human, gecko, anything, I’m your Smartie and you’re my Stud.”

You knew if tomorrow you woke up as some different version of you, he’d love you. If someone tried to separate you, he’d find a way to get you back. He was your soulmate. You had the whole world because of him.

“Damn right,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours before he pulled away. “Besides, if I ever found that Witcher, this would be us.”

…What?

“What would be us? I’m confused,” you said as he took out his phone and pulled up a video, cuddling close to you could both see the screen. “What is this?”

Bucky gently shushed you as he turned up the volume. “Just watch.”

You tilted your head as a rock came into view. “What are you showing me?” You questioned before your eyes went wide. Bucky’s arm over shoulders shook as he started chuckling. “Are those geckos fucking?!”

The decibel of your voice made the cats raise their heads, but they didn’t move since you weren’t in any sort of danger. “Yeah, they are,” your fiancé laughed. “Geckos in their semi-natural habitat.”

This wasn’t on my BINGO card for the year.

“Why do you have this?!” You asked, turning to look at him. “Wait, when did you start using TikTok?! Is this on your FYP? Is this a new kink you haven’t told me about? Because that’s a whole other conversation.”

He threw his head back and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You’re missing it.”

“Yeah, because gecko porn was the thing I was missing in my life. Everything makes sense now,” you teased, gesturing to the screen. “And, by the way, that’ll never be us.”

Bucky’s laughter came up short and, for a moment, sadness flickered in his eyes. “I thought you said we’d be together if we were geckos.”

“We would be,” you assured him, seeing happiness all over his face once again. “But look. He’s doing all the work and she looks bored as hell. That’s not me and that’s not our sex life.”

“So, I fuck you better?” He teased you.

Duh.

Whatever kind of sex you had before you met Bucky didn’t even count to you. He ruined you so thoroughly that you didn’t even remember the first guy you kissed. It was as if he erased all other guys from your mind.

Love was a powerful thing and Bucky had it in abundance.

“Yes, so much better. I mean, come on, she looks like she’s thinking, ‘Did I leave the stove on?’”

The brunette burst out laughing all over again.

I love that sound.

“Seriously! I would never just be still like that and you know it. There’s a difference between being a pillow princess and a dead fish,” You smiled, cuddling closer so you could feel his chest rumble beneath your hand. “And just for making me look at that, I want you to try and keep a straight face the next time we have sex.”

“What? That’s not fair,” he groaned, making you shriek when he suddenly laid you out on the sofa, his phone forgotten. “I can’t keep a straight face when I’m inside you. Your pussy feels too good for that.”

He always looks gorgeous when he slides into me.

“So does your cock. I don’t think I could look bored if I tried,” you agreed, raising an eyebrow when he moved on top of you. “But seriously, how is it that you just happened to have that video when I asked about us being geckos? You didn’t know I was going to ask you that.”

He grasped your chin to give you a thorough kiss, the kind that drove every sane thought from your mind. “I guess the two of us are just in sync,” he said.

“I guess we are,” you smiled. “But no more gecko porn today, okay?”

“Okay,” he smirked down at you. “But I will fuck you like an animal.”

True to his word, that was exactly what he did.

Oh, I adore them. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #roommate!bucky barnes #roommate!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky fic #stud and smartie #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes fluff

[robin374]

𝔊𝔢𝔱 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 : Alastor x Reader, platonic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: I AM SO SORRY I GOT TOO CARRIED AWAY SORRY

Months passed by and you found yourself to enjoy their company. Alastor happened to be very close to you, he had been alive at the same time as you! You both talked quite a lot about the old times, well, it was more Alastor talking to you while you nodded and added a comment or two to his monologue. One time, he managed to get you to smile. He felt really proud of himself, he didn't tell you yet, but he did recognize you. He couldn't forget his daughter's eyes after all those decades. It was painful for him to see you so broken. He felt angry. He knew that your mother didn't want you to exist, to be born, but he would strangely feel guilty if he killed you. Just if he had taken you before the nun opened the door, he would've raised you as his daughter. After talking to Charlie and Husk about it, he decided to tell the truth.

You were reading next to Sir Pentious, the egg boys were bothering you too much, so you were subtly kicking them with your feet. Alastor approached you and asked to talk with you privately. He had all planned in his mind. He started telling you about his past, about how he was a radio host. "And tell me, sweetheart, do you remember your parents' names? Maybe I knew them." He noticed the annoyed twitch you eyelid did when he indirectly mentioned himself. You had grown up just like him. "I never met them." You murmured, you didn't know why you were telling him that. "Not that you care." Now his smile almost broke. "Of course I care", he leaned down to your eye level and placed a hand on your shoulder. "You're my daughter, after all."

Impossible. You didn't hear what you just heard, right? The man that you always hated was in front of you. The man you promised to never talk to if you met him was one of your closests friends. You shoved his hand away, "It's a joke, right? You're not him. You're nicer, you protect me, you... You can't be him." He was still smiling, was this funny to him? Your broken voice was funny? Your tears were funny? Your betrayed gaze was funny? Absolutely not. "You wouldn't abandon me, Alastor. Please... Tell me that this is a joke." You started to step back from him, getting yourself more and more away as his words sunk in your skin.

"It's not a joke." His voice was broken as well, the sound of the radio static grew more, making you feel anxious. You felt betrayed. "Why?" You asked, it was the only thing you wanted to know. He didn't seem to catch it as his head tilted, "Why did you abandon me? Why didn't you kill me? Why did you leave to live a life full of misery and suffering? You don't know how much I suffered." You looked him in the eye, you were furious, you just gave up all the emotions you bottled up for decades. "I hated you and I hate you! You're just a liar," He stepped towards you and tried to speak, but you interrupted him, his ears curved downwards emphasizing his sadness. However, what hurt you most was his smile. That hypocrite was still smiling. "Get away from me," you stated your voice was rough, all those venomous words stabbed his heart. "You're a coward, do not talk to me ever again. You're not my father, I hate you." You turned around and walked away from him. "You should've had kill me, it would have made me happier."

Suddenly, he was human again. It was raining again and he was watching you cry in front of the church's door. Your mother had left a while ago, her statement of leaving you alone and not rescuing you was still echoing in his head. His clothes were wet, the rain stained his face as his tears mixed with the drops. Once in his life, he regretted his decisions. He should have rescued you. 

#alastor x reader

[httpshujii]

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

With Suguru’s broad build filling up the narrow door frame, you couldn’t tell what seemed to bother him all of a sudden. What would bother him anyways considering the hotel you guys will be staying at has every fancy aspect you can think of.

An onsen, a world class restaurant, and even a whole theater that fits over a thousand people for God’s sake. So what is the issue with the shiniest hotel in all of Japan?

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m changing the room.”

“What? Why?!”

But he isn’t even listening, already dialing away on his phone, most probably calling Yaga to complain about whatever reason there is.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“Why won’t he answer his shitty phone?!”

“Geto Suguru!”

“Huh?”

You like him? Speaks the voice in your head. And with a roll of your eyes, you purse your lips as a frown tugs at your lips, “What’s bothering you so much to the point where you want to change the room?”

And that’s when the male’s pale skin reddens, a veiny hand covering half his face, a groan of a bothered soul escaping his throat, “There’s…there’s only one bed.”

“Huh.”

You shake your head, you didn’t hear him right…right?

He sighs and pushes you ahead of him. Now with the room in your view, your heart drops at the sight of a small couch, a desk, and a single king sized bed, “Oh.”

“Yaga I’m gonna commit heinous crimes on you.” You grit out as you hold your phone against your ear.

“Why?”

“You booked us a room with one bed! That’s why!”

Suguru plops against the bed and groans into the sheets as you continue taking your pajamas out from the mini suitcase you carried.

“I didn’t book the room.”

A long, very, extremely, uncomfortable silence lingers around you. Oh fuck no.

“I’m sorry, I’ll call you back later.”

Quickly hanging up you scroll through your contacts pressing on a certain someone’s and the call rings three times before he finally answers.

“I’m going to put you in a pit of spiky rocks then proceed to pour lava on your skinny body of nothing but paper thin skin and fragile bones.”

“You love me so much~”

Of course Gojo would book a room in the richest hotel and of course he’d put you and Suguru in one bedroom with one bed.

“When I catch you Satoru…” He giggles instead, you can just imagine that stupid smirk on his face and how he’s probably buying some sweets considering the sounds of people and cars beeping in the background.

“I’m doing the both of you a favor, you should thank me instead of threatening my existence.”

“You’re so funny, I’m dying.” You snap out, injecting as much sarcasm as you can into your comment.

“Anyways, I should get going and you, Miss I Have The Biggest Crush On Gojo’s Hot Best Friend, should go and snuggle up with him, no?”

“I’m gonna eat you.”

“Cannibalism is frowned upon here-”

And with that, you hang up and toss your phone on the bed, “And obviously he won’t change the room because we’re broke and he’s basically rubbing his money in our faces.”

“Mhm.”

Suguru finally picks himself up after a considerable amount of time, as if he’s relishing in the comfort of the bed, “I’ll take the couch.”

“Half of you won’t even fit.”

“I’ll make myself fit.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Am not.”

“Look at me?” And he does, he takes every single chance to look at you when you’re talking or not, when you’re paying attention in class or not, when you’re walking or not. He watches you whenever he can and he’ll never, ever get bored.

You point at yourself, spinning around in a slow 360, “Are you aware of my size?”

“Yes.”

“And I’d fit better on the couch don’t you think?”

“Yes but the bed is comfier.”

“Doesn’t matter-”

“It does.”

“Don’t. Don’t interrupt me next time please.”

“…”

“…”

“But it’s comfier-”

“Damn it Suguru, just take the stupid bed.”

“No thanks.” “I’ll bite your knee caps.”

“I’m older than you and you should listen to me.”

He’s so sassy sometimes.

“By a month?”

“Still older.”

“I hate you.”

“No you do-…Okay wha- what’re you doing?”

He holds back a laugh, crossing his arms as he looks down at your laying body. There you are, in all your stubborn glory, laying down on the rugged floor with your arms crossed over your chest. “I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to, you’re taking the bed.”

“You know I can just carry you right?”

“If you do, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Worth a shot.”

It’s late, and it’s settled, you’re gonna cramp yourself onto the couch. Despite the tightness, it’s kinda nice. Or at least that’s what you try to tell yourself because the brick that’s holding your body is not helping.

But you shall resist! You nuzzle into the pillow, the only semblance and replacement for your bed back at Jujutsu Tech.

“You sure you don’t want the bed? It’s warm.” Despite the sincerely concerned tone in his voice, you can’t help but feel like he’s egging you on.

“No thanks. Enjoy it.”

With your back facing him, you rely on your hearing to conclude that he’s finally going to snuggle into that cloud of a bed and enjoy a good night’s sleep. But no.

You should’ve known that with Suguru’s generous nature would not allow you to sleep on the couch peacefully, you should’ve known that he’d carry you no matter how many times you kick and squirm in his hold, claiming that he’d drop you, you should already know that he will never, ever, drop you, and you shouldn’t be aware of how painfully hard his heart is pounding against his chest but that’s a little hard considering you were basically sandwiched against him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re gonna complain tomorrow morning and I don’t want to hear it.”

That’s a lie, he loves when you complain.

“That’s not my problem.”

“Just- please? We can put a pillow in between us…”

That seems to shut you up and with a sigh of relief, you succumb to the urges. With his promise kept, he places a pillow between you. And as morning rolls around, Suguru can't help the heat that engulfs him at the sight of the pillow long gone and instead your little body nuzzling against his.

@b0nten : IM SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG

#[𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧] #✶≼[JUJUTSU KAISEN] #ஜ˳༄꠶ SUGURU #ఌ︎. [SUGURU] #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #suguru #suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto

[withleeknow]

thirteen percent.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; mentions of drinking, cursing, hella unedited and tbh i kinda gave up toward the end but i wanted to post smth lmao word count: 1.2k note: inspired by the events of friday night in which i had 1.3 bottle of soju and promptly passed out while unmuted all night in my discord server lmfao

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

the first thing you do when you wake up is scowl.

at the sun. at the sky. at the cars and at the people going about their day on the street below. at soonie and doongie when you find them just peacefully existing in their respective corners of the room.

at minho who's looking at you from the doorway with an amused expression on his face.

"look who's finally up," he says, approaching the bed with a glass of water in his hands. "it's almost 1pm, heathen."

you groan, covering your face with your hands as you try to sink further into the mattress. "why are you so loud today?"

"this is my normal volume?"

"your normal volume is loud."

"hmm, could this be because last night you knocked back an entire bottle of soju and then some and therefore you have a raging headache right now?"

you blink, still delirious from the night before. it's obvious that the alcohol hasn't completely left your system and minho is right. there's a pounding in your head and you wish it would stop.

you ignore his sassy quip, trying to recall what happened. "how did i get home?"

it was supposed to be a cozy night in with your friends. you'd been looking forward to last night for weeks because all of you had been so busy with your respective lives, and a fun girl's night was desperately needed. to catch up, to gossip about your partners, to escape your tiresome realities for a few hours.

and of course, to unwind and drink. not to the point of being blackout drunk; just to de-stress a little.

"how do you think?" minho asks, holding out the water for you until you muster enough strength to sit up and take it from him. he watches as you greedily gulp down the liquid to satiate your dry throat, giving him back the empty glass when you're done and lying back down again. he sets the glass on your bedside table before he joins you under the covers. "boyfriend of the year went out in the middle of the night to drag your ass home."

"you took me home?"

"i just said boyfriend of the year, didn't i?"

despite his smartass attitude, minho still snakes an arm around your body to pull you close to him, until your head is lying on his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

"it was just soju. plum soju!" you try to justify your actions, throwing a leg over his and snuggling further into the warmth of his body. "only thirteen percent!"

minho scoffs. "that's how they get you. the fun flavors make you think that you're gonna be fine if you do just a couple more shots. next thing you know, you're sending your boyfriend gibberish messages at 2am."

to emphasize his point, minho shows you his phone, goes straight to the text thread you two share.

you mostly sent him nonsense, seemingly a lot of keyboard smashes and blurry drunken selfies of you and your friends. then came the last few messages.

you: oh naue why rom sponnign you: i wsntto go homrr you: mimo tskeeee me homeee

"oh." you purse your lips. "drunk me was a moment."

"no, she was a lot of moments actually. you stayed up for almost two hours after i brought you home."

"doing what?"

your boyfriend looks down at you, an unimpressed look on his face before he rolls his eyes and sighs, recanting the story of how you exhausted him just hours prior.

"stop squirming," minho said, trying to keep your head from lolling to the side as he wiped at your face with a cotton pad doused in micellar water.

but you kept giggling, kept trying to hold his cheeks so you could kiss him. "mimo, you're so pretty. my pretty, pr-" hiccup! "pretty mimo."

it took him thirty whole minutes just to take your makeup off, then another forty five to go through your skincare routine.

-

it was an entire struggle to get you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear because apparently, the feeling of him tugging your blouse over your head and sliding your jeans down your legs tickled that amorous part of your brain - your horndog side, if you will.

you instantly latched onto him, climbing on top of him to sit on his lap, attempting to trail kisses along his neck when all minho was trying to do was put your t-shirt on.

"not now," he scolded you lightly, pushing you away by your shoulders before he held your arms up just long enough to slip the shirt over your body.

"whyyy not?"

"mostly because you're about ten seconds away from passing out."

but that wasn't something that your intoxicated brain could comprehend. all you understood was that your boyfriend didn't want to have sex with you, that he was rejecting you.

you went quiet all of a sudden, your lips pouting, your eyes turning glassy before you practically sob, "you don't want me anymore."

minho could only sigh.

-

"what now?" he had finally managed to get your restless ass into bed, thinking you'd surely knock out within seconds of hitting the sheets. but when he returned to the bedroom five minutes later, having cleared away your clothes to be put in the washer in the morning, minho found you lying on your side, your eyes glued to your phone, your face illuminated by the blue light coming from the device. "why aren't you sleeping?"

you were going through your camera roll, watching your old videos like they were your favorite tv show. videos of you and him, videos of him and the cats, or just random videos of him that you took when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

it was cute how you were so immersed, how you kept giggling and making heart eyes at the version of minho captured on your phone. it made him smile, just standing there and watching you like that.

it was beyond endearing, but it was also fucking 4:18am.

minho snatched the device away from you and put it somewhere you couldn't reach before he settled into bed with you.

"i miss my mimo," you whined. "give me back my mimo."

he knew there was no use in telling you that you didn't need to miss him when he, the object of your affection himself, was lying next to you. instead, he just yanked you closer, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and holding you tightly so you couldn't move, hoping that it would eventually lull you to dreamland.

"your mimo is right here. now go to sleep, you menace."

"and not to mention you kept-"

"nope." you put a hand over minho's mouth so he would shut up. "i've heard enough."

he pushes your hand away. "i deserve compensation for what i had to go through last night."

"the satisfaction of taking care of your wonderful girlfriend wasn't enough for you?"

"no," he says. then, you both just stare at each another for a few minutes.

"fine," you relent. "i'll make it up to you with one hundred kisses."

"i want a cat tower."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 14.01.2024]

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

[actiniumwrites]

hiii ! I saw that your requests were open :) could I request a scenario with scaramouche and xiao. Where their lover is a super cheerful person, but someone makes fun of them and they get super protective. p.s I really like your writings ^^

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

synopsis: how they defend you, their cheerful lover, after hearing other people talk bad about you

characters: scaramouche, xiao x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, insults, physical violence (not toward reader), swearing, insecurity, xiao may be a little ooc

notes: thank you so much for the request, anon! these are a little short, but i did enjoy writing this. i also tried my hardest to capture the reader as very cheerful, but it was a little difficult to do without it being overbearingly cheerful, so i hope it turned out okay. and i’m very happy you enjoy my writing, it means so much to me <3

Scaramouche:

A trip around Sumeru City was not what Scaramouche had planned to do that day when he offered to spend time together — of course, he couldn’t admit that what he really wanted was to go on a proper date, but he settled for this nonetheless. As long as you’re happy, he thought.

All day you had been pulling him around to various little shops and sights around the city. Even though many of them had existed for many years, you felt as though they were hidden gems amongst all of Teyvat. And with both of you originally being from Inazuma, neither of you had really had the chance to experience all of Sumeru together.

Scaramouche didn’t mind it to be honest — you dragging him around, to be specific. As soon as he saw that stupid big smile on your face, any ounce of resentment for his inability to communicate what he wants drained from his body. Naturally, he still put on the mask of boredom, but with you being your excited self bouncing around the city, you hadn’t even noticed. So he dropped the act, and just let himself live for once.

Just before the sun was about to set and conclude the day’s fun, your hand quickly grabbed his as you dragged him over to a flower shop. When you had first arrived in Sumeru, the very first thing you ever took notice of was all the different plants and flowers. And ever since, you’ve tried to get flowers or other little plants whenever you can.

Scaramouche picked up his pace to match yours, although still dragging a bit behind, his hand held on tight to yours. But as soon as you arrived at the front of the shop, your hand moved to the flowers and away from him. Quietly, he moved to the side and watched as you admired the flowers.

“Wow, these are so beautiful! Did you grow them yourself?” you excitedly asked the man at the shop. There were an array of bright and colorful flowers in front of you, each one carefully tied among others to create stunning bouquets.

The man, who appeared to be the shop owner, furrowed his brows and gave you a light scoff, “Pfft, of course I did.”

To that, Scaramouche snapped his eyes over at the man who hadn’t seemed to pay him any mind. His arms crossed over one another as he eyed the man, not pleased with his attitude, but not saying anything just yet. As Nahida had taught him, he can’t just go around accusing everyone of having malicious intent. So for once, he would wait and see, maybe give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was just having a bad day or something or didn’t mean to come across like that.

“Oh, Archons. Those vases are just as beautiful as the flowers. I saw some really pretty ones at another shop, but these are even better! You really have a good eye, sir!”

The man rolled his eyes and ignored your comment. Meanwhile, Scaramouche sent him a subtle glare from the other side of you. The guy was giving him a bad feeling that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

After a few more minutes of you pointing and beaming at different bouquets and individual flowers of all different kinds, compliments pouring out of you left and right, the man finally snapped.

“Would you just shut up already? I’ve had it up to here with how much you talk. You are so annoying, I mean my god, I get it! I have nice flowers and I’m a talented gardner, just pick some and go!” he yelled out, flaring his arms around the air.

“Screw what Nahida said,” Scaramouche grumbled.

In a split second, you were behind your boyfriend and his arm was held tightly onto the shop owner’s, “Are you done? Cause let me tell you, you have to be a real piece of shit to yell at someone who’s just excited about flowers.”

“Let me go, damn it!” He tried yanking back his arm, desperately trying to pull Scaramouche’s off of him. If only he had known he was messing with an ex-harbinger and a being created by a God.

Scaramouche spoke in a dangerously low tone, “You don’t get to talk to them like that, you hear me? Do it again, and I’ll ruin your fucking life.”

The man backed up quickly, hitting the side of his shop and falling backward. A few people stopped to snicker at him, but Scaramouche paid no mind. His hand slipped into yours and he eagerly pulled you away from the chaos.

He gagged and wiped the hand that grabbed the man against his shirt as the two of you walked to a quiet area, “People like that disgust me.”

You nodded quietly and sat down on the bench he had brought you to. His eyes filled concern for a brief moment before he blinked it away. Sighing, his hand squeezed yours and he nervously gulped, unprepared for situations that involved any form of comfort, “Are you…are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you spoke softly, not quite meaning it, “Thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

Gently, he pulled you into him, “Don’t listen to people like that, you hear me? The only annoying one out of the two of you was that ugly piece of shit. So don’t go all sad on me, okay? I mean it.”

Xiao:

“Hello, my love!” you loudly called out at The Inn, happily marching in to greet him on the upper floor. A few people on the deck below looked up quickly, startled by your bold introduction.

Xiao nodded at you, a small blush on his cheeks and small, “Hi.” Even after nearly a year of dating, you still managed to fluster him.

Your arm looped around his, pulling him closer to you. You sent him a bright smile and tilted your head toward his, “Are you ready for our lunch date?”

Xiao nodded and moved your hand off his arm and down to his hand where he softly clasped his fingers around your own.

When you arrived at Liyue Harbor, the two of you began walking to your favorite restaurant. It was really nice with all the outdoor seating that allowed the both of you to enjoy the fresh breeze from the ocean while you ate. It also allowed Xiao to be more comfortable instead of being cramped up inside some restaurant with a bunch of people he was unfamiliar with.

If Xiao was being honest, the restaurant itself still was not something he particularly enjoyed. Not because he disliked the service or the other people who ate there, but because he wasn’t a huge fan of their food being an adeptus and all. However, you raved about it all the time and got super happy whenever you got the chance to go, especially if it was with him. Xiao could never bring himself to say he didn’t enjoy it when it made you so happy.

“So, have you done anything super interesting lately?” you excitedly asked your boyfriend, eagerly awaiting his weekly stories.

“Not really. I went to the Chasm recently, but I was unable to find what I was seeking,” he answered and nodded at you, “What about you?”

“I went to this really cute tea shop the other day with Yun Jin! You know, my friend from the opera we saw last year? They had the cutest cups and the tea was so good. We should go together some day!”

Xiao smiled ever so slightly as you spoke, not even focused on the food on his plate, but instead entirely focused on you, “That sounds nice.”

You went back and forth for around thirty more minutes, updating each other on the week, laughing about silly jokes you heard from Hu Tao, and talking about some future plans. Xiao had barely touched his food, but you hadn’t noticed with how caught up with him you were.

Nor had you noticed the snickering behind you.

“Oh my god, is that the Yaksha?”

“I think it is!”

“Woah he’s kinda hot, what’s he doing with a person like that?”

“I know right!”

It was hard for Xiao not to hear them, and he really wished he hadn’t. Of course he wanted to defend his relationship, but he always hated how people seemed to stare at the two of you.

Polar opposites.

To be clear, you were not the one that made him feel insecure, but rather the thoughts in his head. Xiao already had such a hard time believing someone like you could even like someone like him. You were so happy and cheerful and brought the best out in him. Xiao didn’t feel like he deserved you at all, not when he is the way he is.

Insecurity and all, it didn’t stop him from glaring past your shoulder. The more they talked, the worse he heard about you. It was like all they could talk about was your personality and how much it seemed like you didn’t deserve him. How you “couldn’t seem to shut up,” or “wipe the smile off your face.” Or that you “probably had to pay him to date someone like you.”

Xiao was already seething, but what set him off the most was when one of them made a comment about wanting to physically hurt you to take your smile away.

“Xiao?” You shot up out of your seat when he suddenly teleported away from you. When you turned around, you found him at the table behind you.

His hands were grabbing a guy by his shirt collar, holding him up into the air until he began to choke, “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

The guy rapidly nodded up and down. Meanwhile, the two girls at the same table were gawking at the scene in front of them until one of them began yelling for Xiao to put the guy down.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” She screamed out.

“You said you wanted to hurt my partner. I am only returning the favor,” he said calmly before slamming the guy to the floor and walking to the girls behind him, “leave before I do something worse.”

Your jaw dropped as you watched the scene play out in front of you. Within seconds, the three of them had scrambled away. Xiao walked back over calmly and sat down. You were still stood up in your seat, confused at what had just occurred, “What the hell was that!”

“They were not saying nice things about you.”

Your eyes widened. You were happy he had defended you, but concerned for the consequences that could follow, “You can’t just go beating up random people like that, you could get in trouble!”

“That does not concern me. Any one that says anything bad about you does not deserve to be in your presence.”

“Xiao…” your voice softened, unable to think of anything to say. You knew he was protective, but it was rare for you to see that side of him up close and in person.

His hand gestured to the table, “Now please sit. I would like to hear more about your week.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #scaramouche #scaramouche angst #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #xiao #xiao angst #xiao fluff #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Hater ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Incel vibes; Hate; Noncon (in his imagination cause he's delulu).

--

◾ Yandere!Hater who fucking hates your guts. Frankly doesn’t understand all the hype surrounding you.

You’re mediocre, at best. Nothing that special about you so he fails to understand why you’re getting increasingly popular these days.

You're not intelligent. You’re not talented. You’re not funny.

Heck, you’re not even that pretty.

Fuck, you’re actually nothing interesting. 

Just another brainless bimbo on her 5 minutes of fame. 

◾ Yandere!Hater that spends hours scrolling your social media, spamming your posts with countless mean comments, hoping you see them. You deserve them and he hopes you cry reading them. Worthless bitch.

Acting all sweet and delicate in front of cameras, but he knows better. You’re just another stuck-up assed girl.

Probably feeding on attention and money while being a slut to every rich guy that you get a chance to meet. 

◾ Yandere!Hater who runs an online account - dedicated to you, obviously - where he venomously spreads hate against you. It’s his little safe-haven, where he gets to expose your fake ass to the world.

Actively targets and attacks anyone that dares leave those disgustingly cute supportive comments under your posts. Gets involved in so many Discord and Twitter arguments that he’s lost count on how many times his account has been banned.

It’s not his fault that your fans are stupid simps. 

◾ Yandere!Hater who thinks the absolute worst about you. You’re an ugly arrogant bitch.  But that doesn’t stop him from rubbing one off while his eyes are glued to that Instagram photo you recently uploaded - you’re at the beach, a huge smile on your face and your body only covered by the skimpy tiny bikini. 

He furiously touches himself at the sight, imagination drifting towards a scenario where he runs into you at the beach.

You’ve briefly mentioned in an interview about your fear of the ocean, never having learned how to swim. Dumb you. 

So he thinks about your plastic smile quickly disappearing as his hand grabs you by the hair, violently dragging towards the water. You seem pretty weak, especially given he has a strong toned body when compared to yours. 

His cock twitches at the thought of you desperately fighting, begging him with tears shining in your eyes. He’d tame you rather easily, a mean slap or two making you shut up.

He’d pull you into the water, ignoring you as you hyperventilate. Push you to the deepest parts of the sea, the ones where only his feet are able to reach, forcing you to cling on to his shoulders for dear life.

You’d cry and whimper, begging him to take you back to the sand. 

But he’d only smile, slipping your bottom off - uncaring of the fact that the waves take away the thin piece of fabric.

So what if everyone sees you half-naked when you get back on land? You’re a slut and everyone should know that. 

◾ Yandere!Hater who almost cums at the thought of telling you to ride him - right there on the water - or otherwise he’d just drop you in the water.

Your choice.

You can either ride him quietly as he holds your ass with a tight grip or you can find out how to swim for yourself. He closes his eyes, relishing the climax that runs over him, imagining it’s your tight pussy that brought him to his orgasm, his cum dumped deep in your little cunt. 

◾ Yandere!Hater who pretends like this was one rare occasion that won’t happen again but day after day, he finds himself with a hand down his pants, abusing his cock while imagining fucking you in the most degrading ways that exist. 

◾ Yandere!Hater that gets more and more spiteful of you, which leads to a few disastrous encounters with you in public - only possible thanks to his network of connections with paparazzi - finding you as you go out with friends.

Encounters those that end with him being wrestled away from you by the buffy bodyguards that work for you, while you cower behind your friends, who weakly try protecting you from the eyes of the lunatic who just tried to drag you into his car. 

◾ Yandere!Hater that promises himself to do humanity a favor and take you away from the spotlight, maybe a place in his basement is more appropriate for you.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x you #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #yandere concept #female reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines