#and i haven’t made nearly enough progress on that lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hobiwonder · 5 years

Text

mission impossible | (m)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, crack.

Warnings: Oral, dirty talk, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slight degradation. dom/sub themes (jungkookie being a good boy and then... not so good lol)

Words: 9k+

Summary: When you find out that your groupmate is whoring it up on tinder instead of handing in his part of the project, you go on a mission to teach him a lesson. And maybe get him to finish his part.

A/N: hello!!!! thankyou all for waiting patiently. or maybe you’ve just forgotten about me lol. it’s been a while since i uploaded anything!!! I hope you enjoy this crack as much as I enjoyed writing fuckboy but still a movable baby!jungkook. please don't forget to tell me ur thoughts. feedback keeps me going :)

If it was something strange, it would happen to you. You were not just saying that because of the hint of narcissism in your personality that made you think that everything was about you. Oh no. You never seem to catch a break these days. And quite honestly, you should’ve expected your dose of absurd to be handed to you soon. It had been a week too long without any fatuous incidents and/or people happening to you. Was this just a y/n thing? Was every girl with your name cursed? Maybe it had something to do with your astrological sign. That always seemed to be the explanation of a lot of your friends who did not want to admit to their faults that would land them in hot water. The usual “oh it’s because i’m insert-star-sign”.

Were you really becoming that girl? Though it was hard to blame yourself for this one. Currently staring at your phone. More specifically, the defined abdominals of your group mate. A group mate who has not shown up to a single meeting. After a whole day of slaving away at your study desk, deleting and rewriting your discussion and evidential analysis to conclude whether or not it was a plausible inference that the movies, Whiplash and Black Swan were excellent cinematic representations of the ‘Obsessed Performer.’

Yeah. That was a mouthful. And you bet your right ass cheek that you were the only one out of yourself and Jungkook who had even watched the said movies. In the group of four, Jungkook and yourself were given the discussion and conclusion to write. The three of you who had been present at the initial group meeting had chosen your parts as was decided in the group chat prior. When all of you had received a text from Jungkook cancelling last minute, you’d snagged the conclusion as well as half of the discussion to write as just the conclusion would be a little too easy. And you had wrongfully assumed that your peer had been in some sort of ‘emergency’ since he always sounded like he was in a hurry to do something incredibly important.

You’d pitied the seemingly sweet looking boy and told him that you’ll work together on the last two sections of the paper. And his bastard self had always been all smile emojis and ‘yes :)’ and just all around misleading. Sounding like he was diligently working on his part by himself and definitely will turn everything into you by Thursday. Thursday was yesterday and you had not received even a single message from Jungkook about where he was in terms of progress on the 1000 words he needed to write. Message after message, you weren’t even being left on read. And in concern you had messaged your group chat that maybe he was facing some real life crisis to be so MIA. Until this.

Until you had picked up your phone about half an hour ago to mindlessly scroll through your instagram feed and then in the last 10 minutes had decided to also go on to tinder just to humour yourself. You were well aware that tinder was a cesspit of weird and unhinged men who would only be a good enough to make a youtube video about or a horror story texted to your best friend. You were speaking from experience. Decent men on tinder was like finding a luxury vintage dress in half good condition at a thrift store.

So when you’d swiped left for the 30th time - you’d finally come across the perfect face of someone very familiar. You’d almost swiped left on reflex before you’d brought the phone almost too close to see why the face looked so recognisable. Even without having actually ever met Jungkook face to face - apart from that first lecture - it was hard to miss that this definitely was him. Your mouth had fallen open, jaw just shy of touching your soft bedsheets. You’d found Jeon Jungkook on tinder. His perfectly coy smile staring right at you, the first few buttons of his black shirt open wide to capture your attention back to his smooth, muscular chest. Hastily dialling Momo’s number, you can barely contain your shock and anger and annoyance. All of it wrapped up in one powerful burst of dialogue that you subject Momo’s ears too.

“Bitch!!!” You can’t help screeching, mind boggled.

“What happened now? Jungkook finally reply to you?”

“No oh my god. I found his tinder. I found his tinder Mo. I found his tinder!” You were screaming again but you couldn’t help it.

You were missing a Jeon Jungkook to rightfully scream at so poor Mom was bearing the brunt of your anger and maniacal laughter because your brain was having a hard time believing your luck.

“Wait, seriously? Did you match him?” Oh wait. Of course. There was still another step.

Wordlessly you swipe right, hard skipping a few beats in anticipation. And when the screen shows that he swiped you right as well and that you could now message him, you’re laughing once more.

“So he did. Wow. What a piece of shit.” She’s also laughing albiet much more like a normal human being.

“I cannot believe this Mo. This fuckhead doesn’t read any of my messages for the last week and I find him matched to me on tinder?”

Just then, your phone vibrates. Telling Mo to hold on, you don’t want to believe that this is actually happening. You had just received a message from Jungkook. It had barely been a whole minute of you matching up with him on this app and he had already messaged you.

Jungkook: What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.

This must be a bad dream. Were the cameras of Punk going to start showing up form under your bed? Were you being punked? Not only was Jeon Jungkook just the worst partner out of all the group projects you had been in, he was most definitely a fuckboy. Who used terrible pick-up lines. Did he really not recognise you? Granted that your pictures were not the ones you had put up on facebook - it was still quite discernible that this was definitely you.

“Mo, he just sent me a horny pick-up line oh my god. I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course he did. I always thought he was a bit of a player. What did he say?”

When you read out the message, both of you are coughing from the laughter. This was too ridiculous and just very much like something that would happen to you. You had a group project due in less than two days and your group mate had turned out to be a bit of a horny bastard that was more concerned with getting his dick wet than messaging you back.

“You need to message him back, y/n. Pour the cold water on him already and tell him how badly he fucked up.”

“No way! I bet you he’s going to never message me back. At least on tinder i’m going to get a reply. Just how the hell do I ask him about the paper that he should’ve emailed me, like, yesterday? Ugh.”

“Just message him back, firstly. Or lose the only communication you just got. Do you know what dorm he’s in?”

“No idea.” Typing your reply and deleting it - much like your assessment that you were working hard on. Unlike him.

You: Hulk always was my favourite Avenger :)

“You did not just say that! Grossssss.” Yeah. Humouring fuckboys was exclusively for post 6 tequila shots Y/n.

Chuckling at your own response, you’re trying to keep your cool while trying to keep Jungkook’s attention so he doesn’t stop messaging you.

“Mo, wait. I just had an idea.”

“Please, y/n, violence is not the answer.”

“I won’t hurt him you knob. Okay talk to you later!” Not a lot anyway.

“I’m telling the police I don’t know you if they come around tomorrow! Bye!”

Making a face at your phone for good measure - you go ahead with your plan. There was no way you were letting Jeon Jungkook get away that easily. You’d been working so hard this semester. Harder than you have ever tried and you would not let his sloppy self to bring down your grade on an assessment that was worth 40% of your grade. Nearly half. Neither did the people in your group deserved it.

“Just you wait, Jeon. I’m going to kick your horny ass.”

Jungkook: let my Hulk destroy any traces of bad fucks you’ve had.

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at his brashness. Did he really just ask you to fuck? This is the second thing he has said to you and it’s him asking to fuck you. You can’t believe how much of a textbook fuckboy he was. When you haven’t responded for a few minutes, you get another message form him.

Jungkook: if that was too forward ^-^

Jungkook: then what i said was a lie lol.

Jungkook: I'm probably the best fuck you’ll ever have.

You cannot believe your eyes. With each message, Jungkook is either confusing you or making you shake your head at how exactly like all the other boys on tinder he is. This was hands down, the longest conversation you have had with Jungkook directly. In the group chat he generally adressed everyone, shooting haphazard apologies right before meetings. Saying he would not be able to make it. It had frustrated you to no end as the date for submission got closer and closer. And to see him reply quicker than you, on tinder no less, was beyond infuriating.

You: Well then. Prove it.

You: Where do you live?

You doubted that Jungkook would be reluctant to give you his address. That’s just not something you see happening. Maybe he preferred to go to the girl’s place? That wouldn’t matter to you either. Though convincing him to bring his laptop with him would be a challenge but you were fine to let him work on your own. There was no way you were letting him go without coughing up his part.

Jungkook: you sure?

You: wanna fuck. Hurry up.

Jungkook: you’re so sexy :)

You were going to literally lose it. Not sure why you were biting the inside of your cheek so hard to stop yourself from laughing at his messages. Jungkook was the epitome of a snapchat fuckboy. It was much more hilarious than you anticipated. You were expecting to be feeling the singular emotion of sheer hostility. But you were having too much fun with this. Especially when you weren’t going to actually fuck him but seeing how eager and self-assured he was, this was all the more pleasant.

Jungkook texts you his address and you let him know that you’ll be there in around 20 minutes. He lived surprisingly close. Though him staying in an all male rich residential college was definitely not a surprise. Only kids with a lot of disposable income and no worries of being evicted avoided doing any actual school work. The rest of you were not privy to such luxury. The more you thought about it the more you knew how gratifying it will be to show up at Jeon Jungkook’s door with a pile of notes and your laptop. He was in for a treat.

Dressing in that one little black dress you had was only part of the plan. An attempt to fool him one last time before you handed him the checklist of what he had to do. You shrug on a large jean jacket that fell below your bottom to conceal your provocative dress, grab your bag after stuffing all the necessities and then set out the door. Dialling Momo’s number, you let her know where you will be incase anything happens. You could never be too careful.

“Yo, I’m going to Cornell college. Jungkook apparently lives there so I’m going to meet him.”

“Are you serious? He told you his address?!”

“Sure did.”

“I pray for his soul.”

“He made me suffer far longer! Whose side are you on, traitor?!”

“Yours but knowing you, he’s in for a LOT. Okay stay safe.”

“Yeah yeah. He needs to be safe not me.”

“Yeah that was what I was saying. Anywhore. have fun.”

“Bye.”

The closer you get to the college, you are starting to hear loud music. Was this even allowed on colleges? Were there not any volume restrictions given what time it was and the fact that it was managed by onsite staff? Arriving on the level Jungkook told you his room was, 4th, the music is even more noticeable. The sign pointing to the common room was where most of the bass was coming from and you guess maybe there is a function going on. Though the closer you walk, you realise that this was not just any event. This was a party. The cracks in the door gave away to the activities happening inside the large hall. Deciding not to wait any longer, you text Jungkook again. Being as serious as you can be to get him to meet you outside instead of carrying your backpack with you inside.

You: I’m here to fuck, not party.

Jungkook: it’s a good party tho. We can slowly take it back to my room ;)

You: I’ll find someone else.

You hope he takes your bluff.

Jungkook: love it when you order me around baby.

Jungkook: don’t forget who’s in charge. Me.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, still smirking at your phone. No matter what your initial intentions were, you had to admit that playing with Jungkook was fun. He was unacceptably attractive and looked like the type of guy you would reduce to tears. But none of that tonight. You had to stay focused. You’re about to type another message to speed him up but he beats you to it.

Jungkook: room is unlocked. go in. i’ll be there in a minute.

Letting out a whoosh of air you’d been holding, you head down the hall, further away from the heavy bass and the party music. Somewhat hesitantly, you open the door to the room number he gave you. Nothing out of the ordinary. His room wasn’t messy. It was tidy. No sign of books. Just a bunch of sketches and film negatives strewn about on his study desk. Shamelessly, you snoop around, trying to find any evidence that he studies at all. So far, you’d only found an industry grade recording mic, two different types of cameras and some more unused camera reel.

Getting out your notes and the checklist you were going to hand to Jungkook, you get everything ready for when Jungkook arrives. You were not going to let him get away with this. Just another minute later, you can hear the footsteps getting closer. And for a moment, so does your heartbeat. You were quite confident in yourself but there was always a chance that Jungkook was more than a harmless oversexed college boy. All of the very rational fears are thrown out the window, however, as soon as the black mop of hair comes into view. Jungkook was incredibly handsome. Even moreso than his pictures. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him months ago. The long strands of inky black hair fell endearingly in his face, just to the middle of his eyes, parted right in the middle and curling slightly. He wore a long sleeved shirt with hip-hugging jeans that almost made you drool visibly. The saliva was positively pooling in your mouth but you swallowed it quickly to avoid embarrassment.

Now, you were angry. You really were. You needed this assessment finished so you could start on other projects and without Jungkook finishing up his part, there was no way you would have finished yours on time. But you would be a bold faced liar if you didn’t admit that you were oh so tempted to abandon your vendetta and not ride him like a bronco. You could tell that unfortunately, unlike other men who strutted about with empty words - Jungkook would be the best you would have in a while.

And when he smiles, it’s not any easier.

“Hey you.”

“Hi.” Desperately trying to keep your voice even, you smile coyly.

Jungkook locks the door, running a hand through his hair before he stalks towards you. Confident as ever. You bite your lip, baiting him even further before you strike. Just when he gets close enough to you, you hold out an arm to keep him from touching you.

“God, you’re even more sexy in person.”

“Uh-uh, be patient.” He’s blissfully unaware, just smirking in return as he watches your hands roam his chest before going up to his face. Taking a step closer to him, you rake your nails up his neck, leaving little white lines from the scratches.

“Close your eyes, Jungkook.” Jungkook, ever the obedient boy, closes them quickly. Awaiting your next move.

You can’t help yourself when he looks like this. Completely immersed in the feel of your hands. He was a good few inches taller than you but your platformed sneakers made it easier for you to teach him a lesson. His dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, face so relaxed you would think he’s sleeping. You deserved to play a little at least, right? Leaning forward, you stop with the internal rationalising and just make the move.

Your lips meet his in a fiery kiss. His stoic figure melting as soon as your lips lock, hands grabbing at your waist while his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Jungkook is moaning in the kiss like he’s taking his first gulp of water after roaming the desserts. Momentarily, you forget your purpose for even being here in the first place. Wrapping your hands in his tempting long tresses and pulling, making even more sweeter noises to spill past his lips. He’s panting and restless. Moving his body against yours like he’ll die without it. Moving him backwards, you push him agains his swivelling study chair that was conveniently faced the right way.

His hands are all over you as soon as he’s down on the chair with your legs straddling his thighs on either side. All you can feel are his lips and his tongue and his hands. All over you, sliding your jacket off your shoulders to travel his kisses down another path. The desperate intake of oxygen is enough to bring your head back in the game, barely. With Jungkook nipping away at the now exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, it’s hard for you to stay focused. Especially when the hard tent in those sinfully tight jeans is now pushing against your softest part. He’s impossibly hard and you’re impossibly soft down there. It’s a lethal combination because neither of you can live without the other being pressed against each other. When you push down on him he pushes his hips up with even more ferocity, moaning louder with every illicit rub of the thickness between his thighs.

You’re addicted to the feeling and not sure how you’ll centre yourself enough to do what you actually came to do. God was really making you eat your words, huh? You were so close to ripping all his clothes off and fucking his brains out. You bet he’ll make the prettiest sounds when you ride him. His whimpers and moans just from gyrating up against you were enough of an indication. Sliding your hands back up in his hair, you yank it back from your neck to see his sweaty, glistening face looking up at you. He looked slightly inebriated. You had tasted the traces of vodka in his kiss but you had a feeling that a lot of his current state had to do with you and not the liquor.

“Jungkook?” He shamelessly rut his hips against yours, not fully hearing you, lost in his own lusty haze.

“Yeah?” Your lips close around the soft cartilage of his earlobe, tugging and flicking with your tongue, illiciting more salacious noises out of him.

“How’s the assignment coming along?” It takes him a few seconds to respond but the urgency with which he was pawing at you has slowed to a halt like a broken down car.

“Huh?” Pulling back completely, you stare him right in his twinkly eyes that look like a deer caught in the headlights.

“The paper you’re writing on modern cinema?”

“How... how do you know about that?” You smile at him sweetly. Before you flick him across his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“I should be saying that you harlot!”

“Harlot? really? You were all over me just now. You are all over me!” You’re surprised he knows the meaning of the medieval insult.

“Don’t try and weasel out of this! I’ve been waiting for your finished part since yesterday!”

“Wait... you’re y/n, y/n?”

“Took you long enough.”

“With your tongue down my throat? I wonder why.” You cannot believe you are arguing with a boy whilst still in his lap with his hands holding on to your waist.

Jungkook is trying his hardest to deflect and make you seem like the desperate one when he had been the one to want to fuck you from the get go. Getting off his lap, you fix your dress, tugging it down a little since the assault from Jungkook had almost bared your ass. Jungkook is still sitting in his study chair, dumbfounded.

“Finish your part of the discussion Jungkook. I have to write the conclusion and submit the paper.”

He is still staring. And now your eyes are travelling down to his thighs. Particularly the large bulge a little further up. A very substantial bulge that makes your mouth water once more.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry, what? I just had a dream that a crazy girl tried to get me to do my homework right before we were going to fuck.”

“Listen here you little shit,” You grab Jungkook’s chin, gently despite his theatrical reactions, tilting it up to look you in the eyes. His reactions are so comical you almost laugh. “I’ve worked too hard for you to just give me piss poor, last minute effort. I’m here until you finish it.”

“You cannot be serious.” Letting go of his chin, you step back, folding your arms against your chest for good measure. Raising an eyebrow for him to challenge you.

“You expect me to write a thousand something words with this,” He points between his legs, you roll your eyes, “still here? No way.”

“I don’t remember giving you a choice, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?” So pretty. But he didn’t need to know that. You swivel his chair around back to face his desk.

“Less talk and more work!”

“Y/n, you can’t- can’t make me!” He’s throwing his hands around like a child and it’s a little too cute for an annoying boy like him who’s put you through so much anxiety. Sitting on his bed, swinging your legs as your eyes look around at the paintings, you let him huff and puff.

“Oh yeah? Guess I’ll have to call the cops because of the weed you have.”

His nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t have any weed.”

“But I do. Who will they believe?” His eyes widen once more as he realises what you’re saying.

“Are you seriously blackmailing me?” You nod, smiling brightly. Jungkook turns back around, head in his hands as he mutters to himself how his tinder hookups are always crazy.

“Hey! I wouldn’t be here if you did your work! or replied to any of my messages.”

“Um, I was going too? I was busy.”

“Taking vodka shots? Yeah I could tell.” The mention of the kiss is bringing a rosy flush to Jungkook’s cheeks. Such an uncharacteristic reaction for a guy with his looks and his confidence.

He was that much more appealing to you because of how he contradicted his own personality. You knew he was one of those boys who acted all tough but secretly wanted to be bossed around. Told to do this and that. Made uncomfortable and maybe slightly humiliated. They lived to please. And the way Jungkook had melted into your body almost as if asking for guidance earlier, you knew he was exactly like that. He may not even know it yet but you could have him in the palm of your hands in a matter of minutes.

“What do I get in return?” He’s still grunting his disapproval, but looking through the notes you put on his desk anyway.

“A good grade and a life longer than 22?”

“You’re crazy.”

“All the more reason for you to be quiet and work!” He pouts at you before quietly looking through the notes and logging into his laptop.

When you’re satisfied he’s actually working, you lay down on his bed, making yourself comfortable knowing that it will take him at least an hour to finish his part. You had practically handed him all the points, he just had to write his own opinion and synthesise the evidence you had collected. The part of discussion required each student in the group’s own thoughts and thus you couldn’t just make them up on Jungkook’s behalf. Nor did you want to. You were done doing two people’s work back in your freshman year. These were advanced level classes and you weren’t going to ruin your grade because of one person.

Thirty minutes later, you’re almost about to doze off when you see Jungkook getting up from his chair in your periphery. Sitting up in a flash - though a little dizzy - you point an accusatory finger at Jungkook. Said boy has stopped mid-standing up.

“Don’t you dare Jeon! Get back in that chair and finish your work.”

“Jesus.” He’s holding his head in his hands once more before he starts whining again. “Y/n, please. Can’t I just do this tomorrow and send it to you then?”

You think about it. You do. “And have you go off the face of the planet again? No way.”

“Please.” He drags out the syllables, pouting and blinking up at you and it almost works.

“No. Not a chance. Just finish it ASAP and I’ll edit it. But finish writing it. The sooner you’re done the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.”

He glares at you. And not the scary, tough man glare that might make you slightly nervous and fidgety that you’re getting on his nerves. It’s a glare a kid gives you when you tell them no more TV or no more xbox. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen Jungkook do tonight. Or maybe you’re just sleep deprived. Either way, you wanted to kiss the hell out of him. But you turn your head away, faux annoyance ebbed into your features as you wait for him to start writing again.

It works for another half hour, Jungkook now actually typing more than he’s complaining. It was only a thousand words that he had to write but there was a lot of information that needed to be condensed in those thousand words which meant he was typing and then deleting, repeating the process again and again until he looked to be halfway through. You were impressed at how much he was getting done. Maybe it was your watchful gaze that was making him perform at his peak. You were now just hoping that whatever he wrote was actually plausible and not just rubbish to get you out of his room.

“I can’t believe you’re making me work with a boner. You could’ve at least gotten me off.” His pout his still there as he types casually.

“Stop being a brat and keep working.”

“Yeah? You’re going to make me write lines? ‘I am a brat’.” He chuckles to himself like he’s burnt you to a crisp with that one comment.

Taking your hand off of your face, you sit up. You watch the way his biceps bulge under his shirt as he types away at his laptop, legs splayed wide under his desk as he supported a semi. It was still a sizeable dent but nowhere near as daunting looking as before. But none of that diminishes your desire for him. You watch him talk to himself quietly as he types, but now stuck somewhere as he types and deletes and then types a sentence again.

You’re not sure what sets it off. Maybe it’s your frustration or that you think he owes you something more than just this. Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting? There are a lot of reasons you can use to justify your serious and formidable attraction to him. But you cannot deny that it was him from the get go. Just him in all his submissive glory that made you attracted to him. And that attraction was now getting the best of you. Maybe it was time to torture him in another way.

“No. I’ll do something much more to your liking.”

His head turns back around fast, fingers halting at his keyboard while he inspects the drunken look in your eyes. Slowly, you spread your legs, hands bracing yourself as they clutch the sheets on either side of you. Your heart is racing at the look in his own eyes. Primal and needy.

“Get on your knees Jungkook.” His chest is rising and falling much quicker than yours. Like he’s holding himself back.

You patiently wait for him to listen to your instructions, watching him. Never breaking eye contact. You know it’s new to him. It’s too obvious for you to deny it. But you relish the look of surprise every time you say something he doesn’t expect. Slowly, get’s up from his chair. Never taking a step further as he drops to his knees, crawling forwards until he’s right infant of you. The room is not that big at all so it doesn’t take him long. Now, his wide, doe eyes look at you. Inquisitive and aroused and it turns you on even more. He’s all man with hard ridges and bulging muscles but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you feel like at the centre of his world.

“Are... are you going to- to make me eat your pussy?” the explicit question sends your nerve endings on fire.

You’re a second away from grabbing his hair and shoving him right between your legs but the way his soft mouth says the dirty words - it makes you feel a very different kind of way. Now it’s you who can’t stop staring at him. Thinking about what else he has up his sleeves. You expected him to be vocal but never this. He is bold and shy all at the same time.

“Would you like that, Jungkook?” His eyes drop between your legs again, watching the way your panties cling to your increasingly wet folds.

Jungkook is moving between your legs more, eagerly nodding so the strands of his fringe rustle up and down in his face. His arms are going under your thighs, gropping them for good measure before he looks up at you with those eyes again.

“Please.” He’s almost whispering, longing lacing his every word. “Please, y/n. Please let me taste you. ‘wanna taste you.”

His words have turned into pleas and the pleas turn into kisses alongside your inner thighs and then any place Jungkook can get his lips and tongue on. Everything else is forgotten. It’s just you laying on his bed while Jungkook tries to get a taste of you anyway he can. His lips travel up to your covered mound, never daring to move the piece of fabric holding him back from his destination. Opting to only kiss over it, lick his way up your clit through the thin cotton that’s now moulding to your swollen folds.

“Do- do you deserve it, Jungkook? For putting me through so much h-headache? Oh.” Your moans accompany almost every word. Fingers laced into Jungkook’s luscious hair as he continues his hurried tasting of your arousal.

His response is mumbled between your legs. You watch his veiny hands repeatedly grab at the flesh of your thighs. Kneading it desperately like he’s trying to distract himself from doing something else entirely. A yelp leaves his mouth at your tug on his hair. Pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looks like an addict when he is looking at you like you’re giving him his fix and God, you want to kiss his swollen lips.

“Answer me, brat. Do you deserve anything from me?”

“N-No.”

“Right. Yet you’re still begging to taste me like the needy little slut you are. Hm?”

Jungkook is whimpering, his lids fluttering. He doesn’t expect the smack across his face, a little too hard for what you had originally aimed for. The surprise is evident and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to be upset. Instead, his breathing is picking up even further.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-Yes... Noona.” The breath is almost sucked out of you at his timid tone. And it only makes you want to push him further.

“Good boy.” His eyes are lighting up at the praise like hundreds of little galaxies called them home.

Sliding down towards the edge of the bed, you let your legs hang off, letting your toes touch the floor. Jungkook is still on his knees, watching you manoeuvre yourself around his bed before you reach for the hem of your dress. Watching his every facial expression as you strip. He looks up at you wide-eyed, taking in your soaked underwear and the thin black bra where your nipples pointed right at him. You can see his hands twitch by his side. You’d pushed them off you when you’d changed your position and were surprised at how calm and obedient Jungkook was being. Contrast to how much of an argumentative brat he was. But you had a sneaking feeling that he liked it when you called him that.

You were trying to remain calm yourself. Not give too much away on the dilemma you held inside your head. Thinking if you should take this any further. Though it was a little too late now, you guess. You were practically naked, wetter than ever before as Jungkook watched you with his wide doe eyes. Hunger evident with every flit of his gaze. You would feel cruel if you stopped at this point. So you let the rational part of your brain take a backseat and letting the consequences of tonight berate you in the morning after. Sliding your palms down your stomach, straight inside your soaked panties, you stroke yourself ever so slowly. Holding his heated gaze with cloudy eyes.

“Noona...” It sends another jolt of arousal throughout your already overheated body. He’s biting his plump bottom lip, sliding his hand up and down carelessly on to his erection that had grown considerably in the past fifteen minutes. Jungkook looks like the embodiment of desperation and it makes you rub yourself a little faster. Every time your fingers come in contact with your sensitised clit, you bite the urge to buck your hips brazenly.

“Yeah, baby? You want to see?” You hold out your wet fingers to him and in a flash, you feel his warm mouth around your digits. He moans loudly like he’s been relieved after years of drought.

“M-More. Please, Noona. I’ll do anything please, please.” Now that didn’t take long. Chuckling at his agonised face, you throw your head back, enjoying the relief your own fingers brought.

But you were torturing yourself too at this point. You wanted to replace your small fingers with Jungkook’s bigger and more vascular hands. You remember the view of his body from the glorified hookup app. Knew what he was hiding under the baggy shirt. The sweet whimpers and ‘please’ sounds coming from him were a delicacy on their own.

“Take my panties off then. With your mouth. Don’t use your hands... or else.” Your tone is stern enough to give you that satisfying flash going through his eyes.

In seconds, he’s leaning forward on his hands and knees, eyes never leaving yours as he bites the cotton on your hips, dragging it down. The act itself is a little clumsy. In his haste, Jungkook is taking twice as long should he use his hands. But something about his complete compliance, his willingness to be accepted by you and his utter devotion to pleasing you is the ultimately your undoing. This may be a power trip but you were thoroughly getting ruined during it.

At last, the cotton has reached your ankles. Quickly, you shrug off your dress as well, completely naked. He’s placed small kisses in greetings before he takes them off completely. Out of breath and out of his mind. The glazed look has taken a permanent vacation in his eyes and you were getting high on it. Jungkook was a communicator. If it wasn’t his mouth relaying the naughty words to you then his eyes were holding yours hostage, smouldering.

Bracing your hands behind yourself and never breaking away from his eyes, your ankles part. Jungkook’s eyes are automatically falling on the mess between your legs but he doesn’t dare move. Awaiting your instructions. Jerking your chin towards his general direction, you silently bring his attention back to his overly dressed self.

“Lose the pants.” His hands make fast work of his jeans. Falling back on to the ground to push them off.

“Uh-uh. Keep them on.” His eyes widen at your command to keep the underwear on. You weren’t about to just let him have it.

Not yet.

“Noona...” The high pitched noise of protest only makes your nostrils flare. You wanted to live out your every dirty fantasy with him if he sounded this sweet with just watching. The desire was making your head spin and your palms sweat.

“Yeah?”

“Please... I’ll do anything.” His eyes twinkle in the dim light as he kneels infant of you.

“I’ll eat you out for hours, let you sit on me face until I can’t breathe. Let you ride my tongue until you can’t cum anymore. Just please... fuck me.” The last two words leave him in such agony that for a second it truly sounds like he’s in pain.

Which is ridiculous given the ted talk he just gave on the Perfect Words To Say to Ruin Y/N and Her Panties. You’re the one currently in pain from clenching your jaw so tight. Resolve like a skinny rubber band about to snap. Dirty talk was the chink in your armour. And by the way Jungkook’s face lit up and his words became a lot more sure and confident, you knew that he was weaponising his skill to control you fully. And you needed to put him in his place before you gave up your pride and rode him until you ran out of stamina or died from your body overheating. Whichever happened first.

“Get up.”

“Fuck yes-“ Jungkook’s blubbering about how you’re the hottest person he’s ever seen and that he knows he can blow your mind while you push him back on the bed and straddle his meaty thighs. When he begins to push down your panties, you push his hands off and rest them on his sides.

“Keep them there or you won’t be coming. Understood?”

His curls bounce around his face as he nods, chest heaving when he looks at your hips move over the biggest bulge you’ve felt under you. You would’ve thought that he’d stuffed his underwear with socks if you couldn’t feel the burning heat his cock was pressing in to you, even through his boxers. Each roll of your hips pressed him to your every crevice like two puzzle pieces fitting in to complete the picture.

“Oh fuck-... You feel so good noona. I-I’m going to cum if you keep going.” He’s resorted to use his hands at his sides to push him upwards, pressing himself with every gyrate of your hips downward on him.

“Yeah? you’re gunna cum from just this? Is noona making you feel really good?”

Jungkook is lost in soaking up every sensation like a drunkard. Gaze not leaving where your hips met. Furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration as he thrust his hips up, rocking you off balance slightly. Your hands slide into his sweaty curls, pulling them hard enough to yank his beautiful face up and close to your own.

“Answer me what I ask you a question.” And he whines. Or moans. Nevertheless it’s a lethal mixture of the two and you’re about to kiss him senseless.

“Yes. I-I feel really good. Noona is- oh fuck- g-gunna make me cum.”

“And are you going to?” He looks up at you nervously, trying to speaking amidst every roll of your flaming core onto his dick. It was getting harder and harder for you to speak as well.

“N-No?”

“Good. Because only good boys get to cum. Not needy sluts like you.”

Now Jungkook whimpers like a wounded animal. Because you’ve upped the ante. Holding onto his shoulders while you grind down on his throbbing cock just the right angle so your clit is receiving the mind-numbingly pleasurable stimulation. You were going to cum any minute and it looked as if he was too.

“F-Fuck. I’m going to cum Jungkook. Your cock feels so good.”

“Noona please. Please s-stop. I-I’m going to cum-“

“That’s not my fucking problem. If you want me to fuck you then you better not. Understood?”

He looks utterly panicked. Torn between letting himself go to the unbelievable pleasure of this act alone and wanting to hold back and obey your every command. Jungkook’s lip is bitten red, chest heaving and eyes watering as he watches the erotic sight of your brazen bouncing on his lap. You’re putting on a show just to make it that much more difficult for him to hold back. But he somehow does. Watching your face contort with pleasure as your head is thrown back. Your moans are loud and lewd. Designed just to rile him up to the point of breaking.

“Oh god. I’m- I’m gunna cum baby.” With a shout, you’re riding out wave after wave of the liquid pleasure running through your veins like molten gold.

It takes a solid minute for your eyes to focus on a singular object. Or a person. More specifically, an incredibly handsome, glistening, starry eyed, muscular, put-micheal-angelo’s-david-to-shame, strikingly adorable man. Jungkook looked on the verge of losing his sanity. Yet, he didn’t stop watching you collect yourself, flicking the stray strands over your shoulder before you pressed your mouth to his.

You brought your mouth to his and kissed him hungrily. When your lips met, you heard him make a tiny sound. His body went rigid, and he wasn’t reciprocating. You think it might have been down to shock, though, because when your tongue slid past the seam of his lips, he opened them willingly and trembled against you.

Your fingers dug into his thighs, and he pulls you closer. You were on fire, felt like you were melting into him. Never before had a single kiss gotten you so worked up. She tasted like chocolate and strawberries. Jungkook rocked forward, and then you felt his tongue move expertly against yours. Of its own accord, a groan emanated from deep in your chest. When he brought his hands to your neck and massaged your throat, you whimper. He was hard as a rock and you finally wanted to reward him for holding out this long.

He’s chasing your lips when you break away, sliding his kisses down your neck as if breaking the contact will be fatal for him. “You did so good baby. Such a good boy.”

The praise seems to rejuvenate his body. Not that he needed to. He was bursting at the seems with testosterone. The longer he went on without a release, the more unhinged Jungkook seemed. The incongruence of his raw masculinity with his alarmingly meek behaviour towards you was something you didn’t understand but it affected you the most. He surprised you with every move and you wanted nothing more than to own him completely.

Jungkook makes a noise in his throat at the praise, sliding his hands down to caress the globes of your ass. “I’ve been a good boy. Now fuck me.”

His words are steady, deliberate and to the point. Scratch everything you said about Jungkook being meek. They send shudders down your spine where his hands reside. This was a man who looked on the verge of tearing something apart. And judging from the current situation, he was going to be tearing you apart. You’d let him, gladly. But being the cocktease you are- you push him even more.

“And if I don’t, little boy? Gunna beg?” A heartbeat later, you’re the one on the soft mattress and it’s Jungkook that’s hovering over you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Then I’ll fuck you noona.”

You’re not too mad because you’re wetter than before and the change in his demeanour has you besides yourself with the need to feel him inside. Jungkook’s teeth are tugging on your hardened nipples. Circling them with his tongue before sucking the puffy buds tenderly. The pressure of his suction is so delicious that you might just cum from this.

“God! Jungkook, b-baby please. Fuck your noona.” He grins around a nipple, hands sliding inside your soaked core.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should make you wait like you made me. Hm?”

“Don’t be a brat. I’ll stuff your mouth next time with a sock Jeon J- oh fuck!”

He’d slid down your body, his kissing every inch. Your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs.

“I’d rather it be your pussy.” He whispered, bringing his mouth to your wetness, and then licked.

“Ahhh,” you cried out, clutching a handful of his hair. Jungkook chuckled and went at you in earnest. You were so soft and silky beneath his tongue. He met your gaze from below and came up for air. Jungkook watched you for a second before dipping his wet mouth lower again. The noises of your arousal pornographic. He saw you fist the sheets in your hands, your hips rising up off the bed when he sucked your clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. He added some fingers to the equation, savoring the hot, tight feel of you.

“Please,” you murmured. “More.”

So he gave you more. He gave you everything. Before he knew it, you were touching your breasts, pinching your nipples as he devoured you, and you swear you could have come from the sight of Jungkook between your legs alone. he was simply glorious. Your voice was starting to get hoarse. Getting close to the edge before Jungkook ripped his mouth away.

“No! Jungkook, please.” You’re frustrated and angry and horny that he would do that. Even if you did the same thing to him.

He was testing you once again but the raw need in his eyes told you that you were testing him too.

“I’ll fuck you now noona. Nice and good. You want this cock right?” He’s holding his straining erection heavily, sliding down his boxers to discard them besides his bed.

You moan out your answer, opening your legs wide in invitation.

“Just fuck me before I change my mind.”

“Yeah?” His tone is mocking. His eyes twinkling with a cheeky grin on his face. You almost get up to kiss him because he looked so fucking adorable and hot and sexy at the same time.

Thankfully - or not? - he’s pulling you to the edge of the bed and in seconds, he has pulled you close to his chest. He circles the engorged head of him in your slit before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust. The sheer girth of him has you yelping, needing to adjust to the length of him as well. But Jungkook doesn’t allow you the courtesy of that.

His legs are spread in a powerful stance as his hands grip your legs from behind the knees. And then he’s thrusting. He’s fucking into you so deep, you can feel him in your throat. You must look like a fish at this very moment with your mouth opening and closing without any real sound. He feels hot and thick, like molten lava in your veins. you’re finally finding your voice when angles his hips slightly to the left - biting a spot that has you blinking up at the ceiling full of stars.

“Jungkook! Oh god. Oh f-fuck. You’re so good baby. S-So good.”

“Yeah? You like how deep I am in your pussy? Answer me noona.” He’s quickening his pace, snapping his hips punishingly making you release a guttural scream.

“I love it. So much.”

You watch the sweat drip off his forehead, the dimples in his cheek now very prominent as his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth. He’s a sight you want to imprint on the back of your eyelids. You can see his lose his resolve, the creases in his forehead slowly deepening as the pleasure becomes too much for him.

“God you feel so wet and tight n-noona. You look so hot when you cum. I w-wanna make you squirt.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head at his admissions. It seems like he’s lost all his filter, chasing the mind numbing pleasure he felt earlier. His words are bringing you even closer to the edge and your throat now begs for relief when you let out another yell as he pushes you up the bed while still fully seated inside you.

“I’m gunna cum noona. I j-just need to... to- I don’t. I don’t wanna h-hurt you-“ His sweet face is contorted with worry, still thrusting steadily. You finally understand his point after a few seconds. Taking you twice as long to comprehend anything with the plethora of feelings your body was feeling right now.

Cupping his face, you told yours upwards to place a small kiss on his wet lips. “It’s okay baby. You won’t break me. Just let go.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy and he stares in yours for a moment too long because your heart is doing summersaults, heading straight for your mouth. Too much emotion crammed into his big eyes and you just wanted to strangely hug him close to your chest. This day has been strange enough - so you do. You Pull Jungkook close to you. His face tucks itself in the crevice of your neck, whining and moaning. His breath tickles and sends shivers down your spine. And then he circles his hips against yours.

From the hard and deep fucking, Jungkook circles his hips into yours. Slowly at first, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in just the right way before he speeds up. His hands find their way down your back again, pushing your hips up into his own, making your centres feel everything. You can feel him in every fold of your core and it’s all too much.

“Oh god.” Your hands scratching down his back, head tilted back, legs closing around his waist tightly.

“That’s it noona. Cum for me. Please, please. ‘Wanna feel you around my cock. ‘Wanna feel y-your cunt devour me. Cum.”

You scream so loud that you can hear a ringing in your ears. Vision flashing white as the indescribable pleasure starts in the pit of your stomach and coarse through your limbs all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s all consuming and breathtaking. Unexpected.

“I-I can’t hold it anymore. Can I-“ You’re unable to speak.

Still reeling from your orgasm, twitching from the sensitivity, but you nod anyway. You wanted Jungkook to let go inside of you. Wanted to give him the same pleasure he gave you. He was incredibly ethereal atop you. You wanted to see him come undone. And Jungkook was too far gone to think twice before hitching one of your legs up, the other arm grabbing the headboard as he thrust up inside you once again.

“Fuck, yes. God, you’re so good you’re so good. I could fuck you forever noona.”

His eyes are watering, tucking his face back into your neck again before he pistons his hips against yours rhythmically. The only sounds in the room being the tacky noise of skin slapping against skin, the obscene squelch from the steady arousal leaking between you both. You’re so delirious from the mix of pleasure and the deliciously addicting pain. AT some point, you’ve stopped screaming and only whimpers leave past your lips, legs falling lax around Jungkook and hands fisting the sheets.

“Cum Jungkook. P-Please baby. Cum for n-noona.”

“‘gunna cum. Am I good noona? your good boy?”

“You’re the best Jungkookie. Cum for your noona.”

“Fuck! Y/n, f-fuck.” He’s shouting something you can’t properly hear because of the ringing in your ears from your own release. Filling you with his hot release. The intense pressure that had been building between you has snapped the frail rubber band in your stomach again. And seems like Jungkook’s had too.

Moments pass, both of you trying to suck in air like it’s the last supply available. Then, Jungkook’s flushed face appears in front of yours with his signature cheeky smirk. He’s glowing.

“You squirted.”

“Shut up!” Your ears must be the shade of a tomato now as you swat his back for the comment. He lays besides you, cuddling up to your side with his leg laying on top of yours. Clinging to you like a koala and it’s too damn adorable. Damn it.

“It was hot. You’re amazing.” Your heart flutters a little too violently at that and you have to suck in another breathe, pulling the sheets off of him and completely bundling them on you.

“Hey!”

“Hm? You’re going to finish that assessment.” You grin innocently at him and try your hardest to not start howling with laughter when you can see his face fall almost in slow motion.

“Are you serious?” You just sent him a kiss before settling in his bed for maybe a 12 hour nap. Just a tiny nap.

“Noona!”

“I’ll give you head when you’re done. Be a good boy.”

With the most adorable pout you’ve ever seen on a grown man, you watch Jungkook pull up his boxers, stomping away to his study desk.

“Wake me up when you’re done Jungkookie.” Your sweet tone does little to get the pout off his face but he does smile the whole time he’s typing.

Of course, not that he let you see that

a/n: liked it? hated it? let me know!!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #hope u like it!!!

4K notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 3 years

Note

congratulations on your 4 year anniversary! i couldn't decide on one golcha member/prompt to send, so please choose the one prompt that inspires you the most! (and if none them do, then big welp delete this ask lol) thank you so much for writing!!

daeyeol + time travel au

sungyoon + secret agent au

jangjun + imaginary friend au

youngtaek + road trip au

seungmin + bodyguard au

jaehyun + fortune teller au

jibeom + haunted house au

joochan + penpal au

donghyun + street racing au

bomin + android/robot au

Anon your brain is so big??????? How did you come up with all of this????? I love all of these aus but since it's Bomin's birthday I think I'll write the one for the birthday boy <3 thank you for requesting, and I hope you enjoy!!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

This turned out so much longer than I thought it'd be holy shit? Also, this drabble is set in the universe of the Lunar Chronicles, but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand this :) would highly recommend the series if you haven’t read it though!

Title: To Be Human

Pairing: Bomin x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Triggers: mentions of a gunshot (nothing graphic)

Bomin sits still as you bend over the wires sparking from his split chest, skin filaments torn and frayed, the metal underneath crushed and bent. Both of you remain silent - your focus is on not reconnecting the wrong wires, while he's probably thinking deeply about something he won't tell you. Something profound, probably, if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.

That's normal. Being an android, he's a lot smarter than you, after all.

But this silence... he's thinking something profound, but it's not about the answer to the universe like Daeyeol was teasing a few weeks ago. Not this time, just a few hours after a fight that nearly took the two of you out. You have an idea of his thoughts but you don't want to voice them for fear of being wrong, for fear of making the silence worse, for fear of losing Bomin completely if you say the wrong thing -

"You should take care of your own wounds first."

"Stars above!" The pliers slip between your fingers and fall to the floor with a clattering thud. "Stars, Bomin, give me some warning -"

Then his words register, and the silence falls once more.

You break it this time, picking up the pliers and returning to the wires still intermittently sparking where his heart would be. You can talk while you work - there's no time to waste, not when Bomin also has a shattered wrist that needs a lot of attention too. "I'm fine," you say, focusing on not letting the sparks touch your skin. "I only have scratches. You took the brunt of it." You look up. "You've got to stop doing that for me."

Bomin blinks once, slow, not the usual ten-times-a-minute blink that's been programmed into his system. The profound look on his face disappears, replaced for a moment by confusion. "Why?"

A gunshot cracks through the air. You watch as though in slow motion as the bullet makes its arc, speeding toward your chest -

The unmistakable sound of metal collapsing and crumpling in on itself fills your ears, and a scream builds in your throat as you watch Bomin fall to the ground and crush his wrist, chest blown open with wires sparking everywhere.

Not real. Not now, at least. You jerk yourself out of the memory and try to breathe. Breath comes in short gasps, air barely filling your lungs - you can feel the remnants of that scream ripping your throat apart as you watched him fall, sure that he was dead even though you knew he wouldn't be unless his personality chip exploded which it couldn't because you'd modified him in such a way that it would be almost impossible to hit it without knowing exactly where it was -

"Y/N?"

A hand settles on your cheek, skin filaments so real, so warm, so comforting against your face. You squeeze your eyes shut hard and then open them to see Bomin staring at you with worry, his undamaged hand touching your skin.

He's alive. Bomin is alive. You swallow hard, turning away from the gentle hand long enough to notice your own fingers are shaking. With surgical precision, you put the pliers down on the floor, like they'll blow up the way Bomin's chest did even though they're not nearly the same thing.

"When I saw you fall," you say, voice more ragged than you'd like it to be, "I thought you were dead."

Bomin blinks. "But I wasn't. The bullet didn't hit my personality chip."

"It almost hit your power source," you say, pointing into the thicket of wires and metal just visible beyond the hole in his chest. "And yes, even though it didn't hit your personality chip... if you'd lost power, it would have been disastrous. You know that."

"I wouldn't be dead, though." He blinks. "I'm not human. I'm an android."

Something in his voice sounds wrong when he says that. It brings back your musings about the profound look on his face just a few minutes ago, musings that you didn't want to say out loud for fear that you'd unintentionally push him away...

"Who said that?" you ask softly, raising one of your hands to Bomin's fingers still on your cheek. Slowly, you bring it down, holding the hand between your own.

Bomin looks down at the hand encased in yours. He doesn't speak for a very long moment. "I'm an android," he finally repeats. "I'm wires and metal. Not flesh and blood."

A lump begins to form in your throat. "And?"

"What do you mean, and?" For a moment, Bomin looks truly angry. "I'm not human!"

"Are you telling me you don't have feelings?"

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then -

"I don't know." His voice doesn't crack, but perhaps if his vocal cords weren't made of metal, it would. "I don't know, Y/N, I'm an android, I'm not supposed to feel emotions, so I can't tell if anything I'm supposedly feeling is actually real -"

"I didn't program those feelings into you," you interrupt. Stars above, how long has he been holding this in? "No one did."

"Because I'm faulty." His words are bleak, barren. "A faulty personality chip."

"No."

He looks at you.

"Not faulty. Not even broken." Your eyes don't leave his. "Just you."

Bomin doesn't say anything.

"I think that... more than flesh and blood, more than whatever scientists classify as 'life' in the barest sense... our actions are what make us human." You squeeze his hand slightly and feel relieved when he doesn't pull away. "Feel free to take this with a grain of salt. I'm no philosopher. But..." The lump in your throat is making it really hard to continue. "When you took that bullet for me today, even knowing that there was only the tiniest chance that it would truly decimate you forever..."

The hand between yours pulls away. You almost panic but then it begins to rise, slow, steady, to brush away a tear you didn't even know had fallen down your face.

"When you took that shot for me, that was human, Bomin." Your eyes burn, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. "Being human... it means we care for people. Care for each other."

The lump in your throat won't go away. You have to fight to speak. "What I'm trying to say is you're human to me." Swallowing keeps getting progressively harder. "And I care about you. So please..."

Bomin's fingers are still on the side of your face, brushing the tears away.

"Don't do that again." Your voice finally cracks. "Because I couldn't stand to lose you."

26 notes · View notes

jeogiyall · 3 years

Text

Growing Pains; Song Mingi

Word count; 21.5k

Genre; Mingi X Reader, Hongjoong X Reader, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Fluff but Barely

Request: “ hey can I please request a college au with #11 and #17 with mingi from ateez! can it also be long and really angsty but with a comforting ending?? love your work by the way ❤ “

Additional; Featured Ateez, Rebound Hongjoong

Warnings; General Angst, Depicts Depression, Honestly Just Really Sad lol

A/N; this took me so freaking long to write, i’m really sorry to whoever requested it dhkdsfsdaf!! i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been to college yet so this is all based off of books i’ve read or stories that i’ve been told. if anything is inaccurate i’m sorry, i’ll be learning about really soon lol. if you you like this fic please leave a like or some kind words! love you all, happy reading!

It was a summer day when the local neighborhood bullies pushed you off of your barbie themed bike for the umpteenth time. You remember scraping your knee, dropping your strawberry ice cream cone, then seeing the older boys approach you with malicious grins. But before they could fully reach you there was someone else, someone with limbs that were a bit too long and knees that were raw like yours. Any other day you would’ve found it unbelievably embarrassing that this bozo thinks he can handle this situation any better than you. As if you haven’t been handling this for years.

But with him it was different. He somehow scared off the crude boys, then offered his hand to hoist you from the pavement while looking sadly at your discarded ice cream cone.

“I’m sorry about your ice cream.” You remember his voice being creaky, like it was always about to break (which it did, frequently,) “I’ll make you some whenever it snows! Th-that’s the only way that I know how to make it, but it’s really good I promise!” He was excited, almost like a puppy. Some part of you thought that it was cute, the bigger part knew he was probably just pitying you. Pitying you the same way that everyone does when you tell them of your constant bullying, only to forget about it in a week and leave you to the wolves.

“Oh it’s okay, um…”

“Mingi.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time.

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them.

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though.

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted.

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too.

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them.

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

“Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food.

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up.

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.”

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’ narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow.

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.”

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding.

“Really.”

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t.

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil.

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.”

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him.

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm.

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far.

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses.

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-”

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless.

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years.

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.”

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity.

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa.

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay.

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class.

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing.

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it.

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy.

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things.

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation.

‘This feels lonely.’

In a way, you suppose that it is.

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely.

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra.

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside.

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled.

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet.

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year.

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards.

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings.

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.”

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange.

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well.

“We’re taking a detour.”

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers.

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon.

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing.

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing.

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi.

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete.

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.”

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph.

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it.

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him.

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong.

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths. Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle.

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this?

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now.

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while.

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises.

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile.

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon.

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment.

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard.

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee?

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear.

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.”

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest.

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it.

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling.

“Mingi I-“

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed.

“Mingi that's not what-“

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever.

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there.

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster.

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are.

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words.

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you.

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it’s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.”

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least.

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees.

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump.

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around.

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go.

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over.

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well.

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with.

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute.

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi.

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback.

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly.

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun.

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to.

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop.

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.”

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight… Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out.

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead.

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore.

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand.

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?”

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t.

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.”

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied.

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide.

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows.

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room.

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you.

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth.

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car.

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it��s Hannah Montana, though.”

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.”

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either.

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does.

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand.

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again.

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

When he smiles at you and goes in for a second kiss, your eyes flutter closed. Yet you still see it all so clearly. You can see a future, and you can see it with Mingi by your side.

59 notes · View notes

authorofemotion · 3 years

Note

Claire!

Because I know you are huge(at least in my eyes) especially with your whump blog and I know you post original content...

What advice would you give for new blogs/authors for writing original content? I'm thinking about writing some but I think I want to grow my blog before I do. You don't have to answer but I'm always looking for advice to better myself and my writing.

Love you!

hi athena!! I don’t know if i’m going to be the best person to give advice (this blog has ~150 followers and my fandom sideblog has about 30. but my whump blog is doing pretty well!) but I can absolutely try!! Since it got pretty long, I’m putting it under the cut :)

(also this is entirely unrelated but for some reason I’m able to type stuff inside your ask which is whacky. i didn’t do it though lol)

Growth takes time!! I started my blog almost three years ago and I’ve built most of my following in the last year and a half. Hitting your stride takes time and trial and error no matter what, so be aware that even when it doesn’t seem like it, you ARE making progress!!

MAKE FRIENDS!! Seriously, finding your people can help you so much (and you’ve already been doing a great job with that! again, I only made my friends within the last year and a half).

Another great thing to do would be to make an introduction post and tag your favorite content creators! Intro posts go around a lot and that will get people familiar with you and give you a face in the community.

Also, to become familiar to various people, reblog writing you like and RANT IN THE TAGS I SWEAR IT HELPS SO MUCH!! Artists (writers included) don’t get nearly as much interaction as they should simply bc people have stopped reblogging stuff. So a reblog is amazing—but if you put a sentence or two (or a whole paragraph if inclined) in the tags about what you loved, I promise the author will LOVE YOU and almost definitely check out your blog. Sending asks is also really good!

Try to post (at least semi-) regularly. I’m a bad example because my online presence ranges from posting multiple things a day to not writing for three months. BUT! I always see a boost in followers every time I post something new, and, again, if people see your url often enough, they’ll check out your blog and may drop a follow!

TAG TAG TAG TAG TAG!!!! Use AS MANY relevant tags as possible when you post, because people follow tags of things they like to see, and posts that use those tags then show up on their dash, and your content is exposed to new people!

Participate in community events! Yet again, I’m a terrible example of this because I. haven’t yet. However! Events like Whumptober, Whumpmas in July, Summer of Whump (There are non-whump ones Im just painfully oblivious to them) will get you exposed to more people too! You don’t have to do every prompt, lots of people will see your work because they follow the event tags, and the hosting blog will reblog it for their followers too!

Write what you want to! My self-indulgent posts that I think most people won’t like because it appeals to me specifically do really really well a lot of the time! You aren’t alone in really liking the tropes you like, so there 100% will be an audience for what you want to write, you just have to find it.

If you want to write with OCs, write a few things with well-known characters (fanfic) or generic characters (hero/villain, etc) first or alongside it. Being introduced to someone’s blog solely with OCs can be intimidating bc instead of focusing on the writing you’re like “who are you people???” but if you write other things alongside it, people will be introduced to your writing, then may decide to check out your OCs (also if you have them make an intro post for your ocs. it’s really fun)

If a prompt inspires you, fill it in with a reblog!

Also remember (I know from experience) more people will like your posts than reblog. more people will read your posts than will like. not everyone who goes through your blog and reads everything you have will like the posts, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have that audience!

uhhh that’s about all I have. it’s all pretty generic advice but I hope it helps!! LOVE YOU <333

#athena!#claire gets an ask #writing advice #blog advice

17 notes · View notes

washymylifeaway · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu fanfics recs for ships

Okay so I'm in the middle of making fanfic rec posts when I thought maybe I should make a post for the fics everyone considers a 'staple' for the fic world LOL. Honestly, I don't actually know what is considered to be a classic fic at this point ngl LOL but these are some that people keep shoving into my face even after being stuck in fic hell for enough (too much) time :) But also these are basically just the top kudoed (is that allowed grammatically?) fics on AO3 for Haikyuu, just with my commentary LOL so for a mess free approach, just check AO3 ;') It'll be one or two MAJOR fics per ship and if you want more check out my other TBDone (as in I haven't finished them yet) posts LOL.

DISCLAIMER: Anything I say that is not necessarily positive about a fic doesn't mean I'm hating on it, it's just that it isn't my cup of tea (ie. my type of fic). Also I apologize in advance for the excessive usage of the term 'LOL' in this (and ALL) my posts. It's just who I am as a person LOL.

Caution: always check warning and tags before anything and don't put your mental health at risk for a fic PLEASE take care of yourselves!

BOKUAKA:

In Another Life by LittleLuxray (T) 23k // this is literally the #1 kudoed (can I do that?) thing on AO3 for good reason. People do not and will not shut up about this fic and honestly, I don't blame them LOL. Again, I'm begging you to read warnings and tags because there's some heavy stuff in this and it WILL make you sad sad sad.

IWAOI:

to be first, to be best by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 26.4k // okay I think I've read this fic like 3 times already, but the plot never sticks with me LOL. Not cause it's a bad fic, but because I have a crap memory LOLOLOL. Regardless, I know it's a good fic because like I said I managed to re-read on 2 separate occasions so yea.

Conquering the Great King by SuggestiveScribe (E) 105.6k // I LOVE THIS SERIES AHHHHHHHHH. Honestly I know the 105.6k word count is SCARY I UNDERSTAND BUT it is SO worth it. This is the first fic of the series and it's mainly IWAOI, but there are other ships too so if IWAOI isn't your thing, check for the other ships :) Also if you don't mind smut (cause it is explicit for a reason LOL) then please I beg of you to read the whole series!!!!!!! I love love love this one and it really got me invested in the whole fanfic thing LOL.

DAISUGA:

You'd fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder (G) 25.1k // THIS IS SO FLUFFFFFFFFFFF. Please, it nearly gave me cavities LOLOL. As a dare you should read the DAISUGA from SuggestiveScribe (specifically from the breaking the rules series) and then read this I think that'd be funny LOL. Imagine going to the opposite ends of the DAISUGA spectrum in the same day LOL.

KUROKEN:

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony (T) 30.9k // AHHHHHHHH. Anyway, if you can't handle DEATH or sad sad sad things rn (or ever for that matter) plsplspls do NOT read this one!!!! It really made me so sad! But if you love some great character progression, knock yourself out :)))))

KAGEHINA:

I like the way your clothes smell by Mysecretfanmoments (NR) 75.2k // I think this is one of the only fics I've read for this ship... LOL oops idk something about reading relationships between first year's in high school irks me.... just first year's in Haikyuu dating at any time.... Anyways I don't really remember reading this one (again my memory is crap LOL) but it had been recommended by people before so knock yourselves out LOL. Also this one doesn't have a rating, but it's got some explicit-ish stuff in it, so read tags and warnings for sure!

TSUKKIYAMA:

by any other name by parenthetic (renaissance) (T) 4.8k // as much as I love tsukkiyama I don't read a lot of their fics for some reason (LOL OOPS) but this one hit all the right spots. The way yams is done, with his amazing facial reading abilities, and the way tsukki is so oblivious was so GOOD!

There will be a part two for some more ships. Link to part 2 with more ships :)

66 notes · View notes

justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years

Text

xisuma doesn’t smooth over a server glitch fast enough. the others have to save him from the consequences.

in this fic, i play loosely with minecraft mechanics to create angst. very loosely. don’t think too much about ‘em. you can also date how long i’ve spent on this by the projects they’re working on.

featuring: being an admin gives you a connection to the server, xisuma has a less than stellar day, angst/comfort, zed is an ender hybrid, false & tango are minor admins, getting stuck in blocks is not a fun experience, the hermits care a lot about each other.

warnings: sensory deprivation, starvation, suffocation, its a death loop babyyy, a fair amount of panic, fighting code, glitches, helplessness, it’s pretty whumpy before the comfort. let me know if something’s missing here.

also on ao3. link in replies.

Xisuma sighs as the sun beats down on him. It's barely let up, even on the outskirts of the jungle. He enjoys the brief stints in the shadow of the giant quartz walls. Even then, waves of heat come off them. All of the structures in his base are a heat trap. Clearing out several layers of dirt and stone is a necessity he should've left for another day. With a click, he tugs his helmet off his head. The humidity outside is worse than his filtered air. He tucks the helmet under his arm, pushing sweat slicked hair from his face.

He's made good progress levelling this arena space. He leaves his helmet on his bed and heads to the temporary storage chests. They're filling up quickly, he notices, as he starts emptying his inventory into them. Except, something's broken. The stacks of blocks aren't all moving. He tries a few times before sighing, ruffling his hair. When he turns to the area he's been mining, it's still empty. It's been a long time since they've had desync this bad. He's not even sure when it started.

Stepping gently across the stone, he can feel the heat rising from them. He'll rollback the world and then he'll relax by Keralis's river. The farm is delightfully cool. Anything will be better than this oppressive heat.

He's almost reached his bed when something takes hold in his chest and pulls.

He stumbles forward with a gasp. Of course, the server decides to fix itself this time. He forces his feet forward, trying to reach his helmet so he can smooth things over. He only makes it two steps until his eyes are forced shut as the server reloads. For a split second, all he feels is the chill of the void as chunks reload around him.

He opens his eyes to darkness. It feels like he's suspended in space, unable to move. There's a suffocating pressure around him. Though it's with shallow breaths, he can still breathe. Did something go wrong? He blinks hard. All of his limbs are accounted for, he's certainly present. Even when he's working in the void there are still particles around him. His attempt to raise his arm fails, finding it impossible to open his back up admin panel. His helmet is- where even is his helmet?

His breath hitches, a feeling of panic escaping his controlled calm. He feels like he can't breathe. He can't move. He's trapped in his own body.

What's happening?

[MumboJumbo] anybody else just experience some major desync?

[Keralis1] Oh, is that what that was?

[Zedaph] I had nearly finished my redstone! All of that work, gone!

[FalseSymmetry] didn't you notice you weren't actually... losing anything from your inventory?

[Tango] he was probably too caught up in his supposed mastery

[FalseSymmetry] everybody okay though?

[Grian] all good here!

[Zedaph] Only my pride's wounded.

False looks down at the bedrock layer at her base. Like half an hour spent placing glass, all gone to waste. She groans, closing her chat as it pings away. Sure, she can rib Zedaph, but that doesn't change the fact she just did the exact same thing. She kicks off the sidewalk, gliding to the bedrock layer. She can feel the cold of the void float up with specks of grey.

"Good going, False," she murmurs. Some patches of glass survived. It's almost worse, that's going to be so much less satisfying to fill in. She takes her goggles off, tugging her hair loose to tie it in a low ponytail. Usually Xisuma gives them a warning before the server resets like that. It always messes up her hair, leaves it floaty and static.

She adjusts her goggles on her head, opening the player menu. Xisuma's currently online. She checks chat. He hasn't said anything. She considers it strange, but it's not unusual. Maybe he's been at a farm and isn't AFKing. She types out a private message, sending it across to him.

[FalseSymmetry to Xisuma] hey x, server blipped, might need to check it when you get back.

She'll see if he returns her message. She's got glass to place.

Iskall looks through his in-progress sorting system with a frown. It's broken somewhere. The stupid server reload has glitched it out and he can't find how. He's checked the redstone, he's checked the hoppers and he's checked the chests! Which means it's glitched. Either Xisuma reloads the chunk for him, or he's going to have to tear it down.

Actually, he'll probably have to tear it down anyway. Reloading the chunk will only roll it back.

At least he's not the only person who's redstone has been ruined. The thought brings some comfort. If he has to be miserable, somebody else should be too. He opens his communicator, checking who's around at the moment. That might take his mind off it.

He notices that Xisuma's online. Their admin has been quiet in chat since the reload. Maybe there's something going on behind the scenes he's having to sort out. He'll reach out to Mumbo and Grian, but first, he sends a message X's way.

[iskall85 to Xisuma] hey is everything alright? nothing broke?

[iskall85 to Xisuma] don't forget you can reach out to us if you need help.

He has no idea how much time has passed. Usually he's connected intrinsically to the server. It helps him keep track of the world, dig out any errors or mishaps - sometimes before his suit alerts him. It's essential for his job in order to keep things running smoothly. The server is always there, at the edges of his consciousness.

In this nothing, he can't even keep track of his internal clock. Perhaps it's his own panic, but the code he tries to reach out to feels fuzzy. It feels like it's glitching, sending shooting pains through his head if he focuses too hard. He couldn't take a guess how long he's been trapped. His breathing still comes too fast and shallow, ignoring his attempts to calm down.

He's completely helpless here. And he doesn't even know where here is.

Tango stares up at the stars on his ceiling. He checks his inventory again, counting aloud. He flicks it off with a frown. Yeah, he's definitely missing some. It's not a massive deal, Impulse will be happy to help out. But if he's having problems then some of the other hermits might be. Perhaps they fell and despawned in the reload. Either way.

"Tangoooooo!" The cry is accompanied by several rockets, something hitting the ground and the sound of damage. He chuckles, stepping away as Zed soars over the edge, stumbling forward with a flutter of his elytra. Tango straightens him up with his free hand.

"No, I'm not doing your redstone for you." Zedaph gasps, dusting off his jeans. He bounces up with a grin.

"You really think I'd come all this way for that?" Zed questions.

"So why have you come all the way here?"

"I'm bored," Zed replies. "And it still stings too much to do my redstone again." Tango laughs, opening up his chat. Xisuma's online, though Tango doesn't expect an immediate response.

"How do you feel about some wither grinding?" He types a message to Xisuma, Zedaph attempting to peer over his shoulder.

"Mmm, I don't see why not."

[Tango to Xisuma] Hey, seem to have lost some stars when the server reset

[Tango to Xisuma] might wanna check nothing important got eaten.

"Right, let's go."

Keralis hums, staring at the plot he was about to start building on. The area has been a bit... Funny. He'll break and replace a block, only to have it switch again. He might have to work on another area until it sorts itself out. His attempts at working here started after the reload, so he doesn't know if that caused it. He's not been able to spot Xisuma nearby either. He's been online, but Keralis hasn't spotted him in chat for a while.

He sighs as he watches the last blocks he placed switch back as if nothing happened. Crossing his arms, he examines the area. He wonders how big this is. Definitely more than one chunk. His new house is going to have to wait. He was excited to show Xisuma around, too.

With a glance at the sky, he realises it's late afternoon. He yawns, stretching his back out. Perhaps it'll be best to settle in his office and work on some future designs. He'll drop a message in chat first, in case this is affecting anyone else. It might give him an excuse to hunt down Shishwamy. He always feels guilty bothering him about things. Their admin takes far too much responsibility on his shoulders. They’re all adults. Keralis wishes he’d ask for help sometimes.

[Keralis1] Has anyone else been having glitchy blocks?

[iskall85] some of my redstone is broken but it's no biggie

[Tango] lost some of my nether stars with the reload but it's been fine since.

[FalseSymmetry] been placing glass without any problems since the reset

[MumboJumbo] I haven't had any problems either.

[Keralis1] A bunch of chunks around our bases are glitching

[Keralis1] but it seems like Shishwamy is busy :(

[Grian] well it looks like he just went afk

[iskall85] that answers that lol

His mind is becoming blurry. It's hard to focus on... Anything. He can't tell if it's because he's struggling to breathe, or something further, tugging him down and away. He tries to fight against it but there's nothing he can do to stay present. He can't hear anything, barely even his shallow breaths. He can only feel the consistent pressure on every inch of his body, the wet tears on his cheeks. He tries pulling on every one of his senses, but nothing comes up.

He slips under.

False empties the last of this glass stack, stepping back at a job well done. She smiles, rubbing her aching hands. It's nice to finally work on this part of her base. Even better now it's not going to pick itself up. At least she hopes so. She'll be right annoyed if it happens again. Something's been tingling at the back of her head, though. She wonders if it's because of the reset.

She looks up at the late afternoon sky. That's enough work for today. As she stretches, she can feel each and every ache in her body. She brushes away her hair, already falling loose. Maybe she'll have something nice for dinner. Some steak, potatoes and pumpkin pie. If she has pumpkin, of course. Xisuma was planning to build a pumpkin farm, wasn't he? His traditional pumpkin and melon combination. She chuckles to herself as she pulls out her rockets.

No matter how things change from season to season, there will always be things that don't. Hermits might come and go, but they'll always be her family.

She launches up, shooting through the water barrier. It's fast enough it doesn't stick. She lands gracefully, making her way to the kitchen. She hopes this nudging in her head doesn't get worse. She just wants to enjoy a nice meal. That's all.

"Well, I think we have a plan," Grian declares, grinning from his perch. His legs are crossed, hands resting in his lap.

"I mean, we didn't exactly need a plan to fix our redstone," Mumbo replies, slouched in his chair the way he only ever does in front of them. Iskall chuckles, resting his hands behind his head. They've really helped take his mind off the broken redstone. Mumbo had a similar problem, so tomorrow they'll meet up again and attempt some fixes.

"Always helps," Iskall says, shrugging. "Especially when one of us spends so much time in the Nether depths, now." Grian laughs, his legs kicking.

"Hey, I'm doing good work out there!" Mumbo yawns, looking between them.

"Well I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted."

"Food then sleep?" Grian suggests. Iskall nods. It's been a long day.

It's dark as Zedaph and Tango return from The End. Zedaph yawns, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. Tango rubs the side of his own hair. Something's been bothering him, but he can't tell what. Like there's something just not... Right. Zedaph is chatting beside him, a bounce in his step. It's like he doesn't feel it at all.

"Do you want to have dinner together?" Zed asks, twirling his sword by his side. They've repaired their tools, done everything properly. It's been a hard day's work, but they've achieved a lot, even with the setback.

"Yeah, dinner sounds good." He looks at the night sky, squinting his eyes. Zedaph tilts his head at him. The purple eyes are concerned, particles floating up in his worry.

"Tango, are you okay? You seem... Off." Tango sighs, waving Zedaph's worry away.

"Something's nagging me. It's not a big deal." Zedaph's still frowning, but the particles die down.

"Let's just get you something to eat, yeah?" Tango nods, leaning into Zedaph when he squeezes his shoulder.

"Sounds good to me."

Keralis watches the night sky overhead. He's sat in the doorway to his office, a blanket around his shoulders. The stars are always a beautiful sight. It's the perfect way to relax after such a, hm, busy day. Not busy in a conventional sense, no, but still busy. His specially commissioned noteblock song plays in the background, a perfect accompaniment in the peaceful night. He thinks it's strange how the stars always seem the same no matter what world they're in. Maybe he should ask Xisuma about it in the future.

He pops up his screens open. Xisuma is still afk. He misses seeing his neighbour out and about. Xisuma often spends time at his farms, it's nothing new. But Keralis enjoys saying hello to him! Especially after missing well... Years of his life. He tries not to think about that.

With a sigh, he lies against the doorway. Time for bed soon. He laughs at the sound of Bubbles' voice in his head. His communicator beeps and he glances over to it.

Huh. That's interesting.

Xisuma is thrown into full consciousness. His stomach is still cramping with phantom hunger. He opens his eyes and finds...

Black.

No, no, he died. He died. Why has he respawned here? He chokes on his sob, realising no air is entering his lungs. His cheeks are still wet with tears, more leaking out as he gasps at nothing. His lungs burn, unable to take the shallow breaths he needs to. Would it even help? He wants to curl up, clutch at the growing pain in his chest. But he can't move an inch. Heaviness sinks into his limbs and head.

He wakes again in the same place. He doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. There's not enough air for him to scream, anyway.

[Xisuma starved to death]

[MumboJumbo] X?? mate?

[Tango] X?

[FalseSymmetry] do we need to get your stuff?

[Keralis1] I'm by his base.

[Tango] he's not afk anymore

[Grian] x???????

[iskall85] maybe he's getting his stuff rn

[Keralis1] Shishwammmmyyyyyyy

[MumboJumbo] starving isn't a nice way to go

[Zedaph] It really isn't.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[iskall85] oh no

[FalseSymmetry] x???? im going over

[Keralis1] so am i

[Tango] this isn't right, this really isn't right

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Grian] what's going on???

False shimmies back into her elytra, reaching for the one jacket potato that finished cooking. So much for having a sit-down meal. She rubs her head, pushing away the fear that has something to do with this. Her communicator continues beeping as she grabs her rockets. She runs to the entrance, kicking off and launching into the air.

"We should go and help," Iskall decides, already picking up his armour.

"Thought you'd never say." Mumbo straps his elytra on, grabbing a spare shulker box and an ender chest. Grian nods with a seriousness that doesn't fit on his face.

"Let's go."

"We're going?" Zed asks. He's already stuffing food into his mouth. Tango rubs his temples, nodding. He takes the elytra that's thrusted into his hand.

"Yeah. We're definitely going." He watches the particles floating off Zed in waves, glowing the same purple as his pupils. Tango presses his eyes shut against another spike of pain as their communicators beep. "C'mon."

Keralis scrabbles until he balances on the tower roof. He's searched each one and not found X anywhere. Tapping his foot, he meddles with his communicator to turn some settings on. He has no minor admin powers - that he has to leave to False and Tango - but he can at least try this.

"Ah-hah!" He grins as hitboxes light up beneath him, hopefully a better clue where his currently red coloured friend may be. He scans the towers closely, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. There are a few mobs, especially as night sets in. Then he sees Xisuma's new build.

He has to take a step back at the sight. The chunks look- a mess. The outline of the blocks are overlapped or flickering. It hurts to look at. Blocks aren't meant to highlight like that. He glides across the treetops. It not only covers the area he was trying to work earlier but spreads into Xisuma's current build. Yeah that's- that's bad. That's not good. His communicator has continued to beep with messages as he searched. He goes to read it, and spots different colours in the mess. The red of an eyeline. He stands on his toes, leaning off the leaves. The outline flickers in and out, accompanied by a beep.

He thinks he's found X.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Keralis1] he's in his new build!

[Keralis1] I think I can see him in the ground

[Keralis1] it is very very broken

[FalseSymmetry] tango? you on your way?

[Tango] as we speak

[Tango] been a long time since we've had to use these powers

[FalseSymmetry] not long enough

Tango and Zedaph are the first to land by Keralis's side. They kick up loose powder from the road, taking in the massive structure in front of them. Tango's shoulders raise, cringing at the sight.

"That's definitely broken," he agrees, his eyes twisting as they focus.

"And Xisuma's in the middle of it?" Zedaph looks at Keralis. He nods, usually big eyes sharply focused. He points beyond the walls.

"You can just see his name tag. I think the glitched blocks have got him stuck. I tried to build there earlier but nothing would stay." Tango presses his lips together in thought as False lands. They nod to each other in acknowledgement.

"How long does it take until the blocks pop back?"

Keralis hums, tapping his chin before answering, "About ten seconds, I think."

"That's not going to be enough time to reach him," Zed says. "Can't you just teleport him?" He looks at Tango and False. Tango opens his console menu, typing something in. Zed can tell the answer before Tango says it.

"What ideas do we have?" Keralis asks. "We can't just leave him there!"

"Of course not!" Tango replies, sounding shocked at the suggestion. "We just- need a plan." False nods.

"We're not as powerful as X," she explains, "Together we should be able to roll back these chunks but- I have no idea what that would mean for Xisuma. We don't really work with player code." She brushes her hair back. The conversation is paused as the trio of Grian, Iskall and Mumbo land beside them. The three slot in, listening as they're caught up.

"There has to be something that's making him spawn there." Iskall points out, his hand held towards the structure. False searches through the control panel, whilst Keralis and Tango simply examine the messed up blocks.

"He has a bed in there," Tango answers. False taps where Xisuma's spawn is tied to on her screen.

"Since the blocks are glitched, it must mean the bed isn't like... Registering them. Since they don't fully exist." She thinks about it carefully, putting the pieces together as she explains.

"So if we break the bed, he'll respawn at the world spawn?" Grian suggests.

"But how do we get down there?" Mumbo turns to look. It's pretty far down in the ground. They'd have to move quick to get near where Xisuma is.

"There's a few of us." Iskall waves at the gathered group. "I say with enough TNT and manpower, we could do it."

"Wait-" Zedaph holds his hand up, "-Get me close enough and I can teleport in there, get the bed. Less blocks to destroy."

"Zed." Tango turns to him, glaring at the blond. "That's a stupid idea, don't you get how dangerous that is-"

"Xisuma is stuck in a death loop, Tango!" Zed cuts in, raising his voice. The others fall silent, not sure how to handle this exchange. "Sure, I might die a bit! That's nothing compared to what Xisuma's currently experiencing."

"TNT will destroy a fair amount, but it already puts us on a time limit," Grian adds, a sideways agreement.

"I'm willing to do it. Either we reach the bed, or I teleport in." Zed says it with finality. The others don't argue. False checks his spawn point. Zedaph will respawn back in his cave, safe and sound. Even if it goes wrong, it'll be recoverable.

"We need to be ready to roll back the chunks," False says, focusing on Tango. "If I have this headache for much longer I'm going to go insane." Tango smiles tiredly.

"Fine. Let's try this." He shrugs. "I don't think we have a better idea."

"Well, come on! Let's go!" Keralis claps, placing an ender chest. Tango sighs, typing in a command.

"I think I'm allowed this time," he says, a stack of TNT appearing in his hand.

"And other times?" Grian asks. Even through the teasing, they can hear the fear in his voice.

"Don't push it."

There's noises. He blinks his eyes open into the unending darkness. He tries to focus past his burning chest and the weight of his body. There's... Definitely noises up above him. It sounds like explosions. The space he's stuck in shakes slightly. After another lapse, he gasps back to life in the same position. He wants to scream, tell somebody he's down here. This opportunity might not come again.

Then he feels a sharp stab of pain. Something is there, near him. Everything hurts and he still can't breathe. For a moment, he thinks he hears the trill of an Enderman. His tired mind can't figure out how as he runs out of air.

He wakes up to a chill. He slightly opens his eyes, spotting yellow sand as he falls, blacking out.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Zedaph suffocated]

[Grian] have we done it?

[Keralis1] he's at worldspawn! got him!

[iskall85] YES!!!

[Zedaph] Oh thank goodness I don't want to do that again

[World reloaded]

[Tango] Z, you okay?

[Zedaph] I'm good. Bring my stuff? I'm going to worldspawn

[FalseSymmetry] will do

"Keralis!" Zedaph's elytra beats as he lands, feet digging into the sand. "Is he okay?" Keralis nods. Xisuma's head is resting in his lap. The admin's eyes are closed as he breathes slowly. His expression is relaxed. It's a good sight to see. The spawn island is lit up well, but Keralis keeps his eye on the surrounding oceans.

"He's sleeping," Keralis says, messing with strands of brown hair. "I don't think I'm strong enough to move him on my own." Zedaph drops onto the sand next to them, crossing his legs. There are still bright particles floating off him, his eyes fully purple. "What about you, Zee?" Zedaph seems to notice Keralis's focus, ducking away to hide his eyes.

"Um, not the best. That kind of sucked. But, it worked, and that's what matters!"

"Make sure you look after yourself, too," Keralis tells him. "Fighting the server's code isn't easy." Zedaph laughs, resting on his hands.

"Can say that again. Forgot we have anti-enderman griefing." Keralis cringes, realising why Zed looks so much like he might collapse. It'll pass, but it's never fun to go against programming like that. The architech trio arrives next. All of them look relieved to see the three on the island.

"Oh, Zedaph, I have your stuff." Mumbo starts emptying it out, the few things Zedaph couldn't fit in an ender chest. Zedaph smiles, tugging his helmet on and feeling a lot more comfortable. He tries not to meet anybody's eyes.

"Tango and False will be on their way. They're just checking everything's good," Grian tells them, hands moving quickly as he talks.

"Should we try moving X somewhere safer?" Iskall suggests. "The shopping district isn't that far."

"If you're willing to boat him." Keralis is firm. "I don't want him dropped in the ocean."

"I swear nothing will happen to him under our watch." Grian puts his hand on his heart. Iskall and Mumbo nod in agreement.

"It'll be the safest boat journey on the server." Iskall's hands are on his hips. Keralis tilts his head up.

"Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes, if anything happens to my Shishwamy, I will not hold back." The architechs look suitably threatened.

"Can I boat with someone?" Zedaph asks. "I nearly crashed so many times flying over here."

"Hop in the back of mine!" Iskall calls, placing one in the water. Grian plucks Xisuma into his arms, carrying him to the edge of the water. He sets the admin in the boat before climbing in himself. Keralis checks him over before nodding and allowing Grian to keep him.

"I've told the others to meet us there," Mumbo says. "I'm going to fly across and see where's best to bunker down. I think we could all use some sleep."

Zedaph looks at the moon hanging overhead, "Yeah, I think we could."

[MumboJumbo] we're heading to the shopping district.

[FalseSymmetry] thats a good plan

[MumboJumbo] any idea who's shop we could stay in?

[FalseSymmetry] my dimension shop is pretty empty

[FalseSymmetry] plenty of room for some beds. pretty warm.

[Tango] we'll get it set up for you

[MumboJumbo] ok. ill protect the others

[Keralis1] so will I.

The first thing Xisuma picks up on is the talking. He stays still, trying to tell if his brain is playing tricks on him after so long in the nothing. His body is like a rock. He's barely able to move. His lungs still ache and it takes some conscious effort to continue breathing. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at bright lights. Light. There's light. He rolls forward, a sob leaving his lips before he can catch it.

"Xisuma, hey, hey." The voice is soft, casting a shadow over him. Xisuma forces his eyes open now the worst of the brightness is blocked out. Keralis is crouching in front of the bed. His fingers gently brush across Xisuma's cheek. For once, Xisuma doesn't feel the dried tears that had become his constant. "You're okay, you're safe. We got you." Xisuma takes a shaking breath in, squeezing his arms to feel the pressure of his own touch.

"Do you want your helmet?" He flits to look at False. The mere sight of his helmet is overwhelming. He reaches out and wraps it close to his chest. Keralis laughs gently, scratching through Xisuma's hair. The admin sighs, his eyes slipping closed once more.

"There you go." He can hear the smile in Keralis's voice. "We've got you, right here." The sound of movement. Cracking his eyes open reveals False sitting in front of the bed, weaving her hand into Xisuma's. He squeezes it gently.

"You're in my shop, in the shopping district," she tells him. "It's past midnight. You're completely safe here. We've got things sorted, there's nothing you need to worry about." A tear slips from his eye. Keralis wipes it away.

"What happened?" He can't make his voice louder than a whisper, and even that hurts.

"Something went wrong with the world reload," False tells him. He can trust her not to sugarcoat things. "We all had a few bugs, but the chunks around you glitched out badly. Created a bunch of like... Invisible blocks, but they were visible, if you get what I mean? They weren't fully there. Ugh, Tango's better at all this technical stuff." Xisuma tries to peer around for him, but the light still hurts if he looks for too long.

"You were stuck in a bunch of them," Keralis finishes. "We didn't realise until you starved and got stuck in a death loop. I'm really sorry, Xisuma."

"We broke your bed to get you out. Well, Zedaph did. The others got him close enough then Tango and I fixed the area. It's all sorted." Xisuma forces his sluggish brain to put the pieces together. He didn't dream up that enderman sound. That was-

"He's over there, sleeping. Tango's with him." Keralis points at a bed nearby. Tango's back blocks any sight of their part Ender friend, but Xisuma can see purple particles floating into the air. A concerning amount of them.

"What did Zed do?" He asks, the vice around his lungs tightening in concern.

"Um," Keralis answers, False looking at him. "He mentioned fighting the anti-enderman griefing code? So I think he picked the bed up." Xisuma's stomach drops. He tries to push himself up but collapses onto his back again.

"Hey, X, careful," False warns. Her voice is stern but Xisuma shakes his head.

"No- I-" He shuts his eyes, fighting off disorientation. "The server's going to keep fighting him. I've got to reset it." False helps him sit up, but she still watches him with concern. He picks up his helmet, pulling it on and relaxing slightly as all the displays flicker to life. Now when he looks at Zedaph he can see the extent of the damage. His very code seems to be fighting itself. "Help me up?"

False gets an arm around his chest. He ends up leaning his weight against her to stand, his legs shaking. She's firm, grip only tightening to accommodate his need. Keralis hovers nearby, ready to jump in if he has to. They take slow steps across the room. Xisuma strains to see under the light, but the tint of his helmet helps. He can see the architechs sat nearby, watching without any attempt at discretion.

Tango looks up as they approach. Xisuma can see the resignation on his face.

"This isn't going to fix itself, is it?" He asks. His hand in clasped tightly in Zedaph's, whose usually bright expression is twisted in pain. His skin is all too pale, black freckles spreading into larger patches across his face. He doesn't open his eyes, not even as Tango moves so Xisuma can sit down. The grip on each other's hand remains tight.

"I need to reset the code that's attacking him," Xisuma explains. His words have a tired slur he can't quite hide. "I'm gonna write an exception, I can't believe I haven't already just- not right now. Don't wanna do it wrong."

"Xisuma, it's okay." Tango smiles, pinched but genuine. "I'm sorry you need to do this." Xisuma shakes his head.

"It's nobody's fault," False says, "Do what you need to do, X. Then you're going back to bed." Keralis hums in agreement. Xisuma laughs softly as the command screens in his helmet boot up.

He zones out the others around him, leaning on Keralis's shoulder when his friend perches beside him. He scrolls through information as he brings up Zedaph's data on one screen. With one eye on it, he unlocks the data packs, searching through them. He gives voice instructions with his microphone muted to the outside world. Finding the pack he needs, he disables it and checks Zedaph's data. It looks like his code is straightening out again. Thank goodness. He makes sure all activity is deactivated before he turns the pack back on.

"That should do it," he mumbles, before realising his microphone is still off. He reactivates it before repeating himself.

"Maybe you should teach us a bit more sometime," False squeezes his shoulder, helping him up. Xisuma slings his arm over False with a nod. That would be good.

"Thank you, X." Tango smiles. He rubs his thumb across Zedaph's hand. The ender hybrid has relaxed, face slack. It looks like he's properly sleeping now. Xisuma can finally rest.

"Come on. Don't you fall asleep here, I don't want to carry you across." Xisuma hums, too tired to commit to any words. Before he knows it, he's sitting down on the comfortable bed again.

"Shishwam, lemme get your helmet." Xisuma nods, tilting his head up so Keralis can unlatch it and bring it off. His head rolls onto his shoulder the moment it's gone. Keralis giggles, ruffling his hair. "Come on, sleepy time." False lies him down, his helmet tucked safely in his arms. Keralis's hand slips into his. Xisuma shuts his eyes, before blinking them open again.

"Stay?" He asks, too tired to worry about being needy. He doesn't want to be alone in that darkness again.

"Of course," False replies.

"We're not going anywhere," Keralis adds. Xisuma smiles at them both, eyes slipping closed. The darkness is manageable with his friends by his side.

"Don't you dare wake them up," False hisses, watching as Grian and Iskall play with redstone. The morning sun is beginning to shine through the cracks in the windows. She's exhausted, having only caught a quick nap. Keralis is asleep next to Xisuma, sitting on the floor with his head resting on the bed. Tango's slid into bed beside Zedaph, holding him close to his chest. Mumbo's dead to the world across the room.

"We won't!" Grian calls, trying to figure out the game he could make out of this mechanic. Iskall has a Statues book open, an armour stand sat in front of a piston.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if the two people who have done this with armour stands were helping," Iskall points out, flicking through the pages.

"We're fine, it's part of the adventure!" Grian watches as the piston shoots the armour stand across the room. False smiles, leaning back against the bed. Some of the other hermits have been coming online with the early morning. Thankfully, they don't seem to know about everything that went down yesterday. It's best things are quiet for Xisuma whilst he rests. She's sure he’ll tell them about it. She'll make sure he does.

As the sun grows higher with the dawn, she dozes off again. Grian is yawning, him and Iskall only catching a few hours of sleep. He's still buzzing with activity. He'll crash later, easy enough.

It's to this quiet atmosphere that Xisuma wakes up. Iskall and Grian are still experimenting. Grian’s laughter rings out as the armour stand bounces in the air. The beat of the piston is monotonous, but they're nearly falling over each other at the sight. Xisuma watches with a soft smile, eyes barely opened.

"It we got one on top, do you think it would-" Grian holds his hand up, demonstrating an armour stand shaking up and down aggressively. Iskall chuckles, shaking his head.

"It's only the morning, we don't need to break physics yet."

"It's for science," Grian protests. He sounds breathless, half-delirious with his need for sleep.

"Please don't make me do work," Xisuma whispers, all too aware of the sleeping hermits around him. Grian perks up, Iskall turning to him with a grin.

"'Suma!" Iskall calls. Xisuma smiles at both of them, making no attempt to move. He's comfortable here and he doesn't want to wake his friends.

"Exy-Suma!" Grian slides across, leaving a gap from the sleeping hermits. Iskall stands by his side, resting his hand on Grian's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" Xisuma wraps his arm tighter around his helmet.

"Not the best, my friend," he answers honestly. "But I'm certainly better than before."

"Well, we'll just have to make that even better then." Grian is committed to the cause now. He's going to make Xisuma's day.

"You don't have to rush back into things," Iskall says, offering a smile. "I'm sure we can handle ourselves today."

"I don't think I'm getting out of this bed anytime soon." Xisuma looks down at Keralis, dark hair brushing Xisuma's chest plate. False is asleep slouched in the chair beside him. Even without being able to see the other occupants of the room, he can still tell they're sleeping. "Feels a bit weird not going for a jog at this time, though."

"I'm sure your legs won't wither away after one morning, X," Iskall jokes. "Be lazy like the rest of us." Grian grins.

"We could always play some mini-games later, too!" Xisuma laughs, stretching as much as he can without shifting Keralis. He's beginning to regret sleeping in his armour, but it's too late now.

The three chat with each other, Xisuma offering advice now he's awake. They're gradually building up a system to launch the armour stand across the room. Sure, they'll have to clean it all up later, but it passes the time and it makes them laugh. Hearing Xisuma laughing is good for all three of them, despite the roughness reminding them of last night's ordeal. It's safe to say that nobody envies Xisuma's experience.

The three jump at a strange, shrill noise, until the realisation kicks in. Zed is sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Hair is falling into his face, ruffled from sleep. Tango remains slumped against him. He even rolls into the warmth Zedaph leaves behind. It takes a few seconds until the hybrid notices his audience. Zedaph jumps, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, hi, sorry! Forgot I wasn't alone." His eyes are glowing brightly in the morning light. He looks down at the arm lazily clinging to his waist. "This oaf is used to it."

"No, no, you're okay," Xisuma tells him. False is stirring beside him, blinking to life, but Keralis remains out. "How are you feeling?" Zedaph taps his chin, resting his finger on his lip.

"Pretty well-rested, actually." Then his attention turns to Xisuma. "What about you? I should be asking you that question!" Xisuma laughs, flexing his fingers against his helmet.

"I'm okay. Taking it easy." He tilts his head towards Grian and Iskall. "Whether I like it or not, it seems."

"Too right," False agrees, yawning. "T'others can handle admin duties for today. You're ours."

"Is that a threat?"

"We can make it one!" Iskall tells him, his voice a lot more cheerful than the implication of his words. "We just need a good leash-"

"Oh absolutely not! Don't you dare!" Keralis pokes his head up next to him, trying to tune into the conversation. Zedaph laughs from across the room. He's tugging a bleary Tango to rest on his shoulder so he can wrap the blanket around them both.

"Oh come on, X, it'll be fun!" Grian wraps his arms around Iskall's shoulders. Xisuma shakes his head.

"You two are terrible. Absolutely terrible. Goodness me."

"I'm sure X will agree to take a day off willingly," False says, sounding far too threatening as she rubs sleep from her eyes.

"I already agreed. No leash required!"

"Why are we talking about leashes?" Keralis finally asks, looking more confused than anything. They break down into laughter.

[Grian] hello everyone

[iskall85] HALLO!

[iskall85] we are stealing your admin for the day!

[Grian] yeah he's ours.

[falsesymmetry] x had a rough night so he's having a day off

[falsesymmetry] so if any admins besides tango, x and i could step up please?

[cubfan135] yeah I'm on it.

[joehillssays] of course, and send our well wishes to our dear admin!

[Xisuma] your dear admin thanks you :-)

[Xisuma] please try not to break anything

[Etho] have a fun day lol

[joehillssays] don't make us lock you out of your screens, x!

[Keralis1] Nothing will get past us.

[iskall85] he's been suitably threatened.

[Renthedog] Should uh... We be concerned?

[Grian] about x-i-sooma finally getting a break?

[falsesymmetry] he's in safe hands. promise.

"Should we get this day started?" Tango asks. Grian is about to answer, only to yawn. He covers his mouth, face turning red.

"Another hour of sleep first?" False suggests. They look around the room, everyone in varying states of awareness.

"It never hurt anyone." Iskall shoves Mumbo over, fitting into bed beside him. "See y'all in an hour." Keralis smiles at Xisuma. He bumps their heads together.

"You deserve a break without being traumatised first, you know that Shishwamy?" He checks. Xisuma laughs, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yeah, I know." He leans back. "And I think I've got some good friends to remind me." False pats his back, getting comfortable enough to doze off again.

"And don't you forget it." Xisuma looks around the room. The architechs are fighting over the bed, Tango and Zedaph curled back up on theirs. He smiles, the fear from last night already on its way to being a distant memory.

"Don't think I can."

#hermitcraft #xisuma #falsesymmetry #keralis #grian #iskall85 #tangotek #zedaph #feel like mumbo's role is too minor to tag him lmao #my writing #this fic took so loooong #but i wanted to get it done #more brain space for my other projects

233 notes · View notes

adrinoir · 4 years

Text

Who will be the next Hawk Moth?

Alright, well there’s a lot of different theories on who will be “the next Hawk Moth”. So I wanted to do a break down on some possibilities (warning: this analysis is REALLY long lol)

Lila

I feel like Lila is very likely to be the next one. She already has a leg up in working with Gabriel (despite not knowing he’s Hawk Moth).

Even though Hawk Moth hasn’t reached his goal of getting Ladybug and Cat Noir’s miraculouses, he’s made good progress. With Lila’s help, he’s gotten PRETTY damn close to getting them since she has that deep hatred of Ladybug. Without her, he wouldn’t have had his invasion of scarlet moths possessing Paris.

Additionally, Lila is pretty full of herself and does just about everything for her own benefit. She could easily grow a bigger hatred towards Ladybug and find out about the benefits of their miraculouses to have her own wish granted.

It’s really difficult to see her as a redeemable character since she has yet to show any redeemable qualities. But, hey, maybe there will be a plot twist where she’ll change her ways.

Chloe

As much as I’d LOVE to see Chloe develop into a better person since we see she is the way she is, I don’t have too much faith in Thomas Astruc’s writing.

Thomas initially started Chloe off as the annoying and conceited bully, then she started seeing the error of her ways, and finally...she was pulled back to square one.

It’s obvious that Chloe is pretty strong. She knows Hawk Moth is evil and has fought off an akuma even when she was super angry with Ladybug. However, Hawk Moth IS a rather powerful man and was able to akumatize Chloe on many occasions. She became his most successful akumatized victim as Miracle Queen. I feel like the fandom doesn’t talk enough about how Chloe managed to get almost ALL the miraculous holders to reveal their identities. (Don’t come for Hawk Moth in saying he hasn’t made a lot of progress - he HAS.)

The main issue with Chloe is that she can easily be manipulated into doing things for Hawk Moth because she has that disliking for Ladybug, deep down. She doesn’t want to hate Ladybug but obviously it’s been tough since she won’t let Chloe have her bee miraculous, and being Queen Bee is very important to her. Chloe wants to be powerful and heroic to feel good about herself since her mom doesn’t see her as something special (which is awful, I feel so bad for Chloe, honestly.)

Even though the likelihood is there, I really don’t want Chloe to become the next Hawk Moth. In season 4, it’d be nice to see some of her character development come back, and hopefully her and her mom build a stronger relationship now that Audrey has decided to stay in Paris with the family. Thomas Astruc needs to make Chloe better but KEEP it that way. She’s shown redeemable qualities and we know why she acts the way that she does. There’s a ridiculous amount of potential for her to be a wonderful, well-rounded character instead of just the evil bully Thomas makes her out to be.

Felix

So far, we’ve only seen Felix in one episode, but we already have a good idea of what he’s like. He’s very manipulative as a form of coping with his father’s death.

Felix already has a bit of a vendetta against Gabriel for keeping Emilie’s family heirlooms, and managed to steal them from Gabriel. He also wasn’t very nice to Adrien in pretending to be him and attempting to hurt his friendships. All of those things Felix did just prove he’d make a *good* villain.

My theory is that he’ll come back for at least one more episode, since he took the wedding rings that were very precious to Gabriel. However, it’s kind of strange to me that Felix hasn’t even been mentioned since his debut episode. So, we will see if this devilish boy makes a comeback.

Adrien

People have had this theory a while back, but it’s just incredibly unlikely at this point.

Adrien cares deeply about his mom and wants her back, of course. However, we see in Cat Blanc that he tried to cataclysm his own father for what he’s done. He was so hurt by his father’s motives, he triggered the end of the world.

There could potentially be an episode where Adrien hears his father out and tries the butterfly miraculous out for himself, but Bunnyx would come out of her burrow and shut that shit down.

OR, we know Gabriel is an awful father and he could somehow manipulate his own son to take his spot as Hawk Moth. (But again, Bunnyx could easily shut this down, too.)

Adrien loves being Cat Noir; he’s shown to be the Cat Noir in the future. He has an extremely good heart. So they’ve pretty much denied Adrien becoming the new Hawk Moth, at this point.

Luka

I think this is the most interesting idea I’ve seen on who the next Hawk Moth will be. (I recommend watching Cat Blanc x Princess Justice’s YouTube video analysis on this. It’s really good! I mention some of her points in here.)

Luka is almost too nice of a character. He cares a lot about other people and just sort of lets Marinette take advantage of his kindness, which is really sad, BUT there could easily be a motive we don’t know behind that, or he’s secretly bothered by it deep down.

There’s that theory that Luka knows Marinette is Ladybug. He could be trying to get closer to her to take the miraculous from her since he might know the power the ladybug and black cat miraculous hold.

Or, like I mentioned before, if Luka is bothered deep down by Marinette’s romantic feelings for Adrien, there could be something that happens that pushes him over the edge. We’ve even seen that Luka makes a terrifying villain as Silencer. He was super manipulative and had a lot of good tactics. Ladybug and Cat Noir DID in fact have a really hard time fighting him. Luka is also not the type of person to get angry like that, but Hawk Moth needs STRONG emotion to feed off of. So, considering how powerful of a villain Luka was, there’s clearly some anger boiling within him.

We also don’t have that much of a backstory to work off of. We’re slowly learning more, but think about it, for instance, we don’t know who his father is. Some people have theorized it’s Jagged Stone but we’re REALLY not sure. So, maybe it’s a motive of his to find his father.

Thomas Astruc made Luka a very likable character, enough so to get most of the fandom to actually like the Lukanette ship. Luka could have been made purposely likable so that the fandom won’t believe that he will be the next villain.

Another good point Cat Blanc x Princess Justice had made was that Miraculous World made a tweet that Miraculous will be introducing a new villain in season 4 - but it’s a character we already know. Lila and Felix are already known BUT they’re also already well-established villains....

Kagami

If Luka is a possibility, so is Kagami. Half the fandom thinks Kagami is great, the other half thinks she’s awful.

Kagami is shown to have a very strong personality (that sometimes comes off as a bit threatening). She’s very blunt about everything, very uptight, doesn’t beat around the bush. Those three characteristics are similar to Gabriel, HOWEVER Kagami has a caring soul and she really wants to be good to Adrien and Marinette.

So, it’s possible, but unlikely and definitely hard to pinpoint what intentions she could possibly have of becoming a villain. Maybe her mother pinches a certain nerve, or she can’t understand why Adrien doesn’t love her.

Additionally, Thomas Astruc doesn’t cut Adrien a lot of slack, let’s be real here. Adrien’s father is already Hawk Moth, he could switch it to his “girlfriend” being Hawk Moth.

Alya

So, I have a bit of an interesting theory on this since I haven’t really seen anyone else mention anything about Alya potentially becoming bad.

Despite Alya/Rena Rouge having a strong bond and trust with Ladybug, there’s that possibility she still wants to unveil who Ladybug really is - she still runs The Ladyblog, after all. And of course, unveiling Ladybug’s identity is extremely dangerous. She even posted the museum exhibit to her blog in Feast, which she didn’t realize was dangerous. It shows that she might slip and reveal something that she shouldn’t have.

Or, maybe Alya manages to lose Ladybug’s trust. Something monumental could happen. There’s already that bit of danger surrounding Ladybug and Rena Rouge since they’re such close friends in real life and know nearly everything about each other.

Hawk Moth also now knows that Alya is Rena, and could do something to push her to reveal something on The Ladyblog, therefore turning her into a villain.

Also, Alya already knows SO much of the Ladybug lore. She’s dedicated so much time to researching the lore behind the miraculouses. Also pretty dangerous and suspicious.

Nino

Like Alya, there’s a chance Nino also loses Ladybug and/or Cat Noir’s trust. When Nino first got his miraculous, he wasn’t very good at acting like a different person in his superhero persona. He could easily slip and reveal an something he isn’t supposed to.

He is the least likely possibility, but not completely impossible.

Tom or Sabine

I put these two in the same excerpt because they have about the same amount of likeliness to be the next Hawk Moth (or maybe one is Hawk Moth and the other is Mayura 👀)

Tom and Sabine are both super sweet, but also, we don’t know a whole lot about them. Since Gabriel - father of sweet cinnamon roll hero Cat Noir - is Hawk Moth, who’s to say superhero Ladybug’s own parents couldn’t become evil? It’d create a super interesting dynamic in the plot because it’s like how would Marinette react if one of her parents was Hawk Moth?

I have a stronger theory that Tom and Sabine used to be the old Ladybug and Cat Noir, but still. Don’t put it past Thomas Astruc to trick us somehow.

How would Gabriel fail (or lose his miraculous)?

One last thing I’d also like to analyze relating to this is this question.

Does Gabriel NOT end up ever getting Ladybug and Cat Noir’s miraculouses? Let’s look over some possibilities:

1) One of the villains he creates or senti-monsters Nathalie creates becomes too powerful and doesn’t give him the miraculouses once they’re captured.

2) He gives up and realizes all he needs is his dearest son Adrien.

3) He gets sickly and can’t fight anymore and passes on his miraculous for someone else to do the job.

4) Simplest answer: His miraculous is stolen.

#miraculous ladybug #tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculers #miraculous #hawk moth #hawkmoth #gabriel agreste #lila rossi #adrien agreste #luka couffaine #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #miraculous kagami #kagami tsurugi

58 notes · View notes

dc41896 · 4 years

Text

Goodnight and Go

Something quick I thought of inspired by “goodnight no’ go” by Ariana Grande. Hope you guys like it☺️!

Pairing: handyman!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Mentions of drinking, brief mention of an injury/blood, fluff💕!

Tell me why you gotta look at me that way

You know what it does to me

So baby, what you tryna say?

Lately, all I want is you on top of me

You know where your hands should be

So baby, won't you come show me?

Chris: You have enough water right? And food in case the storm gets too bad?

Y/N: Yes dad I have everything I need lol

Chris: Smh the thanks I get for caring😤

Y/N: Aww you really do love me🥰!

Chris: ....go to bed Y/N lol

Y/N: What about you? If you need anything I can share

Y/N: You don’t have any jobs tonight right?

Chris: I’m fine, but thanks for the offer😊 and just one. It shouldn’t take long though

Chris: Aww is someone worried about me??😏

Y/N: 🙄 No...I just didn’t want you to be out in the middle of all the snow and get stuck somewhere then I’m left trying to dig you out

Chris: That sounds like you were worried 😉

Y/N: 😑 I’m going to bed now, goodnight sir lol

Chris: Lol goodnight. I’ll check on you tomorrow💙

Reading the message one last time before tucking your phone under your pillow, you softly smile imagining the way his pink lips were probably curled into a smirk with his teasing and little jokes. And how his voice tended to drop a couple steps above a whisper whenever he told you goodnight, leaving you flustered with tingles spreading over your body.

Oh, why'd you have to be so cute?

It's impossible to ignore you,

Why must you make me laugh so much?

It's bad enough we get along so well

Things had been this way for a while now. Specifically since college.

Although you knew each other in high school, due to him and your older brother being best friends, it wasn’t until college that you both started this unspoken “flirtationship”. You could go back and forth all day, but still neither of you would make the first move. Lately though, you could feel yourself inching closer and closer to finally taking that risk.

However, the thought of you two just being something fun to him and nothing more quickly halted your progress making your stomach queasy. You knew he wasn’t a player and had seen up close how sweet and caring he was, not wanting to hurt anyone, but still what if he didn’t want anything serious right now or to be tied down?

Before your anxious thoughts could take over, you force your eyes shut burying your face into your pillow with a sigh, letting the howling wind brushing against your window drift you off to sleep.

One of these days

You'll miss your train and come stay with me

(It's always say goodnight and go)

We'll have drinks and talk about things

And any excuse to stay awake with you

And you'd sleep here, I'd sleep there

But then the heating may be down again

(At my convenience)

We'd be good, we'd be great together

Knees up to your chest and comforter pulled as close as possible to your chin, your shivers make it impossible to go back to sleep. You could’ve sworn you turned the heater on before getting in bed, and even double checked.

So why did it feel like you were trapped in a meat locker?

Padding across the cold carpeted floor with your purple comforter tightly wrapped around your body, you find your thermostat indeed set to 75 and heat, but the temperature inside reading 57 degrees.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you say to yourself pressing the arrows up and down to see if anything would happen. Unfortunately, it remained unmoved showing you that your thermostat was definitely broken.

Rushing back to your bed before your feet could freeze anymore, you recover your phone from its hiding place quickly pressing Chris’ number.

“Yea?,” he asks, voice laced with sleep making you feel guilty for waking him.

“Oh, uh sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. Everything alright?”

“Um well my thermostat is broken and it’s freezing. But if you can’t make it till the morning-,”

“No I’ll be over in a few, just sit tight,” he yawns. You can hear the phone shift against his ear as he moves about collecting his things.

“You sure? It’s one a.m. and I know you’re probably tired.”

“Y/N it’s fine, plus you just live down the hall it’s nothing for me to come by and look,” he chuckles.

“Alright see you in a few.”

Within the next minute, he was at your door in his navy blue sweatpants and plain grey long sleeve shirt that seemingly clung to every muscle of his arms and chest with his toolbox in hand. If it wasn’t for the unbearable cold and your involuntary shivering, the sight would’ve had more of an effect of you than it currently did.

“Well, good news is that it’s an easy fix,” he speaks placing the wires back inside before screwing the cover back on the thermostat. “Bad news is I need to get the piece you need from the store which won’t be open until the morning. That is if they can with all the snow.”

“So basically I’m stuck being a popsicle for the night.”

“If you want to stay, yea. Or you can stay at my place. Unless you’re not comfortable with that then I completely understand.”

“Chris I’ve known you forever, and honestly would choose you to share a room with over my own brother,” you answer quickly getting your phone and keys before putting on your slides.

“Really?,” he asks amused.

“Yea. I know you won’t try to stick anything in my ear or mess with me somehow while I’m sleeping. Unless you’re now thinking of doing said things, which in that case I have no problem sleeping in my car.”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it sweetheart.” His deep chuckle as he wraps an arm around your shoulders rubbing up and down your arm trying to warm you bring back those familiar tingles as he leads you down the quiet hall to his apartment.

Entering the familiar space, you instantly sigh as your body begins to thaw in the warmth of his apartment. His body leaving your side to grab the couple throw blankets he had draped over his couch brings a sudden chill, making you hope he’d come back soon.

Wrapping both blankets around you, his arms bring you into his broad chest as close as possible tightly, but comfortably, trapping you in a hug.

“Better?,” he asks, head resting on top of yours while his large palm moves back and forth on your back.

“Mhm, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Standing there breathing in his faint woodsy scent still lingering after being worn all day, it’s the most comfortable you’ve been all night.

Well, looking past the current ache in your legs beginning to set in that is.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“Although this is nice, my legs are starting to go numb,” you softly giggle watching as he pulled away with light red cheeks.

“Oh right, sorry. Um you can take the bed, I’ll stay out here,” he answers moving towards his couch.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, just come on we can share. It’s not like we haven’t before.”

“That was an accident though, and on your part,” he smirks.

“No, it was actually you who ended up in the wrong room. Figures you don’t remember correctly since you were a bit under the influence,” you smirk back making him shake his head.

In truth, both of you were a bit drunk. Not enough to completely forget the entire night, but enough that any and everything was hilariously funny and sentences were a little difficult to get out clearly. What started with the two of you trying to watch a movie in your brother’s guest bedroom, turned into both of you knocking out in the middle of your conversation having not even pressed play.

A couple hours passed before his blue eyes peaked through his lids. He couldn’t stop the sleepy smile that crept on his lips noting how yours lied pouted against the pillow and nostrils would occasionally flare in the most adorable way from your breathing. He didn’t mean to stare, but how you could look so perfect while sleeping just made him want to hold you closer.

“Now that I think about it, all this isn’t some plan to get me in bed is it?,” he jokes sliding into his king sized bed at the same time as you.

“Wow, you caught me. I messed up my own thermostat nearly giving myself hypothermia just so I could get to you and these striped sheets. Gee, you’re better than Sherlock Holmes,” you retort sarcastically as his head falls back in laughter. Gathering your half of the sheets around you, you lie on the blue pillow gazing at Chris fluffing his before lying down as well.

“You still have it.”

“Have what?”

Taking his hand in yours, his eyebrow rises and heartbeat quickens watching you extend his arm to trace over the discolored scar still near the fold of his arm.

You could vividly remember that night as if it happened minutes ago. Him attempting a keg stand with your brother holding his legs while cheering him on, along with everyone else watching, before ultimately falling awkwardly. Somehow his arm hit the nozzle leaving a gash that oozed blood, and you trying your best to dress his wound using tape and bunches of toilet tissue in the host’s bathroom.

“Oh that,” he smiles as your thumb continues to graze over the spot. “It’s my little reminder.”

“To make sure your spotter has a good grip next time?,” you ask making him chuckle.

“That...and other stuff. Like how it’s nice to have someone there for you.”

Feeling him shift closer to you, you look up to meet his eyes gazing at you in a way you’d never experienced from him before. The usual softness was there, but as his lips curled into that adorable, heart melting tired smile, admiration seemed to be there as well. Something similar to watching the sunset and the sky transition from blue to the lightest shades of pink and purple.

“And that not all dumb decisions end in disaster,” he adds in a husky whisper.

Know you're thinking' 'bout it, baby, just one kiss

While you're lookin' at 'em, baby, read my lips

“It would’ve been nice for you to realize that before we had to play ER,” you whisper back.

“Then what would’ve been the fun in that?,” he smirks. “Plus deep down, I think you like always being there with the bandaid for us...or one of us at least.”

You’re not really sure which one of you leans in first, but soon your lips are connected moving in perfect sync. His thumb runs back and forth against your cheek bone as you cling to his shirt closing the remaining gap between you. Finally pausing for air, you stay close lifting your finger to trace his now swollen lips.

“There might be a teeny, tiny possibility you’re right,” you smile before feeling his lips on yours again.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

84 notes · View notes

yoonia · 4 years

Text

❥ What I’m currently working on ❥

I know that I haven’t been around much (or nearly at all) for the past week month because my life has been quite hectic and I needed to take a quick break from everything (and when I say ‘everything’, I actually meant the internet lol)

But I’m still writing, still not stopping. It’s just taking me longer to update on things. Aside from my ongoing series (Blood Moon Rising and About Time), below are a few things that you will see me working on all through this month.

Note: I don’t usually do any taglist on my works, but since it has been quite some time since my last update and I probably won’t be updating things regularly until my life returns to normal, I’m opening a chance for anyone to join my taglist. How to join taglist: reply to this post with your url and which fic you want me to tag you on :)

↳ Title | Show Me Something

↳ Pairings | Jeon Jungkook x reader

↳ Genre | Road Trip!au, Enemy to Lovers!au, First Love!au, Smut, Voyeurism

↳ Summary | He was your first kiss years ago, only to become your first heartbreak the next day. Your life would have been much easier if only you would forget about him and move on, instead of having to see him almost every day because your best friend had fallen in love with his best friend. When your pal had suggested to have a road trip for the final days of summer break before going back to campus, you said yes for a reprieve. Too bad she forgot to tell you about the two extra passengers tagging along.

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

↳ Note: I know that I have announced this fic since two months ago. I have actually finished it around the designated time of its original posting day, but both me and my beta-reader were not too happy with the final product, so I decided to go back and re-write the parts that I wasn’t happy about. Don’t worry, it’s coming. I’m just not sure when T^T

Current word count: 25k words and adding

[Teaser]

Update: posted!

➬ Title | Bed & Boyfriend(s)

➬ Summary | It was meant to be a simple weekend away with your boyfriend. Inviting his best friends for the ride had sounded like a brilliant, yet an innocent idea just the same. Until the secrets are out and revealed, and the heat from the weekend becomes the sinful flame that may engulf you until you are left into nothing else but sparkles of dust tethering in the blissful wind.

↳ Pairings | Taehyung x reader; Jungkook x Yoongi, Jungkook x reader x Yoongi

↳ Genre | Smut, Polyamory!au

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Current word count: 10k words and adding

Update: posted!

➬ Title | All Fervent Manner

➬ Summary | He is a man of class, but also a man with secrets. And he has no qualms in giving you the entire universe if you had asked him to. At least, those are the exact words he had given you then. But as time passes, you cannot help but notice that no matter how fierce he seems to love you, he always appears to be walking on eggshells. Perhaps it is your duty to release him from his binds. If only you just know how.

↳ Pairings | Jimin x reader

↳ Genre | Established Relationship!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Current word count: 4k words and adding 7k words and adding

Update: posted!

➬ Title | A Touch of Fate [from We Are All Dreamers: a drabble]

➬ Summary | You have waited a long time to finally find him, to be united with the one that the universe had chosen for you. Yet what people had failed to tell you is that finding your soulmate is only the first step of everything. Nobody ever had the decent mind of preparing you to go into the next step, to move on from the past and surrendering to the mate bond.

↳ Pairings | Jeon Jungkook x reader

↳ Genre | Soulmate!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Progress: Story mapping

Update: posted!

↳ Title | Blurred Lines

↳ Pairings | Kim Seokjin x reader

↳ Genre | Smut, Sexual Tension!au, Teacher!Jin, Teacher!reader, Tattooed Biker!Jin

↳ Summary | A new place to live, a new job, a new beginning. Six months have passed and everything has been going well for you in starting over. The warm welcome from your students and peers have quickly made you feel at home, yet you still long to have one calm day where you wouldn’t have to walk into the school with a heavy weight on your shoulders and the air thick with tension. Blame it on him—the strict English teacher who keeps giving you cold shoulders no matter how many times you try to play nice. One night out with your girls and a drunken dare ultimately lead you to uncover what he’s been trying to hide. People do say that the quiet ones always keep the biggest secret.

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

Progress: Story mapping

Update: posted!

➬ Title | Threads

➬ Summary | Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.

↳ Pairings | Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader

↳ Genre | Slice of Life!au, One-sided Love!au Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | undecided, most possibly +18 / M for Mature

↳ Warning | Sexual tension, mutual pinning, jealousy, will be adding more as I continue working on this one.

↳ Estimated Word count | 4-6k words

Progress: Story mapping; 2k words written

Update: posted!

#misc: fic announcement #misc: work in progress

85 notes · View notes

pangtasias-atelier · 4 years

Text

Irreplaceable

A commission for the great @kanonffa

It’s always fun writing for Takumi cause I love him a lot lol. Also, writing this made me sad about the powercreep in FEH but I still use the hell out of him...

Thanks again for the commission!

______________

A half battered training dummy staring back at him, Takumi clenches his teeth. Shoulders hunched, his bangs cling to his forehead as he catches his breath. Fujin Yumi in hand, the bow is undrawn as he surveys the training ground. The arena is littered with a multitude of arrows: targets destroyed cleanly in two, a training dummy more reminiscent of a pin cushion, and even the bench is nicked with a few stray arrows.

“It’s still no use,” Standing up, Takumi’s grip on Fujin Yumi tightens. “No matter what I do, I’ll always be inferior,” A few tears threaten to pour from Takumi’s eyes, the salty liquid prickling his eyes. Violently shaking his head, as if his thoughts will stop, Takumi sniffles.

Having been summoned to Askr early on, Takumi’s aid had been invaluable to the Order of Heroes. His relationship to Kiran strained at first, Takumi immediately distrustful of anyone, Kiran’s caring nature warmed him up eventually. Repelling Veronica’s initial assault on Askr, Takumi had been the main cause for the turning point. However, soon enough, his strength was beginning to lack. Foes and heroes grew stronger alike, and he was left to catch up. At first, it simply meant sharing the limelight, something that Takumi was rather fine with. As long as he felt he was doing his fair equal share, working in a team of four was inconsequential. But soon enough, playing catch up was no longer possible. Even with all of Kiran’s favoritism, Kiran offering refines and seals to Takumi first. Eventually, Takumi’s share was no longer equal, Takumi always contributing the least to his team. As Kiran shifted members around, the newer heroes always contributed more despite their increasing recency in being summoned. Once the star of any team, Takumi had been relegated to support, a role that others fared much better in as well, even as Kiran continued her attempts to help Takumi out.

“She’ll give up on me eventually,” Takumi glumly reminds himself. Scoffing, he heads back to his room. He merely offers a curt ‘hello’ to the few heroes that do greet him. He slams the door behind him as he enters his room, placing Fujin Yumi on its stand.

Takumi lets himself fall into his chair. Slouched, the tiny little addition of pudge on his stomach, his beginner abs now washed away by flab, presses against his shirt. “Ugghh,’ Takumi leans his neck back, staring at the ceiling. “If only Ryoma were here,” Takumi shakes his head, imagining Kiran falling for Ryoma if he were here as well. “Well, Hinoka would be nice to talk to,” Realizing Hinoka would most likely tell Takumi to take charge and confess, he rescinds that comment as well. “Sakura…” Takumi trails off, trying to find some fault in his expectation of a conversation with Sakura. But he finds none, Sakura’s reasoning so perfect that he can’t even imagine what she’d tell him.

“Any of them would be nice to talk to,” Slumping, Takumi crosses his arms over his chest with a pout. The only of his siblings summoned, any sort of talking was done with Kiran, but with his issue involving Kiran herself, the lack of his siblings was starting to become increasingly obvious. “I should clear my mind,” Unwilling to dwell on the issue further, Takumi stands up. He heads over to the mess hall, eating his idea of clearing his mind.

Upon arriving at the currently near empty mess hall, Takumi immediately focuses on the two rowdy heroes eating together. The two of them newer additions to the Order, Gatrie and Osian both have hearty helpings of food. A couple of plates for each, the two talk about their training regimens in between bites, talk of women equally as involved as their talks of their regimens.

Takumi continues to listen in as he grabs something to eat. The idea of more food, Askr’s delicious myriad of dishes a soothing comfort, at the cost of some extra training sounds revolutionary to the desperate Takumi. Grabbing an extra serving of spaghetti, Takumi greedily rubs his hands as he sits down. He imagines his dream body, a defined chest with strong biceps, glistening abs and powerful legs to finish it off, Kiran surely falling for him if he puts on some muscle. Stronger with the added muscle, he’d be able to better pull his weight. His vision in mind, Takumi greedily devours his spaghetti.

Unwilling to spot any other fault with his mind too busy being preoccupied over his lack of strength, his indulgence of food for comfort escapes Takumi’s notice. Training so hard, a bit of extra snacks, or even meals, is a necessity. Or needing the extra food to aid his bulking process to impress Kiran. Takumi is far too willing to rationalize his indulgent behavior as anything but an issue. Even as the bit of pudge on his torso grows some more before that too becomes a noticeable sliver of lard. The extra girth to his body is simply his body being in the middle of his metamorphosis onto bigger and buffer things. At least, Takumi consoles himself as the days pass by. His training sessions grow frequently shorter and as his meals grow comparatively larger. Already deep into his training, a few more days will show some actual growth. And yet, the days turn into weeks, Takumi finding zero progress as the month passes by.

Well, not his intended progress.

Having just woken up, yesterday’s extra helping of cake sits in Takumi’s stomach. It heavily sits in his stomach, Takumi as stuffed as he is groggy. He rests a pudgy hand on his budding gut, his thick fingers curving alongside his stomach. “I…” Looking down, Takumi grits his teeth. His extra girth notable to everyone with eyes, tears threaten to prickle his eyes once again. His stance a tad wider than before his training regimine, his thighs curve a bit inward from the extra flab, the bundle of fat slightly squishing up against each other. The budding layer of fat marking the onset of his double chin presses against his chest. His love handles, both the size of dinner rolls and perfect for a grab, jut out on his sides. “...I just need to train more,” Takumi’s eyes shift, as if anyone else is in his room. Reaching for the nearest shirt, his clothes uncomfortable to sleep in with a clear lack of breathing room, Takumi grunts as he lifts the shirt over his head.

The fabric is already taut as Takumi stretches his shirt to cover his doughy back. Yanking the material down, he lets out angry puffs as he struggles. Fabric catching on fat, the material wrinkling, he yanks his shirt down each time. The hem going past his chest, he grits his teeth as he pulls harder; his arms squish against his sides. Tugging down, the hem goes down as far as possible. The bottom bit of Takumi’s flab remains exposed, his shirt unable to go any lower. His torso is absolutely stuffed inside his shirt. His outward ovular curve of his love handles press against the fabric, the material clinging to his rolls. His shirt is painted on, his soft chest bulging through the top; the outline of his moobs are visible.

Takumi stomps his foot, the pressure reverberating in his leg. “This is..” Takumi grabs his love handles. He shakes them, his gut jiggling alongside his love handles. “This is pointless!” Crashing back down on his bed, a strained sob escapes him as he rests his head in his hands. The tiny crack from his bed’s frame goes unregistered. “I can’t impress Kiran now,” Sighing, the prior vigor in his body dissipates. Takumi’s frame curls in on itself as he lies on his side. “Not when everyone outclasses me…”

Unwilling to go out, feeling absolutely ridiculous in his far too small shirt, Takumi remains on his bed, shifting every once in a while as he wallows in his self pity. The day going on without him, he dejectedly sighs, his eyes downcast. Unaware of the exact time, the only marcation is the sun’s descent. Takumi sits up as a knock sounds. Takumi scrambles to fix himself, his hands shooting towards his shirt to yank it down. His eyes nearly bulge as the door begins to open.

“H-hey, wait a minute!” Takumi freezes as Kiran walks in.

“Here you are!” Bustling in, Kiran’s ever jovial expression remains present on her face. “I couldn’t find you anywhere,” Kiran smiles at Takumi, her gaze focused on his face.

Takumi inwardly screams. Kiran right in front of him, he prepares himself for a snide comment on his weight, or laughter or just about any way this’ll go wrong.

Yet, none of his envisioned scenarios come to pass, Takumi eyeing Kiran. “Yeah…” Takumi rubs the back of his neck, his shirt rising up his belly. “I woke up late,” Takumi smiles, staring at the wall behind Kiran instead of her face,

“Are you okay?” Kiran steps forward. She places a hand on Takumi’s shoulder.

Takumi grits his teeth. “Of course I’m not!” Takumi shouts, pushing away Kiran’s hand. “Not when I look like this,” Takumi places both hands on his roll of a stomach, the lard slotting itself into his hands. “I’m fat and-” Takumi grunts, lifting his hands in exasperation.

“So, you haven’t been trying to gain weight?” Kiran innocuously asks, her head slightly cocked to the side.

“Huh?” Broken out of his anger, Takumi stares at Kiran. “You think I did this on purpose?” Takumi nearly jumps as Kiran places a warm hand on his stomach.

“I’ve seen you so often in the mess hall that I figured it was intentional,” Kiran pats Takumi’s stomach. She smiles up at him. “I think you look a lot cuter like this, but if you want to lose the weight, I could go over some training sessions with you tomorrow morning,”

Takumi’s face burns, his cheeks a vibrant hue of red that seems to want to melt his face off. His mind replays Kiran’s words, his entire being focusing on Kiran calling him cute. He glances down at Kiran’s expectant face. His mind pieces the rest of her words, Takumi clearing his throat. “Yeah! Tomorrow sounds great!” He winces from his palpable excitement.

“Great, I’ll see you then,” Kiran gives a small wave before rushing away, her face gleeful from the prospect of spending time with Takumi.

Takumi watches as Kiran walks off, her pace always in a hurry. He closes his door as she turns the last corner of the hallway. Alone again, he presses his back against the wall. Pressing a hand to his racing heart, he takes steady breaths. “Okay,” Mind replaying the prior scene, Takumi mulls over the interaction. “She said I looked cute…” Takumi begins to walk in circles. “She was probably just pitying me,” Takumi glances down at his tummy. He pokes his pale flab, his stomach jiggling in response. “But I still have a date with her tomorrow,” Takumi chokes on his saliva as he catches his mistake. “It’s not a date! Just a training session, but still, there has to be some way to get rid of this,” Takumi sighs as he realizes his answer. “It’s gonna be magic…” Inept in the art of magic, the tomes he could barely decipher are now his last resort. Mentally preparing himself, the already late hour is perfect for his little escapade.

Giving one last tug at his shirt, Takumi grumbles as his thighs rub against one another. Peeking his head out the door, Takumi checks for anyone around. The hallway is completely empty. Takumi picks up a decent pace. Fast enough to show he has somewhere to go, but not fast enough to look like a maniac. Or for his fat to be shaking everywhere. Though it still jiggles from his pace. Takumi hopes his face doesn’t get even redder. He passes by a few other heroes, none of them thankfully from the World of Fates. Though, he still keeps his gaze averted from them, hoping for zero comments about his extra flab. Another few turns, the seemingly endless hallways are nothing to Takumi’s long time in Askr. The ornate brown doors marking the library’s entrance open easily as Takumi pushes them open. The library is void of any other individual, Takumi the only occupant. Deciding to get to work, he begins by the walls.

Takumi mentally thanks whoever organizes the library. Each shelf neatly organized by subject, Takumi quickly browses the shelves by subject alone. Passing by books on geography, painting, weapons, and many more, each subject divided further based upon the realm, Taumi walks along the shelves lining the wall. His attention shifts as he reaches the back left hand corner. A door remains inconspicuous in between two shelves.

Deciding to enter, he praises his luck as he finally finds a section on magic. The room is much smaller than the main section of the library. A few shelves are placed interspersedly; a small table for two sits perfectly in the middle. Takumi glances at each book's title. Spotting a possible contender, the book titled Limits of the Body, Takumi promptly places it back after reading a few paragraphs, the book on the use of magic for tortue. Another book titled Free your Form details the use of light and dark magic and their usage in manifesting incorporeal beings.

“Please let this be the one,” Takumi mutters to himself as he grabs another book, this one titled A Treatise on Molding. Takumi promptly opens the book to the table of contents before he flips over to the back of the book where the spells are listed.

Reading the spells under his breath, it takes Takumi a while to understand each spell. And even then, his lack of magic has him only understanding the mere basics of a spell’s purpose. Takumi taps his finger against the book as he finds the perfect spell. Clearing his throat, he takes a steady breath. Reciting the words as best as he can, Takumi looks down at himself with bated breath. His stomach bubbles for a second, the little mound of fat groaning before it begins to recede. Eyes wide, Takumi lifts up his arm. The flab hanging from his arms begins to recede as well, Takumi stares as the definition returns to his arms, his muscles no longer hidden under a layer of fat. Bringing a hand to his stomach, the onset of abs are back, the flat stomach under his lithe fingers. His hand shifts to his thighs, the wide legs now much trimmer. Takumi hugs the tome, the book pressing up against his slight chest.

However, a thought blossoms in Takumi’s mind. If a spell made him lose all the weight he gained, what’s to say he couldn’t use another spell to gain the muscle he desperately wanted to impress Kiran? With that thought in mind, Takumi opens the book, once more rifling through the pages. The spells somewhat hard to decipher, he struggles a bit before he finds what he needs. A spell to get bigger, Takumi recites the spell with certainty, closing the book with a flourish as he finishes. A warmth begins to bud in his stomach, Takumi looking on with glee.

He nearly falls over as his stomach lurches forward. A gut larger than the extra flab he had before, his shirt tears from the sudden growth. His ass does the same, his flat butt gaining shape as it bulges outward, his pants creaking from the fat. His chin soon grows a double chin. His thighs widen, the prior problem of chafing minor as his legs continue to grow and fatten, the two thighs squishing further against each other. His gut continues to expand; the mass of fat sags ever further to blanker his legs. Lethargic, Takumi uses a heavy arm to open the book. He holds back a choke as his arms grow wider than how his thighs were before all this mess. Takumi flips through the spells as fast as he can, his sausage fingers struggling to leaf through the pages. The sounds of his shredding clothing rings in his ears. A new rip or tear seems to sound out as he goes through every page, Takumi’s eyes scanning for the first spell. Feeling just so damn heavy, Takumi grunts as his legs begin to wobble. Huffing, the pile of lard for cheeks begin to encroach into his peripheral vision. His arms shake as he tries to keep the book lifted. And still he grows, Takumi panicking as he can simply feel the expanse of his body despite not touching it. The sheer weight and space he takes up immense as the last shreds of his clothes fall off, the stuffy air of the library against his skin. He feels how much his fat sags, his titanic gut reaching his knees. He struggles to shift, his thighs unbearably pressed up against each other. His chest sags down on his gut, the two breasts larger than even the numerous well endowed women in the Order.

Finally reaching the page, Takumi pants for air. Simply standing, he feels exhausted. He begins to read the first spell, his still fattening body urging him on. His knees buckling, Takumi falls back. Letting out a shout, the book falls from his grasp. His gigantic ass cushions the fall, the large hills for fat rivaling a two seater. Huffing, Takumi spots the book in front of him. Moreso his stomach than himself, Takumi’s bed for a stomach extending far out as it envelops more and more of the floor. Takumi grunts as he tries to lift up a door crushingly-wide thigh. His thighs alone are larger than his waistline back when he was pudgy. Pathetically moving his arms, even that ends up being a chore for Takumi, his massively fattened arms no longer good for anything. Completely immobile, Takumi whimpers as he feels himself grow even larger.

Unable to do anything, Takumi remains seated as he continues to fatten up. Growing unfathomably wide, he wonders about the sheer amount of fabric that would be necessary just to cover up his tank of a stomach. New rolls continue to form on Takumi’s body as older rolls grow even plumper. Takumi gasps as the sides of his stomach press against bookshelves. His tire for a neck prevents him from turning, Takumi only able to see his growing body overtakes the room. He winces as the bookshelves topple over, his fat simply flowing over the mess. Soon, his arms refuse to budge as well, Takumi only able to wiggle his massively engorged digits. His fat continues its growth, Takumi immobilized by an ocean of his own fat. He shuts his eyes as his fat reaches the edges of the room. Expecting the worst, he waits expectantly for the walls to groan as his fat builds up and presses against all four walls. Nothing happening, he opens his eyes.

The room filled with his own fat, Takumi’s body stops its growth. Panic leaving his body, Takumi lets out a sigh. One problem resolved, his other problem of losing all this weight begins to sink in.

Though the problem sounds nowhere near as bad. Takumi finds the soft, cushiony piles of lard warm. “No, this isn’t happening,” Takumi immediately quiets down, surprised to hear the newfound depth to his voice. Definitely never having a high pitched or squeaky voice, the extra hundreds of pounds of lard seem to make sure no one would ever think that. His voice a bit deeper, Takumi whines as he finds himself enjoying the extra richness to his voice, always a bit too self conscious about how he sounded. Shoving that thought away as well, his face is red as he tries to divert his mind onto something else. They shift onto Kiran, Kiran hugging Takumi’s fat while she- “AARGH!” Stewing in his own lard, Takumi’s thoughts continue to focus on Kiran.

Making her usual rounds patrolling the Order’s base, Kiran stops in her tracks as a thud sounds out. Keeping a brisk pace, she watches her footsteps. The noise sounding from the library, Kiran easily slams open the door despite her small frame. Briedablik raised to summon a hero, Kiran instead finds the library in perfect order. A door in the back of the library creaking, Kiran quickly opens it.

She steps back as some pale gelatinous thing seeps forward. The object squeezes through the doorway, the rest of it still contained inside the room. Kiran presses a finger against it. Her entire finger sinks into the mass. Removing her finger, she presses her whole fist against it, the substance absorbing her hand up to her wrist.

“H-hey! Who’s there?” The strange pale blob responds to her prodding.

The voice sounding familiar, Kiran squints in concentration. The name of the voice’s owner ready to jump out of her mouth, the slight deepness throws her off, the voice an octave or two lowers than-

“Takumi?” Concern replacing any remaining confusion, Kiran crawls on top of the mass of fat. Careful to not step too harshly, she fits under the remaining space between the top of the doorway and Takumi’s lard. Her hands and feet sink into the blob known as Takumi. Hurrying her pace, Kiran shifts all her attention in climbing up. The large plate sized nipples mark Takumi’s breasts, the crease of fat not aiding with a myriad of rolls lining the entirety of Takumi’s body. Takumi’s moobs alone are larger than Kiran’s entire head, the pumped full of lard breast sagging to the side as it curves down Takumi’s bed crushing gut. Two smaller mounds of fat placed a bit further back and above Takumi’s pillows for a chest, Kiran sighs as she makes out Takumi’s face. An exaggeratedly puffed out version of Takumi’s face, his jowls even slightly sag onto his tire for a neck, Takumi’s neck comprised up of rolls just like the rest of his body. His partially visible hair gives it away to Kiran, Kiran devoting to memory Takumi’s long soft locks of hair. “Takumi!” Reaching his face, Kiran grab’s Takumi’s cheeks. She stares at his face, checking for anything and everything. “Takumi, are you okay? Who did this? Why were y-”

“I’m fine,” Takumi grumbles, his cheeks jiggling as he speaks. He doesn’t elaborate, instead preferring to shift his gaze away from Kiran.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” Takumi snaps, his voice rising in intensity as he stares at Kiran. He quickly catches his mistake, sighing afterwards. “It’s just…” Takumi sighs a second time.

“It’s just what?” Kiran adjusts herself, shifting a bit back to give Takumi some space. When Takumi refuses to offer any more insight, Kiran speaks up. “Takumi, we’ve been through more stuff than we can remember together. If you ever have anything you want to tell me, I’m always here for you,” Leaning to the side, Kiran has to lie down on Takumi’s fat to reach his hand. Putting a pinky out, she wraps it around Takumi’s sausage of a pinky. “Pinky promise,” Sitting back up, she smiles at Takumi, finished with her piece.

Takumi continues his grumbling. He opens his mouth in random intervals before he clams up. A few minutes of silence passing by, Takumi lets out a short, exasperated groan. “It’s just, I know you were lying about saying I look cute when I was…” Takumi pauses. “When I was stocky, just to make me feel better,”

Kiran nods, allowing Takumi to keep speaking.

“So I decided to use some magic before our training session tomorrow. I managed to lose the weight, but when I tried to add a bit of muscle, this,” Takumi wobbles his arms in a poor imitation of gesturing to his corpulent body. His arms remain glued to his corpulent frame, Takumi unable to lift them.“Well, this happened,”

“Takumi,” Kiran pats the side of his cheek. Her hand is smaller than the surface area of Takumi;s cheek. “ I said what I meant back then. You look great regardless of your size,” Kiran grins, her face growing a flushed red, the same red as Takumi’s face whenever he stares at Kiran when he thinks she isn’t aware of his staring. “But,”

Takumi’s eyes widen, the shred of confidence gained deteriorating by the second. “But…”

“I honestly think you look much better with some weight on you,”

“Err, you already said that last time?” Takumi furrows his brows, his confused expression unfitting with his overly puffed out cherubic face.

“I mean you look great even now,”

“Oh.” Takumi’s face burns red, the cogs in his brain jamming as they register Kiran’s confession. “OH. I - um,” He winces at his sudden lack of speaking. “I don’t entirely think this is awful?” Takumi counter’s Kiran’s confession with his own before backpedaling. “But just for a while! Being this huge all the time is-”

A small chuckle bubbles in Kiran’s throat, her face grinning to stop the oncoming laughter before she lets loose, uproariously laughing to herself. She places a hand on her sides as her laughing fit continues, Kiran’s laughter devolving into a fit of coughs. “Sorry,” Kiran devolves into giggles for a few seconds. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just think you’re great and nothing can change that. So, remember to loosen up a bit once in a while. Cause, you’re special and irreplaceable to me,” Kiran smiles, her eyes crinkling as she stares at Takumi’s puffed out face. Bringing a gloved hand to his face, she pinches his cheeks, her smile as vibrant as ever.

Takumi whimpers at the praise, any sort of bold declarations rare in Hoshido’s culture. He retreats in his own fat, his bundles of necks squishing down as he tries to not turn as red as a fire tome. Flabbergasted, the wind knocked out of him and cognitive thinking destroyed, Takumi shyly looks back at Kiran, unable to do or say anything. Kiran is the first one to break the rather short silence, though Takumi finds the silence lasting longer than Corrin’s silence during her decision on which side to support back during the war.

“Well, you’ve probably been like this long enough, so I’ll go find someone to reverse this,” Kiran gives a second smile at Takumi, ruffling his hair in the process. She pushes herself off Takumi, sliding down his hill for a gut. She hurries off before Takumi can complain at her. Walking through the library, she heads over to the perfect person to ask. Going over to the nearest wing, the mages living closest to the library, Kiran knocks on a door.

“Give me a second,” The voice retorts back. Kiran grins up as Leo opens the door for her. Leo’s hair disheveled and his shirt on backwards, Kiran prefers to not mention his clear ready for bed state. “What is it now?” Leo rubs the bridge of his nose. He closes his door, stepping into the hallway.

“I need help reversing a spell,” Kiran leads the way, Leo walking beside her.

“That’s it?” Leo stifles a yawn with his hand. “It better not be far,”

“It’s in the library. Takumi messed up a spell,”

Leo’s eyes widen at Kiran’s confession. “I guess I’ll help him considering how woefully inept he is,” Any sort of dirt on Takumi the best kind of dirt, Leo savors the possibilities of being able to rub it in Takumi’s face about how he needed his help. “What kind of spell was it?”

“You’ll see,” Kiran remains silent for the rest of the short walk.

Entering the library, Leo squints his eyes as something seeps through one of the doors in the back. Stepping closer, he kicks the object, the object profusely shaking in response.

“Watch it!” The blob responds back.

“That’s Takumi; he messed up a growth spell,”

Leo stares at the mass upon hearing that it’s Takumi. “Maybe I’ll let this blunder aside,” He whispers under his breath. His face red, he clears his throat. “This will be easy,”

Before Leo can cast a spell to counter Takumi’s, Kiran grabs his arm. Pulling him down, she whispers into his ear. “You have to teach me the magic of whatever he did. And also make the fix last awhile,”

“Sure,” Leo responds without any hesitation. The more embarrassment for Takumi, the better. He stumbles back as Kiran hugs him. “Enough with the gratitude,” Ignoring the heat on his face, he begins reciting a spell as Kiran finally lets go. His spell a basic counter to the prior spell used on someone, a blue haze swirls around his fingers. The hue turns darker the further he recites the lines, Leo having memorized the spell. Finishing it, he presses his hand against the soft flesh of Takumi’s overflowing gut. The effects completely unnecessary, Leo grins as Kiran oohs and awes from his added little spectacle. “He should return to normal in a few hours,” Leo flushes as Kiran hugs him again.

“You’re the best, Leo!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now go do whatever it is you plan to do,” Escaping from Kiran’s vice-like grip, Leo heads back to his room.

Alone with Takumi once more, Kiran begins to climb Takumi’s immobile body. The soft warm pudge under her, and with the promise of learning the spell, the edges of Kiran’s eyes crinkle from her smile. No longer in a rush of concern, she savors the small climb. Checking around the room, she nearly loses her jaw upon realizing the sheer extent of Takumi’s massive state. The room admittedly small, the fact does nothing to lessen the realization of the entire floor being covered by Takumi’s mammoth like body. So filled with his fat, the flab of Takumi’s ass begins to rise up along the wall, his lard propped up by even more lard in its desperation for room. His couch sized thighs do the same, the gargantuan appendages squeezed tight in between the wall and Takumi’s monstrous gut. Reaching Takumi’s face, she perches herself atop his breasts, the two massive jugs the most comfortable seat.

“I already feel the weight going away,” Takumi offers a slight smile, still embarrassed about the whole situation. The upper portion of his fat pressed up against the wall no longer feels as high. Neither does the lard escaping past the door.

“Good. They said that it’ll take a few hours to go away,”

“Oh,” Takumi glances down at himself. “You don’t have to stay just cause you feel bad for me,”

“I meant what I said earlier,” Kiran grabs Takumi’s cheeks. The two piles of fat sit heavily in her hands, her palms overflowing with Takumi’s cheeks.

“I just wanted to make sure,” Takumi continues to avert his gaze from Kiran’s. “At least this isn’t a terrible feeling,” Takumi clamps up at his further admission.

“See, I knew you’d realize how cute you look!” Kiran fusses with Takumi, squishing and pinching his cheeks as Takumi squirms under her touch. “But, first we have to wait out for the spell to be reversed,” Kiran holds on tight as Takumi’s body begins to shake, adeep guttural groan sounding from Takumi’s gut.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” Takumi whines, his face pained as his hunger begins to catch up to him.

“I’ll be right back, then. The mess hall should still be open” Inching herself closer, Kiran’s hands sink into Takumi’s expansive lard. The moment passing in an instant, Kiran presses her lips against Takumi’s. Pulling back as quickly as possible, a smile on her giddy face, she deftly climbs back down Takumi’s girth, heading off with an extra spring in her step.

His first ever kiss, Takumi’s mind races as it replays Kiran pecking him on the lips. His bright red face burns even brighter as his mind registers Kiran’s complete eagerness in his size. He fails to register his own extra eagerness as he smacks his lips, already hoping that maybe his size takes a bit longer to go away.

#my writing #fat!takumi #fat!heroes #ssbhm #maleweightgain #fatfiction #fat emblem #feeder emblem #fat!fates

120 notes · View notes