#second one is soft stick pastel on pastel paper

[wwwj1ncom]

no bc one thing about me is i will always be painting jellyfish

[secretly-a-catamount]

A collection of all current Malcabel fics that have been written by me, because i’m insane about them (positive) and have been debating which one I should work on next

Currently Untitled | Finished Beach Fic

  It was all Catarina Loss’s fault really.

  “Honestly, Malcolm,” the sky blue warlock had told Annabel’s husband when he’d called her positively panicking about being in charge of her (many times removed) nieces and nephews for a day, “why don’t you and Annabel just take the kids to the beach?”

  Trusting his friend’s judgment more than his own had been a rather terrible idea, Annabel thought amusingly as she watched the blond warlock race down the shoreline, waving his arms like a mad man, shouting that under no circumstances were the children to poke at that beached jellyfish with a stick, yes, Tiberius, even if it was already dead.

  After some whining (the children) and some poorly concealed begging (Malcom), the Blackthorn kids dispersed into the water and across the sand.

  Malcolm trudged back up the beach, and stood at the edge of the shade thrown by the umbrella stabbed into the ground.

  Annabel looked up from her drawing pad, her black brows furrowing in irritation at the shadow abruptly cast over her sketchbook. “You’re blocking my light.”

  His pale skin flushed a delicious raspberry red as he stammered out an “Oh, right, sorry” and moved to sit beside her on the blanket, smiling sheepishly. After a moment of comfortable silence, Malcolm absentmindedly ran his hand down her arm, stopping only to trace the black lines, curves, and whorls of her Runes. His touch was soft and light as a feather. “What are you drawing?”

  “You obviously.”

  “Obviously.” A pastel sketch of Malcolm in his striped black-and-white bathing suit, looking tall and thin and almost frail, with a softness to his frame and features that matched his disposition. A faint salmon-pink sunburn covered his face and shoulders, and his lips were cracked (Annabel would solve that one way or another, either by gifting him the tube of chapstick she’d squirreled away in her purse or by kissing him until he couldn’t breathe).

  “The kids.” Ty and Livvy and some golden-haired Mundane boy that Annabel didn’t know chasing a seagull. Mark and Helen teaching Tavvy how to build a sandcastle. Dru, Julian, and a different golden-haired child that Annabel didn’t know, this one a Shadowhunter girl with a spill of bright curls and a practice training sword, diving into the ocean and swimming around in the shallows.

  “Church.” The fat, blue feline crouched down in the dunes, fluffy tail held erect, eyes focused on a mouse in front of him, mere seconds away from a pounce that Annabel knew would end in failure.

  “The L.A. Institute.” An imposing building that Annabel didn’t think could ever have the ability to look homely.

  “Home.” A snapshot of their living room, a Polaroid pinned with a paper-clip for reference, Malcolm’s latest draft of the Codex — her illustrations not yet accompanying his neat, meticulous writing — spilling off the end table onto the soft, red couch, one of Annabel’s favorite mugs (which would always be filled with tea, Annabel and Malcolm both hating the taste of coffee) filled with paint-streaked paint brushes and colored pencils.

  “And my first love, the sea.” Cerulean and cobalt-blue waves crashing to the shore.

  “Should I be jealous?” Malcolm had moved from her arm to her hand, gently interlacing their fingers together.

  “Oh, immensely. I’m definitely leaving you for the ocean.”

  Malcolm’s laughter was interrupted by a shriek of pain.

  With a quickness that could belong only to a Shadowhunter, Annabel leapt to her feet. Heart hammering, she scanned the beachfront with frenzied eyes, her fingers itching to pull the wickedly-sharp daggers from the sheath she wore on her ankle . . .

  There — there was no danger present other than one of the children perhaps twisting their ankle. It hadn’t been a scream of pain, but a shriek of childish delight as Dru and Julian teamed up to toss the golden-haired girl — Annabel wanted to say her name was Emily? — into the shallow waves with a mighty splash of saltwater.

  Collapsing to the ground as quickly as she’d risen, Annabel scrubbed at her face, her eyes starting to sting with tears. This was how it always was whenever she and Malcolm left home, whenever they left Cornwall. She would be fine, and then she wouldn’t be. She would be fine, and then she would have a breakdown. Blood splattered against her lips and — blood?

  She wasn’t bleeding, her ruined hands barring no scraps or marks (although plenty of Marks), but she had a sinking suspicion of who was.

  “Ouch,” Malcolm said, “I think you grabbed my hand just a little too hard.” He smiled — why the hell was he smiling, she’d gouged her nails into his skin until he bled, she’d hurt him, she’d hurt him — moving to sit beside her on the blanket once again. His purple eyes darkened from the pale petals of violets to polished chips of amethyst with worry.

  “Are you hurt?” He took her hands in his own, turning them over gently and examining them, his head bent. Shadows and sunlight caught on the strands of his white hair.

  “No. But you are.” She yanked her hands out of his grasp and ground her teeth together, telling herself that she was not going to cry in front of the children (who were not remotely paying attention).

  “It’s fine, darling, really.” A flash, a spark, and pale light wove between Malcolm’s fingers until it looked like he held a burning star in his cupped hands. The scent of his magic — burning cinnamon and crisp snow and freshly spilled ink — reached her nostrils just in time for his flesh to knit back together.

  Drawing her knees to her chest, Annabel buried her face in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut so hard her skull hurt. I hurt him, I hurt him, I hurt him, I hurt him, I—

  Annabel barely heard as Malcolm got to his feet and shouted to the children that they needed to leave. She could barely hear anything over the dim in her head, the memories threatening to drown her. The clashing of wolves’s teeth, her father carving off her fingers, her sister crumpling dead to the ground from the blow she dealt to her temple with a fire-poker. She could still taste her husband’s blood in her mouth, she could still smell her sister’s blood, she could still feel her blood flowing from wounds made by her father’s knife.

  A wave curling around her ankle, Annabel was being dragged out to sea by a hated, if familiar, riptide. She was treading water, but she was so tired of fighting to live, of fighting for the right to live. She stopped for a moment to rest her too-tight skin and weary bones, and then she was drowning.

  She was drowning.

Currently Untitled | Unfinished Canon Divergent AU

  Her hair black, her skin white, her eyes blue and green and gray and all the colors of the ocean that swallowed men whole with little regard to their flimsy, mortal lives: Annabel Blackthorn was dead.

  Wearing angelic brands, the barred teeth of a wolf, laughter, complacency, and lies, drawn tight around her like a cloak, like a shield, like a funeral shroud: Annabel Blackthorn was dead.

  White hair and purple eyes and a whisper of her name as the last words on his lips, she had died months ago when they had looped a noose around Malcolm’s neck.

  She had died, but her body still wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She had died, but her body did not rot in the grave, did not decompose under the crust of the earth. She had died, but she had not swung — they would not let her. Her family had been ruined from when she had tried to flee with her beloved, a suicide would be inconsolable to their reputation.

  So they had arranged for her to be married to her cousin and shut away in one of their houses far away from Cornwall, far away from even Idris, as if she were mad, as if she was dangerous, as if she was deadly.

  They were right, of course, one of the few things they were ever right about. And they didn’t even know that they were right, they underestimated her, they always had, that would get them all killed.

  She was the mad girl — and she was a girl, barely past eighteen — who shattered a looking glass with her coiled fists and used the jagged-edged shards to cut lines and whorls into her skin. They took away everything sharp after that — or, at least, away from her, a Shadowhunter family never being able to not have weapons on hand.

  She was the dangerous girl who mixed rat poison in her sister’s wine. This sister, youthful and kind as she was, had been the one to sell out Malcolm and Annabel to their parents, had been the one to release the wolves who tracked them down, had been the one to physically restrain her when they executed Malcolm. They fired the rat catcher after that — wrongly thinking he had committed the killing as a product of jealousy from being born a Mundane.

  She was the deadly girl who, when the party was over, when the sky was as black-and-blue as the the bruises her cousin left on her thighs and hips and arms, straddled her husband, fitted her hands to the curve of his throat, his pulse beating beneath her fingertips, and squeezed, a Strength Rune etched on the deceptively delicate-looking wrist hidden underneath one of her billowing sleeves. She did not know what they would do when they found out — she did not intend to live that long.

  Thrashing like a netted fish, he clawed at her fingers, her hands, and her arms. Crimson blood splattering into his mouth and eyes, drowning and blinding him as he died. His cries for help were silenced into choking, wheezing gasps.

  He fought. Annabel fought harder.

  She lingered for a moment before slipping to the floor.

Currently Untitled | Unfinished Soulmate AU

  The First Mark, as they were called, carried from birth on the skin, where a gift from the Angel. A way to lead his children along their path to their soulmate, a way to bred better Shadowhunters, birth better warriors.

  And as everyone knew, decrees from the Angel could not be challenged.

  They were Law.

As the World Burns | Unfinished AU

  “So, that’s it than? We’re all fucked?” Annabel Blackthorn stood at the counter, shoulders set, taking her anger out on the wilting tomatoes spread across a dented cutting board, her posture as perfect as a taunt piano wire. Outside the window the sky was black as pitch and completely starless, almost as it knew what was coming, almost as if it mourned for the thousands of lives that were going to be lost. Innocents, slaughtered by his hands, his magic, his inventions.

  “I don’t — I can’t . . . I’m so sorry, Annabel. So, so sorry.” Malcolm nearly collapsed to the floor but managed to catch himself on the edge of the counter at the last possible moment. His briefcase clattered to the stone tile, emptied of everything that had made it important just hours earlier.

 She softened, as she always did when he spoke, and abandoned their last dinner, pulling him into a soft embrace. Malcolm stilled under her touch, his breathing slowly evening out. He wasn’t safe here, he wasn’t safe anywhere, not anymore, not in so, so long, but he was safe with her.

  Together they collapsed to the floor.

Currently Untitled | Unfinished Vampire!Annabel AU

  “No, please!” the woman said fearfully, “Don’t hurt me!” Her dark eyes desperately tried to find something in the swallowing darkness.

  “Now, now, my svelte beauty,” purred the creature as it slipped out of the shadows, “no need to make a fuss.”

  It was a man, with sharp, inhuman teeth, pupil-less eyes, and unnaturally pale skin. He wore a black cloak with a high collar and a blood-red gemstone clasp. He spoke with a foreign accent.

  The woman screamed as the monster grabbed her by the shoulders and sunk his fangs into her throat. Blood splattered against her white dress as she struggled, shrieking for mercy, then suddenly, with a burst of strength, the woman—

  “Don’t worry, kid, there’s not enough blood in your veins for any one of us to want to do that to you.”

  Kit jumped. Heart skipping a beat at the abrupt appearance of a girl — who looked around nineteen, and quite obviously a vampire, which was weird because he thought vampires weren’t allowed in the Institute thanks to the Shadowhunters’ magical racism — he spat out a string of profanities, and then said, “God, you scared me.”

  “Nothing to do with God here. Creature of the Dammed and all that.”

  He blinked, not sure what to make of her joke, and then decided to focus on the more pressing matter. “Who the hell are you? How the hell are you here?” He tightened his grip on the dagger he’d liberated from the Blackthorn’s weapons-room.

  “Now that’s more in my wheelhouse.”

  The girl neatly sat herself down on the couch beside him. Her movements weren’t particularly inhuman, but the sword that hung from her hip certainly was. The blade was sleek, long, and almost delicate-looking. Seemingly made from the same material that the Shadowhunters’ special knifes were made from — some sort of crystal-metal alloy that belonged exclusively to the Shadowhunters, because they’re just so good at sharing, Kit thought bitterly — the sword shone subtlety, while the black runes inset into the blade.

  “I’m Annabel Fade, the Head of the L.A. vampire clan.  As for why I’m here, I need to talk to Emma and Julian. Do you know where they are?”

  “They went on a patrol.” Kit answered, turning the dagger in his hand over and over as he talked, a mindless, repetitive motion that brought him comfort. “But how are you here, like, in the Institute? I thought—“

  “Auntie Annabel!” A shrike, a blur, and Annabel was engulfed in the littlest Blackthorn’s embrace.

“You came! You told me she wouldn’t, but she came.” Tavvy clung to Annabel’s black leather biker jacket like a determined octopus as she moved to give Livvy — who’d just come into the room with a ridiculously giant tub of popcorn in her hands — a one-armed hug. Standing next to Livvy, who wasn’t by any means particularly tall, Kit realized that Annabel was actually kind of short.

  Livvy accepted the hug, stuck her tongue out at Tavvy, and said, “I didn’t say she wouldn’t come, I just said it would be hard for her to. ‘cuz of the warding.”

[sissy-feminized-into-ballerina]

Sister’s Reaction

“What’s that? My little brother’s secretly been playing dress up whenever he thinks he has the house to himself?

You’ve been dressing up in my clothes?

Wearing my knickers?

Stretching my leotards?

Now that I’ve discovered your secret you hope I’ll go clothes shopping with you?

You want me to start calling you Amy?

You hope I’ll treat you like a real sister?

You want me to use she/her pronouns for you?

All the time?

You’ve known you wanted to be a girl since nursery?

You’ve been building up a collection of girls’ toys and clothes for years using the pocket money from your paper round?

You would like me to show you how to apply makeup?

You want to paint your nails?

You want to grow out your hair?

When that’s done you want me to show you how to braid it?

You hope mum will accept you as her second daughter rather than her first and only son?

You think your male friends at school and on the football team are rude and mean?

You won’t mind losing them if they don’t accept you?

You hope mum will agree to transfer you to an all-girls school?

You hope they will let you wear a girl’s uniform?

Including a gingham pinafore dress in the Summer?

You hope you’ll make new friends at your new school?

After 4 years on your current school’s football team you want to throw that all away so you can join the local ballet studio with your big sis?”

You want to donate your cleats and other football gear in general to Goodwill so a real boy can appreciate them?

You want me to take you to the dancewear store in town where I can use my loyalty card to get you great discounts on leotards, tights, slippers and tutus?

You want me to hold your hand when we enter for reassurance in case someone is mean towards you?

You adore the blue leotard I’m wearing but hope to find one of your own in pink?

You intend to use all your saved-up birthday money on buying the biggest, pinkest tutu the shop sells?

You’ll practice your dance moves everyday rain or shine until you’re good enough to take part in the studio’s dance recital later this Autumn?

You don’t mind that this will involve dancing in public in a tutu?

Possibly in front of your old friends if they’re there to watch their own sisters perform?

You hope I’ll invite you to my friends’ next sleepover party so you can get to to know them?

You don’t mind that you’ll be the youngest one there meaning you’ll be treated like the group doll?

You think you can convince the older girls there to watch girly cartoons with you?

You’ve been getting up super early recently so you can watch episodes of Sofia the First while we’re all fast asleep?

Your favourite episode was the one where she met Snow White?

Snow White’s your favourite princess even though you haven’t seen all the other Disney movies yet?

You want to make sweeping changes to your bedroom upstairs?

You want to repaint your bedroom walls pastel pink?

You want to stick floral decals onto them?

You like the funny shape of your racing car bed but want to replace your current F1 racing stripe sheets with a Snow White comforter set?

You want to cover your new bed in soft animal toys so you won’t feel alone and frightened in the dark at night?

You want to sell all your action figures and boy legos to make shelf space for your secret stash of Barbie dolls and Lego Friends sets?

You want to replace that Scalextric dad got you with a doll’s house for your Barbies?

You hope I’ll play ‘dollies’ with you even though I outgrew mine years ago?

You’re going to write a letter asking Santa for all the animated Barbie and Disney Princess movies for Christmas this year so you can complete your collection?

You want me to go see the new live action Barbie movie starring Margot Robbie with you when it comes out in cinemas?

You hope a doctor will put you on hormone blockers when you’re old enough so you won’t get mutilated by the effects of puberty against your will?

You’re so excited I found out your secret since now you can be the girl you’ve always wanted to be?

I really can’t believe any of this…

.

[howtodrawyourdragon]

What texture/paper/background do you use for your digital drawings? I really like it!

I'm actually using a brush from a trick that I learned from this 4 year old video:

They show two ways to make a textured canvas on Procreate, but I've only ever followed the first option.

Basically, I grab a regular white canvas of my choice.

Then I take these colors:

The Main Color I just fill the entire canvas with by dragging it out of that little circle at the top right.

Then I find the brush "Soft pastel" amongst my default brushes in the tab "Sketching." and take the Texture Color before lightly brushing all over the canvas with the brush on its largest size. But only once and on a separate layer.

You already get a little bit of a texture going. Then I take the second layer (the textured layer) and change the mode to Multiply. Which makes it darker and makes the texture contrast harder against the plain first layer.

I merge both layers before finding "Hue, Saturation, Brightness" in the Adjustments tab and I play around with only the Saturation bar on the bottom until I get the exact shade of paper that I want.

The difference from before and after I play around with the Saturation bar. (Which stands at default on 50% I'm pretty sure)

And I do that before every drawing that I do on "paper."

It takes less than 5 minutes and really gives my art that textured feeling that I really enjoy. :)

I don't even have to stick to the brown color I showed for sketching and lineart because most (if not all) colors fit. The lineart of the middle one is actually a dark green.

Though for the Snotlout piece I used a different brush to create a different type of texture and I can't remember which one.

For the coloring in the Femcup piece, I only used the default "Round Brush" from the Painting section, but because I didn't press too hard, the texture still came out as if I drew her on actual paper.

For the sketching and lineart, I tend to use the default "Ink Bleed" from the Inking section.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Marriage story AU - ch. 1 - NY

A/n: we're sticking to the chapters for this one.

Masterlist, Natasha Romanoff masterlist, latest fic, hit my inbox

AU masterlist

You were staring at the piece of paper in your hands. It was from a notebook that didn't even belong to you. Now all the words were a hideous reminder of how you were feeling at this very moment. You hated being here, you hated that she dragged you here. Letters didn't make sense any more.

"I'm not gonna read this out loud." You were crumpling the paper. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Why?"

You hated this mediator. Couldn't he read your body language? You didn't want to be here, you didn't want to be a part of this game.

"Because we're here only to make ourselves feel better about the failure. But it is what it is. Clearly not a success."

You were wondering why this room is so sterile. For people to feel nothing? No colorful accents, pastel tones, even the plants were boring.

"As we mediate your separation and eventual divorce..."

You noticed the other woman's movement of discomfort.

"...things can get quite contentious. So I like to begin with the note of positivity. For the people to remember, why they got married in the first place. And so as you come apart you're reminded that, thi ls is a person you had great feeling for and maybe still do in many ways."

You were silent. You didn't even bother hiding the disappointment on your face.

"I can read mine. I like what I wrote." Nat's voice wasn't as commanding as it usually was. She tried to play the game by the rules. Failure or not, she still was the stronger one.

"Unfortunately that doesn't work that way. You both have to do this, otherwise there won't be any result." the mediator gave you an encouraging smile.

"I'm not going to." You crossed your arms on your chest.

"Well, that's a shame..."

"I still can read mine." You knew she was looking at you. Natasha was soft. "I want you to hear it."

"That might work. Maybe after hearing Natasha's you're gonna change your mind."

"I'm not, ok?" Your nails were digging in the armrest. "I don't want to hear the praise now. I know what we had, I know what we have. And you both can stay here and be a part of any fucking game you want!"

You grabbed the bag and stormed out. Everything was useless. You couldn't even be with Natasha in one room.

___

A few days passed. All this time your wife was away. But her team returned with a victory. You were leading another platoon. You were supposed to eliminate the threat for the civilians. Natasha was supposed to capture the villain. At the compound Avengers were celebrating the successful mission. You were immediately caught by Wanda and Carol. Nat was with the boys. She was always commanding respect amongst them. But Romanoff was barely listening. She was studying you. You were laughing. Your wife forgot that you had this spark in you.

"You did a good job." Wanda was sipping her Martini. "As usual. We're losing one of the best members of the team."

"And our favorite girl." Carol gave your shoulder a light nudge. " But the world of new opportunities is opening for you. So we're glad, right Wands?"

Maximoff copied blonde's grin. She was your closest friend. But she was happy for you.

Whispers could be heard in every corner. "Can't believe that Y/n is leaving. No way back for them." It was such a huge change. 10 years had to be simply forgotten, put in a drawer, erased from the memory.

Nat hoped that her mind wouldn't let her down. That every detail about you would be forever burnt into her heart.

"I'd like to propose a toast." Tony jumped on one of the lower sofas. "Our dearest colleague, our hottest second in command, our kindest spirit is returning home. I personally am a little offended that she chose the archer over me, but I'll get over it eventually. To the new beginnings, to fresh starts, to other chances."

Stark wiped a fake tear away. Sound of vibrating glasses filled the room. Nat's hair was wavy tonight and you loved it. Always did. Soft yellow in the room was reminding you of your sunny days together. There was a ghost of a smile on your face, Natasha tilted her head.

But suddenly you were not together anymore. Hill appeared out of nowhere and started whispering something into her ear. You didn't hear what, but Maria was passionate, she was too close.

You sighed in frustration. Nat tried to stop the unexpected interruption. But you took your coat. You were already gone.

"Wait..." your wife whispered.

___

"Just great."

Your car didn't start. You were angry at your forgetfulness. Nat told you that something was wrong with the engine a few weeks ago. You kicked the wheel.

"You'd better be careful." Natasha's voice echoed in the half empty garage.

"What do you want?" you were too tired to fight.

"You are going home?"

You nodded.

"Then..." She showed you the keys from her Porsche. "I'll drive."

Driving home was more than awkward. You avoided any possible contact with each other. Nat was still preferring to drive a stick. Old fashion. You used to love that in her. She was barely keeping her hands to herself. You were intoxicating her. Still. After all these years.

___

Nat closed the door. Your house wasn't welcoming anymore. Nothing changed and yet something was gone.

"Hi." You walked into the living room.

"oh, I didn't expect you so early." Nanny was watching TV. You interrupted one of her favorite episodes.

"How's she doing?'' You were unbuttoning your coat.

"Good. She went to bed on time." The girl was carelessly putting all her gadgets in the bag. "Mrs. Romanoff..."

"No." You interrupted her. "Not Mrs and not Romanoff."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know." Nanny rambled.

"It's OK." Natasha cut the embarrassing interaction. "I'll pay for the whole time."

You didn't bother to stay. You walked right into Kathy's bedroom. You hated these shoes. You wore them, because Natasha loved them on you.

Your daughter was sleeping. You kissed her forehead. When you returned to the living room, Natasha was sitting on the couch, she was waiting for you.

"About the mediator. If you don't like him..." She started carefully.

"No." You finally took off the heels.

"We might not need him. You can have it all. I don't need anything."

"I'm not asking you to do that." You shrugged.

"I know. We'll find a way. For Kathy. And I'm sure, you'll quickly understand whether you like the new team or not. Whether they are at the right level."

"Well, they are Avengers. I'm sure..."

"Yeah." Nat coughed out a chuckle. "In name only."

You frowned, but didn't answer.

"I'm going to bed." You took off the rings and necklaces, leaving the jewelry on one of the book shelves.

"I saw the video of your operation." Nat stood up and walked to the liquor cabinet. "You've made a few mistakes."

"Fine." You sighed. "We'll talk about them tomorrow."

You didn't care that the floor was cold. You could barely control yourself. And when you collapsed on the bed, your tears were already imprinting on your pillow.

Your letters to each other

[bestiesenpai]

Hocus Pocus - Sukuna

Boil toil and trouble, let's make this cauldron bubble lol gender neutral reader no content warnings! This is a...I guess medieval sort of au lol Sukuna is a knight and there’s kings and queens and blah blah

“(Y/N)!” Shrill voices rang throughout​​ the empty stone walls, the pattering of little feet causing you to break your concentration from the glass vase you were holding over a smoking cauldron. Turning to the heavy wooden doors as they were thrown open, you held the vase in the air as two children scampered into the room and began to tug on your clothes.

“What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Laughing breathlessly, you looked down at the royal children that had decided to come spend time with you.

“We want to play!”

“Right now?” Taking a sweeping look over your messy workshop, you felt them begin to try and pull you from the room. “Alright, alright! Just a moment.” There was no stopping the children when they wanted something, especially from you.

Closing your spell books and setting down bubbling beakers, you pushed the kids out of the room, closing the door tightly behind you. Letting them guide you towards their playroom, you took a deep breath, pushing down the slight irritation growing from being pulled away from your work. There’s no way the King and Queen would appreciate you losing your temper or simply saying ‘no’, even if you did have studying to do to become a proper witch and not a simple apprentice.

Walking through the halls of the castle, you shared pleasant smiles with the more senior witches talking amongst themselves. Their robes were the rich and vibrant colors of the kingdom, a stark contrast to your plain black robe and a strong reminder of how far you still needed to go.

Coming upon the playroom, you winced as they threw open the door and made the metal knob bang against the stone wall and shocking the other occupant in the room.

“Sukuna! Sukuna! We got (Y/N) to play too!” They yelled, finally letting go of your robes as they ran to the intrepid knight who looked ridiculously out of place sitting on a tiny chair surrounded by stuffed animals in the light pastel room. He turned to you and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how annoyed he seemed with the whole thing. He was still in his armor, so you figured the children had pulled him away in the middle of his business as well.

“Oh how fun.” Sukuna said, clearly less than enthused about this whole thing. His pink hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions and he ran his hand through it once more, the clinking of his cold and shiny armor differing greatly with the softness that filled the room.

The children paid him no mind, rushing further into the room and grabbing toys and throwing them into the middle of the room. Talking animatedly amongst themselves, you used the opportunity to slowly walk over to Sukuna.

“So, what were you doing when they got you?” You whispered, taking a seat next to him in another tiny chair.

“Fucking training.” Nudging the sword at his side, Sukuna let out a gruff sound. “As you know, a war might be brewing in the East and-”

“There’s always a war brewing.”

“Exactly!” Throwing his hands in the air, Sukuna missed the way you chuckled softly. “I don’t have time to entertain these brats, I don’t even know why they had me join!”

“I don’t understand how your fellow knights let you get away from them.” Sukuna was one of the castle's best knights after all, having been praised countless times by the King himself and bestowed with many medals and honors.

“They thought it was a joke! Thought it was funny to see the brats pulling me away and I couldn’t say anything.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, it is a little funny to think about. The Great Sukuna defeated and captured by two eight year olds.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the small upward curve of his lips even though he tried to hide it. You were pleased to notice him relaxing a bit, willing to converse with you as the kids ran around, completely forgetting the two of you were even there. Sukuna was usually so stiff around you, talking in short sentences and barely looking in your direction; always preoccupied with the thought of battle.

“(Y/N)! Caspian won’t let me play with this thing!”

“I had it first!” You turned to see them fighting over one of the vials from your room, recklessly pulling it back and forth and nudging the cork out of place. The shimmering purple liquid sloshed inside, threatening to drip out of the glass and splash all over the two of them. Jumping up, you ran over to the kids before they could open the bottle by mistake and cause a disaster.

“Caspian! Give that to me now!” You yelled after pulling them away from each other. The boy shook his head, holding it away from you. You groaned, taking a deep breath before kneeling to him, holding your hand out. “Caspain, please, it’s very important that I get that back.”

“Kid, just hand it over.” No longer having the patience to deal with this, Sukuna got up from his seat, taking long strides over to you. He grabbed the boy’s wrist as gently as he knew how, attempting to yank the vial out of his hand, but Caspain tightened his grip.

“No, it’s mine!” A small struggle ensued between the two with Caspian pushing and squirming to try and get away and Sukuna attempting to be as merciful as possible to try and get the vial.

“It’s not yours and you know it. Return it.” Sukuna was growing more annoyed by the second. He could easily overpower this kid and end this silly squabble but if he was too rough there were sure to be consequences.

“Be careful, don’t spill it!” Standing off to the side, your eyes were focused on the vial, anxiety rising every time it was yanked from one side to the other. Your cries went ignored, drowned out by them shouting at one another.

“Here!” Pulling the cork out, Caspian hurled the vial right at Sukuna’s face, coating him in the liquid. The glass clattered to the ground, quickly getting crushed into tiny shards as Sukuna stumbled in shock.

“What the-” Wiping furiously at his face, Sukuna could hardly open his eyes. The liquid evaporated on his skin, leaving behind a tingling burn.

“Caspian!” You exclaimed, glaring at the boy and running to Sukuna. The pungent odor of the potion burned your nostrils and forced tears to well in your eyes.

“What is this stuff?” Biting back the swear that desperately wanted to come out, Sukuna looked blindly around the room.

“It’s- well-”

“Out with it!” Sukuna barked, shoving you away. He felt like he was going to vomit, head swimming as he fell to his knees.

“Sukuna has kitty ears!” Caspian’s sister, Caroline, shouted in surprise.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do!” She pushed but it went unheard, overshadowed by the pained scream that ripped out of Sukuna’s chest. Writhing on the ground for what felt like ages, the pain slowly subsided and he was left breathing raggedly.

“Hello?” Opening his eyes, Sukuna was shrouded in darkness. Fabric covered his face and body; they were his clothes, he could smell that much, but he had no idea where he was.

“Sukuna? Are you okay?” Tiptoeing over to him, you nudged the armor now sitting on the ground in the shape of what used to be Sukuna’s body. Tiny claws tapped against the metal and a pink haired cat's head popped out of the top opening.

“(Y/N)?”

“Oh my god.” You placed a hand against your chest in shock, watching in horror as Sukuna wrestled himself out of his armor, angrily cursing his new height without really looking at himself.

“Kitty!” Caroline yelled, immediately crowding him and trying to pick him up. Keeping her at arm's length, you scooped up Sukuna’s new cat form into your arms and held him tightly to you.

“Kitty?!” Sukuna yelled, looking down at his body being cradled by you. “(Y/N), what the hell happened?!”

“Uhm, well it seems Caspian threw a metamorphosis potion at you...” Trailing off, you winced as Sukuna let out a growing hiss.

“Is that why I’m a fucking cat right now?” You nodded pitifully and he groaned. “Fucking brats.” Giving the two of them a look, Sukuna pushed himself up on shaky arms and crawled up onto your shoulder, digging his claws slightly into you as he settled around your neck. “The King and Queen will be furious to know what you’ve done.”

“(Y/N) can fix it!” Caroline shouted, trying to save them both from getting in trouble.

“Um, I guess I-”

“No, no they can’t.” Sukuna cut you off, sitting up a little straighter and letting a smug grin overtake his face. “You know (Y/N) is only an apprentice, do you really think they can fix this?” Letting a pause fall over the conversation, Sukuna tilted his head, his ears tickling your cheek. “You know how hard magic is to control, what if no one can turn me back to a human? Your parents will be enraged knowing they lost their best warrior to a pair of little brats.”

“Okay!” Slapping his hands over his ears, Caspian stomped his feet a few times. “We’ll fix it! What do we have to do?”

“There’s a list of ingredients I need to reverse this spell.” Pulling out the pen and pad of paper you were required to always have on hand, you scribbled down a few random items without thinking too hard about it. “Go get me these by the end of the day and we’ll have human Sukuna back in no time!”

“Let’s go!” Grabbing her brother's hand, Caroline ran from the room, ripping the paper from your grasp as she went. The door to the playroom banged against the wall again as they exited and left you and Sukuna alone.

“Well now that they’re occupied for a bit, go ahead and change me back, (Y/N).” Jumping onto the ground, Sukuna shook his head side to side and sat on the ground, his long tail swishing back and forth lazily.

“About that…” Wringing your hands together painfully tight, you could barely look at Sukuna.

“What?” His eyes narrowed, sensing your hesitation.

“I just, well I-”

“Out with it!” A loud hiss spurred you into speaking, along with Sukuna arching his back angrily.

“I can’t do it! That potion the kids took was a fluke to begin with, I’m surprised it even changed you into a cat and didn’t just burn your eyebrows off!” God it felt embarrassing admitting that Sukuna had essentially been right when he was calling the kids bluff. There wasn’t much more you could do on your own other than light a candle with your mind and make paperclips levitate.

“Okay, it’s not that bad. We can get one of your seniors to do it.” Starting toward the door, Sukuna let out a shriek when you scooped him up.

“No, we can’t do that! They’ll never let me live it down!” Holding him tightly, you felt his claws dig into your arms and hands. “L-let me figure it out, please!”

“You just said you couldn’t do it, why would I let you ‘figure it out’ when I can get changed back within a few minutes?”

“Please, just let me try! I have to prove myself!”

“Is this really the time for that? There’s a war-”

“Sukuna, there’s always a war! That’s all you ever talk about!” Yanking his claws out of the skin of your arm, you huffed and tried to calm the burning of your cheeks. “Just give me until the end of the day, please? I can fix you by the end of the day.”

Breathing heavily as well, Sukuna raked his eyes over you. There wasn’t much he knew about you other than you were another fledging witch scouted by the kingdom and that this was the most you’d ever spoken to each other directly and not in a group setting. It wasn’t just Sukuna who was stiff in conversations, it was you as well.

“Fine.” Worming his way out of your hold and back onto the ground, Sukuna swiped at his face a few times to fix the fur around his eyes. “If I’m not a human by nightfall, I’m going to your mentor.”

“Deal.” Nodding your head in agreement, you gestured toward the door. “Shall we go back to my study?”

“Lead the way.” Falling into step next to you, Sukuna walked down the halls to a part of the castle he never really visited. While he was marveling at some of the magic happening behind doorways, you were worrying your lip and praying with every step you took that you could actually find a way to turn him back.

“Nice little shop you got here.” Sukuna commented upon coming to your study. Truly it was nothing more than a glorified broom closet, just enough space for a bookshelf, cauldron, a few shelves and a tiny desk shoved in the corner piled high with a mountain of notes you’d scribbled down late at night.

“Thanks.” Your room looked like all the other beginner witch's rooms, but it felt nice for Sukuna to compliment it all the same. Clearing off a space on the small table beside your cauldron for Sukuna to sit on, you went to the bookshelf to try and find a spell to turn him back.

Taking sneaking glances at you, Sukuna went up to the edge of the cauldron, sniffing the vapors that rose from the bubbling liquid. Curling his lip in disgust at the pungent odor, he hopped off the table. Too engrossed in your books, you set down​​ a few on the spot he’d previously been occupying.

“(Y/N), what’re these papers on your desk?” Glancing over, Sukuna had leapt onto the furniture, gently swiping his paw at some papers and making them slide from the messy stack they were in.

“Just some notes from my lessons, I have a test coming up in a potions class and I really can’t afford to fail.” Shaking your head bitterly at the upcoming deadline, you turned your attention back to the book in your hand.

Glancing over a few, Sukuna found that you were correct, there were scribbles on pages and in the margins of textbooks cramming all possible information into them.

“What’s this…?” Catching the first few letters of his name on a paper that was crinkled up and folded several times, Sukuna felt his curiosity grow greater and greater.

Struggling to open it with his new appendages, Sukuna eventually got it open. At first, he wasn’t sure where to look, there were love hearts dotting nearly every letter and a hundred exclamation points. As he read and deciphered the words on the page, he started to laugh to himself. The person who you’d been passing notes to was gushing about another knight named Okkotsu and his kind demeanor all while teasing you for liking none other than Sukuna.

“So (Y/N), you have a crush on me?” He asked loudly, just barely catching the slightest hesitation in your body at his question.

“What’re you talking about?” Fighting to keep your face neutral, you sprinkled a blue powder into the cauldron.

“This note here says you’ve had a crush on me since you arrived at the palace and I’m pretty confident this is your handwriting.” Sukuna could practically see your heart begin to race the longer he spoke and a grin overtook his face.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nervously clearing your throat, you shook your head and closed the book in your hand. Taking a glance at him, your face fell slightly at seeing his paw holding the note open.

“Really? No clue at all? Maybe I should read it out loud and jog your memory.” If Sukuna’s smile got any bigger it would rip his cheeks apart. “Now where should I begin? How about this line, ‘Sukuna is so sexy when he does training in the evening! I love that he never wears a shirt, you can see all his tattoos!’”

“Shut up!” Throwing the remaining objects in your hand onto the table, you lunged towards him and the note. Cackling with laughter, Sukuna snatched the paper into his mouth and leaped off the desk, running circles around you in the room.

“I’m so sexy, you want me to kiss you!” He teased you mercilessly as you chased after him, reciting every embarrassing word you wrote. “You love my morning voice when I pass by you at breakfast!”

“Sukuna! Stop it!” Your entire body was on fire the longer he went and frustrated tears welled in your eyes. It was bad enough you had a crush on the most popular knight in the kingdom but to have him know about it so deeply was another blow to your ego entirely. Grabbing your wand out of a robe pocket, you let out a small shout and pointed it at him, hoping that was enough to get him to stop.

And surprisingly it was; Sukuna suddenly froze all movement, hanging in the air above the cauldron that he was trying to leap over. Stomping over to him, you ripped the note out of his mouth and tore it to shreds, letting the pieces flutter to the ground at your feet. Glaring at Sukuna with glassy eyes, you mumbled a short incantation and released him from the spell, making him plop into the cauldron below.

Sukuna let out incomprehensible screams of terror as he splashed around in the cauldron, struggling to grab any sort of footing on the side and pull himself out.

“(Y/N)! G-get me out of here!” Coughing at the liquid entering his mouth, Sukuna hooked an arm around the edge of the cauldron and tried to pull himself up only to be burned by the hot metal.

“I’ll think about it!” Crossing your arms, you kept your back turned to him. His mocking words rang in your head over and over, nearly drowning out his frantic cries. Quickly growing tired of the noise, you grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him from the cauldron, letting him fall to the ground in a sopping wet mess of fur.

“Took you long enough!” Sukuna sputtered, shaking himself violently to try and dry off. Unable to fully look at him, you slammed open the book you’d had open before and leaned over it, blocking out the world around you and forcing the words on the page into your head.

“(Y/N), do you have a towel around here?” Your head nearly turned on instinct to answer Sukunas question, a small twitch in your neck almost giving way to a full turn. “Oh c’mon, don’t ignore me.” His paw swiped the back of your leg and you shook him off.

“(Y/N), stop being a baby.” Touching you again, Sukuna grunted and rolled his eyes when you fully stepped away from him. “(Y/N)! I’m freezing down here with this wet fur, quit fucking around.”

“Find one yourself.” You snapped at him, storming over to your desk and plopping down on the chair. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sukuna weighing his options, looking between you and the door behind him. You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he debated on what to say.

“If I apologize, will that make you feel better?” He asked, earning a snort from you and making a smirk pass briefly on his face. “The Great Sukuna doesn’t apologize often, so listen closely, okay?”

“I won’t hold my breath.” Rolling your eyes, you relaxed the tight crease in your brow and let your back straighten up a little, no longer hunching over the desk. Clearing his throat dramatically, Sukuna padded over with wet paws and stopped before your chair.

“I’m sorry I teased you about having a crush on me, but in my defense who wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with me?”

“Is that really your apology?” Biting your lip to stop a burgeoning smile, you forced your eyes back on your paper.

“What do you want me to say? Oh (Y/N), please forgive me for learning about your everlasting love for me, I’ll conquer a hundred enemy fortresses if that’s what it’ll take!” Swaying side to side dramatically, Sukuna laughed as he made a chuckle force it’s way past your lips.

“Fine, I guess I’ll forgive you.” Rolling your eyes once more, you did a quick wave of your hand and a sharp gust of wind went over Sukuna, drying his fur in an instant.

“Just like new.” Walking in a few circles, Sukuna surveyed his body and without warning, jumped into your lap, making space for himself and looking over the book you were reading.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Adjusting in your chair, you had to move Sukunas bobbing head out of the way several times to continue to read. “Sukuna, do you even know how to read this?” The book was written in strange symbols only able to be read and understood by those imbued magical prowess.

“No, but it’s pretty interesting to look at.” Shrugging his shoulder, he let his chin rest on the edge of the pages. Quietly reading over the book, you had to shuffle Sukuna in your lap a few times, adjusting him over and over again until you were practically cradling him with one arm and turning pages with the other.

“I could get used to this.” Sukuna yawned loudly, a purr rumbling from his chest. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that his heavy, muscular feline form had made your arm fall asleep and become completely dead to the world.

A few minutes later and a soft snoring filtered out of Sukuna, a gentle sound to fill the room bathed in warm afternoon sun. The tiny window above your desk showed a sliver of the outside world, overgrown trees skirting the edge of the window pane and attempting to obstruct your view of distant mountain ranges.

Forcing deep breaths through your nose, you couldn’t stave off the drowsiness creeping into your body as well. Every blink made your eyelids heavier and the words on the page began to blur together until you couldn’t fight sleep anymore and let your head lean against the chair, joining Sukuna in a light afternoon nap.

It was you that woke up first, thirty minutes later and with a foggy mind. Surprisingly, Sukuna hadn’t woken up from the sound of a door slamming closed across the hall, still sleeping soundly as ever in your arms.

Looking over him, you noticed the markings across his face and body, tattoos that carried over from his human form. Tracing your finger along his face, you were enraptured by the soft fur that met your touch and continued along his body. Fully petting the length of Sukuna’s body, you prodded his soft, relaxed stomach and scratched gently with the tip of your nail.

“That feels nice.” He mumbled, barely awake and cuddling deeper into your side. Despite feeling embarrassed at being caught you kept going, expanding upwards and rubbing along his ribs and chest.

“Sukuna you’re so cute as a cat, are you sure you want to change back?”

“As much as I love being pet like this, I have a duty to my kingdom.” Stretching his legs out, Sukuna grunted like he was going to get up but gave up halfway, flopping back and letting out a soft sigh.

“You don’t seem to be in any rush to get back.” You chuckled, scratching behind his ears and smiling widely when he began to purr.

“Well…” Pushing his head against your hand, Sukuna shrugged. “They’ll be fine without me for a little bit.”

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again,  filled with his loud purring and soft breathing. “You know, I haven’t slept this well in ages. Always too busy with training or going to battle.” Blinking his eyes slowly, Sukuna peered up at you. “Maybe I should become a witch like you, (Y/N), then I could relax like this all the time.”

“You’re kidding; me, relax? I’m constantly on edge, there’s so much pressure to break my back for the kingdom and become the strongest sorcerer.” Slumping against the chair, your head lolled back and you stared at the dark stone ceiling. “I’d love to trade places with you Sukuna, I want to know what it’s like to be so strong and confident all the time.”

“It’s pretty great, I won’t lie.” He mumbled under his breath and you laughed, jostling him around as you straightened up your spine.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime, okay?” Standing up and opening your arms, you haphazardly placed Sukuna on the desk and walked over to the cauldron, cracking the bones in your back and looking over the ingredients you’d put in so far. “Now, let’s turn you back into a human.”

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name slowly, hopping from the desk to the table by the cauldron and slinking past forgotten vials to settle close at your side. “Mind if I watch?”

“Why?” It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to but unless Sukuna was suddenly granted the gift of magic the recipe you were following would be of no use to him.

“I want to know what it’s like to be the smartest in the room.” Sukuna grinned at you, bumping his nose against your arm a few times.

“Shut up.” A light flush went over your face and warmed your cheeks, and a slightly impish smile pushed your cheeks up. The compliment warmed your heart just as much, making it beat faster in your chest.

“Shut up and take notes? Got it.” Nodding curtly, Sukuna squinted his eyes and stared intensely at your hands. Laughing wholeheartedly at how serious he looked, you did a dramatic wave of your hand and picked up a spellbook.

“Alright, watch and learn.”

Whether or not Sukuna was actually learning anything or truly paying attention was lost on you, but it was certainly fun having him so focused on you and your actions. Humming and nodding like he understood when you mumbled to yourself, Sukuna was acting just like you had when you first arrived at the palace with bright eyes and an eager mind.

“Try this.” Pouring a mixture into a jar, you tilted it back for Sukuna to drink from.

“Fucking disgusting!” Wrenching himself away, Sukuna spit the bright yellow liquid onto the ground and watched it sizzle. “Are you trying to poison me now?”

“Wha- but I was so sure that was the right one!” Scrapping the jar, you returned to the book. “Maybe I need spider legs after all…”

“You need me to go out into the garden and catch you some?” Still reeling from the rancid taste in his mouth, Sukuna glanced out the window. The light in the sky was beginning to wind down, it was almost dinner time and his stomach was starting to growl.

“No, I-”

“(Y/N)!” An all too familiar voice shouted your name and you got flashbacks to just a few hours before when your door was slammed open and two children ran inside.

“Oh great, the royal brats.” Snarling at the kids, Sukuna leapt up and onto your shoulder, curling himself around your neck and burrowing into the collar of your robes. Flinching away from him, Caroline and Caspian hesitantly showed you what was clenched tightly in their small hands.

“We got all the stuff on the list!” Caroline showed hers first, a handful of daisies and a small chunk of amethyst.

“Caroline was too much of a baby to get the other stuff.” Caspian huffed, extending his palm out and showcasing the dead spiders and newt eyeballs.

“I can’t believe it, you two actually listened for once.” You marveled at the ingredients, quickly snatching them up and sorting them out on the table.

“Took you long enough.” Sukuna huffed. “Now go get my clothes from that stupid playroom!”

“Okay!” And away the two of them went, rushing down the hall with echoing footsteps. Flipping pages in a book you’d cast aside, you read it over and put in all the ingredients they had brought.

“This spell really is the one to turn you back to a human. God, I feel like an idiot, the answer was right in front of me!” Kicking yourself internally, you looked at your stash of ingredients; you had all the things the kids had brought you already at your disposal.

Right as Sukuna was about to speak, his clattering armor and underclothes made an appearance in the room, clattering to the ground as the kids struggled to carry it all inside. Laying out his clothes for him, you poured the new potion into a glass.

“Turn around children, I don’t want you to see something you shouldn’t.” With a chorus of giggles behind you, you even covered your eyes as you held the glass to Sukuna’s lips. “Try and jump onto the ground after you drink it all, I don’t want you breaking the table.”

“Got it.” Sukuna was better prepared for the transformation this time, swallowing all of the potion and gritting his teeth at the discomfort coursing through him. When you felt the glass was empty, you turned around to give him privacy.

Holding your breath and crossing your fingers, every fiber of your being was hoping and praying that Sukuna returned to normal. You heard clothing rustle and armor clanking, but you didn’t open your eyes until a heavy human hand landed on your shoulder.

“I’m back!” Sukuna cheered, flexing the muscles in his body and tightening the various straps on his clothing. He’d forgon putting his armor back on, opting to wear just the loose green tunic and pants that he had on underneath.

“We did it!” The children cheered as well, clapping and smiling.

“You two were the whole cause of this mess! You should be cheering for (Y/N) for saving you from a punishment.”

“Thanks (Y/N)!”

“Yeah, you’re the best!” Giving you brief and crushing hugs, the two youths ran from the room, probably off to find other mischief to get into. Letting out a relieved sigh, you began to clean up the table.

“Nice work, (Y/N).” Patting you on the back, Sukuna attempted to help you by gathering all the empty vials.

“It would have been better if I’d just checked that book to begin with. I thought I wrote down those ingredients for them at random, but turns out the answer was so glaringly obvious that of course I missed it.” While it felt good to turn Sukuna back into a human, the knowledge that this could have been done a lot sooner weighed heavily on your mind.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Returning his hand to your back, Sukuna let it rest a bit heavier. “You’re still learning, you’re bound to mess up here and there. But hey, you turned me back in the end!” Smiling at you, Sukuna gave you a half hug, not caring if he crushed you against his chiseled physique.

“Sukuna, that was so nice of you to say, thank you.” Hugging him back, your heart felt like it was going to burst.

“You think so? I’ve been practicing ever since my commanders told me to be softer to the new recruits and give them words of encouragement.”

“Well it’s certainly paid off.” The heat from his body transferred onto yours, making it obvious when you pulled away from each other that your whole body was slowly being set on fire from the sweet words melting your brain.

Cleaning up was quick with Sukuna’s help and before you knew it your workspace was just as messy as before all of this had happened and there was the familiar chatter of other witches walking down the halls towards dinner.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” It was bittersweet knowing Sukuna was leaving to the same place you were but going to sit at completely different places, on opposite sides of the dining hall. You desperately wanted to ask to eat with him, to extend the moment you two were having, but your social rank prevented you from being the one to make the first move.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to eat dinner?” Grabbing the door, Sukuna slowly pulled it open, ignoring the shocked looks from passersby as he started to make his exit.

“I am but-”

“Then c’mon, let's go.” With half his body already out the door, Sukuna paused when he saw you weren’t making any move. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, go on without me.”

“I want to go with you.” Quirking a brow, Sukuna swayed on his feet for another moment before getting fed up with waiting and grabbing onto your sleeve, yanking you from your room and into the hall.

All eyes were on you and you knew there would be a lot of questions hurled your way sooner or later about what was going on with the two of you. Someone as high ranking as Sukuna wasn’t seen with new recruits, especially not coming out of their workspaces.

“Now let’s go, I’m fucking starving.” Sliding a hand up to the collar of your robes, Sukuna held a fistful in his hand and made you walk with him down the hall.

“Sukuna, you don’t have to be friendly with me anymore, I already held my end of the deal.”

“Why should I stop? I liked hanging out with you, (Y/N). Unless you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.” His grip softened a little and you grasped his wrist.

“No, I do! I-I really do! It’s just, you’re such a high rank and-”

“So what?”

“So, it’s not really heard of for us to mingle!”

“What’re you talking about, I mingle with witches all the time!”

“Yeah but they’re more senior than I am.” Letting out a sharp grunt, Sukuna stopped abruptly and turned you to face him.

“Fine. (Y/N), as your superior I order you to have dinner with me. Happy now?” Without waiting for an answer, Sukuna began to walk again. “And if you give me any more shit, I’ll make you run up a hundred mountains when I train you.”

“You want to train me?” Sure, witches received some physical training but a majority of your learning was focused on magic.

“I think it’s only fair since I learned a bit of magic today.” Getting into the line to enter the dining hall, Sukuna finally released your collar.

“I’d like to learn from you.” Giving him a bashful smile, you were mentally clearing your schedule in preparation for the day.

“You might fall even more in love with me, I can’t wait to read the notes you pass around about me afterwards.”

“God, you’ll never let me live that down will you?” Slapping your hands over your face, you felt the urge to bang your head against the wall.

“Never.” Laughing at your misfortune, Sukuna nudged you forward and into the dining hall. “Now go get some food, I’ll save my biggest fan a seat next to me at my usual table.” Leaving you all alone and dying of embarrassment, Sukuna walked to a group of other knights, his loud and boisterous voice easily carrying over the others in the room.

Gathering all the pieces of your dinner, you looked out at the massive dining hall, crammed with knights, witches and other civil servants just trying to make it. Scanning over the tables, you could see gaggles of knights but not the one you wanted to see.

“(Y/N)!” Just as you’d given up searching and turned away, Sukuna yelled your name, somehow cutting through all the noise. Looking over your shoulder you saw Sukuna standing on a table and waving at you once you made eye contact. The seat next to him was completely empty, a space big enough for you to sit and eat at.

“C-coming!” You yelled back, unsure if he even heard you until you received a big thumbs up and Sukuna jumped off the table. With scalding cheeks, you gripped your plate tighter and rushed over to the table, eager to spend more time with your new friend.

[jiminrings]

hi OHMDHHD STEM KOO is the cutest and sulky stem!koo!!! r u kiddinggg. So What if jungkook sees yoongi eating off of y/n's lunchboxes and his mind just goes...

stem koo sees someone else eating from his lunchbox(s) and freaks out 🥺🥺! senior oc is like o_o! thank u for writing

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo’s so mad that he might pop a vein

“do i even wanna know what happened to you last night?”

yoongi grimaces at you first thing in the morning, his grogginess proving no hindrance in being annoying himself

you’ve woke up with no hangover at all because you didn’t go back to the party to get your fill, the fresh experience still a little new

“jungkook asked me if i could walk him home and i did.”

:O

you did wHAT now

sure, yoongi knows that no matter how ruthless you could be, you’d still go the extra mile if someone asked you to

but for jUNGKOOK?!?!

as in jungkook, the junior you have (maybe had at this point) a crush on, and have been making lunchboxes for a duration of two weeks?

also jungkook, the same guy who was a colossal asshole and have been more or less giving away the lunches you’ve secretly been making him??

THAT jungkook????

“y/n what do you have to say for yourself?” he gasps audibly, trying to shove at you but not without almost poking his eyes from pointing out the crusties

alright you expected this

you kinda deserve this

“buT he was like, two seconds away from a breakdown so i felt compelled to take care of him.” 

that bit’s actually true and kook was about to cry in the middle of a party right then and there

he would’ve also rubbed his eyes raw to the point that he’d forget he made the stupid decision of wearing his eye contacts!!!

“yeah, yeah, i understand that part!!!” yoongi admits and he commends you in all honesty, “but what if he misinterprets that?”

oh

you stop in your tracks at making a hangover bagel, attention clearly more piqued this time

“but there’s nothing to misinterpet..?”

LMAOOOO

ok maybe that’s where you’re wrong

yoongi scoffs at the question marks floating above your hand, scoffing even more when you still don’t get it

“no offense, but have you ever seen jungkook? he looks like the type to get attached too quickly. to the delivery guy. to a stain on the wall. to a laminated copy of his class schedule. he’d be a puppy sniffing at your heels in no time, y/n.”

>:(

“no he wouldn’t.”

......

uhhhhh

you, in fact, should probably listen to yoongi more

it’s monday and for the entirety of your day up until lunch, you’ve been getting stares at the back of your head!!!

you can’t see who but you kNOW that someone just keeps looking at you

you want to stare back to creep them off but you just!! can’t!! tell!! who!!

it’s frankly getting annoying and it’s making the hairs at the back of your neck stand up

“you’re the bEST!! you made me lunch and i didn’t have to beg??” yoongi exclaims when you slide a lunchbox towards him, hugging you by force when he sees that it’s his favorite rolls inside

lol cute

if only you didn’t view yoongi completely platonically and in a very repulsive way, he would’ve been your boyfriend by now

“yesterday. you didn’t beg yesterday and you only had to beg twenty times in the days before that,” you chuckle as he squeezes you, having to tug at his hair as soon as the hug started getting too long

man that is fREEING

you wipe off the imaginary crumbs he’s given you, scratching at the back of your neck when you furrow your brows in annoyance

“hey yoongi, is there someone behind me? jesus, someone’s been staring at the back of my head all day and it’s literally burning me.”

he’s been glancing up the whole time, cheeks full from the rice and it’s only when you call him out loud that he sTOPS chewing, head tilting automatically

yoongi actually starts chewing faster and that makes you THINK he has something to say, making you feel pressured nonetheless that you jostle him to get him to chew faster

jeez why’s he choking now

you offer your water bottle to him that he takes a longer than necessary sip from, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, only to nonchalantly gesture to the back of you

“you mean jungkook?”

huh

alright WHO now

listen

you have nEVER seen jungkook like this

BUT NEITHER HAS JUNGKOOK EVER SEEN YOU LIKE THIS

NOR YOONGI

NOR EVERYTHING LIKE THIS!!!

he woke up extra early and all because he was beyond motivated

and he even stayed up last night to search up crafts!!! 

origami box crafts to house your eyedrops that he was gonna return to you!!!

but tHEN he realized that the paper would quickly be ruined regardless if he puts them in his pocket or backpack

and so jungkook mADE a little drawstring pouch instead

but then it started looking a little too plain and a little too perfect that you’d probably think he got it from the store and that he didn’t make it himself!!!

SO NATURALLY

jungkook had to design it somehow and learn how to stitch on a heart!!!!

but what if that was a little too romantic for eyedrops?? :///

alright fINE

he stitched on an outline of a carebear holding the heart

bUT WHAT IF you’d think it was just a ratty hand-me down or something???

jungkook stitched on your initials on the carebear

..... hold on

is he even sure that those are your initials

fuck it

jungkook has an origami box, a carebear heart initial drawstring pouch and a plain ol’ ziplock baggie in his backpack just in case

he devised a strategic plan on how to drop in the item at the last minute when he decides which approach to take after he finds you

a-after..... he finds....... you

is that..

is that his fucking LUNCHBOX????

THAT’S HIS LUNCHBOX???????

jungkook could literally see red

his yearly check-ups are all up to date but holy fuck absolutely NO ONE said that his blood pressure is capable of rising up like this

all he has is tunnel vision for his pastel blue lunchbox and the unfortunate blonde guy attached to it

he has NEVER walked this fast with so much purpose

he doesn’t even realize that people are going out of his path because sheesh they’ve also nEVER seen jeon jungkook from stem ever look this determined nor furious

he’s clenching his jaw so hard that he might not have to get his wisdom teeth taken out

“that’s my lunchbox.”

jungkook seethes from his teeth and the vein at the side of his neck is making the same appearance as his flared nostrils

he’s seeing red to the point that he doesn’t even realize that he’s seething at his senior, and even min yoongi at that

he’s seeing red and his blue lunchbox at the same time that he doesn’t even realize that you’re sitting rIGHT next to where he’s stood while he stares yoongi down

no one knows how to react actually

you’re too frozen, yoongi’s too appalled, and jungkook’s too angry

oh my fucking god

wAIT

it’s actually dawning on you that you’re about to get found out in front of jungkook and almost half of the entire university a-and-

“you think you’re the only one with the same blue lunchbox in the world?” yoongi recuperates from his shock and saves you as soon as he realizes the gravity of the situation when your eyes are wide and emotional instead of being narrowed and blank, “you’re not that special. think again, kid.”

yeah his tone might’ve been patronizing

but gOD yoongi is beyond offended

yeah jungkook might be a lil pissy bitch but he IS eating from “his” lunchbox or whatever

but never in a million years did he think that the kid would have some balls on him to approach him like that

fyi yoongi would nEVER come to his senior like that!!!! he wouldn’t even have the gall to come up and approach seokjin like that just some years ago!!!!!

jungkook balls his fists at that and he comes down off of the situation a little, but it never gets quite diffused

“maybe i’m not.”

his gaze lightened on yoongi but it’s still as hard as it’s skeptical, walking away wordlessly but not without sending you a soft gaze quickly

“but i know that sticking my nose to where it should belong is my specialty.”

[ateezmakemeweep]

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

���my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head. 

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more. 

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes. 

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.  

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion. 

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you. 

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still. 

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second. 

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily. 

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that. 

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together. 

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real. 

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want. 

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment. 

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky. 

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.  

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​ @hyunjeansuniverse​ @cherryeonii​

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

So exciting your requests are open! can you do a soft moment of vulnerability with King Arthur? then you can add as much or as little smut to that as you want. but I just feel like that man needs a little love and support <3 I hope you enjoy your week break and properly pamper yourself!!

A/N: I love the idea of a type of caregiver/teacher for Blue that works in the palace and so I kind of ran with it. I hope you like it. Thank you for reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader 

Warnings: It’s pretty soft but I curse once. 

My Masterlist 

Late Nights with the King 

“And they lived happily ever after,” you trailed off, your hand, running through the short hair at the top of Blue’s head. Your small charge had quickly burrowed his way into your heart. You pulled the covers up higher and placed a kiss on his forehead, backing slowly out of the room and closing the door with a slight click. 

It was late, and the castle was quiet as you made your way through the labyrinth of halls, the book of fairy tales clutched to your chest. You turned the corner and into the room with the fabled Round Table, hoping to cut through to the kitchens for a late snack before bed. But, your steps faltered when you learned you were not as alone this evening as you thought. The King slumped in his chair, a hand over his eyes, the table littered with essential documents and maps, and you quietly began to retrace your steps out of the room, but you were not as quiet as you thought. 

“Come,” his voice echoes throughout the great room, “please, is there something you need?” He slowly lowers his hand, and you lower to a curtsy, “please,” he begs, “I hate when people do that.” You can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up your throat, and he smiles, “what’s so funny?” 

“The King does not like when his subjects bow and curtsy before him?” you tease, biting your lip, “how would you like best to be addressed then, sir?” 

“When we are alone like this, I would like to be addressed by my name, Arthur.” 

“Arthur,” you test the name on your tongue, half expecting lighting to come and strike you for addressing the King in such an informal way. He smiles and nods, gesturing to the seat beside him for you to sit. “Oh, Your Majesty, I wasn’t seeking you out; I was just cutting through to the kitchens.” 

He gives you a playful glare, “Arthur, please. Would this suffice?” he pushes a plate towards you laden with grapes, apple slices, hard cheese, and a crust of bread. “I also have wine,” he grabs a second goblet and fills it with the sweet red. “Please, join me?” You’d never thought the King would ask such a request of you, but you do not wish to insult him, so you take a seat a few spots down, reaching for the plate. “Closer,” his voice is low, almost as if not to startle a fawn, “please.” 

Your pulse quickens, and you rise quickly, bumping your leg into the table and causing the contents to rock, the glass of wine sloshing onto a paper. “Fuck,” you mumble, quickly pulling your skirt to wipe up the mess, the red staining your dress. He chuckles, and you turn to see him watching you with amused eyes. “I am so sorry your Maje-” 

“Arthur,” he quickly corrects, pulling out the chair beside him, “those are nothing of consequence. Please just take a seat.” You pull back down your skirt and take a tentative seat beside him. He reaches for the plate and sets it between you, taking a grape and popping it into his mouth. “So why are you up so late, my Lady?” 

“Please, if I must call you Arthur, you must call me by my name. Plus, I am no Lady; I am just here to raise Blue and give him a proper education.” He hands you the glass of wine, and you tremble as his hand grazes over your own, taking a large sip to soothe your nerves. 

“How is Blue doing with his studies? I regret that I haven’t been a perfect father figure to him lately. Back Lack would be so disappointed in me,” he sighs, leaning back again. His eyes look distant, and he rubs a hand over his beard. You don’t think, reaching across to take his hand. He turns to look at you, the storm brewing in his eyes. 

“You are a wonderful guardian to him; he loves you very much. He always speaks so highly of you and how he never thought the Boss would become the King, but there wouldn’t be any better. He admires you very much, Arthur,” he rubs his thumb over your hand. “He understands that you are the King, and when you get a chance, he will get his time with you.” His eyes lose some of their brightness, and you take a look at how utterly exhausted he looks. 

“I don’t want to let him down,” he mumbles, “or anyone else.” 

“It’s an enormous weight on your shoulders, I reckon, being King.” Your hands move without thought, your thumbs rubbing each other in soothing circles, his hand warm and prominent in your own. 

“It is,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. 

“How does one cope with such pressure?” you ask, taking your eyes off your intertwined hands and looking up at him, noting you are much closer than you remember. 

“I don’t,” you feel his breath ghost across your lips, “All of it, being King, trying to be a good guardian to Blue, keeping the kingdom safe, yielding Excalibur, it’s all on my shoulders.” You lean closer, like a moth to a flame. Brushing your nose against his own, on the edge of your seat. 

“Is there anything I can do, my King?” your tongue slithers out to wet your lips, and you feel it graze his bottom lip, the catch of his breath loud in the silence. 

He drops your hand and moves to cup your cheek, skin soft against his calloused palm, “my name,” he breathes, “is Arthur.” 

“Arthur,” you whisper, his head moving to close the distance between you. His lips are hot and firm against your own, scooting closer to lick against your lips. His hands drag you forward out of your seat and into his lap, pulling you closer until there is no space between you. His other hand comes up, and he traces his thumbs over your cheeks as he wields his tongue like the famed Excalibur, leaving you breathless. The tenderness of his touch and the way he kisses you have you melting into his arms. He pulls away with a sigh pressing his forehead to your own. 

“Do you feel better now?” you whisper against the shell of his ear, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

“Yes,” he nuzzles his face into your neck and presses scratchy kisses against your skin, “you are so soft and smell so good, I could get lost in your arms.” You run your fingers through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp, and he groans, leaning further into your touch, “that feels nice,” he slurs, drunk off your warmth and soft touch. 

You lean back, and his head slowly rises to meet your eyes, “I should go,” you whisper, “it’s very late and,” you bite your lip, holding back. 

“What, love, tell me,” the endearment is not lost on you, and your eyes soften. 

“I am not a fine Lady of the court,” you swallow, “nor am I a whore.” He blinks and cups your cheeks keeping your eyes fixed on him. 

“I hope I did not give the impression that I see you as such, and you are better than all those Ladies in their fancy gowns and laden with jewels. You see me. Arthur.” You slowly drag his hands down your cheeks and stand from his lap. For a moment, he looks like he will reach for you again, but with a slight shake of your head, he drops his hands to his lap; closing his eyes, he leans his head back against the chair with a small thump. 

His eyes open suddenly, lashes fluttering as you cup his cheek and press your lips to his for one final kiss. “Goodnight, Arthur,” you whisper, “same time tomorrow?” His eyes light up, and his lips turn into a smile. 

“Same time tomorrow.” 

Taglist: @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell

[deepflourishrosesstories]

Warm Colours of Red and White - Part 2

Male! Koi Mer x GN! Reader

Warning: Literal ball of FLUFF

Word Count: 1.1k

LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG, please!

Part 1, Part 3

It was a bright sunny day, just like the last time you visited the park as you walked through the forest path eagerly. The rustle of leaves seemed to call out to you to continue to journey through the deep shadows of the trees. When you arrived at your normal and familiar peace place, you found the warm colours of the koi fish.

“Ryo?” Your voice rang through the ripples of the big pond and you fiddled with your hand as the sound appeared to be echoing it back to you. “A-are you there?”

For a moment, it was silent and your shoulders dropped when realizing that what happened last time must’ve been just a hallucination of some sort. Sighing, you perched yourself under one of the trees and pulled out a book, the one you prepared for the mer. It was lonely—something you’ve never experienced when staying at this part of the park. You almost froze and halted your reading when you realized the feeling, but continued on with your self-facade of nonchalance.

SPLOSH!

A name then called out to you and you almost stopped breathing. The handsome face of the pale-skinned merfolk appeared in your vision and you smiled broadly.

“Ryo,” you breathed out. Swiftly lowering the book, you dashed and crouched in front of him. “You actually came.”

“I did,” he said bashfully, looking at you with his two twinkling black eyes. The colours of his scales sparkled as his tail moved excitedly under the glittering water. “And you came back.”

“Of course I did.”

“I-is that a book?” he asked, gesturing at the book that was placed back on the tree.

Quickly fetching the item, you came back with it and showed him the title, assuming that he could read human language of English. “My favourite book,” you said fondly. Beaming at him, you flipped a page and traced the ink-sunken words carefully. “I thought you would like it as well.”

His hand hovered over the paper but then drew back when a splatter of water was about to be dropped on it. “Sorry,” he apologized, looking down at his reflection on the pond bashfully.

Taking his hand into yours, you gently caressed his silky, wet hand with your thumb. His adorable blush made you grin like a cheshire cat from amusement and shook your head. “It’s all right.”

The pond suddenly rippled violently and you glanced at the water to see his tail swishing nervously side to side. Then Ryo suddenly tensed and embarrassedly looked at you with wide eyes.

“You’re adorable,” you remarked, tilting your head.

His mouth opening, his gaze darted around you before submerging himself halfway with his nose under the water. “You’re making fun of me.” His voice was blurred slightly and bubbles escaped to the surface of the pond and you laughed wholeheartedly.

“I’m not,” you denied genuinely, poking at the bridge of his nose affectionately. Then he ducked himself fully under while you waited patiently, criss-crossing your legs over one another and laying the book on your lap.

When he jumped out of the water, he laid his arms on the rock and rested his chin on them. “You’ve got a talent for making me embarrassed,” he said, lips forming a pout.

“What can I say? You’re really easy to mess up with.” You smiled. “Do you want to listen to the story?”

“Yes please.” He shifted into a sitting position where his tail rose above the surface slightly and glowed lusciously.

Taking your eyes off of it, you started to read off the pages, the words rolling off your tongue smoothly and seemed to create small ripples through the pond. While doing so, you occasionally peeked over the book to look at Ryo who instantly lowered his head to avoid being caught staring at you. Every time he did, you smiled giddily behind the pages and listened to the constant sound of the water lapping as his tail swished. He never once interrupted and just listened to you intently with great wonders written on his face.

You were not aware of the sky turning dark and you continued to read halfway through the story; yet Ryo tapped your arm gently to get your attention. Humming in response, you halted and looked at him curiously.

“It’s getting dark,” he said softly. Smiling rather sadly, he bit his lower lip as he watched you check the sky. It was indeed getting darker where the colour turned into pastel blue to a tint of a start of vibrant orange. “You should go before the forest becomes dark as well.”

“Right.” You searched for the bookmark you kept in your bag but sighed dejectedly when you couldn’t find it anywhere. “I thought I put it in here,” you mumbled.

“What are you searching for?” he questioned, tilting his head.

“A bookmark to mark the place where we stopped reading,” you answered, pursing your lips as you took another search through the cluttering objects of your essentials. Another sigh left your lips and you were stuck with sticking a piece of napkin between the pages. Looking back at Ryo, you see him nodding to himself with a distant expression and you smiled. “Did you like the story?”

“I enjoyed it very much,” he said earnestly, a bright grin adoring him.

“That’s good to know.”

“It’s very different from the stories I’ve heard from the other folks.” He glanced at you nervously. “Perhaps I can tell you one some day?”

You almost melted at the sight of his blush but you managed to say, “I would love to.”

Surprised, you watched him as he hesitantly placed his hand on yours and cradled it gingerly. They were smooth, soft, and shockingly cold—the touch was incredibly comfortable.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“It was no problem at all.”

He rolled to his stomach and gazed up at you with an unreadable look on him. “I really enjoy being around you.”

Tenderly, you placed your unoccupied hand on his cold cheek and tilted your head to the side. “Me too.” Leaning towards him, you pecked his forehead, your lips lingering on his skin and the cold sensation leaving with you as you pulled away. “I’ll come back again soon to finish the story,” you promised.

His hands shook and his eyes seemed to moisten, but he somehow pulled both of yours to kiss them “Thank you.” His breath tickled against knuckles and you squeezed his hands back. “I’ve never expected so much kindness from you.”

How could you not smile at his words?

”Expect more to happen then.”

Writing a second part of a story that nobody knows of its existence. Anyways, I enjoyed writing this and I hope someone would enjoy reading it as well.

Part 1, Part 3

LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG, please!

[secretly-a-catamount]

Malcabel WIP I guess

(They’re all horribly out of character in this, but I want them to be happy, god dam it! And I almost certainly misspelled Tavy’s name, but that’s just dyslexia for you. @lescahiersdesable)

  It was all Catarina Loss’s fault really.

  “Honestly, Malcolm,” the sky blue warlock had told Annabel’s husband when he’d called her positively panicking about being in charge of her (many times removed) nieces and nephews for a day, “why don’t you and Annabel just take the kids to the beach?”

  Trusting his friend’s judgment more than his own had been a rather terrible idea, Annabel thought amusingly as she watched the blond warlock race down the shoreline, waving his arms like a mad man, shouting that under no circumstances were the children to poke at that beached jellyfish with a stick, yes, Tiberius, even if it was already dead.

  After some whining (the children) and some poorly concealed begging (Malcom), the Blackthorn kids dispersed into the water and across the sand.

  Malcolm trudged back up the beach, and stood at the edge of the shade thrown by the umbrella stabbed into the ground.

  Annabel looked up from her drawing pad, her black brows furrowing in irritation at the shadow her husband had abruptly cast over her sketchbook. “You’re blocking my light.”

  His pale skin flushed a delicious raspberry red as he stammered out an “Oh, right, sorry” and moved to sit beside her on the blanket, smiling sheepishly. After a moment of comfortable silence, Malcolm absentmindedly ran his hand down her arm, stopping only to trace the black lines, curves, and whorls of her Runes. His touch was soft and light as a feather. “What are you drawing?”

  “You obviously.”

  “Obviously.” A pastel sketch of Malcolm in his striped bathing suit, looking tall and thin and almost frail, with softness to his frame and features that matched his disposition. A feint, salmon-pink sunburn on was his face and shoulders, and his lips were cracked (Annabel would solve that one way or another, either by the gifting him the tube of chapstick she’d squirreled away in her purse or by kissing him until he couldn’t breathe).

  “The kids.” Ty and Livvy and some golden-haired Mundane boy that Annabel didn’t know chasing a seagull. Mark and Helen teaching Tavy how to build a sandcastle. Dru, Julian, and a different golden-haired child that Annabel didn’t know, this one a Shadowhunter girl with a spill of bright curls and a practice training sword, diving into the ocean and swimming around in the shallows.

  “Church.” The fat, blue feline crouched down in the dunes, fluffy tail held erect, eyes focused on a mouse in front of him, mere seconds away from a pounce that Annabel knew would end in failure.

  “The L.A. Institute.” An imposing building that Annabel didn’t think could ever have the ability to look homely.

  “Home.” A snapshot of their living room, a Polaroid pinned with a paper-clip for reference, Malcolm’s latest draft of the Codex — her illustrations not yet accompanying his neat, meticulous writing — spilling off the end table onto the soft, red couch, one of Annabel’s favorite mugs (which would always be filled with tea, Annabel and Malcolm both hating the taste of coffee) filled with paint-streaked paint brushes and colored pencils.

  “And my first love, the sea.” Cerulean and cobalt-blue waves crashing to the shore.

  “Should I be jealous?” Malcolm had moved from her arm to her hand, gently interlacing their fingers together.

  “Oh, immensely. Definitely.”

[passivenovember]

And Everyday was Overcast.

Part One : Hammers and Nails

Billy needed someplace to go when the grave was desecrated.

When his eyes unglued themselves, peeling off eyelashes in their wake, when the earth was overturned, torn and left hanging like shreds of old fabric; Steve had been there. By some miracle he had been consumed like he always was, sat thinking by a plot that had grown yellow flowers to blanket Billy in his eternal sleep. And maybe it was those small visits sheltered between morning runs and eight hour shifts stocking the horror section that Billy had come back.

From the grave. From the brink.

The Earth started vibrating, spidery cracks turning volatile, and Steve was met with ocean blue. Red rimmed eyes locked on his face, hands reaching and gripping. Nails digging in as Steve wrapped Billy's grime covered shoulders in his own jacket. Rubbed the chilled skin of his arms, looked in his eyes, and took him home.

Someplace Billy could wash the day from his skin.

--

The blonde haired boy who had turned from human to creature and back again deserved something more than what he was left with. He deserved warm meals, and sunshine on his skin, and soft bed sheets that opened like a celestial sky when Billy felt like shelving the enormity of what he had discovered. What waited after death.

Steve wanted that for him.

Not happiness, not closure, exactly, but something close to it.

At the root of it all, Steve knew Billy should feel safe. Welcome and warm and comfortable, in the house that Steve’s father had built for his mother all those years ago when she was plump and round with child. Steve felt like his father that day as he carried the last box over the threshold and took in the rigid, tense line of Billy’s shoulders.

He let the moment rest. Let it breathe, as his father always instructed. “Do you think you could feel safe here, Billy?”

The air sat heavy. Cold and wet and warm, somehow, like the morning after a night of heavy rain. Billy sucked in a sharp breath and pivoted slowly, face reverent, as if standing barefoot in a cathedral among gods and heroes. Met with divinity.

Instead he got Steve.

Just Steve, trying not to stare at the lone curl hanging over Billy’s forehead when he offered a tight, controlled smile. “It’s fine.” Billy said, only.

Steve tore his eyes away. Focused on the second story banister to stop his gut from falling through the floor. ”Fine? As in, I would rather eat my own toenails than live here, fine or, like. It's okay, I don't mind it here, I might even like it someday, fine?"

Billy adjusted the strap across his shoulders. “It’s just what I expected it would be.”

Steve shook his head. “What’s that mean?”

"Relax, Harrington, it's." Billy turned again, eyebrows scrunched together. “Its. Pastel. And huge. Obscenely decorated—“

”My mom had it professionally done before they—“

”It was built for a happy family with lots of kids. Lots of love, but now it's. It feels. Lost.”

Billy had started saying things like that.

Heavy, saturated, impossible things that left Steve scrambling. Wishing for the intelligence to absorb the meaning rather than question it. Steve rested the box at the foot of the stairs and offered a smile to the second story. Runoff for the pools of blue that looked on.

"That's a lot of adjectives. I can get you a hotel, maybe. Or an apartment. I could cosign, I know they gave you a pretty penny and you could probably afford your own, but. I could. I would." Steve said harshly. "For you. I would."

"It's fine here. It's okay."

Steve felt like a science experiment. Egg boy with three heads and ten legs or something. Suckers on the tips of his thumbs, the way Billy studied him. Steve counted the freckles on Billy's nose--one, two, three, four--trying to stay afloat.

--

Dinner was made every night though Steve never saw it happen.

The cookbooks sat alphabetized over his mother's antique bar cart on that little periwinkle blue shelf. He'd come home, every night, at six on the dot, to a set table. The mixing bowls were always clean and put away, counters wiped and ingredients stored neatly on the shelves his pantry, but the wooden spoons spelled it out for Steve, still shifting from dark to light as they lay drying on the dish rack.

"You don't have to make dinner, you know." Steve took another bite of Salisbury steak, furious that it tasted so good. Like love soaking into his skin.

Billy shook his head. "I want to."

"I know, I'm saying it's okay if you decide not to, one day. Like if you get caught up reading. Or if you can get Max to drive you to the history museum, or if you--"

"It's the least I can do."

Steve hated that. He let his fork clatter to the table. "I'm not expecting repayment for this."

"I'm not a freeloader."

"And I'm not an asshole." Steve deadpanned, lifting a finger that sewed Billy's smug lips together. "Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Whatever you were thinking, with that clever glint in your stupid blue eyes."

Billy cracked his knuckles, clearly fighting a smile. "Never thought you noticed the color of my eyes, Harrington."

"Yeah, sure." Steve stood, gathering the plates and forks and knives from the table, his own eyes counting primary threads. "Can see those things from space, Jesus." He finally looked up, at Billy's curiously pink face.

Pink lips, cheeks, nose.

Steve gripped ceramic. Swallowed against a swell of guilt. "You don't owe me anything, Billy. I like having you here. I want you here."

Billy gave a simple, controlled nod.

Steve got used to it.

--

The shack wasn't built until the doctor told Billy that he'd probably wouldn't remember all of what happened. The big things would stick out, neon greens and blues against the forest head, but Billy shouldn't be too hard on himself if the important things got thrown away.

And some of those jagged little pieces were there. The bad things. Anger and hatred, both for self and world, left hanging on the cliff of who he was now. Everything that had formed Billy Hargrove--the person he was, the person Steve had pretended not to notice--were packed away. Soft, silky emotion covering knives left dull and rusted in their drawer.

Billy remembered like flashes of lightening across the summer sky--sudden and then gone. Here and away. He remembered Hawkins high and Max who'd grown six inches in three years. Dustin who had been wearing that stupid shirt when the mall burned down.

And Steve.

Always Steve, sat next to him. A foot away at first and then holding his hand, later, when Owens said Billy should be kind to himself. Gentle.

He wasn't.

And he didn't come out of his room for three days after that, after the wall was placed in front of him. The crack under Billy's door always keeping Steve at bay. Trapped behind the starting line. He paced around on the carpet, lifting his fist and letting it fall again, never breaking up the silence.

Billy was crying.

Billy never cried, anymore, but he cried that night and Steve felt helpless. Pathetic and stupid and useless, locking himself in his father's study and trying to formulate a plan, just like Owens had told him to when the sun fell on a world without Billy Hargrove and then suddenly rose again, set anew.

Set crooked when Billy stormed from the hospital room, slamming doors that echoed like rolls of thunder in his wake.

Figure out a way to help him.

Sterile, eerie white walls stared back at him as Steve shrugged his shoulders on the third day, aluminum hospital chair groaning beneath his weight.

I'm not sure how to do that.

You don't have to do anything. Owens said. Just help him get the emotion out. Let him write, draw, sing, dance, whatever he needs to assist in telling us his story.

--

Potato casserole and red wine bore witness to Steve's leap of faith. Billy turned away from the novel he had tucked under his arm when Steve got home from work that day, eyes curious. "Spit it out, Harrington."

"I'm not sure what you--"

"You've been giving me the side eye since you got home." Billy turned the page in his book, still managing to read both it and the room as he urged, "Tell me what's wrong."

And nothing was wrong, and.

Everything was wrong. Steve leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Do you want to come with me to the art store tomorrow?"

Billy frowned. "I don't need anything from the art store."

"It's not always about what you need," Steve reasoned, patting his mouth with a napkin. "We could get stuff you want. That's all, just pretty things. Nice things. It could be a treat."

"Paper and scissors are considered a treat?" Billy cocked an eyebrow. "I do love touching shit, it's one of my favorite hobbies."

Steve scrubbed at his mouth, swallowing down against a big, fat, crooked smile dripping with affection. "C'mon, it'll be fun. We can get whatever you want; clay, oil pastels, acrylics--"

"I wanted to check out the library tomorrow."

"You go everyday, blue, you're a regular bookworm."

"So?" Billy demanded, taking another bite of casserole. "I like to read. Just 'cause you can't doesn't mean the rest of us have to hold back." He grinned, low and slow. "Don't let your jealousy turn you into a tyrannical landlord, pretty boy."

"God, you're the absolute worst."

Billy turned back to his novel. "The art store will just inspire me to paint nudies."

"So paint them." Steve challenged.

Bait. Hook and line.

"You gonna pose for me if I let you buy out the joint?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe once, if you look at the easels while we're there."

"No shit?" Billy leaned forward, biceps flexing in his cutoff as he stuck a polaroid of a smiling blonde woman between the pages of his novel. "The fuck is this about, Harrington?"

"I'm worried."

"That you'll take me to a crafts store and I'll put you out of house and home? Reasonable concern, I guess."

"About the diagnosis, dipshit. About you." Steve gulped down the rest of his wine. Made sure every last drop had seasoned his words before any were said aloud, where they might do damage. He let the glass rest on the table between his fingertips, stem rolling from pad to pad. He took a deep, steadying breath. "You haven't been the same since--"

"I got hijacked by a space demon or crawled out of my own grave?" Billy shrugged, picking at something in his teeth. "Be more specific."

Steve fiddled with the handle of his fork. Hand picked his words. Refined the meaning. "Yes, and. Both."

Billy didn't say anything for a while and the room finally settled. Falling fast asleep, thick with inertia and silence until the book was opened once more and Steve went back to digging through his casserole, picking at the spring onions.

Letting the moment breathe.

Until, finally. "I feel like I could crawl out of my own skin."

Steve tripped over himself to get those blue eyes on him once more. "That's understandable--"

"I feel fucking useless." Billy snapped, voice cracking in two, and. Suddenly Steve couldn't look at him. Couldn't bare to see his face. "I'm trying to replay what happened. Every second, I'm trying to figure out why. Why me."

Steve counted the primary threads in the table cloth. One, two, three. "You can't go on asking yourself questions like that."

"I can do what I--"

"It wasn't your fault, Billy. Any of it."

"I'm not talking about the Fourth of July, I'm talking about. Death. I'm talk about what comes before and what comes after and how they're the same." Billy turned the page in his novel furiously, eyebrows scrunched together. "I never thought they'd be the same. It's like I've started over."

Steve couldn't possibly understand, but.

He watched pools of blue scan the page. Took measured breaths, never pushing until Billy was ready to share more. Until he tossed the book on the counter and sighed, head buried in his hands. "I don't understand how I got here."

"Easy," Steve whispered. "That's easy. You were born from love--"

"My parents aren't in love anymore."

"But they were, once." Steve shook his head. "When you were made. They loved each other, and they loved you, and your life was full of love that never made sound but it was still there." Steve willed Billy to look at him. Willed the skies to turn blue again.

They didn't.

Billy sighed, low and slow. "Did love bring me here again?"

"I guess so."

"Who's love?" Billy demanded, leaning forward into the table and crushing his novel where it lay against light oak tabletops. "Who loved me enough to bring me back here? To wish for me."

And.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to say. Lines he wanted to map out, directions that lead from A to B and back again, but it didn't seem useful. Didn't rest important, as Steve took the novel from its place on the table and smoothed worn pages, tucking the polaroid in its place. "I'm sorry things feel weird for you." He said softly.

Billy grabbed the book, staring down at his casserole. "'S not so bad, I guess."

And, for Steve, that wasn't good enough.

--

Billy worked mostly in charcoal. He painted nightmares, and doorways into the past, delicate, swirling lines telling a story that made Steve's heart ache to see. To hear, with every drag of material across fruited canvas'.

Steve asked him about it, once. Over dinner, with the lights turned low. "Why do you paint such horrible things?"

And Billy had smiled. Bright and true. "How's that?"

"Y'know. Black scabs and eyeballs melting out of skulls and sliding down the ridge of people's faces, and--"

"It's what I see." Billy replied, voice soft. Measured. "It's what follows me around."

So Billy spent every hour locked in his shed, curls tucked over a growing body of work. Fingers turned rotten with charcoal soot as he made sense of what happened.

Steve liked to watch him work.

Liked to see the tension ease more and more from the strong shoulders that travelled beside him up the stairs each night. Steve felt the dig of each pencil in the crevice between his ribs when Billy finished masterpiece after masterpiece.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Along the ridges of creation, therapy lay half buried in the sand. It was state mandated, that Billy go and learn how to deal with the things charcoal couldn't straighten out for him. Like the nightmares, and the migraines that kept him from eating dinner at the table when June gave way to July.

Steve worried. Constantly, fervently, but Billy refused to go, always wiping his hands on the powder green apron Steve got for him at the art store, and insisting, "This is a form of therapy." Billy gestured around the room. To the mountains of loose sketch papers and half finished canvases that lay strewn across every surface. "This is how I cope."

And it was.

And it happened the same way every time.

Things got bad for him and Billy would disappear into his shed. Steve would come home from the office to find that his mother's prized Thomas Kincaid collection had been replaced by Billy's work. It was haunting. Sick and twisted and so, so beautiful.

He found himself standing and staring at it for hours, eyes tracing over the swirling lines of purgatory.

It made Steve feel helpless, but.

Still, Billy refused to go. Still, he buried himself in his work. Still, he painted himself into a hole.

The path toward recovery was littered with charcoal drawings until it wasn't.

Until Steve came home one afternoon to find Billy talking with a little boy who had his throat cut open.

[red-kewpie-cap]

Over an Anpan, Really

Shigaraki x Reader, sfw, word count 1,709

"Thank you, have a nice day!" you smiled politely from behind the front countertop. The customer waved as she exited, and the bell above the door chimed upon its closing.

"I'll be out back waiting for the supply truck. They should be coming," your coworker, Miyaguchi, paused to check his watch, "in two minutes. Can you handle the shop for an hour or so?"

You nodded, "Gotcha."

"Alright, thanks. I'll be back!" Miyaguchi spun around the door and left through the kitchen behind you. You listened for the back door as it closed.

Your elbow was propped atop the cool, marble countertop, your head resting lightly on your hand. The pastries encased in the glass displays were freshly baked this morning, and you had to hold yourself back from stealing a few.

It was only your first month in Japan, and you were still learning the ropes language-wise, culturally, and socially. Unlike in your home country, running in to famous pro-heroes was more common here due to living in the most populated city.

You admired hero work greatly, so you kept a small book of the biggest heroes in Japan in case you ever encountered one. The bakery was fairly empty—it was still early, anyway. Adults were commuting to work outside the shop's windows, and students skipped to school in their matching uniforms.

You sighed and pulled your booklet out from the counter's bottom shelf. A green tag stuck out from the top near the first few pages. You opened the book from the marker and began to read about the hero on the page, Mt. Lady.

Fully indulged in your reading, you were startled by the bakery doorbell's chimes.

"Oh! Good morning, what can I get you today?" You fumbled with the booklet and—subsequently—ended up dropping it on the opposite side of the counter.

Damn it.

The customer delivered a judging stare before slowly bending over to pick the book up. They held the stapled spine between their thumb and index, the rest of their fingers held high above the booklet.

Are they afraid of germs?

They dropped the book on the counter. Bashfully, you thanked them, ensuring the distance between you two in case they really were disturbed by germs.

You only then noticed the person's unordinary appearance. A white, detached hand held onto their face, and several more latched onto their upper body. Their baby blue hair was unkempt and tangled, and their black garments were just as tattered; however, you weren't one to judge, so you asked for their order just as any good employee would.

"Give me an anpan." His voice was higher than you expected and oddly soothing.

Although he did not appear as polite as most customers, you followed his directions and wrapped the single bun in paper. Waiting a few seconds more, you then asked with a smile, "Is that all, sir?"

His shoulders dropped ever so slightly, and he shook his head.

"Alright then. That'll be two hundred yen," you said, internally cringing at your slight mispronunciation. Your Japanese was far from perfect.

The man grabbed the paper bag and turned to the exit with no intention of paying.

"Ah, sir! You have to pay for that!" You worriedly glanced at the back door to see if Miyaguchi was still outside. Seeing that he was absent, you hurried around the counter and stood in between the front door and the blue haired man.

"You have to pay for your food, sir," you stated adamantly. If Miyaguchi discovered that the store had been robbed during your shift, you would be in deep trouble—no matter how much money was taken.

"Move" was all he said.

"You have to pay first," you replied.

The man sighed dramatically and dragged himself to a table with two, pastel yellow chairs. He unwrapped the bun, carefully sticking his pinkie finger out as he did so.

What a polite robber.

"Are you going to pay?" you asked, growing more confused than angry.

The strange man tapped the leg of the chair across from him with his foot. "Sit down."

You deliberately followed along. Perhaps showing kindness would convince him to pay for his food.

Slowly, he removed the white hand from his face, revealing a pair of cherry red eyes. He had two scars: one over his right eye, another across the side of his mouth. A mole dotted his pale skin beneath his bottom lip, and dark bags sagged beneath his tired eyes.

You gave no reaction but only observed him further. The man then looked at you, his eyebrows laced with both judgement and confusion. "Aren't you scared?"

"No," you responded, "should I be?"

He rose the anpan to his mouth and bit into the soft bun. Swallowing his bite, he continued, "I'm a villain. I could kill you."

Despite him having no joking tone, you couldn't take his words seriously. Somehow, proclaiming oneself as a villain while dressed in all black felt all too cliché to you.

"Did you just laugh?" He looked up through slit like eyes.

"Huh—no! Did I? I must've thought of something funny." You frantically waved your hands in front of your face, a single bead of sweat dripping down the back of your neck.

He stared a second longer before taking another bite of the anpan. There was an uncomfortable silence.

You've never been in a situation like this before at work—a man who seemed to be stealing was now seated before you, engaging in what could be considered a conversation. Nonetheless—a villain—who was believed to be worse than a criminal. You weren't sure what to do, but as long as he payed for his food, you would be satisfied.

"Are you going to call the police?"

"No. I wasn't planning on it," you spoke honestly. "I just want you to pay for your food so I can keep my job."

"It's only two hundred yen."

"Two hundred yen that could get me fired."

He hummed and took the last bite of the bun. In his palm, he crumpled the paper wrapper, then closed his fingers over the trash. The paper disintegrated in seconds, and you somehow managed to inhale some of the dust left over, making you sneeze.

He tilted his head up and looked at you with another blank expression. It was so difficult to read him.

"Excuse me," you sputtered quietly in English.

Desperate to keep your new job, you resorted to flattery. "You have very nice... eyes... by the way. I've never met someone with red eyes before."

He didn't seem amused, but then again, he didn't seem anything majority of the time.

"What's your name,” his sentence more of a command than a question.

"Sato," you lied. He was still a villain no matter how unthreatening he appeared in the moment.

"Sato," he repeated suspiciously, "really?"

You nodded, following his gaze that traveled from your chest back to your eyes.

"Your name tag seems to disagree, (y/n)."

God, you’re an idiot.

"Right! Sato is my... middle name. I'm not from Japan, so my real name is a bit hard to pronounce. That's why I go by Sato," you stammered, fiddling with your apron the entire time.

"Well, did I say it correctly?" he inquired with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

You rapidly nodded.

"Then go by it. Sato's an ugly name."

You couldn't tell if this was an attempt to compliment you or if he genuinely disliked the name Sato.

"So... are you going to pay now?"

There was the thousandth silence between you before the man groaned loudly, dragging a single hand across his face with annoyance. He continued to pull out a phone and dial a random number.

You waited awkwardly as the phone rang for the longest time possible before someone picked up.

"I need money," he grumbled.

A voice buzzed in response, but the receiver was not loud enough for you to understand. You simply sat still, occasionally fidgeting with your apron as he argued on the phone. He finally ended the call with "Be quick."

Not even seconds later, a flash of purple swirled outside the bakery doors. Another strange man stepped out of the ominous dust.

His entire body was a patched quilt with stitches connecting a purple-ish colored skin to what remained of his natural skin. He had fluffy, yet sharp, black hair and wore a long trench coat just as torn as the man before you.

Villains must not buy new clothes often.

The bell rang for the fifth time that day as the man entered. He immediately turned his attention toward you, completely overlooking his defeated friend.

You gulped.

"You never pay for shit, Shigaraki. Have you finally softened up? Or are you being held hostage." The nightmarish man had a mocking tone in his voice, and he stared at you despite speaking to his friend.

"Just give me the damn money," the villain—who was apparently named Shigaraki—hissed back.

"You got it, boss," the latter quipped, sarcastic and mockingly.

He fished a five hundred yen coin out of his coat pocket and dropped it on the table. Shigaraki was already standing up by that time, brushing his hands on his black shirt.

"Let me get you your change," you exhaled, relieved that you managed to get your way. You swiftly shuffled back to the cash register, but the two men were already on towards the exit.

"He wants you to keep it," whispered the black haired friend with a playful wink, and the doorbell rang for the last time that hour.

You witnessed the same purple cloud swallow the two just outside the front door, and they were gone.

Your eyes stared at the booklet that still lie on the countertop. Flipping through the glossy pages, you stopped at the middle where it transitioned to the "Villains" section. Likely enough, there was a page solely dedicated to the blue haired man who had just attempted to steal an anpan from your bakery.

You spent the next twenty minutes reading about him—his crimes, his victories, and his defeats. "Interesting guy," you muttered to yourself.

[starry-seongmin]

Baby-sitting Your Younger Sibling - Lee Heeseung

themes: f l u f f 

warnings: just f l u f f

words: 1k+

The clock was ticking painstakingly slow that evening and it seemed after every 5 minutes a second would pass. Glaring at the antique timepiece was futile as the numbers and the intricate wooden hands stared at you, taunting you. 

If you could, you would drop everything and make a run towards your home, leaving the cafe behind especially as today was just an extra shift you had to take. Saturdays and Sundays were off for you but due to an unavoidable circumstance, you found yourself behind the counter top instead of the comfort of your home.

Just as the minute hand struck 12, you threw off your apron and changed into your normal attire. The notifications on your phone showed that you had received a couple of missed calls from your boyfriend who was babysitting your younger sibling in your place for today. Praying to anyone that would listen that there was no trouble or emergency, you tap on the contact and wait for the line to pick up.

After a couple of rings, your call gets answered and a voice you’re used to answers accompanied by giggles in the background which can only be a child’s. “Hii..not that I’m complaining or anything or tired, definitely not that but when are you coming home?”, his voice is clearly strained and you can’t help but smile at the thought of what your sibling was making him do to get this exhausted.

“I’m done with my shift and about to head home. Is everything okay, love? Sounds lie you had a tough workout”, you giggle. “No no no! Everything’s fine. I was just wondering. See you in a few” and with that he hung up. 

20 minutes later, you open your front door and step inside, not knowing what to expect. The living room and the kitchen was empty so your feet carried you to the first place your mind could think of.

You were in the hall when you heard a soft voice coming from your sibling’s playroom. Peeking in, the most wholesome sight welcomed you. It warmed your heart to see Heeseung and your little brother sitting around the small colourful table on top of little chairs.

Heeseung looked adorable yet funny with his long legs bent awkwardly. “You want to colour the flower petals with different colours?”, he asked your brother and affectionately ran his fingers through his soft hair. Heeseung looked at your brother with complete adoration and you knew eve though your brother can be challenging and a pain at times, Heeseung loved him like his own brother and loved spoiling at doting on him like a father. Your brother nodded and gave an orange colour pencil to Heeseung with his tiny hand. “Can you help me colour the flower?”, he asked Heeseung who smiled and too the pencil before busying himself with colouring, tongue poking out in concentration. 

“Do you think Y/N will like the card?”, your brother asked now sticking on stickers. “Of course, buddy. Y/N will love it”. Heeseung promised as he finished colouring. “Now what should we add to the card?”, he asked your brother who put on a thinking face. “I know!!”, he cries out and grabs a glitter mark and writes something in big letters which you obviously couldn’t see. “Now we can write both of our names and give it to Y/N!”, he claps his hands.

“Which colour would you like?”, Heeseung asks, fiddling with the plethora of pencils, markers, crayons and what not laid out on the table. “Green, please” your brother replies in tiny and Heeseung smiles and subconsciously ruffles the little boy’s hair again before handing it to him and choosing a purple colour pencil for himself.

After your brother was done writing his name in his scrawny handwriting, he busied himself with the stickers as Heeseung signed his name, taken aback by surprise when your brother sticks a red star sticker on his cheek, smiling ear to ear. Heeseung raised his hand to feel the sticker before breaking into a hearty smile and taking a sticker from your brother’s hand and sticking a blue heart sticker on your brother’s chubby cheek making him giggle. 

The sight in front of you was too much to handle and you couldn’t help but reveal yourself spying on the both of them by gushing over the wholesomeness before you. “Aww..my two favourite boys look so cute!”, you exclaim and both of them jump in surprise before welcoming you with hugs and cheers”. Your brother hugs your leg, his head just up to your waist while Heeseung gives you a side hug and presses a kiss to your temple.

“What were you two up to while I was gone? Did he trouble you?”, you ask them. “He was actually not giving me trouble this ti-”, Heeseung began before getting cut of by you. “I was actually asking the little one”, you laugh at Heeseung’s betrayed face. “The audacity...”, he murmurs.

“We played with the trains and ate ice cream!”, your brother starts rambling animatedly over his time spent with his favourite hyung. “And we even made this for you because we love you!”, the little angel exclaims, remembering the card that was left forgotten temporarily. He runs over to the table and back to you both, Heeseung hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh you did!”, you feigned surprise in order not to disappoint your bright- eyed brother. The card was a pastel blue paper folded in half and decorated with multiple stickers, shapes and squiggles of every shape, size and colour and in the middle on the inside was a messily but adorably drawn flower, each petal a different colour. On the opposite, written in big sparkly purple letters was “I LOVE YOU” and three stick figures which you correctly guessed to be the three of you.

“I love you too”, you picked up your brother and kissed his forehead, making his eyes crinkle. “Both of you”, you turn to a waiting Heeseung and kiss his cheek. “Now, did you guys have lunch yet?”, you ask and put your brother down but he insists on holding on to your hand so you comply. “We didn’t. We were waiting for you”, Heeseung replies. “Because he doesn’t know how to cook”, your brother blurts out making you laugh and Heeseung blush, chuckling shyly.

“Don’t worry, I’m here. We’ll see what we can fix up right now”, you assure the both of them, leading the both of them out of the room and towards the kitchen, where surely, a mess would ensue as the both of the boys were insisting to help you cook.

[sugoi-writes]

Okay! Could you possibly write about ichi having a bad day (it could be for a bunch of reasons) and he’s so exhausted but his s/o comes home with a stray kitten they found & it brightens his day so they keep it? PLEASE

Absolutely! Thank you for the adorable prompt! 

It would be one thing, Ichimatsu thought, if today was just inconvenienced by one, simple thing. But it wasn’t.

Ichimatsu was late to work the second time this month. And of course, that was followed by some pretty heavy scolding from his boss. It was a major pain, but bearable. 

It really wouldn’t have been that bad of a day if Ichimatsu’s laundry had dried properly… however, with his luck: it did not. And so, on a day where he was already stressed from being late: he had to wear uncomfortable, wet clothes to work. Maybe this wasn’t so bad on it’s own, Ichimatsu thought, as he recounted his day.

But of course… on top of that, there was so much more. How could he forget his wallet today, of all days? He didn’t pack a bento box in advance, and Y/N worked the night shift, so they couldn’t really do much to help him. Besides, he would have felt like trash for bugging Y/N. And so, he figured he would just order from somewhere on his lunch break. And this would have been fine and dandy… if he remembered his wallet.

And come lunchtime, he was left with either skipping lunch, or being late to work again to get some food from home. So of course, he chose to skip a meal. 

By the time he got off work, in his irritating work uniform, he was starving and very hungry. And by this point, Ichimatsu had forgotten that he did not have his wallet. He was all set, ready to go to one of his favorite restaurants… when reality hit him again. He scolded himself once more, and excused himself before he was seated. But, OF COURSE, why would the bad luck stop there? 

The sweet, sweet cherry on top of his awful day was the waiter that bumped into him, sending coffee (hot, scalding coffee) directly onto his gross uniform. Ichimatsu could only thank whatever force was at work in the world, for not burning him with this fresh, spilled coffee. 

.

.

. 

So there was Ichimatsu, fuming quietly at his horrid day. His fists were clamped tightly, his fingernails digging into his palm. He couldn’t even wrap his head around every little thing that inconvenienced him today. 

This entire day, he thought, was retribution for all of the good things that were happening lately, especially after ESP Kitty passed away. Between finally proposing to you, snagging a cheap apartment, and having some more days off to spend with you, Ichimatsu’s life had been going well. Too well. He knew this day would come… but not so soon. 

He took a calming, deep breath, unclenching his fists as he slowly opened the front door to your shared apartment. 

“I’m home…,” Ichimatsu called out unenthusiastically, kicking off his shoes with a huff. His shoulders immediately slumped deeper as he realized that his socks had holes in them, “…great…”

Ichimatsu was quick to remove them as well as his jacket, before he heard a familiar chime from the other room,” Welcome home~!” 

Ichimatsu’s features softened at the sound of your voice, before he frozen. He heard the sound of soft mewling, followed by Y/N shushing whatever it was. He blinked, curiosity getting the best of him as he made his way towards you voice. You called from the kitchen, your voice rushed,” J-Just a moment! Wait right there. I haven’t finished your surprise!” Ichimatsu stops, blinking as he tensed up.

“…surprise…?” Ichimatsu calls back, his brows raising with intrigue. You follow up his question quickly, fumbling with something in the other room,” Agh– yes, yes, a surprise!! J-Just sit on the couch and wait for me there!” 

Ichimatsu chuckles, shaking his head as he slumped back to his natural posture,” Actually, I’m going to take a shower… I kind of need it.” Ichimatsu starts shrugging off his shirt, unable to shake the feeling that you had more than just a little surprise. He dismisses his thoughts as you hum in approval, your voice once again ringing cheerfully. 

“Okay! Your surprise and dinner will be ready once you’re out!” 

Ichimatsu rolls his eyes. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little weary. If he was in store for a lot of surprises, he might just explode. Who knows what would happen, after everything today?

But before he could bog himself down anymore, he made his way to the bathroom and prepared for a warm, calming shower. 

.

.

.

The sound of the shower running was your cue that it was safe, and you eagerly smiled to yourself. 

“He is going to LOVE this…,” you whisper quietly, holding up the adorable kitten you were hiding from Ichimatsu. You nuzzle the purring kitten’s nose with your own, earning the tiniest of meows. You giggle and hold the kitten in your arms, his bell jingling on his pastel purple collar. 

“He’ll remember you, yeah~?” you chime to the kitten, who was content with being snuggled in your arms. The kitten you rescued was a stray you saw on a walk to the park. Ichimatsu was with you, and was shocked to see a kitten so adorable on its own. He was almost sure it was domesticated with how it approached the two of you, begging for pets and food. 

Of course, Ichimatsu was still recovering from the loss of ESP Kitty, and was hesitant to bring him home. So you both made sure to give him lots of treats and love before going on your merry way. 

But here you were, two weeks later with that same kitten. You had taken him to the vet to get fully checked out and vaccinated. By the time you signed adoption papers, you were all set and ready to go with your plan to cheer up Ichimatsu. 

Your chain of thought broke when Ichimatsu yawned, stepping out of the bathroom with heavy, tired footsteps,” So you wanted me to wait on the couch, right?” he practically rumbled, his voice settling into a low, sleepy tone. The shower had helped him relax after all. 

You call back to him, hiding the kitten behind your back just in case,” Y-Yeah! I’ll bring you dinner in a second. I made some yakisoba for tonight!” 

You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the change in his voice when he responded,” That… sounds really nice. Thank you, baby…” Ichimatsu practically whispers, surprised. You grin to yourself, walking towards the living room,” …but fiiiiirst…. your surprise!” 

You held back your excitement as the kitten mewled again, almost spoiling the surprise. You asked your boyfriend to close his eyes, which he does without hesitation. You walk until you’re right in front of him, and ask him to hold out his hands. 

Ichimatsu does so, weakly, as if reaching for something. You thought this was perfect, as you gently raise the kitten towards Ichimatsu. When the kitten mewls and starts wiggling around, Ichimatsu’s eyes rip open. 

And then, all at once, his heart swells at the sight before him. An adorable, sweet orange tabby is trying to get to him, recognizing his scent. Ichimatsu immediately takes the kitten as gently as he can, trembling as a blush swiftly spreads over his cheeks. His eyes are watering as the kitten starts to sniff his face, before licking the tip of his nose. 

“ Y…You didn’t…,” Ichimatsu whispers, a smile slowly stretching across his face. 

“I soooo did~” you mock, practically dancing in place while watching Ichimatsu’s reaction. He shakes his head, laughing quietly before cradling the kitten against his chest. You can see his shoulders shaking, as he tries to hold back his laughter and happy tears. 

“Y-You know he needs to be taken to the vet soon, though. I want to be sure he’s–” You cut Ichimatsu off as you start playing with his hair, sitting by him on the couch. He sighs into your touch, practically purring. 

“Already taken care of. He’s a strong, healthy boy. And we won’t have to get anymore vaccines for a few months. We just have to wait until he’s a little bigger,” you coo gently, while Ichimatsu starts wiggling his fingers. The kitten excitedly starts to play with Ichi, making him beam happily. 

Ichimatsu looks to you, before giving you a very quick, but sweet kiss. His blush only intensifies,” …thank you, Y/N. Thank you for doing this… I… I didn’t have the best day today… but, with you two… I think we can turn that around,” Ichimatsu admits sheepishly.

You chortle, leaning over and peppering his damp cheeks with kisses,” The night is young~ And this baby needs some attention. So we can definitely help you work through your stress from today~” you reply. You reach over and start petting the top of the kitten’s head, making him purr and relax. Ichimatsu looks to you again, nodding softly. 

“What should we name him?” he asks you softly, looking back to the bundle of fluff in his arms. You smile as you continue to shower him with sweet affections, your hands resting on his shoulders,” Up to you~”

Ichimatsu sighs, and looks to the little, feisty tabby in his arms. He laughs, almost yelping in surprise as the kitten starts nibbling on his fingers,” …I think… we should name him Inferno.”

You blink at him, almost laughing,” You think so? Like Dante’s Inferno?” you ask, before Ichimatsu blinks. 

“Well… I was thinking Inferno because of how feisty he is… but… Dante is cute, too” Ichimatsu admits, smiling with you as you both continue to play with your new friend. When Ichimatsu repeats the name, he blinks slowly, as the kitten continues to play with the both of you. It must be sticking already, you thought.

“Well… Dante, then?” you reply, looking to Ichimatsu for his approval. Ichimatsu nods, chuckling,” Y-Yeah… Dante sounds good.” 

[baeklooming-day]

April Breeze | Baekhyun

Lines 2. "Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore." and 43. "I feel like I can't breathe."

Summary: There is this boy who is too shy, but also too in love with you to not try to get your attention. Even if it means forgetting how to breathe.

Feat. wingman bff Chanyeol

Genre: Good boy!AU, Bad girl!AU, fluffish fluff, extremely shy Baek

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: This is probably the most innocent Baek I have ever written oml

"Look, it's Y/N."

"Y/N is so beautiful. I wish I looked like that."

"Yeah, because only her looks are good, her personality leaves a lot to wish for."

"Be quiet! She will hear you."

"So what?"

"The last person who royally pissed her off ended up with an almost broken nose."

"Seriously, why is she even so popular..."

You walked through the school hallway, pretending to not hear any of the comments the other students present there were making about you.

It actually always amused you to be honest, them thinking that you couldn't really hear their whispering whilst you were passing by.

Little did they know, you had a remarkable hearing sense.

But even despite that, some of them weren't particularly trying to keep their comments quiet, so you would be able to hear them nonetheless even if your ears weren't that good to tell the truth.

Still, for some reason they were thinking that their voices couldn't reach you.

Well. Not that what people were thinking and saying about you was something that you considered particularly important anyway.

You tugged your soft hair behind your ear, revealing a dangling long earring made of pearls, a noticeable piece of jewelry which you liked wearing the most.

As you approached your locker to take a book for your next class, you noticed a little note being glued to it.

A little note, this time the paper was in a shape of a heart and in a pastel pink color.

This time, because it was what felt like the thousandth note in that April which you found on your locker.

»You are beautiful«, the note said.

You smiled involuntarily. At the beginning you completely ignored it not taking any of these seriously, but with time as the notes kept appearing with always sweeter messages, you were slowly starting to wonder who was hiding behind them.

Of course only out of simple curiosity.

You gently peeled the note off of your locker and threw it in your bag, taking your book and walking away in the direction of your classroom.

You did it all automatically, not being aware of your surroundings, or more like of WHO was in your surroundings in that moment.

If only you paid a little attention to your right, you would have noticed a boy in a pastel yellow hoodie, pretending to look for something in his own locker, whilst in reality he was trying to stop himself from blushing madly and see your reaction all at the same time.

You disappeared way too quickly for him to properly look at you, leaving him with only a sight of your back when you walked away with your book.

His dreamy brown eyes followed your figure, slowly disappearing in the distance of the hallway.

Just when you disappeared completely behind the next corner, the boy let out a sigh.

"I feel like I can't breathe."

"Ya, Baekhyun, do you need some fresh air? Seriously, you have been in love with Y/N for what feels like forever, it would be about time to make her aware of your existence." Said a loud deep voice.

Baekhyun, who was still looking like a human resemblance of a tomato with his flaming cheeks, looked at his friend who appeared next to him with pain in his eyes. "Listen Chanyeol, not everyone is so outgoing like you."

Chanyeol gave him a disapproving look. "But leaving her your love notes everyday, sure." He paused. "Is it because of what happened on Valentines Day this year?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Baekhyun said, finally closing his locker.

He didn't want to either talk or let alone think about what happened back then, when thinking that he finally found the courage to talk to you in person and ask you to be his valentine, scarlet roses in his hand each one of them with a love note attached to it with an equally scarlet ribbon, that one popular and extremely mean boy from your parallel class who had a big crush on you somehow found out his plan.

In conclusion, the roses which were supposed to be given to you disappeared in mysterious circumstances during the lunch break, whilst Baekhyun himself ended up shivering outside in the cold winter air, completely soaked in ice cold water which had been poured right on him from the window, it wasn't even necessary contemplating who thought of doing this.

Ever since then, he decided that it would be better to just admire you from afar, seeing that his actions were attracting everyone else's attention but yours.

That decision lasted only for so long though, when during the following months he found himself helplessly falling even more for you, finally starting to stick little love notes to your locker, hoping for not even knowing what.

"Look, of course I wouldn't love anything more than Y/N somehow noticing me... But I don't want to have all that delinquent squad from class one after me again." Baekhyun said.

"Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore." The taller boy reassuringly put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He paused for a moment, before cheerfully continuing. "Well, you know that I'm good friends with a dude who is friends with Y/N's brother and, you know, I just accidentally heard that she likes cherry blossoms and chocolate oat milk." He informed his friend with a knowing smile appearing on his face.

Baekhyun looked at him a little confused. "And why are you telling me that?" He asked.

"Well." Chanyeol smiled even wider now. "Having all this information and knowing that it's April and cherry trees are blooming, isn't it just the perfect position to FINALLY ask Y/N out on a date?"

"Um-"

"Of course it is! And YOU my dude, are going to use it!"

"I am?"

"Yes you are!" Chanyeol suddenly looked all serious. "Tomorrow it's Saturday, and now you have a free period, so that leaves you with about forty five minutes until Y/N comes back from her class." He quickly glanced at the watch on his wrist. "I have to run to my practice now, but I believe in you!"

"What? Chanyeol-"

But before Baekhyun could say anything else, his tall friend was already leaving through the door.

Alone the thought about having your dazzling bright eyes looking at him made him forget how to breathe, but instead of covering his flaming cheeks and shaking it off, he pulled out a piece of paper from his bag, pausing for a moment to think before his hand started to scribble words on it on its own.

The time flew unexpectedly quickly, but you were more than grateful for that, given that all you dreamed of doing right now was to leave those books in your locker and make yourself on your long awaited way home.

You approached the lockers, immediately noticing a new note being glued to yours.

You put your bag on the ground, taking the note off and reading the words written on it.

»All the cherry blossoms seem to be blooming just for you. But you are the loveliest of them all. When I see you it's like an April breeze.«

You would never admit it, but sometimes even something as simple and cheesy as that could leave some effect on you.

You smiled to yourself.

"Who the freak could you be" You said.

"Do you want to know?" Asked a sweet voice, coming right from behind you.

You immediately turned around, being met with a sight of a boy in a pastel yellow hoodie, nervously fidgeting with a blue pen which he was holding in his hands.

It looked as if he had some visible difficulty looking you in the eyes, instead focusing on some random point on the lockers behind you.

His full cheeks were tinted always more and more in a dark blush, and when he finally met your eyes, all he managed to do was to open and close his mouth like a goldfish breathing underwater.

"I... um..." The boy stuttered. "I..."

"You?" You asked impatiently.

As you took a closer look at him, you were sure that you already spotted him somewhere around your school, however you couldn't link him to any particular class or to anyone you knew.

"I, well..."

"Are you alright? Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked a little bit concerned, given that he looked as if he was about to pass out right where he was standing.

The boy slid the pastel yellow hood off of his head, revealing his fluffy light hair. "Because, um..." He paused for a brief second. "When I see you it's like an April breeze." He said quietly.

It took you a moment to realize what he just said, looking at the love note in your hand and at his flushed face.

"It's you!" You exclaimed, making him almost jump in surprise at your sudden loud remark. "You are the one who has been leaving me all those notes the entire time!"

You observed the always present blush on his cheeks, taking the opportunity to acknowledge his cute face, with soft locks of light hair falling gently on his shy brown eyes.

No way that someone who wrote such beautiful words meant just for you, was now completely frozen and startled in your presence, not knowing what to say.

"What is your name?" You asked in a softer tone.

The boy's eyes lit up. "Baekhyun."

"Baekhyun." You repeated.

If only you knew what you were doing to him by saying his name, a thousand of butterflies dancing in his stomach and a pounding heart which was nearly exploding.

You already figured that he apparently was the super shy type, so instead of waiting for him to finally get to his point, you proceeded talking. "Did you want to ask me a question?"

Apparently your own question did something, noticing how he immediately straightened and tried to maintain the eye contact with you. "Yes. I have been meaning to ask you, if..." A brief pause again. "If you would like to watch blooming cherry trees with me?" The question was soft and quiet, but enough for you to hear it clearly.

"When?" You asked, trying to suppress a chuckle.

"Tomorrow." He replied decisively. "Tomorrow at four."

"Alright. But under one condition." You said. "Give me your number."

"Wha-" He looked at you, flabbergasted. "Oh, yes, of course!"

The two of you took out your phones, giving them to one another to type in your numbers.

"Well, alright." You said, flashing him one of your rarest and brightest smiles, noticing how his cheeks went red all over again. "I will see you tomorrow, then." You tugged your hair behind your ear. "Baekhyun."

With that, you turned around and directed yourself to the exit, leaving the shy boy behind you with a pounding and jumping heart, sparkles glistening in his brown orbs.

And thinking that there you were, sure that all the shy boys were too afraid of talking to you.

You left the school building continuing to involuntarily smile to yourself, letting an unexplainable happy feeling consume you.

Sometimes things that you would never expect to happen, do happen in the least expected moments.

A/N: leave me your thoughts!! reblogs are always welcomed 💫

and also i really don't know what to think about this story myself lmao