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lure-of-writing · 1 month

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His little sister

Summary: Azriel point of view of the things you do as Rhysands little sister (This should be read only after reading all in a days work and knock before you enter otherwise it probably won't make any sense as you need the know what happened in the other two for this to make sense )

word count: 2.5 k

Note: Hello! For a while I was stumped on how to continue the little sister series so boom! I present to you Azriel's pov. I would love to hear what you guys think about having things from this perspective also! please don't be shy and let me know!

The playful touches and not so subtle glances across the room paired with the seductive bit of your lip as it lifts into a forbidden smile is not lost upon the spymaster of the night court. In fact everything you did never went unnoticed by him. As Rhysands little sister he was more or less forbidden from having any relationship with you that was purely platonic or sibling-like. Much to the high lord's irritation, once you learned of the rules set in place for the general and the shadow singer, you had made it your own personal mission to see just how much you could get away with. Just how far could you bend the rules before your older brother snapped?

Azriel was well aware of the game you played in hopes of causing your brother a small amount of distress. Unfortunately for him, he respected his high lord and his wishes to much to counter your advances with some of his own but that doesn’t mean he can’t help you accomplish your lifes works of making your brother rub his temples with a long sigh and a shot of whiskey or which ever bottle of alcohol appeared before him first.

It had been just a few short weeks after your fifteenth birthday when you had learned about the guidelines Rhys had set for the two other males in your family. Being told what to do never sat well with you, neither did being told who you can and can’t do things with. At first your reaction was to find your brother and argue with him until he couldn’t think straight but when you were on the way to his office you bumped into your favorite member of the bat boys. Azriel was leaning against the wall of Rhysands office waiting for his meeting with Helion when you were stuck with a brilliant idea. “Az?” his hazel eyes shifted from the dark oak doors to where you stood in the middle of the hall. “Yes?” as soon as the word had left his mouth he knew you were up to something. It was the way your eyes lit up in excitement and you shuffled over to him with hurried steps. Huddled close to his body you beaconed him to lean down so you could whisper in his ears. Wordlessly he follows your commands. “Would you like to help me make Rhys question why he was blessed with being my brother?”

The sly smile and trouble that brewed in your eyes was enough to get him to say yes. Not like he could ever say no to you in the first place but that wasn’t important. From that moment on he would allow you to flirt with him and crawl into his lap with no rejection. This drove Rhysand up a wall. He said that they could not try to flirt with you but you never said anything about it being the other way around and you had taken full advantage of that each and every single time the opportunity presented itself.

Family dinners amongst the inner circle were never an uncommon thing but since everything that transpired over the last fifty something years had the family dinners becoming a more common tradition. After dinner talks and catching up had been moved to the living room. Silently Azriel sat by himself, listening to his family talk. Perfectly content with listening rather than speaking. While Cassian went on this third rant about why he was certain that he could fight Bryaxis, if and big if here, they weren’t so scary looking, when you had gotten up from where you were sat next to Mor on the floor. He watched as you left the room and not even a second later his shadows informed him that you were getting another wine.

His attention shifted from his brother onto you when you had reentered the room with a glass full of wine and strutted over to him and made yourself comfortable in his lap. Az would never admit it but the feeling of your arm draped over his shoulder and playing with his hair was one of his favorite feelings in the world. As your body leaned into his, the temperate difference between the two of you became very apparent to the shadowsinger. Without thinking he placed his much warmer hand on your freezing and goosebump covered leg to help warm you back up. The slit in your dress had done nothing to help keep you warm.

Without saying anything he watched as his brother marched his way over to where you had chosen to sit, also known as Azriels lap. He watched as Rhys reached his hand out in hopes of pulling you off of closest friend and he watched as Rhysands face morphed into one of confusion to anger as Azriels wings furled around you to keep your brother from grabbing you from him. If there was one thing that the shadowsinger knew with one hundred percent certainty, it was that you could handle yourself. The context didn’t matter, you could always handle yourself. So while you and your brother went back and front he mindlessly began to rub comforting circles where his hand had found purchase on your leg. And once Rhysand had made his way back to his mate, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against your hairline. “You are a menace” giggling you smile up at him before shrugging and taking a sip of your forgotten wine.

Visiting the court of nightmares was never something that brought Azriel much joy. More often than not he was watching for any threats against his high lord's life, now he had to worry about his high lady also. It wasn’t as if Azriel wasn’t capable of handling such a task but when you had revealed that you would also be in attendance, it brought Azriel another level of stress. He knew that you could handle the court politics and the volleyball of words sent back and forth with hidden messages. Hell you had even been trained by all three males and Morrgian. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself but there has always been a part of Azriel that couldn’t rest when he knew you could be in danger at any moment.

Now the notoriously quiet male, while known for not saying much, always had something to say when it came to you. There was no comment too small that you made that didn’t get an answer from Az in return. As you finally made your way down the staircase to your awaiting family Azriel had just about a thousand thoughts and compliments he could give you at any moment. While your brother had a meltdown in the background all Azriel could focus on was you and as you made your way down the last few steps he reached his hand out helping you the rest of the way down. Shamelessly he looked you up and down not caring that your brother just might beat his ass for looking at you in such an outfit. Once his eyes reached your, you sent him a wink and beaming smile. Az could tell that you had wanted to ask him what he thought of your clothing choices but decided that dealing with your brother would be the best idea before he dragged you back up the stairs himself and forced you to change.

While at the place of nightmares the shadows that sung to Azriel hung close to his body, only leaving to secretly watch over you and make sure you were ok. For most of the night all was well, at least as well as things can get in the court of nightmares. That was until his shadow came back to inform their master of the predicament that had presented itself to you. He watched from afar as you pushed your way out of the crowd and towards himself. Pushing off of the pillar he was once perched against he made his way towards you. Az’s blood began to boil when he watched the random fae male wrap his arms around your waist and pulled your body into his. In two long strides he was in front of the strange male and yourself, demanding he release his grip on you or he would do it for him. There wasn’t a part of Azriel that enjoyed the violence he brings upon those he was tasked with gathering information from but holding truth teller to the male's neck did in fact bring him joy.

Upon your release he guided you back to where he was previously standing to make sure you were ok and that the random male didn’t inflict any harm to you. After his thorough evaluation of your body met his standards he returned his gaze to meet your and suddenly your cold hand was pressed against his warm cheek and the burn of the two temperatures had never felt so nice before. Once again your hand had found its resting place in his hair and your lips on his and Azriel swore hes never felt something as soft as your lips on his. As soon as your lips had met his, Az knew he was in for a whole world of pain when Rhysand got his hands on him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Az recently pulled away when he felt the anger of his high lord coming at him with the purpose of making him bow to the power radiating off of Rhysand. “We should probably get out of here before he kills you.” looking down he saw the mischief twinkling in your eyes and he positive nobody can pull off that look quite like you can. The wink you sent over your shoulder as you grab his hand pulls him out of the trance you had put him in. Willingly Azriel followed your lead out of the ball room while you bumped into his arm periodically. “Honestly he just might kill us both.” he felt you mumble into his shoulder as you hid your face and laughter in his body. Chuckling he couldn’t help but agree before winnowing you back to the house of wind.

After Rhyand had actually considered beating the shadowsinger to a pulp your usual antics had dwindled in frequency which saddened Azriel more than he was willing to admit. During training you kept clear of him in case your brother didn’t approve of you even looking in his general direction and it had been almost two weeks since he had last talked to you for more then five minutes and honestly it was starting to drive him crazy. After a family dinner consisting of you, Nesta, Cassiand and himself he finally approached you. “You're going to the Summer court tomorrow right?” As the resident know-it-all he already knew your answer but he waited nonetheless “Yes?” Azriel watches as you place your book in your lap to give him your full attention and he swears he could bask in it forever. “I’m not doing anything for the next week, would you like me to go with you?” The beaming smile you sent him was confirmation enough.

That's how he found himself in your room the next morning helping you get ready. You had asked his opinion on basically every piece of your outfit and Azriel had never been so happy to assist someone put together their clothes for the day. After you had pulled all the needed pieces of clothing from your closest you held up the corset you picked for him to see. “I’ll need your help putting this on.” And that's how once again Azriel feared Rhys would consider pummeling him once more.

Not once during Rhysands withering glare did Azriel stop pulling the strings of your corset until they were tight enough and only then did he gently pull the strings into a bow before removing his hands from your body. After finishing his assigned task Az thought it was best to leave the siblings to deal with each other and he would wait for you on the rooftop to begin your journey to the summer court. Only after he could assume was a long lecture from your older brother on being safe did the two of you join him on the roof. “I swear if a single hair on her head is out of place I will kill you.” As much as Azriel wanted to laugh at the worn out sound of his friend he simply nodded his head before acknowledging what he said.

The week in the summer court with you felt more like two days. Any time with you never felt like enough. On the way back Rhysand had talked to him and you that he wanted a debrief before you did anything upon your return. Gently he set you back on the ground once he had landed in front of the river house and he already missed the feeling of your body on his. He really wished and in that moment that he never agreed to those rules Rhysand had set for him and Cassian all those hundred of years ago.

The silence that engulfed the room would make anyone who didn’t know the two males squirm from how uncomfortable it was, but these two males had dealt with much more stressful problems and had sat in more silence than the average people did. Azriel knew that lately your antic had been pushing the line but he had never stopped you nor had he ever thought too. Mainly because he didn’t want you too but also in fear that if he asked you to stop you would never come to him again. “Truly Rhys there is nothing going on between me and your sister. You and I both know she only does this to get under your skin and she does that very well. As long as it bothers you then she will keep doing it. You know this.”

After a long and much needed talk Azriel made his way to the stand outside of the river house collecting a much needed breath of fresh air while he came to terms with his conversation with his oldest friend. A few moments pass before you come waltzing out of the house as if you had accomplished some great mission. “Maybe next time he’ll knock” Azriel knew exactly what you were talking about and couldn’t help but laugh at what you said. He didn’t need to ask you what you did as the one shadow that always kept you company told him all about what you had just done to your brother and his poor unsuspecting mate. Without another word Azriel scooped you into his arm while pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Gods he wished this wouldn’t be the last time he felt your skin against his lips.

Rhysand had asked him to put a stop to your behavior towards him. Not that you made the shadowsinger uncomfortable, gods no, you could never do that. It was just you were your brother's pride and joy and he refused to let the males he considered his brothers to be the reason your heart broke. Rhysand would never be able to forgive or look at Azriel the same and he knew that. Azriel just wished the golden string tying the two of you together didn’t have to be hidden from everyone including you.

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @gorlillaglue25 @willowpains

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #rhysand x sister!reader

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 3 months

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DP X DC PROMPT #25

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Family Reunion

Clockwork sends an adult Danny, newly appointed Ancient of Space, on a mission through time again. Except this time, it isn't located on Earth, but a distant planet he's never even heard of before. Clockwork didn't tell him any specifics on what he was supposed to do or when he was supposed to return to his own time, just to blend in and have an experience. He would know when it was time to return.

Needless to say, he has a blast! His core is bursting with happiness at getting the chance to explore this unknown corner of the universe with a sky full of constellations he's never seen and fascinating locals. Considering he might be here a while, he buckles down and learns all about their culture and their traditions and even eventually learns their language without having to use the two-way translator Clockwork gave him.

He spends decades there, not even having to worry about how he never appears to age, the people here being incredibly long-lived. However, he eventually meets someone. Someone he falls head over heels for. He gets married. He has kids. He watches them slowly grow into adults as well. It isn't until one of his sons informs him that he's expecting his own child(1) that Danny feels a tug at his core.

He ignores it, but over the course of a few weeks, it's gone from the occasional pull to a full-on yank at his entire being, along with a sense of dread that something was going to happen to this wonderful little planet. To his family.

He becomes restless and loses so much sleep, it's a miracle he can even stand. His family are worried for him, but he assures them that he's just feeling a little under the weather. One night, he's sat up in bed, unable to sleep again. His gaze is fixed lovingly on his spouse, but nonetheless sad.

He doesn't miss when all the soft sounds of the night stop and a green glow appears behind him.

"It's time to leave, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"There isn't any way I could stay? I can't bring them with me?"

"I'm afraid not. There are some things that can't be changed or stopped, even when they fall into your domain. I'm sorry."

"Why send me here just to make me abandon them like this? What was the point?"

Clockwork is silent, but when Danny turns to look at the ghost, he's gone.

Danny takes a few more precious days to spend time with his family. Kiss his spouse. Hug his kids. Feel the strong kicks of his grandchild he won't be there to witness the birth of.

The night he leaves, he places a letter on his spouse's nightstand, gently kisses their forehead, and disappears in a flash of green, never to be seen again.

Years later is when Danny gets the news. That the planet Krypton is no more and that his family is gone. He searched the Ghost Zone for them, but he never knew the location of Krypton in the cosmos. Their afterlife is beyond his reach, in a place that isn't even on the Infamap.

He nearly drowns himself in grief when he finds a sliver of reprieve in the form of a news broadcast. An extraordinary man in blue and red with the kryptonian symbol for such emblazoned on his chest is shown fighting off multiple enemies at once. He is the spitting image of his father and Danny as well.

He had a grandson. His grandson was alive.

✦

(1) This was Kara, not Clark. Danny left before he even found out about Kal-El being in the oven, so there will be a misunderstanding at first. Then Kara pops up later, and Danny just bawls his eyes out that he had two surviving grandchildren without even knowing it this whole time. How he first meets either of them is up to you!

(*) What this means power-wise for Clark is yours to decide. As well as what Clark already knows about his grandfather from the stored information his father left him. What his father thought of Danny disappearing without a word is also up for you to decide.

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moralesmilesanhour · 11 months

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Hello!!! How are you? I’ve been a follower for the past few days and was wondering if I could request something.

I was hoping to request a fic or like give you a prompt for something for miles42 × femreader

So it goes like this- yk those super corny reads that are like the reader's pinning for miles and like sometimes miles finds them annoying but in a cute way but he don't know that her yk? So he's talking to his homeboys about her, talm about some how she's so "annoying, a nuisance" and guess who's behind the wall listening? The reader herself.

So this goes one of two ways- she either matches up there, confronts him. And she's like "flipping fine, if that's how you feel then lemme get out of ur way- you won't hear a peep from me" and she like just ignores him and he learns how he feels about her, sees how his life is so boring without her and all that- goes to apologize happy ending..

Option number 2: silent treatment. Like just slowly drifting away until he once again comes to the realization that he needs her and all that happy ending yay!

Feel free to do whatever you want with this but I'm thinking of sending the same request to other authors to see what they come up with cause everyone has a style k? And i just love studying them and reading them cause evervtime- no matter how similar the prompt is- they always manage to invoke different feelings with in me.

Anyway- have fun doing this- but remember you don't have to cause this is kinda too much and I'm sorry😓

"I want my pen back."

wc: >1,200 A/N: okay so i got a bit carried away...this is a long one. (yes I am using this as an excuse to try out the gradient thing) thank you anon for this fun request! i also rlly like ur reasoning behind it and i hope i was able to do this prompt some type of justice lol

The gel pen clattered to the ground.

“I got it,” you said, grinning at Miles. You squat to grab it before the boy can act to get it himself, and he sighs as you hand it to him.

“Thanks.”

Miles turned the pen every which way between his fingers.

You had gifted it to him on the first day of school, with that same expectant grin. The little cartoon dogs that surrounded the perimeter had begun to fade with use because – admittedly – it had actually turned out to be a good ass pen.

He’d thought initially that you were just being nice; maybe you were handing shit out to everyone because it was the first day, understandable.

But then, it was highlighters (the erasable ones).

Pink sticky-notes on his locker, telling him to have a nice day with the ‘i’s dotted with hearts.

A new sketchbook for Secret Santa.

Miles’ pencil case had rapidly gotten bulkier, and when you rushed to grab a seat next to him during the one class without assigned seats, it finally clicked.

You were trying to get his attention. And he wasn’t sure what would happen if you got it.

“I like the new braids.”

He was snapped out of his thoughts, and turned to you.

“Huh?”

“The braids,” you laughed. “I like the pattern. Who did ‘em for you?”

A tiny smirk ghosted the boy’s lips.

“My mom. Just like the last time you asked me.”

He ran a hand instinctively over the meandering zig-zag pattern that his cornrows had been sectioned into. Miles looked at you from his periphery; you were still staring.

“Bitch, just ask him out already!”

Your friend smacked the back of your shoulder as the two of you took your sweet time getting back to your lockers.

“Alright, today, I swear,” you said, hand over your heart for emphasis.

A beat of silence passes. “But what if he says no?”

She groaned.

“Then he says no, and you can save your money. But say something, it’s getting embarrassing.”

Your friends’ encouragement landed you here, around the corner of a building where Miles and a gaggle of other boys from your homeroom were bursting into raucous laughter.

“Yo, why you ain’t bag her yet? She wants you bad,” one boy said.

Unsure if the ‘she’ in question was you, you stay where you are and keep listening.

“I dunno, she kinda annoying,”

Miles’ low voice makes your ears perk up.

“One day she gon’ run outta things to say about my hair, she has to!”

…Oh.

The buoyant feeling in your chest sinks as the group erupts into another laughing fit. If you asked him out now, you’d hear about it for the rest of the year.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you turn back the way you came.

Miles knew something was off when you sat down the next morning without a word.

“You good?” he asked.

You glanced at him, then nodded before going back to playing with the beads in your hair. The excruciating silence stretched on for almost the entirety of class before it was broken again.

“Do you…wanna help me with my homework? I’ll really let you, this time.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Morales, you got an ‘A’ in every class.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Your name’s on every bulletin board.”

“Damn,” the boy muttered to himself as his leg bounced under the desk.

Your beads clattered against your back as you rose from your seat. The bell had rung, finally. You didn’t even say ‘bye’.

Miles cracked open his locker. One of your sticky notes from last week had begun to un-stick and fluttered to the ground. There were no new ones. He bent to pick it up, noticing how neat and round your handwriting was on these compared to the way you wrote in class. The letters didn’t run together, like you were in a rush.

Neatly folding the note and sticking it in his pocket, Miles shut his locker to reveal your face. The boy nearly yelped in surprise.

“Where the hell did you come from? Scared the shit outta me,” he said with a grin.

“I want my pen back.”

Miles froze.

“Which pen?”

You tilted your chin up towards the one he was currently gripping in his left hand. He looked down at it like a wad of cash.

“Oh.”

He couldn’t just not give the pen back to you…

…but he didn’t want to give it to you, either.

“What you need it for? Don’t you have, like, a whole store full of these?”

“Miles, I gotta get to class. I’m not playing,” you reached for Miles’ hand, but he raised it high above his head.

Instead of a smirk or mocking sneer, something like worry was etched onto the boy’s features.

“Tell me what’s up witchu first.”

“What are you talking about? I’m about to be late, c’mon.”

“You ain’t said a word to me all day,” he dropped his hand momentarily. “Are you sick? Did I do something? What–hey!”

You had snatched the pen out of the boy’s hand when he wasn’t looking, throwing it into your bag.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You turn to retreat down the hallway, but stop with a huff when Miles calls after you.

“Wait!”

“I’m waiting.”

“Come see me after school?”

You kicked an empty can down the sidewalk in front of Miles’ apartment.

“Make this quick, I gotta go study.”

He looks everywhere else to avoid meeting your eyes, looking for the right words.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Miles awkwardly shuffled his feet. “Are you mad at me?”

“...Yeah, kinda.”

“For what?”

You stop to think for a moment, crossing your arms.

“For…for letting me hand you that pen, knowing you weren’t gonna give it back,” you began.

Miles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s it?”

You shook your head profusely, “N-no, I’m not done. You let me buy you all that stuff, put all that dumb shit in your locker, whole time you don’t even like me–”

“You don’t know that,” Miles interrupted. Your head snapped up to look at him, and you paused.

“I don’t?”

Neither of you say anything for a moment, then Miles remembers the note in his pocket. He takes it out and shows it to you.

“These? Are cute as fuck,”

He searches for more words, ten continues, "A-and I use that sketchbook every day. That pen? It’s like, my favorite,” he laughs. “I got half a mind to steal it back from you.”

Miles watches you expectantly. Your arms are still crossed, but the corners of your lips quirk up in amusement.

“So you like getting free stuff.”

“No-! I…”

The boy’s arms had begun to flail around in frustration. You hold back a giggle, never having seen him squirm like this before. It’s a nice change of pace.

“Alright, listen. I like hearing you talk to me every morning, and…”

He trailed off. He had begun slightly bouncing on his toes.

“...I like you.”

At some point while watching Miles struggle to explain himself, the float-y feeling in your chest had come back. You tilted your head to the side, and smiled.

“Okay. What are you gonna do about it?”

The boy’s eyes lit up.

“Where do you wanna go?”

#earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #moralesanhour #requests

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husbandhoshi · 4 months

Text

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

#literally on my hands and knees begging for the tags to work #mine #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu angst #seventeen angst #mingyu imagines

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skyeslittlecorner · 2 months

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How about the kings (plus Lucifer and some of your fav nobles if you could 🥺) reactions with an MC who like to bite out of nowhere 😁 and after they bit they ran away while "😛" them

That's so silly! I relate so much, I also tease people a lot when I like them lmao

Satan loves to see you having fun. And he will play along. Are you nibbling at him suddenly? So get ready for him to bite you too. It will be like playing tag, out of nowhere, but with your teeth instead of your hands. After some time, you will start walking around colorful from your biting, of course you more, because Satan will be happy to mark what is his. He was already used to it when one day, instead of biting him, you gave him a kiss on the shoulder. Then you will get a deep 'you're too sweet to exist' kiss in the mouth. He never knows what to expect from you, and that's the best thing.

Mammon… didn't even notice. He didn't feel it. Might as well be bitten by a mosquito, but then he might at least be itchy. He'll sooner see your disappointment and ask if something's wrong. You won't want to tell him because it's silly, so he orders his nobles to find the answer. Maybe it's something serious? But when you see how earnestly they took it, all you can do is laugh and enlighten this dear king. He'll be relieved that nothing happened to you. Next time if you want to bite him, do it in the mouth.

Beel thought it was great fun. He noticed that you sometimes bite him unexpectedly and suggested a bet. If you manage to surprise him, you've won, and if he catches you, he's won. Of course, you knew you had no chance against his reflexes, and you counted on his memory being flawed. You definitely miscalculated. If he is interested in something, he focuses all his attention on it, and you are certainly such an object. But he'll let you win once or twice, just to see how happy you are.

Leviathan finds this stupid and immature. Why are you doing this at all? It does not make sense. Of course, try to get closer than a meter to someone with that sinister glint in your eye, and before you can do anything, poor subordinate will be hanging six meters above you. Oh, no. Now all you have left to bite is Levi, how sorry he is (not at all).

I wonder how much I will revise all the Lucy parts when he comes out lol

Lucifer doesn't think it's a smart idea. Such a cut may become infected. Moreover, such a cut brings you into contact with blood, and what if it infects you with something incurable? So - you mustn't do that… unless it's him. This is the one and only exception. Doctor's recommendation. (Yes, yes, you believe him too, that it's only about your safety.)

Andrealphus may attack when you first do this. He will grab your blouse and rise you up. You will realize that this wasn't the smartest idea in your life. At the same time, he heard your gasp in surprise, so he knew it was only you, not an angel or anybody with bad intentions. He will apologize, but also warn you not to do that again. Learned reflex. He wouldn't hurt you, but rather slowly get him used to your presence and only then try something like this.

Naberius will look at you with eyes as wide as saucers. So this is how you seek attention? Like a puppy that wants to play? That's adorable. Get ready for this funny gesture to open him up surprisingly. You'll end up being scratched under the chin and behind the ears. (And then try doing it to him, he will fall in love with you even more.)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #whb lucifer #whb andrealphus #whb naberius

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natriae · 1 year

Text

MINORS DNI

A/N: on my ushiwaka grind rn i love him

i fully believe that Ushi is not good at sex especially not the first time. He has no idea what he's doing.

He understood sex jokes in highschool but he just didn't know why tendou and the team thought they were so funny. Sex was not on his priority list, so he wasn't ready at all when you started to climb on his lap when you guys were kissing.

Somehow his brain told him to bring you closer, so he did just that, but you could feel the hesitancy.

"'toshi we don't have you," you tried to comfort the strong man.

"n-no i want to," but you knew deep down he was just saying what he thought was right based on what he heard in the locker room.

Safe to say you guys didn't have sex that night, but you did your best to make sure toshi didn't feel uncomfortable or feel bad for leaving you "high and dry". His therapist taught him that communication was very important to a relationship, so you were thankful he was blunt and clear with his feelings. He didn't want to mess up, or cum at the wrong moment.

You knew Toshi was a virgin but not because he was so worried about preforming wrong. Volleyball came easy for him but he always had to put a little more work into your relationship especially after seeing his parents. He wanted to treat you like a princess, and if he knew he couldn't provide you in some way he'd find someone else to do better.

"Toshi I don't care if any of that happens. It will be our first time. It won't be perfect. Just like Volleyball you practice all the time to make sure your skills grow."

"you're right, but can we still wait a bit?"

"of course, goodnight baby."

From that day toshi did as much research as he could to learn how to "preform" well during sex. He read blogs, he even asked Kageyama for help which lead to a very awkward stare off.

When the real thing happened he needed lots of help. You directed him to your clit, and things that made you feel good. Seeing his small smile brought you more pleasure then the sex itself. And Toshi was beyond proud of himself, but his confidence lowered when it was time for him to take his dick out. What if it doesn't fit? What if it doesn't feel good for you? He won't even be able to look at you in the face if he-

He feels you grab his face, "toshi look at me,". seeing your eyes look so deeply into his was enough for him to begin pushing it in.

Yes he did cum before you, but he kept going till he was overstimulated because he wanted to be perfect for you. Train himself to hold it till you came.

You ended up faking an orgasm because toshi looked to be in pain, but he doesn't need to know that.

So no Ushijima Wakatoshi is not good at sex, but he will practice just for you. And you are glad he was willing to step out of his comfort zone for you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #ushijima imagine #ushijima headcanons #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima fic #haikyuu smut #ushijima wakatoshi

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Note

bad dog ficlet

bad dog

"i cannot believe you said yes without conferring with me first." "and why do i need to confer with you?" "well i live here too, it affects me!" "you won't do a single thing for him anyway, so really it'll be my responsibility and therefore was my decision to make." "oh that is not fair, do i not get a say in any of this?" "considering its a favour for your family and i've already said yes, no you do not alessia."

your girlfriend groaned, making sure it was long and loud to let you know she was not impressed as you rolled your eyes, unamused by her theatrics. "are you done acting like a child?" you raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over your chest.

"a child she says!" "i'll take that as a no then." "come back here this conversation is not over!" "yes it is, he'll be here by the time you get home." "if i come home!"

"stay at tooneys for the week then." you shrugged casually, alessias mouth forming a small o of shock, your reaction not the one she expected from her light threat.

"i'll have elio to protect me from intruders anyway, no guard dog girlfriend needed love." you smiled, well aware you were getting under her skin as she sat up, grumbling under her breath as she tugged on her trainers and grabbed her gym bag.

"both of us will see you this afternoon." you hung by the front door twirling her keys on your finger, holding them away as she reached for them. you cleared your throat expectantly and raised an eyebrow, your girlfriend rolling her eyes.

"i love you." she grumbled leaning in to give you a kiss, one arm wrapping around your side. her hand on the small of your back she flushed your bodies closer together, plucking her keys from your grasp and pecking your lips a few more times before she was gone.

"oh my god. baby! he's fucking done it again!" alessia shouted angrily, the dopey labrador scurrying out of the room at her raised voice. "don't yell like that you'll scare him." you warned her, alessia scoffing.

"scare him? look what he did!" she held up a pair of her boots which were ripped to shreds. "i told you to stop leaving them laying about. now looks what happened!" you only rolled your eyes, voice lacking an inch of sympathy.

"how is this my fault? he is so badly behaved and you never tell him off!" "lessi, baby he's just a puppy. he's learning!" "yeah? well he better learn not to chew up my shit or he learns how cold it is to sleep in the backyard." "don't you dare. i'll put you out there with him!"

"go and take him for a walk! maybe if he's tired he'll be less of a fucking pain in my ass." alessia huffed, sitting down on the bed and holding her boots in her hand with a groan. she'd not long gotten the new cleats and now she'd not get another single wear out of them.

"are you coming?" you returned a few minutes later, elio of course sitting right by your feet, always ever so obedient for you. "no. he hates me, i hate him, leave it at that." alessia huffed, rolling onto her side where she was laying down on the bed.

"honestly baby you're being ridiculous, he's just a dog! come on, it'll be a good bonding opportunity for the two of you." you cooed, the bed dipping as you sat down. "ah! get down you idiot." alessia kicked out at the dog who followed your lead.

"alessia! don't kick him." you huffed, smacking her in the leg making her whine. "get up, shoes on, you're coming." you ordered sternly, firm glare shutting down her complaining before it could even start.

"hi baby." you smiled softly as your girlfriend returned from a photo shoot for the seasons kit, moving aside your textbook out of your lap as she belly flopped onto you making you laugh.

"how was it?" you ran your hands fondly through her hair, gently untangling a few sporadic knots. "good, missed you." she mumbled, shuffling slowly up your body. and once her lips met your neck you knew exactly what she wanted.

your eyes fluttered closed the kisses soft and tender, sweet nothings whispered in your ear. her hands teasingly ran up and down your sides before they gripped your hips tighter, pushing your body deeper into the mattress as hers settled itself comfortably on top of you.

your breath hitched as suddenly she nipped at your pulse point, your body reacting to every little touch she gave you, switching between her teeth and tongue devouring at the soft sensitive skin, your mumbles of encouragement only spurring her on further.

but it was her who heard the whines and scratches before you did, noises which were not coming from you as your attention wavered momentarily.

"no, ignore him, focus on me baby." alessia purred, moving her mouth back to connect with yours, her hands cupped your face and deepening the kiss. your head swam as her tongue swirled against the roof of your mouth, hips bucking involuntarily up against her.

until the barking started.

"baby i just need to make sure he's okay." your hands gently pushed at her chest, breaking the kiss with a quiet smack as her lips pulled off of yours. "are you seriously choosing a smelly dog over making out with me?" alessia asked in disbelief.

"he doesn't smell! i washed him yesterday." you laughed, ignoring the main focus of her point as you pecked her lips and sat up, the blonde rolling off of you with a defeated groan as of course your attention again shifted to elio.

"tesoro i already said he is not allowed on the lounge! get down." alessia groaned, having showered once you all returned from your walk, though of course it was alone as you needed to feed elio and watch him while he ate so he didn't choke.

yet another strike in alessia's book against the dopey chocolate menace who was ruining her life. four days had never felt so agonizingly long and with each hour her annoyance only seemed to grow, feeling incredibly neglected by you whose attention and time seemed to be only invested in elio.

"elio off!" alessia yelled, much more sternly this time as the canine only stuck his tongue out, not moving a muscle. "see i told you babe, he doesn't listen." alessia dragged her hands down her face in frustration. "its because he knows you don't like him. you have to ask nicely!" you gestured for her to try again.

"what dog book did you read that in? they're supposed to know whose the boss and that it isn't them!" alessia rolled her eyes in disbelief. "elio. off and onto your bed please." you asked softly, alessia withholding the urge to scream as of course he did what you asked.

"see baby? mutual respect." you grinned, opening your arms expectantly as your girlfriend sighed deeply and dropped down into them, her head on your stomach and arms tucked around your torso.

elio finally napping alessia was able to do the same, and you smiled seeing her so relaxed as you played with her hair, glancing between elio and your girlfriend with a content sigh.

alessia awoke to something wet on her cheek, a smile curling onto her lips assuming the tongue belonged to you. though the rancid smell that followed had her eyes shooting open, meeting orbs which did not belong to you.

"urgh get off!" alessia grunted shoving away the dog and furiously wiping at her mouth, just seeing your back facing toward her in the kitchen. "right, you and I need to have a little chat." alessia growled, grabbing the dogs collar and pulling him back over.

"see her? that is my girlfriend. mine! not yours." alessia warned quietly. "you will start to listen to me, and behave, and let me spend time with my girlfriend or you will sleep outside in the rain!" alessia leaned in closer to the canine.

"understood?" alessia warned, letting go of elio and smiling as he shot right back to his bed and sat down. "here baby." the blonde perked up as you handed her a bowl of pasta, kissing your cheek gratefully.

"no, stay." the striker warned as elio stood to join the two of you, ears perking up at the smell of your dinner. "see! he listened." you smiled happily as the labrador dropped right back down into his bed as alessia settled in beside you.

"yeah baby you were right, we just needed some mutual respect."

#alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #alessia russo #woso imagine #engwnt #woso

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h0ney-mochi · 1 year

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a little kunikuzushi brainrot from the anon who sent the kissing scara ask ...... i just NEED someone to talk to about this ughh

okay. he's, of course, innocent as ever, so this one time when he comes across a ✨spicy✨ moment in some book he'd been reading, kuni doesn't understand what's happening in that scene. so he comes to you for help!

when he asks about it, you chuckle awkwardly and try to avoid explaining it to him, but kuni's eager to learn and doesn't want to give up easily. he's so cute omg

my brain has a limit, so what would you do?

(also, you seem like a pretty cool person! can i be 🧋 anon?)

Kunikuzushi x reader ;; readers pronouns not mentioned

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT (it's mainly sfw, but at the end it gets a little suggestive)

Summary: Kunikuzushi spends some of his time reading. His pure, innocent self comes across a.. scene, which he doesn't really understand, but from the sentences it's good..? So he comes to you, asking for your help on it. How could you deny him when he's so eager to know..?

A/n: WELCOME 🧋 ANON <33 Thank u sm for the ask!! I like to think I'm pretty alright :)) I don't think I wrote this well ahh.... 🙌

This made me think, a little hard to write on the explaining, so that part is a little messy.. but ahhh, explaining to lil innocent kuni what the scene is... his flushed reaction... aah~ the possibilities?!

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!

You're just relaxing in your room, writing some things down on a small paper. That's when you heard footsteps and the door open. You turn around and see that it's Kunikuzushi. You noticed that he had a book in hand. You greet him, asking what brings him to you, while you go back to your paper.

He walks next to you and sits down on the chair next to the desk. "Well I- there's this scene in the book and I don't understand.. it..?" He quickly opens up the book again and you put your pen down. Kuni shows you and you take it in your hands, reading. It takes you a moment to realize you're reading one of those spicy scenes. You stop reading as you widen your eyes, looking at him, back at the words and then back at him.

You put the book back in front of him, awkwardly laughing. "Well, that's- It's not really important, so you can just continue in the book," you say, smiling slightly at him, "It's not the the end, is it?" He nods, but continues to speak, "Well, yeah, but I want to know. She describes it as-" "I very well read what she described it as, Kuni," you chuckle, tapping your fingers against the desk, "But it's something you can learn later in life, you know-?"

"Why can't you just tell me?" He stares with a confused look, "Is it really that bad? The author certainly doesn't write it like that-" You let out a sigh, thinking, staring at the book. He leans down to meet your gaze, "Please?" You look at him. Is it really worth telling this pure soul what he just read? Well, his curiosity is adorable.. Oh dear. He won't back away that easily, so might as well just get over it, no?

"Alright, um," you start, clearing your throat, "Give me the book again." Kuni gives it to you and you head to the page. You read through the start of the scene and then a bit after, quickly grasping on what exactly you're about to explain to him. You're not sure if he genuinely does not know anything or maybe he knows something, just a little.. you hope he does, would ease your mind..

You start speaking, asking 'simple' questions first, such as how much does he know about anything related, and all that jazz. You're regretting everything as you're proven again that no, he does not know.

And so you explain. Bit by bit, you try your best to tell him that yes, that's seggs, and yes, a man has his dick inside a woman in the scene. And yes that they both receive pleasure. You tried your best, yet you had no idea what the fuck were you trying to say. But the more you tried to explain, the more you noticed his face getting hotter. He asks questions, you answer them.

At some point you shut up completely, seeing Kunikuzushi put his hands on his face for a moment. "Are you okay?? I know this is a very awkward topic, I don't know if I'm even telling you something," you chuckle a little. He takes his hands away and swallows. Kuni looks back at you, shifting in his seat, "..And how do they- how does that feel?" You blink. Thinking for a moment, you respond, "Well, it usually feels good, the author wrote it as.. well, we both read it."

"Have you done it?" His gaze is unfocused. You shake your head, "No, but I've read of it, maybe seen it, and few of my friends speak of it." It's silent, Kuni being lost in thought. Then he whispers an "Could we try it?" Your eyes widen at that. He looks at you with a pleading look, "Pleaase? I want to know how that is.." "Kuni, this is something you should really think about first-" You quickly respond, but he interrupts you.

"Please?"

..You can't say no to that, can you?

So with few more sentences, and him being eager to have you show him, you and him were on the bed. Your hand held his face as you told him how to kiss, Kuni immediately pressing his lips against yours when you stop talking.

Then you had him part his lips, so you could show him more how a kiss can be. Your hand on his cheeks, the other at his waist. In between kisses, he's telling you how he's feeling weirder and hotter. Each of your soft touch on his body was making him shudder and make noise in your mouth.

"Are you sure?" You ask again, hand tracing his arm. He nods quickly, "Yes, yes, please." So you continued. You laid down while telling Kuni what to do, telling him that yes, you can touch that, yeah you can touch that as well. It seemed like he couldn't focus though, too much information, too much of your touch, your words, you. His hands were a little shaky, he was flushed and his eyes always went from your eyes to your body. After a moment, he just mumbled out an 'It's too much..'

You nodded, saying it's completely fine. You understand. You laid him down and got on top, indulging him another kiss. His hands went on your shoulders, moaning in the kiss when your hand trailed down his stomach. Kuni pulls away, bucking his hips, "Lower.. please, touch me-" So you did. And his head falls back as a whine comes through. You press a kiss to his cheek, "I'll show you what they did, alright?"

#scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #☆°• ☆ ask box #☆°• ☆ writings #☆°• ☆ anon mix #☆°• ☆ anons; 🧋#genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche smut #kunikuzushi smut

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circeyoru · 3 months

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It's almost my sleeping time so can I request again.

I just wonder How well the other react to Yandere Alastor go on a date with the reader.

I mean the people in the Hotel.

I know damn well them will be confused.

Especially what's her name again... Mimzy?

I have a feelings that she will be confused then everyone else.

That's all I hope you stay strong and healthy!

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}

Hi hi again!! You're going to be like a regular in my inbox now. Staying strong and healthy, thanks~

How well others react... Hmm.. If we're going with what happened for this ask, then it's gonna be interesting.

Everyone saw how you knocked Alastor out of the park with the first date. Angel was commenting on how Alastor should be the one to do that, not you. Husk slapped him upside the head to warn him to keep his mouth shut about that. What if Alastor heard that? He didn't cause all eyes and ears on you.

Later on, the dates were like a rotation between you and Alastor leading. Though it was easy to know who the date was for; if it's Alastor, you two would be out of the hotel; if it's for you, the two of you would be in the hotel but Alastor would be purely focused on you and no one can disturb you two; if it was a compromise for both of you, well, they can't tell. Any scenario, they know NOT to include any of you in their plans.

At first, they are sure as hell confused, but they also witnessed your confession (since it was done in the open). Neither you nor Alastor leaving proves a happy end. Then it was their confusion and shock as to why you picked Alastor and why Alastor was that enamoured with you. Both of you don't explain or humour them, so they just accept it. Now when they know you and Alastor are on a date, Charlie swoons and supports it, Vaggie rolls her eyes but happy that Alastor is more tamed, Niffty waves you two off, Angel teases a bit, Lucifer makes all sort of disgusted faces but wishes you well, and Husk just hope you have Alastor's attention so he's not bothered by his owner.

Now for Mimzy. Alastor will threaten her to mind her tone around you, but he didn't reveal his relationship with you. She was not as important to him now as before, so she didn't need to know about you. Say she goes to the hotel to pass the time, surprisingly there was no one after her this time. Then she sees you, alone. So she takes this chance to harass you for messing with Alastor's head. Alastor was her 'protector', the one to clean her messes because they were acquaintances in the living. Who were you to take that away from her?

Vaggie and Angel tried to get Mimzy to change targets. You and Alastor both said today was a day that the two of you won't be free to help around the hotel under any circumstances. Meaning? You two were going on a date. Distrubing any of you two was the same as a death sentence.

"Let her learn the hard way." Lucifer stopped Vaggie and Angel from their troubles. He heard Mimzy's words to you and he wasn't happy. He'd love to knock this b*tch down a peg or two, but Alastor should be even happier doing it and you'd be satisfied to see it yourself.

"All by your lonesome? Aww, did ol' Al get bored of you so soon?" Mimzy teased with a grin, her hand covering her lips poorly.

You raised a brow at her, your eyes narrowed. "Alastor?"

The colours on Mimzy's prideful face disappeared like it was sucked out of her when Alastor materialized next to you. Yup, the other residents of the hotel were familiar with such a sight; that's why they won't come near you on your dates. Alastor smiled, an arm over your shoulders while his eyes glared at his former friend, "Yes, My Beloved?"

"Beloved!?" Mimzy repeated in shock, her eyes twitched.

Now it was your turn to grin back at Mimzy, "I think I'd like to watch a show for today's date."

Alastor humoured you as he brought you close, his eyes focused solely on you, "What sort of show? I'll provide only the best."

"I'm in the mood for some screams of agony, particularly one that's high-pitched" You faked a thoughtful look.

"I have the perfect demon in mind." Alastor's smile grew to a grin, his eyes slowly directed over to Mimzy, who was cautiously backing up with each step. "My dear friend, I believe your services are required by my lovely romantic partner."

"Actually, I was just leaving." Mimzy chuckled. How was it that you two were an item? Alastor never gave her the time of day, even when he was alive. How did you catch Alastor's eye?! "So..."

Alastor's shadow tendrils appeared out of nowhere and wrapped out Mimzy, "Ah, ah, ah. You know me well. I'll do anything for the love of my life."

In the end, I'd say that Mimzy's reaction would be that of denial, shock, and disbelief. Her pride was hurt, she was with Alsator for so long and he never showed such tendencies. She didn't understand how she lost to you, in a twisted way. She was fine with Husk, because she knew Alastor held him on a leash, so she acts out as much as she wants. But in this case, you held something over her, you held the reason for her brazen actions and attitude, you won before there even was a competition. You didn't even know.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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hyuuukais · 2 months

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, energy is tenseee

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE (partially written! wc: 1.4k)

You sigh, placing your phone next to you as you slide down further into your pillows. Time is running out to ask Minho, you know that, and Lily has been pressing too. The deadline for offering interviews lingers sooner than when they start. With a groan, you swing your feet over the edge of your bed and slip them into the bunny slippers previously kicked off at the end of your bedframe, trudging to your door.

Minho is already pouring a cup of coffee into a dark brown mug when you enter the kitchen, wearing his normal work attire; a tight black t-shirt tucked into black jeans and a belt. Sometimes you were jealous of the simplicity. He doesn't notice you lean on the island, back facing you. When he does turn around, he startles, the tiniest drop of hot coffee running down the side of his mug and seeping under his hand. He doesn't hiss at the burn, doesn't even flinch, just puts the mug down and wipes his hand on the cloth hanging off the oven door.

"Dont sneak up on people, it's not nice," he says, replacing the cloth.

You perk up at his voice. "We're talking again, good, that's good. Listen, I deeply apologize for what I said and I don't even believe that, you know? I'm sure your ex loved you a lot. There was definitely a really good reason for her to hide her husband from you. Maybe he sucked! In any case, you're a great guy, so why wouldn't she choose you?"

Taking a deep breath, you refocus yourself. Minho is staring at you from above his mug, blowing gently on the hot liquid. There's still tension between you two, the air thick and hot.

"Was there a point to all that?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes, um. This is bad timing, but have you decided if you're doing Lily's thing or not yet...?" He sets his mug down with a sigh. "Of course, it's okay if you don't want to! Deadlines are coming up though so she needs an answer whether you're doing it or not."

He takes his time answering, sipping his coffee, running a hand through his hair, stretching. Part of you is getting frustrated. How hard is it to say a simple yes or no? Either he's doing it or not, there's not exactly a grey area.

"I'll do it," Minho finally answers, and you barely contain a squeal of excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You run around the island and hug him, nearly knocking over your stool in the process.

It's short-lived, pulling away to see Minho's face painted red, no doubt mimicking your own. Clearing his throat, he nods at you and grabs his coffee, turning away from you. You're about to leave when you remembered what prompted you to seek him out in the first place.

"We're having a game night tonight if you want to join? It's just gonna be the boys, Hyun, NingNing, and I invited Soobin too." You lean against the wall of the hallway leading to your rooms, waiting for a response.

"Ah, I might be working late again, but I'll see what Jeongin is up to. Is it okay if I..." He shakes his head. "Never mind, forget that. I'll either see you or I won't."

"Okaaay," you give him two thumbs up, but immediately put them back down when he gives you a weird look.

Game night is in full swing by ten with snacks and drinks taking up the island and bodies filling up the couch. A pile of UNO cards sit messily in the middle of the table, NingNing taking it upon herself to tidy it up every so often, even if it only stays like that for a couple of turns. You're so close to calling UNO, smirking as you place down another pick-up-4 card and watch as Soobin's head slowly turns to look at you with fake disdain. He keeps eye contact as his hand reaches for the deck, barely containing his own smile as he glares at you, and you can't help but giggle.

All night has been like this- teasing Soobin and getting him used to your friends now that you've become a bit more serious. His training under you has finally ended, so you feel less guilty about the whole thing. The only thing is that you still haven't shared it with your boss, but that's a problem for another day. Right now, all you can think of is the way Soobin has his free hand over yours, thumb caressing the back of your hand and only taking it away to place a card down. He fits in nicely with everyone, almost like he's always been there... which makes sense seeing as he was already friends with Beomgyu.

"UN-" you're attention turns to the two bodies walking through the front door, "-oh."

In comes Minho with a girl you don't recognize hanging off his arm, in their own world as they kick their shoes off and laugh at something she whispers in his ear. Neither seem to notice the big group around the table until the girl gives a little, and uncomfortable, wave. Minho has his arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and you follow his gaze to where Han and Beomgyu sit. On their faces are matching angry stares, Han with his mouth open slightly.

"You're kidding," Beomgyu scoffs. "Tell me you're kidding, Min."

"I forgot you were having a game night," Minho shifts.

"Don't ignore the question." You look at Beomgyu, anxiety crawling up your throat. "Why is she here? And why are you acting so... couple-y?"

Han stands, and you can see his hands are shaking. "You got back together?"

"Oh, come on," the girl speaks for the first time, a look of annoyance on her face. "We always get back together."

"I wasn't talking to you-" Han points a finger at her, then directs it to Minho. "You, explain."

"No," Minho sighs. "I don't think I need to. If you're unhappy with your own love lives, you don't need to project onto me. None of you can say shit about relationships here. You're sneaking around because you're ashamed, and Y/n is only with Soobin because she can't get over her ex. Just to name a few."

You avoid eye contact with Soobin, a pang of hurt in your chest, glaring at Minho.

"I'm not unhappy," you say, feeling Soobin squeeze your hand. "You have no right to comment on my relationships because you're jealous."

Hurt flashes over Minho's face for a millisecond, quickly covered by a stoic expression. "Why would I be jealous? People can change-"

"Like hell, they can." Beomgyu stands now, circling around the table and past the couch to get into his personal space. "You said it yourself you don't believe that! And what about your husband?" He looks the girl in the eye and you hear NingNing gasp; you forgot to tell her. "What does he think of all this?"

"We're divorcing," she answers quietly, looking down at the floor. "He wasn't good for me. Not like you'd understand, or even take the time to try and understand."

Her voice turns watery at the end of the sentence, orange hair shielding her face as she curls into Minho's chest. From the shudder of her body, you can tell she's starting to cry. You almost feel bad for her. Taking in her words, you feel there's more to the story than what you know and what the others are willing to listen to, but you're already to upset to care. Han joins Beomgyu, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should leave it alone."

"And maybe he should leave, take his princess back to her tower," Beomgyu spits.

Minho's eyes turn dark, jaw clenching. He's holding back hurtful comments, just barely. After another moment of tense staring, Minho breaks eye contact and leads the girl- his ex- back to the front door. Slipping on his shoes, he helps her with her own when her hands prove to be too shaky to tie the laces. When he leaves the room is completely silent, Beomgyu taking a seat next to Hyunjin on the couch and Han walking away down the hall, the sound of a door slamming following his departure.

notes -> maybe we were quick to judge his ex...? maybe.......?

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^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #stray kids smau #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know smau #lee minho smau #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x fem reader #lee minho x fem reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #smau #social media au

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