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gimmeurtmi · 1 year

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backstage — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, dom/sub dynamic, mc!lee know, fluff, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, dom!minho, boyfriend!minho, minho shows off reader (in a non-sexual way), dirty talk, thigh riding, unprotected sex, finger sucking, exhibitionism as a fantasy and is talked about a lot, use of "good girl", "whore", "slut", some light degradation, praising, jewellery as consent signals, kink negotiations, lmk if i forgot any!

inspo: i saw too many gifset of lee know on music core. plus @lino-nyangi's posts about exhibitionist!minho

notes: i got carried away. again. let's just from now on always assume i'm gonna get carried away when it comes to minho. thanks. also i wrote this on my laptop so it's actually written normally lmao. this won't be consistent i'm sorry.

{ wc: 8676 }

A few weeks ago Minho promised you he’d take you with him to record MusicCore. You were a fan of the show before Minho joined it, and ever since he secured a job as an MC you begged him week after week to let you come with him.

Today was finally the day the stars aligned, and your schedule allowed you to come with him. Minho was very clear that you could only come if you were there to support him from the morning until he was done, something about how it would be unfair of you to leave him alone in the middle. So when you had some time off, and Minho was preparing to record, he surprised you with a lanyard attached to a card that said Full Access: Guest of Lee Min Ho on it.

You were gonna frame it after today.

So when you got up in the morning, thirty minutes before your alarm, you made sure to spend some extra time styling your hair and perfecting your makeup. It wasn’t like you were going there to impress anyone—but stepping into the studio of MusicCore felt like a fancy event, and you needed to dress accordingly.

Minho grumbled from behind you as he woke up—he only got home at three in the morning after practicing for his stage all night—searching for you next to him.

“Jagiya,” he mumbled, eyes still shut, “where are you?”

“I’m here, my love,” you announced from your chair in front of the vanity.

“C’mhere,” he mumbled, plopping his head back into his three pillows. You quickly followed his orders, crawling back into the bed, making sure not to touch the white pillows before you had a chance to set your foundation.

“What time is it?”

“Eight thirty,” you checked your phone quickly.

“Why did you leave me?” He whined, wrapping his arms around you.

“I couldn’t keep sleeping knowing where we’re going,” you grinned. Minho smiled softly, his eyes still closed.

“You’re excited?” He asked, unwilling to open his eyes just yet, knowing he had ten more minutes to stay in bed still.

“I’m so so excited! It’s gonna be such a good show, show, show!” You recited, causing Minho to chuckle at you.

It was then he opened his eyes finally, rubbing them slightly before he took a moment to look at you.

“Holy shit,” he let out after a few rapid blinks.

“What?”

“You’re gorgeous,” his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer.

“You didn’t know that before?” You asked, feigning offence at his shocked face.

“Of course I knew that,” he nudged his head into your shoulder, “it’s just a bit overwhelming seeing it first thing in the morning.”

“Well, you’re gonna be seeing this gorgeous face all day,” you smirked.

“I’m so lucky,” he concluded before kissing your neck softly. “We’re gonna walk up to every crew member there and make sure they know you’re my girlfriend.”

“Oh, yeah? You wanna show me off today?” You smirked at him.

Innocently, Minho mumbled a small ‘yes’ your way, unaware of the thoughts in your brain. It was too early to bring in such inappropriate thoughts to the conversation, but maybe you couldn’t help but think about that little thing you and Minho agreed upon a few months ago.

Neither of you liked the idea of doing anything inappropriate in public—but sometimes, when Minho talked to you, he’d mention things like that. And sometimes, it got you so horny he could get away with saying a lot of things.

To make sure both of you were comfortable with these kinds of things, you agreed on wearing certain things to let him know how you were feeling. When you wanted him to go hard, it was the red ring he bought you. When you wanted him to only praise you, it was the butterfly earrings you found at the old market place on your third date. And when you wanted him to mention these kind of things, play along to the fantasy that you two were going to do things in front of others, you wore the gold necklace he got you with a small M dangling off it.

Minho also knew you were completely happy with him ignoring those signs as well—as you both needed to want it for it to be enjoyable—so you knew you could wear it today even if he didn’t want to indulge you.

It sat beautifully above your collarbones and honestly, it brought the whole outfit together nicely. You might have to ask Minho to change the sign to a different necklace, as the more you looked at it the more you wanted to wear it every single day.

Minho didn’t comment on it, you weren’t sure he even noticed it, as he stepped out of the shower and started getting ready for his day. The pair of you had a quick breakfast, Minho making sure to kiss your lips when you were done, and then call a car to get you to the studio.

You squealed excitedly at him as you saw the studio coming into view—your previous thoughts from the morning forgotten as they were replaced by butterflies instead.

Minho was a very talented MC, you always told him that, and the reality of getting to see him record was finally starting to set.

“Thank you so much,” you said as your boyfriend laced your fingers together, walking you towards the entrance to the studio.

“Why are you thanking me?” He shrugged at you before smiling at the receptionist and offering her a small bow. You followed suit, watching as Minho signed in on the sheet and made small talk with her.

“Are you her?” She asked timidly, watching as you signed your name on the guest sheet.

You looked at Minho in question, unable to ignore the way his ears turned pink.

“The girlfriend,” she added, pointing at your interlocked hands.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

The pair of you bowed at each other before she spoke up again, “Lee Know doesn’t stop talking about you. Every week he tells me something else sweet about you.”

“Does he?” You exclaimed, your eyebrows raising as Minho simply refused to look at your questioning gaze.

“You are very pretty,” she complimented. “I hope you two stay very happy.”

“Thank you,” you smiled widely at her. “Have a lovely day.”

“I’m never telling you anything again,” Minho joked at her, before he dragged the pair of you away and deeper into the studio.

“Min?” You questioned once you were alone, “since when do you talk about me?”

“What do you mean?” He said, adjusting his hair slightly to make sure his now red ears weren’t on display.

“No one has ever said something like that to me at JYP,” you point out. It wasn’t that Minho wasn’t affectionate towards you, you were showered with it, but never in front of people. You’ve met a lot of his colleagues and even stayed with him for a week during their world tour, and no one has ever reacted that way towards you before.

“She’s just very nice, is all,” he dismissed.

You nodded, dismissing it as well. You knew your boyfriend very well, and he was a private kind of person. You couldn’t imagine him walking up to reception in the morning and telling her all about you—it just didn’t seem like Minho. He was only that way with a select few people, so you assumed perhaps this colleague of his fell under that category, too.

It was probably nothing.

Minho explained what each room was as you walked past it, that one was Minju’s dressing room and that one was the wardrobe department and that one was the backup dancers room and that was a guest room. Then, after climbing a few stairs, you reached it.

The door had ‘Lee Know’ written across it with a blue star.

“And this is mine,” he smiled, opening the door before gesturing for you to go in first.

As you walked in, your hand fell from his as both your hands came up to hide your gasp.

“What is that?” You asked, referring to the huge vase full of flowers.

“I don’t know,” Minho said, walking up to it. “I didn’t put it here.”

You walked over to it, found a little card hanging off the yellow roses and opened it.

“Dear Y/N,” you read out loud, giving Minho a look. His eyebrows frowned heavily, and you knew that if he wrote it he would’ve just smirked instead. You kept reading. “We are so excited to meet you. We hope you enjoy your first day here. Kindly, Jinho and Mihi.”

“Oh my god,” Minho groaned, sitting down on the couch with a huff.

“Who are they?”

“The makeup artists,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “They stole my moment!”

“What moment?”

“Look behind the flowers,” he was whining, clearly unimpressed by the amount of attention you were getting. How did the makeup artists even know you were coming—and why were they excited to meet you?

You walked behind the flowers, far too big to see anything hidden behind them, and found a box there. You opened it to see inside a bag of your favourite snacks, a polariod camera, and Leebit. A small card sat next to it.

“Dear Y/N,” you read, chuckling out loud. “Thank you for coming today and I hope it’s as beautiful as you imagined it would be. Please cheer loudly for me when you see me on stage and take lots of pictures to remember it! I finally got you the Leebit you wanted, so you’ll blend in nicely with the rest of the Stays. I love you. Min.”

Minho’s face was in his hands, his ears still incredibly red.

“Baby,” you sighed, picking up the bunny plushie and holding him close to your chest. “This is so incredibly sweet.”

“You were supposed to see it later when I was busy and be moved by how amazing your boyfriend is,” he sighed.

“I am moved,” you made sure to tell him, making your way over to where he was sitting.

“The flowers are so much nicer though,” he complained, letting out a loud whine at the end of his sentence.

“The flowers are very nice, but only my amazing and considerate boyfriend could give me something like this.”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, ignoring the urge to tease him about how warm his face was. “And I finally have my Leebit!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, playing with the bunny’s tail, “I had to beg the merch team for it. They’re in very high demand.”

“I can imagine,” you chuckled. “Come on,” you urged him to stand up in front of the mirror with you, “we need to debut the polariod camera!”

You quickly unpacked the camera and pointed it at the reflection, telling your boyfriend to come over and join you.

Minho rolled his eyes at you but wasted no time in wrapping an arm around your waist and inching his head closer to you. With a cute smile on both your faces you snapped the picture, a happy dance following your movements as you waited for the photo to print.

“Thank you for this,” you said softly at him, “and thank you for bringing me and everything.”

“Anything for you,” he said sincerely, leaning down and kissing your lips softly. “Would you have enjoyed it more if the flowers were from me?”

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you waited for the picture to develop.

“You know I like your thoughtful gifts more than flowers. Flowers are nice, but you always think hard about what you buy me,” you smiled at him, kissing his cheek softly.

Minho nodded at that, pleased enough with your answer, before he walked over to his table and looked over the script sat there.

“I need to go over this,” he said, guesting at the pages in his hand. Minho warned you before you came that shooting involved a lot of work and he won’t have too much time to spend with you—but you were content with that. You had your phone with you and a book, you could entertain yourself without his help.

“Okay. Can I go find the makeup artists and thank them?”

“Sure,” Minho smiled, “call me if you get lost.”

You nodded at him, kissed his lips one last time, and grabbed your new camera and your plushie with you—ready to explore the halls where they filmed one of your favourite shows.

You remembered enough about Minho’s little tour to navigate without too much nervousness, quickly finding the door that said ‘makeup’ on it.

It was open, the sound of people talking coming from inside and you knocked lightly on the door.

“Hello,” you said politely, bowing to the strangers. “I’m looking for Jinho and Mihi.”

“Yes?” one of the women said, looking at you up and down. After a few moments her eyes settled on your face, taking in your hightlights and lipstick. “Your makeup is fantastic!”

“Thank you,” you smiled, knowing there was no bigger compliment than a professional admiring your work. “I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers and welcoming me today.”

Once you said those words, the woman looked at the bunny in your hand, and you could almost see the penny dropping in her mind.

“You’re Y/N!” You nodded. “Oh!”

The pair of them hugged you, smiling widely as they each introduced themselves to you.

“We’ve heard so much about you!” They chuckled, “every time Lee Know sits in that chair he does not stop talking about you. He’s either talking about that or we’re exchanging recipes.”

You laughed, imaging your boyfriend trying to explain his latest food experiement to the women in front of you.

However, you couldn’t just breeze past the fact he was sharing things with them, too. You knew his makeup artist in JYP was very close to him, too, as it was more than awkward to just sit in front of someone for twenty minutes without saying a thing—but she never said anything like that to you. Your nail tech knew all about Minho, but you were known for sharing things with people with ease. Minho was not.

“May I ask,” you dared, “what kind of things does he say?”

“Oh, nothing bad of course,” they thought to reassure you, “Lee Know is very protective of you it seems. He cares about you a lot.”

You smiled, “yeah, I care about him, too.”

The pair awwed in unison. “They’re too sweet!”

“It’s just… Minho doesn’t really talk about these things with a lot of people.”

They laughed at you, their eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

“Lee Know always brainstorms date ideas with us, and tells us about how well you’re doing at work! Congratulations on that promotion last month!”

You thanked them, a blush warm on your cheeks. “Really?”

“Oh, dear, I hope you don’t mind that he told us?” Jinho said, looking at her friend with slight concern on her forehead.

“Oh, no! Of course not!” You reassured. “It’s not that. It’s just, surprising, is all.”

They nodded at you. “He’s probably just more comfortable sharing romantic stories with us.”

They did have a point. You were sure it was much easier sharing stories with the makeup artists than with his crew members.

You thanked them one more time before suggesting to take a picture with them—using the camera your boyfriend bought you, and excused yourself.

You walked down the hallway trying to see if there was anything else to explore. You knew the canteen was on the opposite side of Minho’s room, so you slowly made your way there—making sure to take in as many details as possible.

You watched many behind the scenes features about the show and walking down the hallway you saw in them was like something out of a movie—stepping into a place you felt you already knew by heart. It was just the start of the day, there was so much more excitement to feel, but already you were overwhelmed by it.

You thought maybe grabbing a snack and a drink would make you feel better.

Once you arrived at the canteen you saw a few people sat around with coffees, some were reading over scripts, some were listening to music.

You ordered an iced drink and a pastry, paying for your order and smiling polietly and the man who worked at the canteen. His smile was very bright.

Everyone was so friendly, you noted, and even texted your friend as such when they asked how it was going so far.

Everyone in your circle knew how excited you were for today—so they all checked in to see you were still alive and didn’t die from happiness overload.

You sat down at the end of a very big table, not many other seats available, and started scrolling down your social media to occupy yourself.

“Can we sit here?” Someone asked.

You looked up to see a group of four boys with their meals. There wasn’t anywhere else for them to sit, and either way you didn’t mind. You nodded at them with a small smile.

Becoming very aware of the looks they were giving your bunny, you grabbed him and concealed him in your lap instead. You knew you looked like a fangirl carrying him around—and you didn’t mind in the slightest—but you didn’t want these strangers to ask you questions. You didn’t know who they were, and they clearly recognised what the plushie was meant to represent, and you could already see the horror scenario of you getting kicked out of the studio for being mistaken as a fan that sneaked their way in. You subconsciously checked your pass was still in your pocket.

The boys were, however, too immersed in their own conversation to even look your way.

That was until one of the boys got up and asked the group if they wanted anything, and then, he asked you the same thing.

“Oh, thank you. I’m fine,” you smiled, pointing at your still mostly full drink. He nodded.

“I think Tae-hyung was trying to flirt with you,” his friend helpfully supplied.

You chuckled at the angry look on his friend’s face before he walked away to get everyone’s orders.

“That’s no way to flirt with someone,” you joked back, trying to lighten up the awkwardness you were feeling. “That’s just being friendly.”

“And how do you flirt with someone?” The boy challenged with a smirk.

You laughed at him—he was doing good—but you couldn’t let him get his hopes up.

“I’d show you, but I’m taken,” your hand went down to your lap where Leebit was sitting safely, and you held onto him tightly.

At that the fourth boy, Tae, came back with the drinks, joining the conversation.

“Hear that, hyung? She’s taken,” one of the boys announced. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head at the news.

You chuckled at his dramatic reaction, enjoying the new relaxed atmosphere around the table.

Then the boys introduced themselves, informing you they danced on the show weekly.

“I’m actually a massive fan of the show, I thought I recognised your faces,” you said with a smile, knowing you saw the oldest boy in the group before.

“Really? Who’s your favourite MC then?” One of the boys teased, nudging his head in the direction of your lap—where they all knew the bunny was hiding.

“Is it obvious?” You joked, showing them your plushie, and then tapping your phone where a picture of Minho sat proudly. It was one of him on the show, holding his microphone with his name covered in glitter adoring it.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but he’s also taken,” one of the dancers said. “And he’s whipped.”

“What?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“We probably shouldn’t say this, but every time we’re practising with him he has to stop around the same time to send his girlfriend a text. And he’ll talk about her a lot, too. So even if you were to ditch your partner for Lee Know—he would never leave his girlfriend.”

“I’ve never seen anyone that in love before,” one of them added, “she’s all he talks about.”

Your stomach crunched at their words. Who was this person everyone was talking about and since when did your boyfriend share so much about your relationship?

“What, uh, what does he say about her?”

“Are you one of the jealous fans?” The dancer made sure to ask. You quickly shook your head, making sure to let them know you were happy for him, and just curious to know more.

“Well, he talks a lot about what they do together. And how he wants to adopt a cat with her because she’ll be great at raising them.”

“Oh my god,” Tae chuckled, “remember when we were practising for his first stage and every time he got tired he looked at her picture?”

They laughed.

“He kept saying she’s better than caffeine.”

You slowly pressed a hand to your cheek trying to check just how warm your skin was. It was on fire. Your stomach was, too.

“That’s sweet,” you concluded, “I’m glad my idol is so happy.”

You knew you had to play the part now, as it would be far too awkward to let them know who you were now. So you just smiled instead.

“Well, I hope you get to enjoy the show today,” they said after you all finished your food. “We need to get going before we miss our schedule.”

“Of course,” you nodded, “good luck!”

So, the receptionist and the makeup artists were one thing. The dancers were a totally different thing. Since when was Minho like this? You thought you knew your boyfriend well, you thought he was only open about these things with his members and with his family, you didn’t think he just told everyone about you.

The staff at JYP definitely didn’t see you like any of the people around here did—and you couldn’t help but wonder why they knew so much about you.

You didn’t mind, of course, Minho was free to share what he wanted with who he wanted, but this was unexpected. You weren’t quite sure how to react to it all.

You pushed those thoughts to the side, instead asking your boyfriend if he wanted anything to eat and when he said no you made your way back to his dressing room.

You waited patiently as Minho read over his script a few more times, practising out loud in front of the mirror to monitor his facial expressions and his tone of voice.

Soon, a PA walked in and talked Minho over his schedule. First, he needed to go get his outfit on.

You followed him around, his hand never leaving yours, and sat quietly by him as they made sure the outfit sat comfortably around his body.

“You look really good,” you mumbled at him as the pair of you made your way to the makeup room.

He kissed the back of your hand in response.

Jinho and Mihi smiled at you as they saw your hands locked together, inviting Minho to sit down in one of the chairs.

The four of you talked about your day, how you were finding it around the studio, and if you met any interesting people yet.

“Oh, I met one of my favourite dancers on the show! I didn’t know his name until now but I recognised him as the dancer I focus on most of the time,” you answered politely.

Minho looked at you so fast you were worried his neck might snap.

“Your favourite what?” He gasped at you.

“His name is Tae, he said,” you answered.

“Tae?!” Minho nearly yelled. His face was forced back into its previous position by Jinho as she tried setting his foundation.

He didn’t seem as angry with a powder brush tapping around his face. But you knew you made the wrong move when he gave you the same look he did to his members when they made a mistake in the choreography. Only this time his jealous scowl was attached to it, too.

“Obviously, you’re my favourite dancer. But on the show you don’t dance a lot so he’s my favourite.”

Minho scoffed at that, causing both the artists to laugh at the interaction before they changed the subject to your work instead. You told them a bit about it, enjoying how attentive they were to your words and experiences.

When Minju entered the room to get herself ready, she gasped as she saw you.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” She bowed, and you followed her as you gave you that same sentiment back. The pair of you chatted away easily, excitement bubbling inside your stomach as you managed to speak so freely in front of her. You were a big fan of hers as well, having been part of the show for a while, and Minho even agreed to take a picture of the two of you together before Mihi insisted she needed to start working on the MC soon.

It was time for Minho to walk towards the soundstage, now that he was fully ready, and the pair of you made your way down there—hand never leaving his.

“You know, Tae also tried to flirt with me,” you decided to say, just to see your boyfriend’s reaction.

“Did he?” He let out, clenching his jaw visibly.

“Yeah, but then instead he told me all about how I’m like your caffeine.”

At that, Minho’s face changed from jealousy to pure embarrassment, and he was lucky it was then you reached the sound stage.

You forgot completely what you two were talking about as you saw the stage spread before you—you even jumped up and down twice.

“Min, this is so cool!” You exclaimed, “this is so fucking cool!”

Minho smiled at that, his eyes crinkling at your reaction. “Was it worth the wait?”

“This is so cool!” Is all you could say.

Minho wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pointing at different cameras and monitors and explaining what they were used for and when. You nodded at his words, listening carefully to everything he was saying.

Then it was time for him to start rehearsing, so you blew a kiss his way (as to not mess up his makeup) and clapped your hands in excitement. You had your camera at the ready too, snapping a few pictures of the set as you waited by the screens.

Jinho, who was monitoring the makeup on the screen, stood by you—helping you feel more at ease as the crew around the set watched as the three MCs rehearsed their lines.

After they rehearsed, and the dancers filmed one of their stages, it was time for a short break before the live stages were set to start. Minho got his makeup looked over before the pair of you were sent on your way back to his room.

You held onto his arm, your hand circling around his bicep as your other interlocked with his fingers. You kissed his shoulder lightly as you made your way down the hallway.

You passed the deep pink wall—the background of many pictures of your favourite idols—and so you stopped in your tracks.

“Min,” you started, but you didn’t even need to explain what you wanted before Minho grabbed the camera from your hand and gestured for you to stand against the pink backdrop.

After grabbing the small picture that printed out, Minho took out his phone and stood beside you—taking a selfie or four with you against the wall.

“Happy?” He asked as he handed you the now developed polariod. You nodded your head excitedly.

Minho chuckled at you, bringing a hand around your shoulder as he guided the pair of you back on your way towards his room.

Once you climbed up the stairs you reached your destination, sitting down on the couch by your boyfriend.

“So what’s happening now?” You asked, crossing your legs underneath your body.

“We have a few hours until we start. I usually just relax a bit before the crowd gets here and we do everything again but live.”

You nodded. “This is so cool.”

“You have mentioned,” Minho chuckled at you. He brought his hand to your hair, tucking a bit of it behind your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” Minho hummed in affirmation. “How come you share so much with the people who work here?”

“I don’t tell them anything private,” he promised you, “it’s just.. more relaxed around here. It’s hard talking about you with anyone who works at the company.”

“I don’t mind either way,” you assured him, “I just wasn’t expecting everybody to know me and tell me how much you love me.”

“Who told you that?” He questioned, his eyes averting to the plushie between your legs, avoiding your eyes again.

“Min, I think at this point I kinda know all that already,” you chuckled, amused by the way he was perfectly comfortable telling you he loved you, but suddnely now he was embaressed.

“I can be different here, I think,” he mused, “here I can be fun Lee Know who’s not cold and hard and if I said some of these things about you in the company they’ll think I’m being weird and--”

“—you’re not cold, Min,” you stopped him. He nodded. “But it’s nice being here,” you agreed, “everyone’s treating me like I’m famous or something.”

Minho grinned at you.

“So you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” you nodded, your smile reaching your eyes. “Thank you again.”

“What’s been your favourite part so far?” He asked, reaching for your hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

“Well, I found the wall,” you said, reaching in to your pocket and grabbing all the polariods you took during the day, showing them off one by one to your boyfriend. “And I took pictures of the big stage! And I met Minju,” you smiled at the photo, “and of course my favourite part,” you found the picture you took of the monitor when it was focused on your boyfriend, “watching MC Lee Know in action.”

Minho laughed at that. You rarely called him by his stage name, and watching you get so excited about his side gig warmed his heart in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a small kiss.

You ignored it all day—the thoughts probing inside your brain—but now that you were alone and kissing him, you couldn’t quite suppress it anymore.

The way he looked on stage, so happy and oh so stunning. His stage presence was always strong, always impossible to ignore, but on the stage you loved so much it was overwhelming you. The way he told just about everyone here how much he cared about you. The way he looked so confident in everything he did today. Even, the jealousy in his eyes when you dared call someone else your favourite dancer.

You were craving him.

So before Minho pulled away, you snaked your hands around his neck and pulled him closer. He moved his lips against yours softly, so softly you felt a lightness at the back of your eyes—as if the kiss was so strong it was dulling your other senses.

“Baby,” you whispered against his lips, tugging lightly on his hair.

“Yeah?” He asked, trying to pull away from your lips. In response, you climbed onto his lap and grabbed his jaw—pulling him even closer.

Minho responded instantly, sliding his tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth, your tongue finding his with familiar ease.

You could taste the makeup on his face, and you knew he could taste yours—but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the feeling of his thighs underneath you, his hands around your hips, his lips on yours.

When you brought your hand to his chest, fingers reaching into his shirt, he finally pulled away.

His lips were swollen, he had lipstick around his cupid’s bow, and his eyes were glazed. It made you groan.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked in a whisper.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, “you said we have some time to relax.”

You lean in closer, kissing underneath his jaw.

“Yeah, but we’re not alone,” he reminded you.

“We’re in your dressing room,” you countered, “we can lock the door.”

“Y/N, don’t forget yourself,” he warned you, “anyone can walk in here and need something.”

“They’ll knock,” you tried, rolling your hips against him. You could feel he was hard underneath you, you knew he wanted this, but Minho was very specific that when you two were outside of the house he wouldn’t do anything beyond kissing you. Even making out in a locked dressing room seemed like something very daring between the pair of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked again with a chuckle.

“Seeing you on stage, Min,” you explained simply, bringing your hand down to the space where your bodies rested against each other.

“Calm down,” he said, grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands away, “you’ve seen me performing so many times before.”

“This is different,” you explained, rolling your hips again. Minho grunted at the contact, his grip on your wrist tightening.

“Regardless of that,” he started, tugging you away from him by your wrists when you tried to kiss him again, “we’re in public.”

“You could fuck me in front of that mirror though,” you said simply, looking at your reflection for a moment. Minho followed your line of sight, grinning at you through the mirror.

“Who are you and what have you done with my shy little girlfriend?” He asked, bringing his hand to your chin, forcing you to face him again.

He looked at your face, his eyes darkening slightly as he rubbed the lipstick stains away from your skin. His finger traced your jaw, your heart beat quickening at his actions, before his finger trailed down to your neck, your collarbone, and then rested on the M sat against your skin.

“Oh,” he let out in realisation. “When did you put this on?”

“In the morning,” you explained, swallowing slightly when you saw his expression change completely. “After you said you were gonna show me off to everyone.”

Minho cocked his head to the side, an impossibly attractive smirk on his still swollen lips.

“And then you saw I wasn’t kidding…” he filled in the blanks, his eyes still glued to the jewellery. “And now you’re horny.”

“I’m not the only one,” you argued, rolling your hips again. Minho grabbed you, stopping your movements completely.

“Yeah, but the difference is I have some self control,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Please, Min, you said yourself we have a few hours,” you whined lightly. “I’ll lock the door.”

“But if my baby’s in such a mood, surely I should open the door and ask everyone to come look at you.”

“Min,” you whined, trying to move in his grip. It was bad enough he wasn’t going to give you anything—it was straight up cruel for him to wind you up as well.

“Everyone’s heard a lot about you,” he kissed your jaw, “maybe today we should show them the parts I didn’t tell them?”

You groaned as he planted more kisses around your neck.

“Like how much of a slut my girl is,” he squeezed your hips.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, “not a slut.”

Minho looked up at you. You usually liked that name, telling him yourself it turned you on, so his eyebrows lifted up as he questioned you.

“Then what are you?” He asked softly.

“Your whore,” you corrected him, swallowing as you spoke.

You would’ve been embarrassed by the shock on Minho’s face—but it melted into a smirk just as quickly as he gasped.

“I see,” he nodded, his hands travelling down to your ass, “so you’re really in a mood.”

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“You can’t wait to get home?”

“No, I want you now,” you groaned. Minho grabbed your ass, hard, causing you to pulse around nothing.

“Get up,” he said, pushing you off his lap. You tried your best to hide your disappointment but stood up anyway. Before you could apologise for taking it too far—Minho walked to the door and locked it.

When he turned around you had to bite the smile on your face.

He walked over to you, kissing your forehead softly before he turned you around and wrapped his hands around your stomach. He walked the pair of you over to the mirror, kissing down your neck as he positioned you right in front of it.

“Like this? You want me to fuck you like this?” He asked, rubbing his crotch against your ass.

“Yeah,” you sighed, still in disbelief that Minho actually gave in to your request. He was a private person, but you guessed today you learned to see a different side of Minho from the moment you entered the studio.

“You’re gonna look at yourself while I push my dick inside you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, feeling him against your ass.

Minho started sucking on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him with the hand still around your stomach. His other hand travelled up and down your sides—ghosting over your chest but never quite touching you there.

“And if I wanna take you like this?” He asked, spinning you around to face him. He pushed his crotch against yours, his erection teasing you against your jeans.

“Take me however you want, Min,” you moaned, rubbing yourself against him.

“You’re so fucking horny,” he chuckled dryly, wrapping his finger around the thin gold chain. “What got you this horny?”

“You,” you whispered.

“Don’t think I heard you,” Minho challenged. The rooms were all quite close together, and you knew if you said anything too loudly the people in the next room would hear you.

Minho was daring you.

“You got me this horny,” you said louder, swallowing loudly as warmth crept up your neck.

“You can’t do this,” he taunted, “you’re thinking with your pussy but we both know if I told you to moan loudly for me you wouldn’t. So why are you asking me to fuck you?”

“I’ll be quiet--”

“—but if I tell you to do something you need to do it,” Minho reminded you, “and do you really think you can take my punishment when you don’t moan loud enough for me?”

“I’ll do whatever you ask,” you nodded, jumping onto the counter you were pressed against and opening your legs wide.

Minho’s hand instantly grabbed your thighs and kneeded at your skin.

“That’s not my girl talking,” he said, kissing your cheek, “that’s your wet pussy talking for you.”

“Please,” you groaned, rolling your hips against the counter to feel something.

Minho looked down at your crotch, chuckling when he saw just how desperate you were in front of him.

“Or maybe you don’t even need me?” He questioned, grabbing the top of your thighs and rolling you against the counter again. “Is this enough for you?”

“No,” you begged, “I need more.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” he informed you, “we’re still in a very busy building and you can’t possibly be quiet.”

“You just asked me to be loud,” you groaned.

“I know,” Minho said, kissing you softly, “just wanted to see how far you’re willing to go for your boyfriend’s dick.”

At that, Minho walked away from you and picked up his script. He sat himself down on the couch, reading over his lines one more time in prepration.

“Minho,” you tried, but he simply shook his head at you.

“Not happening,” he dismissed.

“Minho,” you tried again, desperate for his attention. He kept his eyes solely on the pages in front of him.

“Calm down,” he advised.

“I’ll be quiet,” you tried.

“You know I’m gonna take that as a challenge,” he chuckled, “you being quiet means I’m not doing well.”

“Then I’ll be loud,” you offered.

At that, Minho looked up from his script over at you, his eyes dark as he leaned his head back. He looked at you for a few moments.

“What’s this about?” He questioned.

“I’m horny,” you said simply, shrugging your shoulders as you fiddled with your necklace.

“What’s it really about?” He offered you a second chance.

You jumped off the counter, walking over to him. You grabbed the script out of his hands, placed it on the couch beside him and climbed into his lap. You could tell Minho was holding himself back from placing his hands on you—instead they sat by his side.

“I’m proud of you, and you look stunning today, and I want everyone who already knows so much about me to hear how pretty I can moan for you.”

Minho licked his lips.

“I love being the person who gets fucked by Lee Know,” you added with a smirk, running your hands up and down his chest, until your reached his crotch.

Minho brought his hands to your hips, moving you against his thighs in an agonisingly slow rhythm.

“Maybe we should wait,” he offered, a raise in his brows, “we can go to the stage and I can fuck you in front of the cameras?”

“Fuck,” you let out, pushing against his thighs harder as you jolted from the friction.

“Is that what you want?”

You nodded quickly.

Minho grabbed your phone from beside him, checking the time. He smiled slightly at the new picture you set on your lockscreen—of him during his first time on the show.

He leaned up, grabbing your cheek as he brought your lips together.

“Tell me, whore,” he pulled away slightly, dragging you along his thigh faster, “when all those cameras are on you—are you gonna beg for my fingers or my cock?”

“Your cock,” you moaned, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“So everyone can see how you fall apart when my dick splits you in half?”

“Yes, Min, fuck,” you said, a rush running up and down your spine.

He leaned in, kissing you messily as you focused on riding against his thigh steadily.

“You better not make a fucking sound,” he warned against your lips, bringing a hand to his pants as he unbuttoned them. He pushed them down slightly, only enough to grab his dick out. He then unbuttoned your jeans, letting you manoeuvre for long enough to pull them down your legs.

“If I hear any sound outside we’re stopping,” he said firmly. You nodded.

Minho leaned up to kiss you softly, rubbing your shoulder. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Are you?”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he smiled softly, “you just never wanted this before.”

“We’re alone, Min,” you assured him. “And I’ll tell you if I want to stop.”

He nodded before the pair of resumed your previous position, Minho nodding at you as you started sinking down on his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, gasping softly as his head fell against the back of the couch. “Move when you’re ready.”

You nodded, moving up and down slowly as the pair of you groaned softly. Minho wrapped his arms around you, his fingers grazing against your bare thighs in comfort.

“Take your time,” he said sweetly. He kissed your cheek before he whispered down your ear, “the longer you take, the more likely someone is to come in here.”

You clenched around him.

“Maybe Tae will come to get me,” he kept going, smiling at the reaction he was getting—the wetness around his dick warm and so comforting, “he usually needs help with his dancing.”

“Really?” You chuckled, squeezing his shoulders as you upped your pace.

“Yeah, because I’m a better dancer than him,” Minho made sure to say, sighing as you clenched around him again.

“You think you fuck better than him, too?” You dared.

At that, Minho thrust up into you—causing you to swallow a moan before it escaped you.

“The only reason I’d let him watch you get fucked is so he can learn how to do it. And when I’m done with you he can try to make you cum,” he said through his teeth.

“Don’t think anyone can make me cum the way you do,” you said in between breaths.

“Right answer, whore,” he said, groaning as you clenched around him harder than before. “Fuck, stop that or I’ll be the one who’s too loud.”

At that you laughed, leaning up on your knees until only his tip was inside you—and then you sat all the way down, his dick reaching into the deeper parts of you.

Minho’s eyes fluttered shut as you repeated that action again and again and again, rendering Minho unable to move or even open his eyes.

“Where’d you go?” You asked, tapping his chin.

He grabbed your thighs, urging you to do it again.

“I’m trying to focus,” he let out, “you feel really fucking good.”

“I look good, too,” you smirked, “you’re missing out.”

Minho opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he took in your features. You weren’t wrong. You looked amazing on top of him, controlling the pace, getting exactly what you wanted from him like you always did.

“It would be much better in front of the cameras,” he let out softly, “so they could capture how fucking beautiful you are riding my cock.”

You groaned.

“Quiet,” he warned you, burying his hand in your hair.

He pulled your face closer to his, kissing you messily, all tongue and gasps and teeth.

“Even if someone did knock right now I couldn’t stop,” you said quickly, “your dick is too fucking good.”

“It’s always yours,” he groaned, pushing you all the way down until he bottomed out. You rolled your hips, the pair of you gasping as he nudged your senstive spot again and again.

“I should take a picture of your pussy like this,” Minho said, tracing his hand around your clit teasingly. “So so full.”

You handed him the polariod camera instantly before you leaned back, bumping your hips up and down his dick.

Minho took the camera from you, unsure of what you wanted him to do with it. Nudes were not your thing, and although you were wearing that necklace today he didn’t think that meant he could just take a picture of you. Those were just words. But then, you did just hand it to him.

Before he could think about it too much you started moaning, finding the perfect angle as you sped up. Minho leaned forward, bringing a hand around your mouth to muffle your sounds.

“I said quiet, whore,” he said, kissing your neck as he felt your moans vibrating against his hand.

“Min,” you said, muffled, causing him to move his hand away.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked softly, grabbing your hand instead.

You leaned forward, hiding your head in his neck as you spoke. “Don’t like it when you cover my mouth.”

Minho nodded, squeezing your hand in agreement. “Can I put my fingers in your mouth instead then?”

You smiled at him, lifting your head from his neck and sticking your tongue out to him.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, bringing his index finger to your tongue. “And you’ve been so good today telling me exactly what you need.”

You started clenching at his praise, humming against his finger as he started meeting your thrusts from below. “You’ve been so so good with your words. And using our signals. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You nodded, silently speeding up even more as you focused on sucking his fingers.

“Your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum soon,” he warned with a grunt. At that he slid his fingers out of your mouth, moving them to your clit as he started rubbing it in fast circles.

You focused as much as you could on being quiet—letting your head fall on Minho’s shoulders as you felt him twitching inside you.

“Gonna cum,” you warned in a hushed whisper.

It was only a few moments later that your orgasm crashed into you—your mouth a perfect circle as you rode out your high in silence. As your walls clenched around him repeatedly, Minho came right after you, whimpering in between soft sighs.

You caught your breathes together, staying close as Minho planted small kisses on your shoulder. When you were ready to move, Minho rolled his pants further down his legs to avoid any mess on his outfit, and helped you stand up slowly.

You were lucky there was a shower in his room—and cleaned yourself off quickly. Once you were both dressed again, you sat down next to your boyfriend with a smile.

“Feel better now?” He asked with a smile, kissing your cheek.

Both of your faces were ruined, and you knew Minho would have to sit down to get his makeup redone. You had no idea how you’d get yours fixed without making it very very obvious why it got ruined in the first place.

Luckily, you remembered you packed some of your makeup with you this morning, and took it out in an attempt to fix both your faces.

Minho’s wasn’t too smudged, except for the colour around his mouth, but you managed to put enough translucent powder around it to make it presentable. The makeup artists could fix it for him.

Your mascara was gathered underneath your eyes, and Minho took a wipe from your makeup bag and cleaned it off softly.

“Thank you,” you said to him, taking a look at yourself in the mirror after he was done.

He nodded at you.

“You’re very quiet,” you observed, noticing the way Minho didn’t ask questions or say much like he usually did after sex.

Minho reached for your hand, locking your fingers together again. “Did you really want me to take a picture of you or was that just talk like most of it was?”

You pursed your lips together. “I’m—I’m not actually sure,” you admitted.

“I don’t want to take pictures of you,” Minho confessed. “I don’t want it getting into the wrong hand or for you to regret me having something like that.”

“That’s okay,” you agreed, nodding with a smile.

“I want to do everything you ask me to, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the picture and I’m sorry if that disappointed you or anything--”

“—Min, it didn’t. It was in the heat of the moment. Besides, your reason for not doing it is just to protect me, so it’s definitely okay.”

Minho nodded at that.

“And please never feel like you have to give me something just because I asked. You always say you can’t enjoy it if I’m not happy and that goes both ways,” you assured him.

Minho leaned forward to kiss you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Lee Know,” you smirked.

He chuckled at you before burying his head in your hair as he hugged you tightly.

At that a thirty minute warning came on around the speakers, alerting everyone in the building to the time.

It was then time for Minho to go back to the makeup chair for any touch ups (which he definitely needed) and warm up his voice before the live stage started. You followed him around, clutching Leebit tightly as you smiled proudly at your boyfriend.

You cheered loudly like he asked you too—and at some point, you caught his eyes on you as the pair of you smiled at each other.

The crowd didn’t know you were his girlfriend, it was private, and the pair of you smiled at each other as you held onto that secret tightly.

#skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x yn #stray kids fics #stray kids x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee know #lee minho smut #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x reader #minho smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #all.works

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lovelie-ollie · 7 months

Text

secrets. - jude bellingham

♡ pairing: jude bellingham x socmed manager!fem!reader

♡ summary: when jude is dating rma's social media manager and the internet finds out

♡ faceclaim: sullendin (on instagram)

♡ a/n: hello again<3 first time writing for jude! again im new to writing so this may not be too excellent♡ all the pics are from tumblr, pinterest and instagram<3

realmadrid

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, y/nuser and 1,294,495 others realmadrid this is a jude victor william bellingham appreciation post tagged: judebellingham comments user1 jude be looking extra fine in a rma kit user2 HE IS SO???? i want him so bad im going insanee🙏🤧 user3 no other rma player is given a separate post like this🤨something is suspicious here... ↳ user4 bro chill its not that deep💀 the internet overthinks everything these days judebellingham damn i look good ↳ realmadrid you do:) ↳ user5 ?? ↳ user6 ??? ↳ user7 ???? ↳ user8 ????? user9 not jude and rma admin flirting- ↳ user10 hell no��😣 user11 AND NOT THE FULL GOVERNMENT NAME LMFAOO

realmadrid 3 min ago

seen by judebellingham, vinijr, jobebellingham and 10,420 others *stories are no longer available*

y/nuser

liked by judebellingham, realmadrid, jobebellingham and 100,294 others

y/nuser and my man thank you to my man

tagged: judebellingham

comments

user20 she is so real for the 5th slide lmao😭 user21 she is so pretty?? user22 she can run a car over me and i'd still ask her to do it again user23 THE HARD LAUNCH IS HARD LAUNCHING user24 hottest couple i fear😍 judebellingham where did u get that 5th pic?? ↳ y/nuser pinterest hehe :) ↳ user25 she is just like us fr😭 user26 Y/N JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE PLEASE ↳ judebellingham no:)

user27 something lgbtqia+ just happened in me. now im y/nsexual🤭

judebellingham

liked by y/nuser, realmadrid, vinijr and 596,825 others

judebellingham my pretty girl tagged: y/nuser comments user31 brb im crying to sleep user32 "my pretty girl" SCREAMINGG 😭 user33 hey just wanna let u know that i just send over the adoption paper. please sign it thank you. user34 my parents😙 vinijr w couple user35 when will it be MY TURN?? y/nuser youre my pretty boi ↳ judebellingham 💕😙🥰 ↳ user36 no no y/n i swear i can be a better bf than him user36 they are both so perfect for each other its crazy😔 user37 me and who? realmadrid love you too😜 ↳ user38 oh yea i forgot y/n is rma admin ↳ user39 not her commenting by real madrid's official account lmfao ↳ judebellingham babe do u wanna get fired??

#✿ lovelie-ollie's work #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham social media au #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham x female reader #real madrid #hey jude :)#jb5 x reader #football

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prodagustd · 1 year

Text

love | myg

Summary: A compilation of memories as an epilogue.

this is part six of so it goes: series masterlist

< part five

—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader

—rating: +18

—genre: friends with benefits (kind of? they're in love) to lovers, lots and lots of fluff, smut

—warnings/tags: cursing, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of death, explicit content, unprotected sex, dirty talk etcetc

—words: 16k

a/note: HI FRIENDS!!! I'm finally back with an epilogue for so it goes 😥. I couldn't come with another name for this part lmao but I hoped you like it, it took me so long to finish it and I'm so excited to post it!! Thank you for waiting for me <3 Enjoy it !!! Please feel free to discuss this part in the asks, as always feedback is very appreciated :)

Yoongi’s childhood home

It has been a long time since Yoongi felt purely in love. In the past, love always came with doubts, fears and an upsetting feeling on his stomach that made him want to vomit everytime he woke up. Love was presented to him with more cons than pros, it was like a dark night trying to find your partner in the middle of the dance floor, like fighting under the rain outside of the nightclub, it was a good moment being ruined by a mocking grin and cruel words, it was like having to hold your breath until you turned blue.

Despite that, Yoongi was not completely at odds with love, he loved many things. He loved his job, his dog, his family and friends, but his tired heart was convinced that the type of love that was supposed to keep you awake at night… wasn’t for him, he just forgot about it, and in consequence of that he stopped waiting for it too, so you just could imagine how confused he was the night he met you. You were love walking in high heels and a black dress that was too short to be yours, you were love wearing bright red lipstick as you kissed him goodbye, you were love laughing at him because you would never settle for a one night stand with him. You were love punching him in the face, announcing that you were about to tear him apart.

During those moments of the night when the lights of the club turned red, the remains of his heart were stuck on the inside of his chest as he kissed another stranger to drown the feeling, to try to bury it in the backyard of his numb mind. Yoongi was a dark cloud moving into the room threatening to rain, but you only saw a tall man ogling you with tired eyes and a smirk capable of killing any girl, any girl but not you, never you, you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for a man who wouldn’t look at you twice. Back then you were sure he was the kind of guy who never noticed girls like you in the daylight, you weren’t as astonishing as the girls he had been with in the past, too rough on the edges, too normal.

You came from two different worlds, Yoongi was doing concerts and throwing after parties all night until the next morning, you woke up at six in the morning and got ready to catch a class at seven. He produced music and wrote songs, you studied history and tutored english to middle school kids. While he was mingling with superstars and models you had a small group of college friends who enjoyed staying home, eating pizza and drinking beer. There was no way you were compatible, from your hobbies to your life styles, to the movies you liked, you were just… different, no amount of mysterious glances across the room could change that.

So, why did he kiss you for the first time that afternoon all those months ago? Was it the sun that was about to set, encouraging him to do it? Was it the devil sitting on his left shoulder? Was it you, just begging him with your eyes to do it? There was no explanation for that kind of thing, but he came back to that memory every other day, he couldn't remember a girl who kissed him so sweetly. Was it your lipgloss or it was you? He swore it was just you.

For you, love came in waves during short periods of time. There was always love in your circle, in your friend’s arms and your childhood home, even the other kind of love always came but never stayed. Yoongi was a rare presence in your life during some time, he was gray between all the defined black and white in your life, which always upset you.

Love comes and goes all the time, but why couldn’t he stay? After so many years of accepting the short time that your past lovers offered, it was strange to want a person so badly, it was strange to want more, to even think about it, you were not used to the feeling of something lasting. However, when he laid beside you every night you wished he could stay against all odds, you wished he could stay in your bed until the next morning, you wished he could stay for breakfast and for the rest of the week if he wanted, but even that would not be enough. Not his burning touch over your skin or the proximity of his body during the night, not his hands finding yours under the table in a crowded room, not the hundred of his kisses or the sweetness of his words could be enough unless you told him the truth. But, could you be sure that would have saved both of you from the mess, the drunk texts and the drunk fights and the drunk-everything? You like to think that it would have helped a little bit, but maybe — just maybe — Yoongi needed a slap in the face before hearing the truth, just then he would realize that being in love wasn’t so difficult after all, and to be your boyfriend seemed to be the easiest thing he had ever done.

It has been a long time since Yoongi felt so purely in love, love like it’s supposed to be, love itself. It turned out to be that he found love everywhere ever since, he found love in the mornings as he tasted the coffee you made for him, he found it in the note you left in your nightstand when you left before he woke up, he saw it in your eyes ever since you told him you loved him too. He had been so blind and you couldn’t blame him, you had been so clueless.

Two months into spring Yoongi had come to the realization that among all the chaos in his life, the calmness that came with your company was all he needed after a long day. It was simple, but it seemed to him that it took him a lifetime to find you (he swore it felt like more).

Loving you was easy, but he thought he needed a bit of practice in the relationship field. The concept of boyfriend had been altered by the months he spent being with you without being official, so what was he supposed to do now? Spend more time with you? Give you more kisses? He was obviously more comfortable than before, now he didn’t need to hold back, he was free from the anguish and the sinking feeling that he felt in the past every time you weren’t around. Now he felt safe, however, it was unclear to him how much of a boyfriend he needed to be, or what type of boyfriend you wanted.

Yoongi sighed for the third time since Jungkook arrived at his studio, trying to focus on the monitor in front of him without thinking of the song that Jungkook was humming and how it sounded just like the one you were singing that morning in the shower. He knew it, he was sure, but he couldn’t remember the name of it. Suddenly, Jungkook started whistling the song but still nothing came to mind, which started to annoy him.

Yoongi sighed again.

“Am I bothering you?” Jungkook asked, a little bit offended. Yoongi shook his head without saying anything. “Are you sure?” He insisted, but Yoongi just nodded. “You’re quiet today.”

“I’m always quiet.” He replied.

“Mmm, yes but more quiet than ever.” He said, spinning in the swivel chair beside Yoongi. “You don’t like my song?” He kept asking, now starting to wonder if Yoongi didn't like the project that Jungkook brought last week for him to work on, but he liked the song, he just wasn’t thinking about it, he was thinking about the song he was whistling.

“It’s not your song, I’m just thinking.” Yoongi said, resting his back on the chair and spinning just like Jungkook did a second ago.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Jungkook offered, determined to know what was distracting Yoongi that afternoon.

“What was that song you were humming?” He asked.

“That’s what you were thinking?” Jungkook wanted to check, knowing it was surely something else that kept Yoongi zoning out.

“Kind of.” Yoongi answered.

“Paramore.” Jungkook laughed “Do you know it? The only exception? Your girlfriend used to overplay that song when I met her.”

Yoongi threw his head back, relieved to finally remember the song after being in his mind since he left his house. Jungkook started calling you that ever since you and Yoongi started dating, he copied Namjoon just to tease him, but it only put a smile on Yoongi’s face. His friend on his right seemed to be the happiest person when he found out that you and Yoongi made up, it was like seeing his parents threaten to divorce but then seeing them coming back together. (Obviously, Yoongi had no idea that half of that happiness came from knowing that his plan had worked, but he swore with blood that he wasn’t going to say a thing, after all, it will be useful for him in the future in case he needed to extort you).

“She was singing it today in the shower.” Yoongi informed him.

Jungkook giggled. “Creepy.” He said.

“Just a little bit.”

It wasn’t that creepy actually, you knew Junkook since you were both nineteen, you were almost connected like twins. If someone knew you as well as Yoongi did, that was Jungkook.

That thought stayed in his mind for a second, and after a while, it lit a lightbulb on top of Yoongi’s head.

“Was that all?” The youngest kept pushing, not fully convinced.

Yoongi thought about it.

“Mmm… No.” He said. Hoping that his friend would help him, but more importantly, that he wouldn’t laugh at him.

Lately he couldn’t name you in front of his friends without them acting like middle school kids, teasing him until his face turned red, and Jungkook was the most annoying of all of them.

“Are you not going to tell me?” He pushed one last time.

“Only if you don’t tell anybody.” Yoongi conditioned, making Jungkook frown.

“You’d be surprised how good I am at keeping secrets.” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, but Yoongi didn’t catch Jungkook’s hint, luckily, he just rolled his eyes.

“It’s going to be our… anniversary? monthiversary? Whatever you call it. The third one, in two weeks.”

“Three months already?” Jungkook asked, surprised that time has passed so quickly. “Wow, what about it?”

“I’ve been thinking.” He said “What do you and Bora do on your anniversary?”

Jungkook looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember every single thing that he did with his girlfriend when that day came around.

“It’s different every time.” He answered “Sometimes we go to a restaurant if we feel like it, but sometimes we just go for ice cream before the day ends. Sometimes I buy her flowers and sometimes she buys me something I like. But it’s different for everyone.” Jungkook paused, observing his friend being absorbed by his own thoughts. “Why? Is that what you were thinking? What to do on your… monthiversary?”

“Kind of. I think I don’t know how to be her boyfriend.” Yoongi confessed, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze to not feel like he was making a fool of himself.

Jungkook didn’t laugh about it, but he found it a bit curious.

“How is that you don’t know?” He questioned.

Yoongi spinned on the chair again. “I mean, what if she feels like our relationship didn’t change at all from when I wasn’t her boyfriend? What if she thinks it’s the same and she gets bored?” He asked, letting the words out like it wasn’t the main concern of the month.

Jungkook was a bit surprised by the way Yoongi’s mind worked, just like Namjoon was when Yoongi told him that he couldn’t allow himself to be happy with you because he had a fight with Jimin. But like before, this made sense for Yoongi, and was a perfectly coherent concern.

“Are you serious?” Jungkook laughed, “A relationship is not defined by what you do on your anniversary.”

“Is it not?” Yoongi joked, but he was still a little unsure.

“I don’t think so.” He said “I’m sure she’s not going to get bored of you, you keep her entertained. She’s in love with you, buddy, you’re not getting rid of her anytime soon.”

Yoongi was aware of that, you spent your free days glued to his chest and sleeping on his bed like it was yours, you made sure he knew every day how in love you were. He knew you loved him, but that wasn’t his problem.

“No, I mean, I know that. But I don’t want her to feel like it’s the same as before, I wonder if she can tell the difference, I hope she does. I just want to be… you know, a good boyfriend.”

Jungkook watched Yoongi playing with his fingers and he bit back a smile, wondering what it was that you had to leave Yoongi so… lost. And most importantly, what you did to him to have him talking about his feelings so openly. Jungkook never thought that Yoongi would try to come to him for relationship advice, but there he was, worried about being a decent boyfriend.

He tried not to tease his friend, he knew that if he did Yoongi would suddenly shut up.

“To be fair, you were already acting like a couple before making it official, so I think it’s normal to feel that way.” Jungkook tried to advise “But if you want her to see the difference, you should probably make her see that you’re serious with her. For example, I know she hasn't met your parents yet, right?”

Yoongi frowned, shaking his head. “No, she hasn’t.”

“There you go.” Jungkook winked at him “She likes simple things, if you take her to meet your parents she would feel like you are making her part of your life. Anyone can meet your friends, but not everyone meets your parents. She will take it as something special.”

That idea never crossed his mind until now. He still remembered when his mom called him when Yoongi’s brother told her that he was seeing a girl when he came to visit Yoongi, back then Yoongi ignored her and told her that you weren’t his girlfriend and didn’t give any other explanation. Yoongi loved his mom, but she was intense, even if he was the youngest of the family, she thought that he should be already married, she thought he should be already settled down with a wife and everything, but Yoongi was never the kind to follow the rules, let alone his parents’ rules.

The problem wasn’t you, it was just the way his mom never liked any of his girlfriends, so she never invited them to their house. This time was different, he knew that both his mom and dad would love you, so maybe Jungkook wasn’t so wrong after all.

Yoongi could still feel an annoying feeling on his stomach everytime he remembered the fight that you had , he remembered when you mentioned how he told you he was going to take you to meet his mom, so this could be an opportunity to make it up to you.

“That doesn’t sound bad.” Yoongi just said.

“Right? I’m always right.” Jungkook bragged “And about your monthiversary date, you should talk about it with her, ask her what she wants to do, it’s as simple as that.”

“Fine. I’ll take your advice, but I know you and I know her, so don’t say a word about this conversation.” Yoongi warned.

“It’s okay, my lips are sealed.”

Later that month Yoongi was just finishing taking a shower at his parent’s place after a long day. That morning he put his bag on the trunk of his car as he thought of what Jungkook said, and without him wanting to, the expression of his mother’s face every time he came to visit appeared on his mind.

When he got in the car he put on a cap and sunglasses and you laughed. He had been asking himself if Jungkook’s idea was working ever since he asked if you wanted to come and visit his family with him, you said yes without hesitation but didn’t say much else until that day. You took off your shoes at the beginning of the ride and played music until you fell asleep.

It was a long ride to Yoongi’s hometown, and you seemed to enjoy it until you made your last stop at a gas station. You got out of the car and bought some snacks, when you were getting back your boyfriend hugged you from behind and told you you were about to arrive. He kissed your cheek and circled the car to get on his seat, he didn’t see your face properly, but if he had done it he would have seen the smile on your face disappear. You got in the car with him and after fifteen minutes you asked if he could roll the windows down.

“I think I’m getting car sick.” You explained, sinking in your seat as you felt how your stomach turned upside down.

“Carsick?” He repeated. “You never get car sick.”

“I do.” You tried to argue, but he didn't believe you.

“I’ve been driving for three hours and you were just fine.” He told you, but you decided to ignore him. He looked at you for a brief second before turning his gaze to the road again. You shut your eyes close and frowned in discomfort, hugging your tummy like you were about to vomit. “Or is it that you’re nervous?”

You opened your eyes, offended. “I’m not nervous, I told you I’m getting car sick.”

Maybe Yoongi tried to forget you so hard months ago that he ended up memorizing every single thing about you. Only after you began to date him, you realized how much he knew about you. He bragged about it, and it was cute when he remembered that you didn’t like mayonnaise or what kind of wine you liked, but it was annoying when you couldn’t keep a secret away from him because he could read it in your face.

The truth was that Yoongi made the mistake of telling you how his mother didn't have a good relationship with his past girlfriends, in fact she didn’t even have a relationship at all with them. She had met all of them in other circumstances but never invited them to their house, she only needed one meeting to decide if she didn’t like them, and now you were in physical pain just thinking of the possibility that she didn’t like you either.

Of course that all this fuss came from your last experience with your ex boyfriend, who’s mother made it very clear that she didn’t like you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact that you weren’t catholic, or maybe that she liked Dan’s ex girlfriend more, who knows? You didn’t want that to happen again. Different from Dan, you really wanted to stay in Yoongi’s life.

When you saw the first sign with the name of Yoongi’s hometown next to the highway, you finally admitted it, hoping that your boyfriend could give you an answer.

“How do I know if your mom doesn’t like me?” You asked him, automatically making him scoff.

“She won’t dislike you.” He just said.

Yoongi was a man of few words, but that wasn’t good enough for you.

“How do you know?” You insisted.

“Because I like you, don’t I?” He smugly answered, making you want to rip off his head for laughing at you.

“But you said your mother thinks you have bad taste in women.” You reminded him, but he shook his head in denial.

“You can’t rely on that.” He said “My mother also thinks that I should be a doctor, she has her own perspective of reality and it’s impossible to please her.”

“That doesn’t make me any less nervous.” You whined.

“You don’t have to be nervous, I’m sure that both of them will love you. You made them a pie!” He tried to encourage you, but you weren’t content yet, your mind couldn’t stop making scenarios.

“But what if they think ‘What a pretentious bitch, she wants to buy us with food’?” You kept insisting. Your question seemed rational to ask, but it only made him fail to suppress his laugh.

“They will think ‘What a nice girl, she made us a pie’!” He acted.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know how to make you believe me.” He laughed “I can tell you the truth, my mom is a complicated woman, it’s impossible to please her, but if you just be yourself she will like you, if you’re trying too hard that’s when she will dislike you.”

You still weren’t happy with his answer. He seemed too cool about the whole situation, you didn’t understand how he wasn’t at least a little nervous.

“Your advice sucks.” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest “Then, what if she doesn’t like the way I am?”

He sighed, thinking about it for a second. “I mean…” He said, dragging his words “What’s not to like?”

Then, you punched his arm, making him whine.

“Quit playing with me.” You cried.

At this point, Yoongi was just trying to mess with you. He wasn’t lying when he said his mom was complicated, but he also knew how excited she was to welcome Yoongi’s first girlfriend after so long. He knew she would be happy just knowing he wasn’t single anymore, but after meeting you he was sure she was going to love you. Maybe it was cruel, but he decided to keep that for himself.

“But I’m serious!” He protested, rubbing his arm “First, I know my dad will like you, and even if my mom is intense, she will like you too because I know her and I know you. You get along with older people, you’re smart, you know how to cook, you’re a future teacher. What else can I say to stop you from vomiting in my car?”

You kept silent for a minute like he had just scolded you, reevaluating if he had made a good point or not. Maybe you were right and someone like Yoongi’s mom would never like any of his son’s girlfriends, but maybe Yoongi was right and you were overreacting. It hurt you to admit that you were.

Yoongi had never seen a person more nervous than him to see his mom. In front of his eyes it appeared the same image of his mom’s face that he saw on his mind earlier that morning. Years passed before Yoongi stopped doing what his mother thought was best for him, even if sometimes she was right, sometimes she was not, he learned to stop caring what she thought of him. His brother had a more stable job, but it was not until recently that he got a stable girlfriend, so he had two points in the game. Even though his family was proud of him now, years ago her mother considered that his job was not stable and he had no girlfriend until three months ago, so back then he had zero points. Yoongi said fuck the game long ago, his mother’s claims had no effect on him anymore, but he didn’t expect you to react like this when he told you about his mother’s behaviour with his past girlfriends, he realized it was only logical, even if he knew his mother would like you.

“Stop.” You told him, the feeling on your stomach slowly disappearing.”You’re obsessed with me.”

You watched him trying to hide a smirk, but he didn’t deny it.

“You stop.” He said “Stop worrying, I’m sure everything is going to be fine.”

You were not willing to admit he was right, you decided to change the subject.

“So… Will they make us sleep in separate rooms?” You asked, “Since we’re not married.”

Your question was only innocent, it was genuine, but the clarification made Yoongi laugh.

“My mother is insane, not conservative.” He said, like it was hard to tell the difference. “Maybe a little old-fashioned, but no. Besides, I don’t think she thinks I’m saving myself for marriage.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was just asking.” You clarified “It’s not like I’m… fucking you in your parent’s house.”

“Why not?” He teased you, but you ignored him, refusing to take the conversation any further.

That seemed to clear the air at least for now, but when you arrived at his house he was not surprised at all to see you get along with his parents, especially his mother. You didn’t know that you already had a few points in her game thanks to Yoongi’s brother, and you gained even more when you offered to help with cooking. Yoongi thought that was a good sign, his mom never let anyone but his brother help with her food.

His mom kissed both of you in the face as she sent his dad to leave your bags in Yoongi’s room, and not even half an hour later you were in the kitchen, chatting with her as you rolled up your sleeves and started cutting carrots.

What a fool you had made of him, he laughed at him in secret when random sentences appeared on his mind when he looked at you. You were wearing a brown sweater and blue shorts and for a moment he thought you looked like the last day of spring, like summer but not quite summer, like summer before he met you, summer when he didn’t know your name or how your mouth tasted. He saw the dark green color of the walls and smelled the coffee from the morning and it seemed like you always belonged there, somehow, he found you just in time before his mom decided to change the color of the walls like she was telling you, you camouflaged yourself in them like you were part of the kitchen, like you were part of his home. You told his mom that it was a shame to change the color, you liked it that way.

When the food was ready you sat beside him. It only took one question from Yoongi’s dad, who just asked how old you were, to stop his mother from holding herself back and start bombing you with every question you could imagine, you didn’t mind, she was just curious. You tried to ask questions back, trying to know them just as much as they wanted to know you, but it was difficult when Yoongi’s mom was barely interested in something else that wasn’t your relationship with her son. From your job, to your career, your family and friends, and how and when you meet Yoongi. He felt like an observant, like he was five years old and his mother told him that he could only stay at the adult’s table if he could keep quiet. You always said that you struggled at being social, but you seemed so natural as you laughed and moved your hands, telling his father that you were sure that you were graduating this year.

“Yoongi barely graduated from high school!” His dad said, making you giggle.

After lunch he offered to wash the dishes as he saw you disappear in the back door with both his mom and dad, she explained that she wanted to introduce you to her plants in the garden. He craned his neck and tried to spy on you from the window of the kitchen, but he could hardly see you or hear anything. He was not sure if he could leave you alone with them yet, but he knew that you knew enough about plants to charm his mom.

As the day came to an end, you forgot why you were worried that morning. That night, Yoongi searched for you in his living room and found you sitting with his parents on his couch, freshly out of the shower as you shared a cup of tea and his mother showed you some family photos. Yoongi tried not to roll his eyes, it was just a matter of time until his mother pulled their family albums for the guest to see. He sat next to you and noticed that all of you were looking at a picture of him and his brother on a school day, there was a big smile plastered on Jeasung’s face, but a six year old Yoongi looked like someone stole his favorite toy, you laughed thinking it was the same upset face he had when something was bothering him, he still looked the same.

Yoongi’s mom explained that his youngest son never liked to wear his high school uniform, she told you that she had to dress him several hours earlier so he could get used to it and forget he was wearing it when it was time to leave.

“Of course he never got used to it.” She complained, “But it’s normal, life itself it’s like a uniform for this kid.” His mother never failed to tease Yoongi, and he only laughed because he heard you laughing.

But she was not wrong, Yoongi always thought that his clothes didn’t fit him well and that his shoes were uncomfortable for him, he never liked being in his parent's car for too long because the seatbelt was too tight. He was irrationally afraid of thunder and the dark, he liked to stay at home most of the time and watched maybe too much tv. As a kid Yoongi thought that perhaps his body belonged to another planet, he believed that someone dropped him on earth and expected him to get used to this life, a life that wasn’t for him, to a bed that couldn't fit him, to a house full of rules that he didn’t know how to follow. When he grew up he was quick to blame the rural town he was raised in, he used to say that it held him back, but when he moved to the city he found out there was no apartment big enough to fit his heart. And when he met you last summer, he noticed that suddenly his clothes fitted him just right and that his shoes were never the problem. Maybe his body never belonged to earth or to mars, but belonged to you. As he watched you observing his baby photos he remembered what Jungkook said, you liked simple things, he realized he liked them too.

He spent an hour with you and his parents, until his father decided to go to bed and Yoongi noticed it was his turn to take a shower, but his mother didn’t care that it was almost midnight, instead she poured you another cup of tea.

“I’ll go to take a shower.” Yoongi announced, “After that, we’ll go to sleep.”

“You don’t tell me when it’s my bedtime.” You joked, turning the page of the birthday photo album.

But when Yoongi got out of the shower after twenty minutes, he opened the door of his bedroom and found you there, changing into your pajamas. You jumped, startled when you saw him “You scared me.”

Yoongi murmured a quick ‘sorry’, sitting at the edge of the bed as he observed you change, noticing that your pajamas were actually just an old shirt of his.

There were many scenarios where Yoongi pictured you and him together, but this was never one of them. You, in the middle of his childhood bedroom doing basic things such as getting ready to bed. It was different from the bedroom at his apartment, this was the bedroom where he grew up and knew all his life, all those events from today made him feel like an arrow pierced through his chest and made his heart bleed, like he was high and couldn’t open his eyes properly because he was so blinded of love.

He wouldn’t like to call it the honeymoon phase, that would annoy him, but he could tell he was so drunk in you that the withdrawal of you being apart could hurt him terribly. That night he hoped to get tangled with your body one last time before giving away all his fears, he hoped to get in bed, kiss your face and whisper the truth to you, you were part of him, you had embedded yourself in his soul and now he couldn’t picture his childhood home without thinking that you were part of it all along, he had been waiting for you, he had been waiting to feel like everything was okay.

“It’s strange seeing you here.” He told you, making you turn around to see him “It's like running into your teacher in the supermarket.”

You giggled. “It’s strange for me too, being in the room where you probably brought a hundred girls.”

Yoongi looked around his room, asking himself how you didn’t notice yet. He thought that the poster of Slam Dunk in the back of the door would have given him away, maybe the stickers of Batman in his wardrobe, but you were dead serious. “You are crazy if you think I ever brought a girl to this room.”

You frowned, walking to lay in bed next to him. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not lying.” He insisted “When my brother left for college and left me the room I was like fourteen, I was not very popular with girls back then.”

“And later?” You questioned.

“Later I moved in with Seokjin when I was like seventeen. Besides, the fear that I had of my mom finding out that I sneaked someone here was stronger than anything else.”

You looked like you were doing the math in your mind, after calculating, you said one simple word that made Yoongi choke. “Virgin.” You pronounced.

Yoongi glared at you, offended. “No, you’re wrong, that doesn’t mean I was a virgin before moving in with Seokjin.”

“So your bed is a virgin.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Now Yoongi turned to you, laying on top of you and placing himself between your legs to kiss you softly. He was just trying to be sweet, but you knew better. He grabbed your hips and pressed you firmly against him, breaking the kiss to leave a few pecks on your lips. “I mean, if you want to…” He offered, making you scoff.

“I will kick you in the balls, stop.” You whined, grabbing him by his shoulders to stop him from kissing you again.

“Okay, I’ll stop for now.” He said, not really convincing you. For now, he changed the subject. “What did my mom tell you in the garden?”

You squint your eyes, trying to remember “Oh, nothing, really.” You replied, tilting your head to see him more clearly. “We were talking about her plants. She wanted to know how many I could name.”

He laughed just by thinking of it, of course his mom would do that.

“What, like a test?”

“It seemed like it.” You said, laughing too. “But the good news is that I think I passed.”

“That gave you points.”

“Do you think?” You wondered out loud “Do you think she liked me?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” He laughed, “I’ll get her review tomorrow, but dad already told me.”

“What did he say?” You wanted to know.

You noticed that Yoongi’s dad was very quiet, just like him, he said just the right amount of words, unlike his mother, who couldn't stop talking for a minute. Yoongi said that they complemented each other.

“He said you were a very polite girl, and that you were funny but too pretty for me.”

You pouted “That’s not true, you are a pretty boy.”

He smiled, fighting for his life not to blush “That’s what I said as well.”

“They don’t have much faith in you.” You joked. Yoongi sighed, thinking that it might be true, his dad joked and asked him where did he got you from, where in the word he had found you, he kept his answer to himself, he couldn’t say to his father that he felt like the stars aligned the day he met you, he would laugh in his face.

“You said it yourself, I have a bad boy reputation to keep up with.” He murmured, reminding you when he bought you a necklace and you said that you wouldn’t tell anyone that he was so sweet. “But I hoped that changed, he told me not to fuck up.”

You saw his smile and silently wondered when you were going to stop visibly melting under his gaze, the whole conversation had your heart jumping inside your chest, you were afraid it would run away from your chest.

“That’s great advice.” Your voice came as a whisper.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m trying.” He scoffed, laying his head on your shoulder and burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

As the silence took over the room, Yoongi felt your hands in the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair and feeling like it was time to sleep, but Yoongi’s mind was still racing.

“Did you have a good time today?” He asked before you fell asleep, you just hummed in response. “Will you come back with me next time?”

“Yes.” You laughed “Will you bring me back?”

“Of course.” He murmured against your neck “I didn’t bring you here just to meet my parents.”

“Didn’t you?” You frowned, making raise his head to look at you again. He shook his head in response. “Was there another reason?”

While you grabbed the wet strands of his hair that fell on his face to curl them around your fingers, he pretended to think his answer. “Yes, I brought you here so you know that I’m serious about you, I want you to be part of every part of my life.” He tried to sound cool, he hoped you didn’t notice he practiced that sentence the whole ride while you were sleeping and minutes ago in the shower.

You couldn’t escape from his words when he was just centimeters away from your face, it was impossible not to blush.

“Where is this coming from?” You asked, not being able to hide your smile.

Where was this coming from? He remembered suddenly. Yoongi knew you from head to toe, he memorized every part of you face, he knew every single mole in your body, he knew what sound you made when you were about to wake up, he knew exactly what you liked and you didn’t like, yet it was ridiculous how unsure he was about your decision to stay with him. In that moment where the light from the lamp on his nightstand illuminated the right side of your face and made only one of your eyes shine, he looked at you and could only read one thing in your eyes; ‘finally’, they said. How relieved he was in that instant.

“From a lot of places.” He confessed. “I don’t want to hide how I feel and make the same mistakes twice, so I needed to tell you.”

It was not shocking to you that Yoongi had these thoughts once in a while, but you were happy that he was okay with talking about it with you. “It’s okay, you don’t need to worry about that.” You whispered “But it’s nice to hear that, I want you in my life too, for as long as I can keep you.”

Yoongi laughed, you had no idea that it was the other way around.

“Forever, then.” He offered, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Okay, but first you have to tell me you love me.” You murmured “To seal the deal, so I can be sure.”

“I love you, baby.” He said in a sweet tone, making your heart melt like it was the first time you were hearing it, like it was a confession.

“That’s good news, I love you too.”

Friends

You always believed that to be a good lover, you had to be a good friend first. Maybe that’s why things didn’t work out with your last boyfriend, he hardly ever cared about you the way you cared about him. What’s love if not friendship first? A friend is always there, always knows what to say and if that’s not the case, a friend always listens. A friend always saves your seat in crowded rooms and knows how to read your mind when you want to escape. A friend knows every part of you, even the embarrassing ones, the most damaged ones. A friend knows your past and knows your flaws, knows your favorite songs and the food you don’t like. A friend knows that one person you despise and talks shit about them with you even if they don’t know them, a friend knows your family drama and maybe the color of your toothbrush.

Yoongi was that kind of friend to you, except that he also was the kind of friend who kissed you during the nights and early in the morning, a friend who shared shirts and socks with you, a friend who memorized every part of your body and the kind who took showers with you. If Yoongi wasn’t your friend you couldn’t let him see you hungover, or allow him to hold your hair if you were vomiting in the bathroom, you considered that it was a perfect balance.

Eight months after you began dating, he had left and returned from tour after three months of not seeing him. You barely saw him at the airport when you welcomed him that morning, but as soon as you arrived at his apartment, he fell asleep on his bed after a short kissing session. You only visited him once last month when he surprised you with a plane ticket as a present when he couldn’t be there for your graduation, but a month was too long to be apart from him, even if he texted and called every day and sent pictures of him after his shows. Now his hair was longer and you could see a bit of facial hair on his chin, but you liked him like that.

You wished you could wait for him to wake up to spend the night with him, but he had come back a few days earlier and you already had plans to go to a bar with Yongsun and Nayeon that same night, but you had promised Yoongi that when you were done you would make Nayeon drop you at his apartment.

What is love if not friendship first? If Yoongi wasn't your friend, you would never have allowed him to see you in the state you were in when you came back to his house that night.

Yoongi was about to hit the tenth hour of sleep when he was woken up by the sound of someone trying to open the door. In the distance, he heard the key hitting the wood but never entering the lock, he knew it was you, but he was too sleepy to realize that you were far too drunk to open the door in the first try (or the second and third one). You told him you were coming back not after two, but when he looked at the clock on his nightstand and saw that it was almost five, he decided to stay in bed, thinking that you were just struggling to open the door in the dark. When he thought he was about to enter into another dream, his sleep was once again interrupted by the sound of your high heels stumbling through the hallway. Were you with someone? Your laugh could reach his ears from his bedroom, were you alone? What were you laughing about?

He should’ve known you weren’t in your five senses before your silhouette appeared at the entrance of your bedroom, now with your shoes in your hands, leaning on the wall as you tried not to stumble with your own feet. You clearly didn’t notice he was awake, so he took advantage of that.

In the dark, he saw you walking towards the mirror beside his bed, covering your mouth and trying not to laugh when you saw your reflection. Your make up was ruined and your hair was a mess, for some reason it was the funniest thing to you.

Yoongi waited silently on the bed until you decided to join him, but you seemed to be taking your time, soon enough you began stripping from your clothes as you danced to a song playing in your mind, then you began to hum it. You left your jacket on the floor, then you decided to unzip the black dress you were wearing, staying in your underwear only. Yoongi couldn’t recognize the song, he felt like it was a private moment between you and yourself only, even if he had seen you with less clothes than that, he felt guilty for spying on you, but it was too funny to look away. He tried not to laugh and pursed his lips when he saw that you had almost finished your little dance, you brushed your hair with your fingers and adjusted your underwear. Before you got into bed, you turned around and took one last look in the mirror, except this time you were notably checking your butt.

You giggled one last time before getting under the covers. He closed his eyes, scared to be caught watching you.

He felt your hands shaking his head, trying to wake him up. “Bubba, I’m here.” You slurred, hugging his body close to yours. Yoongi pretended to wake up and opened his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked, faking a sleepy tone on his voice and wrapping his arms around your torso. “Why are you naked?”

“I’m not… naked.” You chuckled “Not completely.”

Yoongi took a second to scan your face in the dark, which was smudged with dark gray eyeshadow and glitter. That night you seemed to have worn red lipstick, but now it was all faded, that happened when you drank (vodka, he could smell it).

“It’s cold.” He informed you, feeling your cold feet trying to find his own so he could warm them. “And it’s late.”

It was not usual for you to get drunk, so Yoongi had barely seen this phase of you in the last months. He quickly learned that you were a happy drunk, laughing at him when he told you it was too late to wake him up. It was funny, and Yoongi thought it was the end of it, but when you kissed him, trying to shut him up, he knew you were going to be awake for a bit longer before finally sleeping.

It turned out that you didn’t only smell like vodka, but you taste like it too, that and watermelon as well. If you hardly ever got drunk it was because you didn’t like most alcoholic drinks, of course you were going to get drunk with cocktails. But your kiss was slow and sweet, and he liked watermelon after all. You only pulled away to kiss his nose.

“Did you have a good time?” He asked, hoping that small talk will tire you, needless to say that he was about to fail.

“I was missing you the whole time.” You replied, taking him by surprise when you began to straddle his lap to get on top of him, leaning to kiss his lips again. “But yes, I did.”

“What about your friends?” He murmured against your lips, but you didn’t want to stop kissing him. “Was Nayeon the designated driver?”

“Mhm, yes. She had to take care of me.” You laughed, sneaking your hands under his shirt. “She was afraid I would throw up in her new car.”

Yoongi was sure you were staining him with the red lipstick that remained on your lips when you began to leave small kisses on his neck, but you seemed happy, so he supposed it was okay. “I would be afraid of that too.” He joked. “What about Yongsun?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe me.” You exclaimed, being a bit too loud “She danced with a guy and kissed him, he wanted to go home with her.”

“What?” He asked, running his hands down your thighs. “Did she say yes?”

“Mmm, no, girl’s night only. But can you imagine?”

Yoongi hummed, happy to hear you talk about your night but knowing that you were not in the mood for sleeping yet. “What about you?” He continued to ask “Did you dance with a lot of boys?”

You gasped at the assumption “Me? Of course not.” You denied, leaning forward to kiss him again. “However, I must confess, I’m a pretty girl, bubba, a lot of guys approached me.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, not willing to picture the image in his head. You nodded “And what did you say to them?”

“I said that I was not interested because I have a boyfriend.” You said in a pout, encouraging him to kiss you again.

Even if he tried to be strong and send you to sleep, he was too tangled in your games to run away from your kisses, or from you anyway. “Mhm, such a good girl.” He hummed against your mouth.

Suddenly, you pulled away from him. “Don’t say that.” You whined. “I’m already horny and I know you won’t fuck me since I’m tipsy.”

A loud laugh escaped from Yoongi’s mouth, surprised at your confession. “Are you horny?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t.” He denied. “And you’re not tipsy, you’re drunk as hell.”

“Whatever.” You huffed. “I was thinking about it the whole ride home.”

“Is that why you’re naked?” He kept laughing.

“I’m not naked.” You insisted. “But yes…”

Over the past months you naturally made a lists of ‘do not fuck if’ without noticing. You were the one who started it, telling him that you weren’t going to have sex if you were already showered or if it was wednesday, which was the day you were most tired. You had made very clear that you weren’t going to fuck him if you were on his parent’s house or while having a shower in your apartment if Nayeon was around. Of course Yoongi was the one who tried to do it in all those situations like it was a bucket list for him, but he had only one condition that could not be broken: do not fuck if you’re drunk. This was never a problem until that night.

Yoongi noticed that you were letting too many words out of your mouth, words that you would be embarrassed to remember you said the next day, that’s when he knew that it was time to sleep, but first, he wanted to tease you just a little more, that was allowed.

He grabbed your hips and put you down next to him, pressing your body against his. “And what were you thinking?” He asked you, making you believe that he was about to break. You were too drunk to notice that he was just playing with you.

“I don’t know If I can say.” You whispered, grazing your fingers over his face.

“C’mon, baby, you can tell me.” He insisted, but he had an idea of what you were thinking. “You wanted to ride me?”

“Well, yes.” You sighed, looking at his lips, tempted to catch them between your teeth. “But I really don’t have the energy to do that now, so then I thought that you should do all the work.”

It was maybe the first time that Yoongi heard you talk about sex like it was a procedure. “All the work?” He laughed. “Should I just open your legs and do all the work?”

You seemed offended by that offering. You frowned, shaking your head. “No!” You protested, “You must be… romantic.”

Yoongi scoffed. “I’m always romantic.” He said, reaching for your lips, opening your mouth lazily to briefly introduce his tongue, getting your hopes high again. You gripped his shirt, but he pulled away before you could do something else. “Am I not? I bring you to my house, I fuck you in my bed, I let you sleep naked on it, I make you breakfast. I’m romantic.”

“But you aren’t being very romantic right now.” You murmured against his mouth. “And I’m not naked.”

“I’m not fucking you tonight, you’re very drunk and I can be romantic in other ways.” He finally said, but you weren’t willing to give up yet.

“I don’t want other ways.” You kept insisting “I’m literally begging you.”

“You always do that, though.” He said, too cheeky for his own good. You rushed to cover his mouth with your hands, as if there was someone else in the room hearing.

“You can’t say that out loud.” You cried, trying to prevent him from talking again, but he was quick, biting your pinky finger to get himself free. You protested, but he didn’t pay attention.

“You’re the one begging to be fucked.” Yoongi laughed, but the frown on your face wasn’t going away. “Meet me halfway here, I can kiss you until you fall asleep if you want.” He tried to negotiate.

“You can kiss me somewhere else.” You said, making him snort. “I’m conscious enough, and I missed you this whole month”

“No, you’re not. And you’re going to regret saying that when you wake up.”

“Yoongi!” You cried.

“Oh, is it ‘Yoongi’ now?” He asked, wrapping you around one of his arms and making you rest your head on his shoulder, getting you ready to sleep. “It’s only ‘bubba’ when you’re trying to fuck me?”

“It’s only ‘Yoongi’ when I’m mad at you.” You groaned.

“I don’t care, it’s past your bedtime.”

“I didn’t know I had a curfew.” You kept trying to fight him.

“Tonight you do.”

“That sounded hot.” Now you were beginning to test your boyfriend’s patience.

“Oh my god.” He sighed, running one of his hands over his face.

“I like when you talk with a deep voice and you get all serious.” You kept going with your rant, but he was not having it anymore.

“Fine, stop.” He rushed to say “You can tell me all about that tomorrow, I promise I’ll do anything you ask me, but now it’s time to sleep.”

You turned your head to the clock beside you and saw the hour you came back home, you had no idea it was that late. “You could say it’s early.”

“Baby…” He warned you, last warning. Your gaze was kind of blurry and you were not as conscious as you bragged to be. It was difficult to admit that you were about to give up.

“Okay, I’ll sleep.” You said, snuggling near his chest, “But is the kissing session offer still available?”

“No, I don’t trust you anymore.” Yoongi had already closed his eyes “But I can allow a reduced amount of kisses.”

Finally surrendering to his conditions, you stretched out a bit and kissed him three times before falling asleep.

After that night you made sure no one else saw you that drunk, it was like a part of you that you didn’t know. You would have preferred not to remember anything the next day you woke up, but you remembered every single thing that you said. Even if someone erased your memory, Yoongi would have been there to remind you of the whole conversation, he couldn’t stop teasing you for the whole month.

A friend surely was in charge to stop other people seeing you in that state before you start vomiting every word that crossed your mind, but that wouldn’t prevent him from keeping those moments to himself. You promised to control yourself the next morning, but you forgot about it weeks later when you shared way too many glasses of wine with Yoongi one night, luckily there was no one around, and this time you weren’t drunk on vodka like before, so Yoongi laid on the couch and poured you the last glass before deciding it was time to turn off the lights and go to sleep, if were for you, you would have spent the whole night there, talking with him without noticing the words were slipping out you mouth.

You could tell that his eyes were becoming smaller and that his voice sounded deeper, he was getting sleepier but you couldn’t stop talking.

“We should get in bed already.” He announced “Before you tell me all your secrets and regret it the next day.”

“I’m not that drunk, you’re just trying to get rid of me.” You snuggled next to him, shaking your head. “And I don’t think that will work, you already know all my secrets.”

“Do I?” He doubted.

“Mhm.”

“Like what?”

Maybe Yoongi didn’t notice, but you told him a million things that you never told anyone else.

“Like when I told you that I shoplifted that MAC store back home.” You reminded him, making him laugh. “I don’t tell that to anyone because people think I would steal their makeup.”

“But you were like seventeen.” He said.

“Well, but I don’t regret it.” You admitted.

“You just told me that because I don’t use any makeup.”

You huffed, thinking about it “Maybe I keep a secret or two from you.” You confessed. “But a girl needs to have secrets.”

“Like what?” He asked again.

“Don’t manipulate me into telling you my secrets.” You said, dragging your words. He chuckled, leaning to kiss your lips briefly.

“Tell me all your secrets.” He insisted, whispering against your lips. You swallowed, feeling like his piercing eyes were burning your skin.

“I can’t tell you all of them.” You tried to be firm.

“How many you’ve got?” He kept insisting.

“A few… I don’t know.” You answered, counting them in your head, but you were too tipsy to even try. Even if you could, you would forget half of them.

“Tell me five.” He said, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. Taking advantage of your position and kissing you once again, hoping you would fall for him, he tried to melt you with slow kisses while caressing your bare thighs with his fingertips. Yoongi was fine with you having secrets, he just wanted to know what you had to say that night.

You sighed against his mouth, “That’s too much.”

“I’m fine with three.”

You guessed you could find three things you never told anyone, three things that you knew Yoongi would keep for you.

(It should be noted that Jungkook’s plan to get you back together was off limits, you were drunk, not dumb)

“I never liked Nayeon’s food.” You said “She thinks that I always cook because I enjoy it but the truth is that I don’t like it when she does. But it’s a secret, don’t ever tell her.”

You didn’t want to be rude, so you kept it a secret. You thought that Yoongi would be surprised for some reason, or maybe it was your drunk self thinking that what you were saying was very shocking, but Yoongi looked like he already knew.

“Is that your secret?” He complained “I already knew that, it’s not a secret for me.”

“How did you know?” You asked, wide-eyed.

“I can see it in your face.” He explained. “I don’t think she knows, but I sure do.”

“Don’t ever tell her, Yoongi.” You begged like he was threatening to do it. “I tried to help her, but she never gets better.”

“Don’t worry.” He assured you “Your secret is safe with me.”

You believed him, even if he didn’t consider it a secret you kept from him. You tried to think of something that he couldn’t know just by looking at your face, which was the most difficult thing when Yoongi could read every expression of you.

“Okay, I have one that I don’t think you’ll guess.”

“Fine, let’s see.”

“I don’t like when you use socks in bed.” You spat “It’s really uncomfortable and you end up taking them off in the middle of the night.”

Now Yoongi was surprised, he never thought you were so bothered about his socks.

“Are you serious?” He questioned, but you seemed really sure of your statement.

“I’m serious.” You confirmed. “You do it especially at my apartment, you never care to look for them after you take them off and they just stay in the sheets until I find them. Do you know how many of your pairs of socks I have in my closet?”

Your boyfriend frowned at the question. He always bragged about being an organized person, what do you mean he has been forgetting socks at your place? What do you mean he never noticed?

“You don’t like when I wear socks to sleep?” He checked again, only for you to confirm it once again by shaking your head. “That doesn’t sound like a secret, that just sounds like you have a problem with me wearing socks when we sleep.”

You rolled your eyes “I get that you have cold feet, but once you are under the covers they get warm, you should know that since you take them off in the middle of the night.”

“Are you asking me to stop wearing socks in bed?” He asked, pretending to be offended. Of course you were too drunk to notice that, and even if he was almost completely sober, he seemed to be infected with your drunkenness as he spent more time beside you. The conversation began to sound silly, but he couldn’t stop pushing the topic. Was it so wrong that he forgot his socks between your sheets?

“I’m not asking you anything.” You whined, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “I’m just telling you my second secret.”

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “Your secrets are not really secrets, baby.” He said, making you roll your eyes again.

“Whatever, that’s all you’re gonna get.”

“Mmm, no. You still have one left.” He reminded you.

You raised your chin, realizing he was right.

Even drunk you could remember that there was a cabinet of secrets that you couldn’t say out loud, not even to Yoongi, like Jungkook’s plan or the things that made you jealous, they were things that maybe you were not ready to tell him yet, not because of him but because you really believed you should keep a few things for yourself. As he booped your nose with the tip of his finger, you thought that you could share at least one of that kind.

“Fine, but don’t laugh at me.” You warned him.

He raised both hands, claiming to be innocent. “I would never.” He assured you.

You squint, but in the end you just said it. “I like babies, I want one someday.” You confessed “Maybe a boy, but I’m fine with anything. I want to raise them in a house with a backyard in a pool. I never had a pool and my backyard was scary as hell, the grass was as tall as me.”

That did sound like a secret to Yoongi, he never knew about that. He stayed there, feeling like the blood drained from his face, even if he wanted to make fun of you, those words were now stuck on his throat. Surprised that having a baby was an illusion of yours, he didn’t know how he never noticed. He saw you cooing at babies on the street and how you were always so good tutoring middle school kids back when you hadn't graduated yet, but the thought never crossed his mind, he never saw you that way.

“You want to be a mother?” He asked. It seemed like you generated a short circuit in his brain.

“Yes, that’s what it means to have a baby.” You said.

“But when?” He continued to ask, almost worried. You laughed at that, of course you didn’t mean now.

“Someday, I don’t know. When I get the house with the pool, maybe when I find someone that wants a baby too.” You teased him, observing how he stopped looking surprised and he began to look upset.

“What do you mean when you find someone?” He protested. “I’m right here!”

“Mmm, I’m not sure about that.” You said, turning around to face him. He grabbed your waist, pulling you closer, if that was possible. “Do you want a baby, bubba?”

“Yes.” He affirmed without hesitation. “I want a baby if it’s with you.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, intertwining your fingers in the back of his neck “You don’t just say that to a girl.”

You were right, people just don’t say that to girls, but you weren’t just a girl for him. Right there, wrapped around your fingers, he felt his heart hammering against his chest, he never had that kind of conversation with anyone else, he wondered if any of his past girlfriends ever thought about sharing more than the present with him. Yoongi didn’t want to keep living in the past, but he couldn’t help but think about how different it was with you, even if it was terrifying to think that someone could trust him with being… a dad, that sounded so weird. The idea of having a kid was maybe years away from that moment, he couldn’t even grasp it. Babies were the epitome of fear for him, but he smiled at the thought that you had been thinking about it, it warmed his heart to think that you included him in the picture.

Yoongi couldn’t even think about the future without feeling dizzy, he was happy being your boyfriend, but it was like you pinched him and woke him up with that secret, was that what he wanted all this time? Maybe.

Being fair, he thought he should confess something as well.

“You aren’t just any girl to me.” He said “You’re the girl I love, the love of my life.”

Suddenly, you felt your heart dropping to your stomach “Am I?” You managed to ask.

Being in love was a curse, being in love with Yoongi was even worse. After eight months of dating him you still melted like butter when he opened his mouth and dropped the sweetest sentence he could ever say.

“Of course, I fought a lot with myself to figure that out, so I won’t back down now.” He murmured.

“I’m glad that you won, then.” You chuckled, leaving a peck on his lips.

He grabbed your face to keep you close to him and looked you straight in the eye, not willing to let it go yet. “Baby, please.” He asked, low enough so only you could hear him “Don’t have a baby with anyone else.”

You bit back a smile, trying to be serious. “I can promise that if you promise not to tell anyone my secrets.”

Yoongi nodded repeatedly, “I can promise that.”

Good thing that a friend knew how to keep secrets.

Now the bottle of wine was empty and your head began to spin more than before, it was about time that you vomited your last words of the night.

“And by the way,” You said, catching his attention with your sleepy voice “I feel like you’re the love of my life too.”

What would Yoongi of the past think of the Yoongi that was seated next to you now? He wouldn’t believe he was now hanging by a thread, hoping that your next words wouldn’t be your last and being so in love that his heart was about to give up. That's how it felt to listen to you, drunk and tired, confessing once again your love for him.

“How is it that you feel it?” He asked, curious enough to let his mind speak for him.

“Do you think it’s too early to tell?” You wondered out loud. “I never loved anyone like you, I don’t think this would ever happen to me again. I just feel it on my chest.”

That made sense, Yoongi felt it on his chest too. He didn’t want the feeling to wear off as one month faded into another, but it stayed, he guessed you were the reason. There wasn’t a trace of doubt in your eyes, he could only hope you saw the same thing in him.

Home

Fridays were always the same since you started at your new teaching job at a high school near Yoongi’s apartment, you woke up in your bed, took the subway, tried to finish your hours peacefully and visited Yoongi to have dinner with him.

This time was different, you took the subway back home and tried not to look at your phone.

You reminded yourself that fights in relationships were normal, but you didn’t expect Yoongi to still be mad after three days. After the big fight you had that night that made you think you wouldn’t see him again, you decided to communicate better, to talk things before exploding, so you didn’t have big fights since then, maybe silly ones about house rules or tiny discussions that were long forgotten within an hour, but never three days.

If you ever thought that Yoongi could not be any more stubborn, you were wrong.

It started on wednesday, when you came to visit like every other day, but he seemed to be drowning in his thoughts, dragging his feet and zoning out every five minutes without realizing. It was not about work, that much you knew, there was something else in his mind, but he didn’t say a word about it.

When you began washing the dishes, he stood by your side, quiet as ever, letting you do all the talking about your day and hardly answering your questions. You were almost sure you had nothing to do with his mood, if something was bothering him he was the first one to bring it up, but this was not the case. He usually saved these moments to tell you something about his week as he waited for you to finish, he struggled to get the words out, but at the end he just said it.

It turned out that Yoongi had some trouble with some deal he closed a few weeks ago, he had been offered to make an appearance at a rap show that was being held a month from now, someone had stepped down last minute and he was offered the spot. He would love to do it, the only reason he wasn’t part of the initial line up was because he had a break planned for this time of the year.

Yoongi had said yes, signed the contract, closed the deal, and the next week found out by Hoseok that none other than Park Jimin was hosting the event. Once again, Yoongi felt like a coward, wanting to call it quits and forget about the whole thing. All of his friends who were going to be part of the show laughed at him for not being aware that his ex best friend was hosting and was also one of the headliners, but these weeks Yoongi had been too caught up with normal life to know who was performing at a show he wasn’t going to be part of to begin with, and yes, maybe he was going to go since he was probably going to get free tickets from his friends who were performing, like Namjoon or Hoseok.

He felt like someone slapped him on the face when he realized he was an adult and couldn’t run away just because Jimin was part of the event.

You knew Jimin and Yoongi's history too well, they met each other as soon as Yoongi arrived to Seoul when he was seventeen, he was still renting recording studios per hour, selling his tracks for cheap prices to pay the rent of the dorm that shared with Seokjin and working full time delivering pizza. Jimin was an aspiring dancer and singer, it was like underdogs seemed to find each other in the streets of Seoul, when Jimin met Yoongi no one could separate him from his older friend.

Ten years of friendship didn’t disappear just like that, Yoongi began to distance himself from everybody as soon as Dasom, his ex girlfriend, started to have problems and her addiction became worse, mostly from Jimin.

Maybe Jimin had a list of reasons that made him want stop seeing Yoongi for good, reasons that chased Yoongi in his sleep every october when he knew Jimin’s birthday was approaching, but he knew that Jimin’s last straw was when Dasom was too drunk at a gathering full of his friends and began to make Jimin uncomfortable when she began to crack jokes about cancer. Dasom was always known for his “dark humor” and not being politically correct, but no one expected her to make those jokes when one of Jimin’s closest friends had passed away of that same disease not even a year ago. Jimin stormed out of the room, having Yoongi follow him to try and talk to him. Back then Yoongi thought Dasom was too overtaken by his addiction to even understand what she was saying, but Jimin knew she never liked the relationship he had with Yoongi, she was jealous she didn’t take all the attention from him, the same happened with his brother and family. Yoongi didn’t want to see it, he wasn’t trying to defend her but he asked him not to pay her attention. Jimin couldn’t do that, he was heartbroken, not hurt by Dasom but hurt by his friend’s words, he wished Yoongi would have stood up for him, said something since his words got stuck in his throat as he expected someone to say anything because he couldn’t utter a word. Yoongi regretted it every night, he will always remember how Jimin said that Dasom had always been horrible as a person, she always made those kinds of jokes and Yoongi just tried to ignore them because he loved her, this wasn’t nothing new of her. That was the last time they talked, even if Yoongi tried to call him, Jimin was determined not to see him ever again, too hurt to even think of talking to him again.

Still so stubborn, that wednesday night, after he vomited all his thoughts, he hoped for you to say that he should go to the show, and that he shouldn’t be uncomfortable around Jimin, he hoped to hear you saying that even if it was bad that he defended Dasom in that situation, Jimin should’ve understood that Yoongi was in a shitty place and couldn’t be in the middle of the two of them. Imagine how upset he was when you told him that you understood his position back then, but maybe he should consider calling Jimin before overthinking the whole situation and figure things out with him, he should at least try, maybe something good could come out of it.

Yoongi was not happy with that answer, he just wanted to hear you say something that just magically would make him feel okay, he was terrified of facing Jimin after so many years. The outcome was different, he went asleep upset and stopped texting after you left for work the next day.

You weren’t mad at him, he needed time to think, you knew that he just wanted someone to endorse his stubborn behavior of running away from his problems.

That night you ate alone, Nayeon was suspiciously out (not to party) for the fourth friday this month, so you were on your own. There were no texts from anybody on your phone, no missed calls, no instagram messages of cat videos, no invitations to a party, not even a mail from the school. Being a substitute teacher wasn’t so hard for now, you had taken the job of a teacher who had a maternity leave, but you supposed she was a workaholic since she sent you the full schedule for the rest of the school year, so that left you with almost no work for the weekend expect for the papers you had to grade.

Embracing your loneliness, you took out a pot of ice cream and put on a movie for the rest of the night.

You thought that a night without you wouldn’t kill Yoongi, but as your eyes started to close and the movie was coming to an end, the sound of your vibrating phone startled you from your sleep. It was past midnight when Yoongi called you.

“Hello?” You answered, your sleepy voice reaching the other line.

“Were you sleeping?” He asked, without even saying hi.

“No, I’m in a club and came to the bathroom to answer.” You teased him, you could almost see how he rolled his eyes.

“Ha-ha, so funny.” He said. “What were you doing?” His voice was soft, being careful knowing you hadn’t spoken since you left his house.

“Just watching a movie, about to sleep, actually.”

There was a few seconds of silence on his line, but then, he made the question he was planning to ask when he called. “Why didn't you come home today?”

“I have a home of my own, actually.” You said, not breaking character.

“You know what I mean.” He insisted.

“I just didn’t think you wanted me there today.” You were just saying that to talk about the topic, sometimes Yoongi believed he could get away from trouble without facing it first.

“Don’t be silly, I always want you here.”

You rolled in bed, looking at the window to check if it was raining yet, but it wasn’t, though the sky looked like it was about to.

“I don’t know about that.” You said in a high pitch. “I was getting another message when you stopped texting yesterday.”

Yoongi was still not ready to admit he got mad at you.

“I guess we’re from different generations, I’m not on my phone all the time like you.” He tried to defend himself.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You huffed. “We’re not from different generations when you ask for nudes in the middle of the night, aren’t we?”

You heard Yoongi almost choking, struggling to find words to fight you back on the other line.

“Fine.” He said, giving up “You’re right, I’m sorry for not texting. And I’m sorry for getting mad at you, I wasn’t ready to hear what you said, I just needed some time alone.”

You sighed, hearing how the rain began to hit against your window.

“It’s okay, I understand.” You told him “You can take your time, just don’t lock yourself alone in your room forever.”

Yoongi smiled as he laid on his bed, wishing you were there with him. “Can’t promise that.” He joked, making you laugh.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, the sound of the rain filling the room as you waited for the other one to say something else.

“What were you doing awake this late, grandpa?” You murmured, wrapping yourself in the blankets once again.

“I wanted to talk to you, to say sorry, tell you something.” He answered, making you curious.

“What you wanted to tell me?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about calling Jimin.” He said “I don’t know, I was not ready to consider that, not ready to get rejected by him.”

“Things can always be different.” You encouraged him.

“Well, yes. I know, but my mind works in strange ways.” He laughed, you sensed a bit of wavering in his voice “I made a decision today and I called him, just got off the phone with him.”

You gasped, startling him from the other side of the phone. “Really?” You almost yelled, the excitement leaking from your voice. “What did you say? What did he say?”

“Not as much as I would want to, I told Namjoon to get me his number and he did, I spent the whole day thinking of what should I say, imagining what he would tell me” He replied “He picked up, didn’t sound angry or mad, just surprised… I told him I regretted taking so long, he told me it was okay, we talked for about an hour without thinking about our fight, I actually talked him about you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I told him you were the one who pushed me to call him, and then decided to meet to… talk properly.” It took almost three years for Yoongi to make that call, and Jimin only seemed to be struck by nostalgia when he heard Yoongi’s voice, he hadn’t stopped thinking about his friend either. It was weird, it wasn’t like he wasn’t angry anymore, but both regretted how things ended. Yoongi didn’t know that, for some reason, he thought that for Jimin it was easier to forget about him.

“Oh, baby, I’m so happy for you.” You said in a high pitched voice. “Everything will work out fine, I know it because you deserve it.”

“I hope it works out too.” He murmured under his breath. “I just wanted to thank you, I guess you were right. You are always right, it’s annoying.”

“You should get used to it already.”

“Yeah, I suppose I should.” He said, you could almost hear him smile. “I’m still upset that you didn’t come home, we could still be mad at each other while cuddling.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that.” You laughed just by thinking of that situation “I’m having a pretty good time in my bed without your big feet taking up all the space.”

“That’s rude.” He sounded offended. “I’m sure you like my big feet.”

“Oh my god, gross, shut up.” You said, scrunching your nose.

“Whatever, I’m just saying… You should drop by.”

“Now?” You asked, “It already started to rain.”

“I’ll send an uber.” He offered.

“How romantic, I thought you were going to come pick me up.” You kept teasing him.

“The car is in the garage and I’m on my bed already, romanticism can wait until you get here.” He tried to convince you without much success.

“I don’t see why you should stay comfortable on your bed and I should go to you.”

“Because you love me, I don’t know.” He chuckled “C’mon, baby, I just want to sleep with you tonight, in my bed.”

He didn’t need to beg too much before you folded, it didn’t take much to convince you when he said he was going to pay the uber, so you put on a hoodie and your flip flops and waited for the uber at your doorstep.

“Were you just booty calling me?” You managed to get out, shifting in your place as you laid under him, grabbing his shoulders to gain some balance.

This was supposed to be a cold rainy night, you were supposed to get in Yoongi’s bed and cuddle before falling asleep. That was the usual routine of fridays, you visited him after work and took a nap before dinner was ready, you left parties and meetings with your friends for the weekends, friday nights were to rest. You began to believe that you spent too much time next to Yoongi the way you refused to leave the house after ten pm, especially during winter.

You knew him too well not to notice how the situation was getting sidetracked the more time you spent together in that bed. He hugged you and showered you with kisses as he apologized for not texting or calling once again, asking you about your day and talking about Jimin a little bit more before his kisses began to trail down your neck and his warm hands sneaked under your big shirt, pulling you closer to catch your lips between his teeth.

“Don’t say that.” He groaned, thrusting languidly inside you as his fingers dug into the skin of your hips, setting a slow pace “I just missed you.”

Shutting you up with a kiss, you knew it was one of those nights for Yoongi. You didn’t know if you finally managed to break him at times, but there were nights like these when he couldn’t help but show how maniacally in love he was. He got rid of your clothes and took all the time in the world just for you, burying his head in your neck, being patient and careful, sucking love bites on your chest, showering you in praises and sweet words, fucking you deep and slow as he tried to prolong the feeling of your walls dragging up and down his cock for as long as possible.

He loved to tease and play with you, but he discovered he also loved giving you what you wanted just how you wanted, hearing you purr in his ear and sigh in relief as he sank himself inside your pussy, running his hands all over you body and fucking you lazily enough for you not to know when your orgasm was about to hit.

Arching your back, you pressed your body against him to meet his hips with urgency. He had been drilling in and out of you for a hot minute now, you began to feel your body becoming hotter, or maybe it was just his body, burning on top of you as he rolled his hips against you, responding to your body in an attempt to drive you insane.

“My sweet girl.” He murmured, brushing his lips against your own “Made just for me, always fitting me so well.”

He stole a kiss from your swollen lips, opening your mouth to slip his tongue inside, sucking on your tongue until you forgot how to kiss him properly and moaning on his mouth.

You felt yourself getting tighter around him, you supposed that by now you were well adjusted to his body but every time you seemed to be wrong. You felt his skin brushing over your clit and his body getting heavier on top of you, your orgasm began to build so slowly that you almost didn’t notice it, “I think I’m close.” You cried, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

He nodded, kissing your forehead “I know, baby. I’m close too.” He breathed out, his hand reaching for one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with him. “Where do you want it?” He asked.

“Just… inside me, please.” You pleaded, too intoxicated to think of anything else. He already knew your answer, but your words made his cock throb inside you anyway, making you shut your eyes closed, overwhelmed as he pounded inside you, picking up a faster pace.

It didn’t go unnoticed to Yoongi how in love he felt that night, he was sure that your whines and the little sounds you made were going to chase him in his sleep for a whole week, echoing through his mind, making him wake up in the middle of the night feeling like his skins was on fire. His mind didn’t make fully sense that you were his, so he had to repeat it out loud to you all the time. “Mmm, do you want me to fill you up?” His voice sounded raspy, meaning that he was in the same position as you, he could barely handle the way you were clenching around him.

You nodded repeatedly, not willing to open your mouth in case your voice failed you, but Yongi got drunk with the expression on your face, your mouth hanging open as you moaned, your hooded eyes fighting to see him clearly and your swollen lips just begging to be bit. You squeezed his hand, letting him know you were just a second to come undone, “Baby I’m- Shit, shit, shit.” Your words were cut by the feeling of shock waves of pleasure washing all over your body, sobbing his name as he helped you ride your climax, pounding in and out of your cunt as your whole body shivered.

“You did so well, baby.” He hissed, thrusting for the last time, urging to reach his own climax “Such a good girl.”

Just the sound of you sobbing his name was enough for him to finally snap, spilling himself inside you as he groaned your name, pounding inside you for the last time before he carefully removed himself from you, crumbling on top of you.

Yoongi looked at you, with eyes full of love, about to fall asleep. “You’re so cute.” He murmured, leaving a small kiss on your shoulder “And this wasn’t a booty call.” He cared to clarify once again. You ran your fingers through his hair, laughing. “Sometimes things turn out like this.”

“Yeah, I know, I was just teasing you.” You guaranteed him, kissing the tip of his nose.

“This is not fair, anyway.” He complained “If I want to see you in the middle of the night you have to take an uber to see me, it’s not fair.”

“I live only twenty minutes away, Yoongi.” You reminded him, but he didn’t like that answer, he rolled his eyes.

“I want you to live zero seconds away.” You heard him mumble against your neck “I don’t like this anymore.”

“What is that you don’t like?” You inquired, pulling away to see him properly.

“That you spend more time with Nayeon than with me.” He explained, making you giggle.

“Well, but someone has to pay the other half of the rent.” You said.

He huffed, grazing your fingers over your face “Mmm, I don’t care about that. I just don’t like you being away for so long.”

“For so long?” You repeated, laughing at him “Three days is that long?”

Of course it was, you knew it.

“Three days is eternity, baby.” He groaned, closing his eyes shut “I want to come home to you, don’t you?”

You tried to ignore your heart hammering against your ribcage, “I miss you all the time when you’re not with me,” You confessed, a smirk tugged from the corner of his lips, he looked at you for a second and then scoffed.

“You’re so cheesy.” He blurted out. You wasted no time in punching his arm, making him groan.

“And you’re so mean.” You complained “Don’t you miss me all the time as well?”

As much as Yoongi liked to tease you, you were right. “Yes, I do, I miss you all the time.” He admitted “I miss you right now knowing you will leave me tomorrow.”

“At least I can promise that I’ll text you.” You kept teasing him, but he was very persistent about his argument, he didn’t want to hear any of that.

“No, I don’t want you texting me.” He murmured, pulling you by your waist to press you to his bare torso. “Move in with me, baby.”

Yoongi watched your eyes widen in surprise, not knowing if he was serious.

“You want me to live with you here?” You asked, just in case.

“Yeah, this is basically your home too.”

“But what if you get sick of me?” You tried to argue, half joking, half being honest “What if you don’t like how I make the bed and how I fold my clothes?”

Yoongi squinted his eyes, wondering if that was a real concern of yours “I think we can figure that out along the way.”

You didn’t miss the feeling on your stomach when you thought about living here with him. You had been sharing lives for quite some time now, when he wasn’t at your apartment you were here, when you weren’t sleeping on his bed, he was sleeping in yours, but the routine of everyday was different, Nayeon was always around and you couldn’t act like the apartment was all yours. On the other hand, you could wander around freely at Yoongi’s apartment, you could wake up in your underwear and walk around the house as you prepared breakfast without problem, could dance in the kitchen without fearing that someone would catch you and hang out in the living room for as long as you wanted. But apart from that, waking up next to Yoongi every morning sounded really nice, he felt more like home than anybody else.

“Okay, deal.” You said “But I think I will miss sleeping with you in my bed.”

Yoongi snorts, mocking you. “Yeah, sure. Good thing I won’t.”

It was sad for you to see your bed go when someone who wanted to buy it on Facebook Marketplace came to pick it up by the end of the month, but it only meant a new start. You didn’t have many things, most of the furniture in the apartment belonged to Nayeon, including the couch where you had sex with Yoongi multiple times, poor her, she didn’t need to know how many times it happened.

But anyway, after that, there were many things to be excited about, at first it was your promotion as a titular teacher, there was family and friends and Holly, there was shared bottles of wine and summer nights, music and books, movies and food, there was holding hands during long walks in winter and calling in sick when it’s raining, and at the end of the day, there was always him.

Yoongi had wandered the world feeling like he was different for so many years, he resented the people that passed by on the street, thinking they had any kind of blame that he couldn’t stand living in his own skin, with a frown on his face, a hot black coffee without sugar on his hand and a bad attitude on the mornings, he believed himself to be disconnected from this world. Yoongi didn’t like his birthday, hated taking the bus, hated taxis, hated rainy and sunny days, hated flowers, they were for the death. He waited all year to get on stage and forget about all the people that he had hurt and all the people that hurt him, almost feeling like his life was slipping through his fingers. It was embarrassing to even admit that that only changed when he fell in love with you.

Love? He didn’t know a proper definition for that word, he just know he liked his birthday if you were going to be there, took the bus or a taxi if you were going to make him company, he liked rainy days if he was going to be cuddled in his bed with you, and sunny days didn’t seem so bad if you were beside him when he took Holly for a walk. He even started to like flowers when you bought a tulip for him on the first day of spring.

He wasn’t so different from everybody else, but maybe you were the different one, putting a smile on every situation and being optimistic, adoring your job, loving sugar, laughing at everyone’s jokes, even if they were bad. You had an efficiency to escape from the bureaucracy of school, work, society, life, how come he hadn't met you before?

He spent months trying to run away from you only to find out that he encountered you in every corner of his mind, in every corner of his bed, in every corner of his life. He was a fool if he thought he was the one keeping you, you were the one who decided to keep him.

Well, as you went on kissing him goodbye every morning, sharing baths with him after a long day, buying him tulips on spring days, Yoongi thought that as long as you were there, he should be okay.

taglist: @rvelvett @kimseokjinbangtan @minmin2022 @minvlush @bids97 @cowboylikevicky @jiimtaee @jjkmspace @localmoonchild @youre-on-your-ownkid @tarahardcore @kookstempo @yoongimentita7 @jwlmnbt @almosttoopizza @floriiansgrave @damn-u-min-yoongi @starbtslove @pelicanpizza @deliciouslydisturbed365 @g0lden-sunset @side-effectss @iwishselena @rosquilleta @funsizemarsbar92 @cosmiclatte-world @miss-jupiter @linosluna @staradorned @bxcndd

#yoongi x reader #fic: so it goes #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x reader #bts au #bts x reader #bts masterlist #yoongi x oc

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rues-daya · 2 years

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yourinstagram

liked by josephquinn , maikamonroe and 778,009 others

yourinstagram: giving rich mom vibes ;)

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y/nfan00 you finally back??

y/nfan98 y/n posting on Instagram? everybody stay calm!

y/nfan88 don’t you dare leave us again by posting a photo than never posting again like you did six months ago… it was very quiet without you on this app 😭

yourinstagram sorry!!! social media and I have a very complicated relationship. right now we are on good terms lmao

maikamonroe damn!! date me instead 💋

yourinstagram bet!! let’s ditch the joes ;)

jospehfan21 Y/N YOU ONE LUCKY WOMAN!

josephfan00 I need to know her thoughts on the ending of season four like asap

yourinstagram I cried… like a lot! wouldn’t let my boy go all day! 😭

* like by josephquinn

sadiesink_ cutie 🥰

yourinstagram angel 🥺

y/nfan998 that’s my mother y’all

stfan12 am I the only one who just found out that she’s dating Joseph Quinn?

josephfan10 not really, I know they’ve been dating for almost two years but they are also very private when it comes to their relationship

josephquinn 😍♥️

y/nfan09 I have to know if Joseph typed this out or if whoever is running his account did for him 😭

josephquinn

liked by yourinstagram , gatenm123 and 1,987,999 others

josephquinn: behind the scenes from volume two featuring Gaten.

tagged: gatenm123

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gatenm123 what a good day…. kinda just minus filming that scene

strangerthingstv Dustin and Eddie, our hellfire members

josephfan98 if you know you know

netflix our fav duo

y/nfan87 still not over Eddie being gone

maya_hawke the calm before the storm

y/nfan23 duffer brothers you two better figure out a way to bring Eddie back

josephfan00 bring Eddie back challenge

stfan987 my comfort characters

josephfan12 in an alternative universe Eddie survived

* liked by yourinstragram

yourinstagram herby stating that I have a crush on Eddie Munson

josephfan200 don’t we all! plus ms.girl you are winning, you are legit dating him

yourinstagram also miss you please come home 🥺

y/nfan987 wait stop this is so cute! i forgot joseph is still doing some press for stranger things 😭

yourinstagram

liked by maya_hawke , madelyncline and 802,340 others

yourinstagram: i missed you. welcome home 🥹🤍

tagged: josephquinn

view all 4,009 comments

y/nfan009 MY ACTUAL PARENTS

josephfan123 everyone say thank you y/n for giving us more content ☺️

madelame you two are just the definition of cuties

stfans92 a cutie right before my eyes

gatenm123 disgustingly adorable

y/nfan76 she’s reunited with the love of her life 🥹

* liked by yourinstagram

nattyiceoffcial adorable <33

maikamonroe you two >>> anyone else

y/nfan65 Joseph you one lucky guy

josephfan04 these two are the definition of couple goals… well in my eyes they are

bowerjamie oh hey handsome, long time no see

y/nfan54 she’s never been this happy before so seeing her happy with Joseph makes me smile

josephquinn missed you more than you could ever imagine 🤍

bowerjamie it’s true y/n , he really did

yourinstagram 🥹🥹🥹

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gyunglitter · 7 months

Text

➷ 01 ➷

-“oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn’t real -– cupid is so dumb”

unlike you, your brother’s best friend just doesn’t know when to quit

word count: 1,766

warnings: probably just the reader making you cringe lol, give her a break--she's 11 lmao

tags: brother’s-best-friend!beomgyu x reader, ??? to ???, angst, fluff(??), beomgyu is the cool boy-next-door, reader is an independent girlboss (or trying to be, at least), beomgyu’s gonna be GROVELING, simp!gyu, pathetic pining from both sides lol, maybe some cringe from reader (she was a teenage girl in love, have some empathy plz😭)

notes: LMAO SORRY TO POST KINDA LATE, I FORGOT I PROMISED TODAY HAHAHAHA

another short chapter, but i promise the next couple of chapters are a lot longer! enjoy mini reader, beomgyu, and soobin tho :)

–> masterlist <–

Ten Years Ago

If there was one thing your family agreed on, it was that Soobin was the shyest person around.

You and Soobin were very close, having a lot of the same interests and mannerisms. You didn’t disagree on many things (yet), but there were only a handful of differences between you two. You were eleven years old, making your older brother thirteen, and about to go into his final year of middle school. But the main thing that had set you both apart was that while you had many friends, Soobin had absolutely no one. He was a very sweet and funny kid, but he was too shy for his own good, unintentionally pushing the majority of the people his age away.

You had hoped your brother would make some friends during his seventh year, but had little to no luck; apparently, the Bunny Girl Senpai Fanclub wasn’t taking many applicants and the Pokemon Card Collectors Club was a bunch of gatekeepers. Middle school boys.

“What if I just faked being sick?”

Soobin held his head in his hands as he was waiting for his pop tarts in the toaster. You sat on the counter across from him, shoving down a bowl of Frosted Flakes. You didn’t have to leave for another hour when your mom would drive you to the primary school a few blocks away. Soobin, on the other hand, was supposed to set off for his first day of eighth grade soon, but was stalling as much as he could before he had to start walking over.

You snorted, “For the whole year? Fat chance of that happening, you’re the worst liar.”

Your brother lifted his head and glared at you, before sighing loudly and crying, “I hate school, it’s filled with people who are scary and take your rare Charizard card!”

You opened your mouth to reply, but were interrupted by your house’s doorbell ringing. You looked towards the front door and turned back to Soobin expectantly. But your brother wasn’t paying any attention. To your (un)amusement, he was still sulking about, well, just about everything. Like you said, middle school boys.

Shaking your head, you hopped off of the counter (carefully, as your dad had shown you) and walked over to the front door.You figured it was one of your neighbors or the mailman. You usually weren’t allowed to open the door yourself, but that completely escaped your mind when you opened the door and were faced with an unfamiliar boy.

A cute, unfamiliar boy.

You mentally thanked your mom for braiding your hair in two with your favorite butterfly clips now.

“Hi,” you said, a small grin taking over your face. “I’m Y/n!”

The boy looked at you and smiled back. “Hey, Y/n, your mom or dad home?”

You nodded your head. “They are, but they’re running around getting ready. I can definitely help you though!” What can you say, you were a confident kid.

“I don’t know, you might be a bit too little,” he teased you, making you scoff.

“Little? I’ll have you know, I can deal with anything, even crazy!”

He laughed a little at that and then said, “Of course! I’m sure you’re super responsible at the age of..?”

“Eleven,” you bragged, tucking a stray hair back into one of your butterfly clips.

The boy nodded in deep understanding and said, “Well, little Y/n, I’m Beomgyu. I just moved here and my mom told me you guys had someone my age here too! I figured we could walk to school together,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

Your eyes widened at that, a warm feeling taking over your stomach.

The boy was cute, duh. But his easy offer of friendship, something your brother had struggled to find, made you know that this Beomgyu had a kindness to him that not many his age did–according to Soobin.

Your grin widened at the boy in front of you, nodding your head eagerly. “Just give me a sec,” you squealed, excited for your brother. “OPPA! YOU’RE FINALLY GONNA MAKE A FRIEND!”

Years later, you look back and remember the loud laugh Beomgyu had let out at your call, his excitement outweighing the awkwardness Soobin exhibited when he appeared at your doorway with a pop tart hanging from his mouth.

You look back and remember Beomgyu easily befriending Soobin with his wide smiles, animated hand gestures, and cool stories about his new pet bird. The way he eased your brother’s nerves and got him laughing, already offering to share the other pop tart in his pack.

You look back and cringe sometimes at the confidence those lame butterfly clips gave you. But you take it back when you would remember Beomgyu, with an arm around Soobin’s shoulder, had turned around while the two boys were about to take off for school, saying in a singsong tone, “Nice to meet you, little Y/n, love the butterfly clips, by the way!”

But most of all, you remember the way your cheeks flushed. The way he made you feel like you were cute too. Like you were special. You remember how that was the first of many times he would fluster you with his compliments.

You were only eleven, but at that moment you would look back and remember how this is where you became a fool–a fool for love.

“You look really good,” he whispered to you.

It took everything in you to not show how much he affected you. Unlike the many instances before though, you actually succeeded this time around. Your focused gaze on your brother and father’s random discussion about his anime watching habits kept your eyes from widening, and your well placed makeup did a good job of hiding the flush that desperately wanted to highlight your neck and cheeks. It bothered you very much how Choi Beomgyu could still get under your skin.

“Thanks,” you replied shortly, not letting your eyes leave their spot on Soobin.

–Your brother was whining about how there was no harm in watching anime when he already got his work done for the day–

Despite your subtle avoidance of him, you knew it wasn’t reciprocated by the way his breaths brushed against your ear. The way his eyes were on you, you could feel them as if they were burning you. It felt like he was truly drinking you in after so many years of not getting a single glimpse of you. But that was all you would allow him.

“I, uh, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” he continued, trying to catch your attention.

You hummed disinterestedly.

–Your father had taken to pointing out Soobin’s body pillows, to which he groaned loudly, claiming that was actually Beomgyu’s gag gift to make him look sus–

But Beomgyu was not deterred.

“Congrats on, well, everything from the past four years! I know college can be pretty crazy!”

You winced a little at that, remembering how your mom told you Beomgyu had actually dropped out of college about three months after you left for school. Despite Beomgyu doing amazing in school when you were still around–there was talk of him possibly graduating at the top of your class–he practically tanked his classes the following fall semester.

“But of course, if there was anyone who could deal with crazy, it would be our little Y/n, huh,” he laughed a little–that same damn laugh he had when you first met. “I mean, you are pretty amazing—”

You weren’t sure what he had gotten up to after you left, but you weren’t interested in hearing anything. Not about him, his future, and definitely not about how amazing he thought you were.

“Wow dad, this shrimp tastes great!” You shouted your false gratitude, successfully interrupting Beomgyu and the argument between your brother and father.

All the chatter stopped for a second, before your dad grinned at you. “Thanks, bean, make sure to grab some more then! You’re looking too skinny, anyways, are you sure you ate enough out there,” he asked, wiping his hands on the front of his apron.

You laughed and nodded, both at your dad’s question and Soobin's grateful stare for changing the topic. Eventually, your mother started another conversation about how Soobin’s friends from school were doing.

“I thought you didn’t like seafood,” Beomgyu muttered to you when he got the chance.

For the first time that evening, you looked back at him.

You realized, with a painful squeeze in your chest, that Beomgyu had grown past the stage of cuteness that you had adored when you were younger, and in your absence, became beautiful. Sure, his puppy dog eyes stayed the same, holding that familiar kindness and curiosity as before. But now, his face lost its round edges and became chiseled, looking as if his features were carved by Aphrodite, herself. His hair was dyed brown and had grown out a little into what was beginning to look like a mullet, giving off a boyish look that his typically mischievous expressions matched easily. Not only that, but he looked like he’d really grown into himself, physically and mentally. Granted, he wasn’t in the best place when you had left four years ago, but the way he carried himself was refreshing. Attractive. Him.

“I didn’t, but I do now.” You took another bite of the shrimp on your plate. “I mean, it’s been a long four years. The things I liked before changed quite a bit while I was gone. ”

You watched Beomgyu’s face fall a bit at that, his puppy dog eyes becoming downcast as he looked towards his own plate of chicken. There wasn’t much on his plate to begin with, but it seemed he wasn’t going to be eating any more after that.

“Yeah, I guess they would after so long,” Beomgyu whispered, pushing his food around with his chopsticks.

You turned back to your own food to try and get your mind off of him, but he stopped you with his next words.

“If it changes anything, so have mine.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your eyes from widening. You turned towards Beomgyu, to see him looking at you with what you could only assume was guilt.

“I just wish they had done so earlier.”

–> next <–

#tomorrow x tomorrow #txt #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu angst #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #hueningkai #kang taehyun #stupid cupid

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wizard-finix · 2 months

Text

Ao3 tag game!

THANKS @ragecndybars FOR THE TAG I APPRECIATE IT

*cracks knuckles* lets do this

How many works do you have on AO3?

24 works! I would have never expected to have that many 5 years ago, hahaha

What's your total AO3 word count?

186,291! oh wow, almost 200k!! (unsurprisingly PT minato takes up over a third of that LMAO)

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

10 fandoms! I'm counting Persona 3, 4, and 5 and separate, but I'm grouping all the Zelda fandoms together since it's all Linked Universe fic.

Here's the breakdown!

The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms (6)

Persona 5 (5)

Persona 3 (5)

SPY x FAMILY (Anime) (3)

Wizard101 (Video Game) (3)

SPY x FAMILY (Manga) (3)

Runescape (Video Games) (3)

Pirate101 (Video Game) (3)

Persona 4 (2)

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom (2)

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga (1)

Star Wars - All Media Types (1)

The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors (1)

Top five fics by kudos:

The Ghost of Mementos/Stygian Ringlet (Persona3/5) - to the surprise of absolutely no one, since this is currently my longest fic. I'm very happy with Stygian Ringlet being the top because I love my boys :)

True Crime Special on the Midnight Channel (Persona 4/5) - my Ren has a TV Dungeon fic! also very proud of the dungeon concept for this one, I really need to finish the last two chapters

Dark Clouds on the Horizon (Linked Universe/TOTK) - I feel like this one got a lot of momentum partially because it was directly in the wake of TOTK's release, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)

Strangers Are Just Friends You Haven't Met (Persona 3/SPY x FAMILY) - this was a collab series with mewrose and a few others in the marigolds discord! we were throwing ideas at the wall to see what stuck and I really had a lot of fun with Shinjiro-related prompts, because I LOVE him and hitting him with the isekai baseball bat into a universe with Anya brings me great joy

Salt Tears and Raindrops (Linked Universe/TOTK) - directly related to Dark Clouds, and I'm glad people enjoyed good ol' fashioned angst >:) (I do need to post more of my wips, I do have a couple more roleswap AU wips that I want to post)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I almost always do because I really appreciate them and its my way of saying thanks for the comment! If I don't comment it's because I lost track of it or because I can't think of a response.

What's the fic with the angstiest ending you've ever written?

Probably Salt Tears and Raindrops. I was in a Mood and decided to go for the tried-and-true method of putting fictional characters I like through the emotional wringer. That's how I got the rough draft for this fic :)

Do you write crossovers?

*looks at my persona fics and recent LU fics*

...I think it's safe to say most of my fics these days fall under crossovers lmao

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

I wouldn't say I have? One or two comments that came off as rude, but no actual hate, thankfully. If I did, I forgot about it. I've been blessed by wonderfully nice readers <3

Do you write smut?

Nope. I don't read it, so I wouldn't know how to write it anyway.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of? I sure hope not.

I have seen a couple short fics slightly imitate Ghost of Mementos though, which I thought was really sweet that they liked it enough to inspire their own writing.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I'd definitely be open to it!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

RYOMINA. Hands down. I love them so much, I am so mentally unwell about these two

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

My two Runescape fics, Whispers in the Temple and Welcome to the Jungle. I absolutely loved going hogwild with rewriting old quests in Runescape, but I psyched myself out of Welcome to the Jungle because I got overly anxious about accidentally doing bad representation.

(in hindsight, it probably wouldn't have been as big a deal as I thought; it's hard to make it worse considering how bad Legend's Quest was with the british-african stereotypes. that quest DID NOT age well.)

I also want to finish Snake in the Grass; that was my first attempt at a genuine mystery plot and I really liked playing with Warriors in that fic in the context of the gang trying to figure out who the heck is trying to murder him.

What are your writing strengths?

I feel like I'm pretty good at dialogue! I try to make sure it matches the character's speech patterns and personality. Really well-written dialogue can tell you who's speaking without actually telling who it is. (For example, the way I write them: Minato speaks as few words as possible and has very little filter with his observations when he does share them, and Shinjiro is pretty rough around the edges, with shortened words and the occasional swear. Warriors is good with words and wit, but he has a certain military-esque directness and doesn't dance around the topic.)

I do try hard to keep the plot clear and understandable over everything else, so probably that as well.

Also, now that I think about it, maybe fight sequences? I don't do them much, but I do enjoy the challenge of making a clear sequence of what happens in a fight and trying to make it understandable. Fight sequences are easy to skip or gloss over, but I think of them like their own miniature plot. What happens? What surprises are there? What are their movesets? How do they get the upper hand? (and of course, what looks cool as fuck)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Time management. I tend to over-proofread since I beta my own work, and often I'll go back to tweak stuff if I had additional thoughts to add to it, or extra insight. Lately, it takes longer to write chapters than I'd like.

Also, dialogue-heavy scenes often get very chaotic in my WIPs because of the way I rough out fics. I'll throw together a bunch of dialogue bits I think would be cool to include, and sometimes they'll clash or get really messy, especially if there's lots of characters (looking at the latest two chapters of Stygian Ringlet)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I think it's cool! It adds flavor to fics. If it's more than one short phrase though, or if it's story important, then I do prefer that there is a translation in the author's notes. I haven't done any non-English dialogue in fics, save for one memorable adventure into trying to figure out how Latin grammar structure works for a character that didn't speak English.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Wizard101 and Pirate101. I was obsessed with those two for YEARS. I really, really liked pirate stories in high school, and having a cast of crewmates that accompany you throughout the game really inspired me to write my first fic featuring my OC. (I was also into One Piece at the time, but I never wrote for it.)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

Stygian Ringlet. It's really dear to my heart. I have poured so much love and effort into that fic, and the reception on it has completely blown me away.

THANKS FOR THE TAG!! Uhhhmmm for tags I'm going to go with @skyward-floored, @catreginae and @breannasfluff (but only if you want to!! no obligation of course)

and of course any other writers that want to do it as well!! go forth

#cici speaks #tagged #tag game #my god this is long if you read this I salute and respect you

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dduane · 1 year

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So I work as a page at a library and for the last 5 years I've been on the lookout for this series I never finished as a kid. I couldn't remember the author, I couldn't remember the title, not even the character names. Just a few of the events and the general vibe. (I was 12 and Accelerated Reader was a program that rewarded me handsomely for reading, not remembering what it was that I read 20 years later).

ANYWAY about a week ago I was looking through some donations we'd received and found an old favorite from Patricia C. Wrede, the Enchanted Forest Chronicles. I pulled them out to look through them fondly, and underneath them was So You Want to Be a Wizard?

~*CORE MEMORY UNLOCKED*~

So much came back to me just then. I knew your name from here, and bc I work in a library and I know a lot of authors names that I haven't read, but I had completely forgotten that I had actually read some of your work before!

I need to find this series and finally finish it (preferably used, I'm poor as dirt lmao).

I just wanted to let you know you wrote one of my favorite books I ever forgot but desperately wanted to remember.

I want to thank you for that. I'm delighted you remembered the books! :) (And tracked their source to her lair.)

...This is one of the strange side issues of being caught between the Time Before A Cultural Shift and the Time After. When I got started, it was relatively rare for MG sf/fantasy books to be recognized (let alone publicized) as series, no matter HOW clearly they were just that. Only after 1997 or so did such branding start to become a thing. ...I mentioned to somebody the other day that it wasn't until the digest editions of the Young Wizards books came out that they were clearly labeled as such -- i.e., part of a series -- on their front covers. And (vaguely to my astonishment) even then the hardcovers weren't so labeled.

(shrug) ...Marketing. What can I say. (And this is why I keep tagging posts like this with my name, and the book name, and the series name; because other people may be assisted. Who knows?...) :)

...Yet there's also this. I'm not sure it's entirely a terrible thing for one's writing to vanish into the depths of people's lives and minds. Because... assuming that the content is sound... one can do good work there. And then later, when you're tracked to your lair and people start saying OMG THIS!111!!, there's a peculiar satisfaction to it: a suggestion that you've been (re)weighed in the scales of that person's here-and-now, and found worthy.

I can cope with that. :) Thanks.

#Young Wizards #So You Want To Be A Wizard #Diane Duane

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sunshineyoujustwait · 9 months

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seventeen million years late to this, as usual, but now that I have five minutes to spare- better late than never!

Tag Game:

tagged by the wonderful, talented and gorgeous @cupidskissx ily and apologies this took 5 business days to respond to

rule(s): post a snippet (however long or short or longish or shortish) from a wip !!

this is a longer snippet from a work I started ages ago and completely forgot about, I may return to it now that I remembered it exists lmao

“Do you ever wonder, like, is there supposed to be something more than this?”

Charles rolls his eyes, glancing over to where Max is laid out on his balcony, beer dangling precariously from one hand. “Max, it’s the new year, not the end of the world.” Max huffs at him, takes another sip of his beer. “That’s not what I mean, it’s just- what’s next, you know?” Charles glances longingly at the glass double doors leading back into the apartment, wonders if Max would notice if he just dipped from this entire conversation. Lando and Carlos are playing beer pong, and it’s suddenly looking very appealing. He sighs, turning back to the blonde beside him. “What’s next for you is probably more race wins, maybe a third championship.” Charles tries not to sound bitter, he’s not sure how successful he is. “Sorry,” Max winces a little. “I know you should probably hate me right now.” I’m trying to, Charles thinks, but I can’t. It’s an unfair thought really, none of this is Max’s fault. There’s plenty of blame to go around for the mess that was last season and Max doesn’t deserve any of it. Still, it feels like it would be easier to hate him, if that was something he was capable of doing. Max rolls over onto his stomach, narrowly avoiding falling off the hammock he’s curled himself into. “Winning is great and all, and I love racing, but it just feels a little hollow or something, lately. We fly across the world, we race, we come home, rinse and repeat, same thing every week.” Charles glances at Max where he’s sprawled out across the hammock. He looks fine, a little drunk maybe, but not like someone on the verge of an existential crisis. His hair is flopping into his eyes and Charles’ hands twitch with a sudden desire to run his fingers through the errant strands. It’s not a new feeling, exactly, it’s just that sometimes when he looks at Max under the lights like this, soft and relaxed, it makes his breath catch in his throat and his stomach whirl with an as of yet unnamed feeling. Other times, he just wants to strangle him. “Must be nice,” he mutters, “getting sick of winning.” Max groans. “Fuck off, you know that's not what I meant. It's just that, it feels like there should be something more, you know? Someone to share it all with, lights on when you come home, that sort of thing.” Charles doesn't know, not really, but he supposes it makes sense in a way. You achieve one dream - world champion, check (twice) - then you start seeking out the next. In Max's case that seems to be some sort of cosy picket fence. Like Maslow's hierarchy of needs, but for millionaires who drive fast cars for a living. He's still stuck on the previous step of the pyramid though, so he's not feeling entirely charitable about it right now. “Then date, find someone, it's not that complicated.” It comes out harsher than intended, but Charles is feeling a little lost at the direction of this conversation, and the image of Max settling down is rattling around in his brain for some reason, ugly and discordant. Max is quiet for a moment, and Charles kind of maybe feels like a bit of an asshole. “Tried that,” he says finally. “It didn’t exactly work out.” Charles definitely feels like an asshole then, winces at the words because, yeah, he did. There’d been a ring and everything, it had been a bit messy. “Sorry,” he tries, but Max waves him off, shrugging. "Do you not get lonely?" "I date." Max snorts at that, which- rude. “I have racing. I like racing. I'm not-” he gestures vaguely at Max's sprawled form- “losing it because I don’t have someone waiting for me when I come home. I’m happy.” “Yeah well, I guess it just doesn’t feel the same anymore.” “What doesn’t?” “Racing.” That catches Charles’ attention, sets the alarm bells ringing in his admittedly alcohol muddled mind. There are few constants in his life but Max and racing are two of them.

Everyone has probably been tagged by now as I'm so late but if you see this and you haven't then plz, this is your invite!! Share all the snippets !!!

#this is so chaotic apologies #but so is life #my writing #tag game #lestappen #lestappen snippet #charles leclerc #max verstappen

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xiaonesis · 1 year

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Soft Serve 13 // Flavor 1

Flavor 1: Rainbow Sherbet (Suna x Reader)

Tags: Romance, Fluff, Awkward Romance, Summer Romance, Growing & Learning, Miscommunication

A/N: I started writing this more than half a year ago and decided to pick it back up and finish it but I forgot where I was going with it. I initially wanted to write something more light and introspective, on the pains of growing up and the awkwardness and inability to communicate many of us have, as this fic is partly based off real life experiences, and thus it is a slightly personal fic to me as I reflected on my own past, experiences, and regrets, and hopefully, growth. Then, I had a breakdown and lost the plot lmao. Anyways, have this melting cone of chaos and idk's.

(This fic is cross-posted to my AO3)

Suna Rintarou doesn’t believe in love at first sight.

He thinks that people who fall head over heels for someone at first glance are fools. Love is something that is grown into, to be slowly nurtured with time and dedication. To his logic-based brain, the entire idea of smashing head first into love at a glance is ludicrous, like a bad car crash where you never see it coming until it's too late. And that doesn’t sound very pleasant, does it?

But you know what else they say about love at first sight?

That everyone becomes a believer when it happens to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suna first meets you in his hometown of Aichi in the summer of his fifteenth year.

He is there for summer break, helping out at his uncle’s ice-cream shop a stone’s throw away from the nearest beach. He didn’t want to be but his parents had insisted, claiming that it would be good for him to spend time with his grandmother and uncle.

Had he been given the choice, he would be spending his break lazing at home playing video games instead of being dressed in this ridiculous pink and yellow striped ice-cream boy cap and uniform, scooping out cones of ‘Soft Serves With A Smile.’ He’d rather be slamming hard serves into the twins that made it onto the same volleyball team as him.

AC doesn’t even exist in the shop as a silver lining. There are only three fans on maximum power, twisting and churning air as they swivel. With the unbearable heat amplifying his discomfort, days at his seaside hometown pass slowly, thick and syrupy from dawn to dusk.

It doesn’t feel like summer at all.

That all changed the day the shop bell chimed and you walked in.

“Welcome to Soft Serve 13–”

People often say that love at first sight is similar to a lightning strike, fast and purple hot. But there was no purple summer lightning electrifying him, no volcanic eruption setting his heart on fire for Suna.

There is only a great void, white and silent, that descended upon his mind unforeseen; a tsunami that crashes down his frozen body, washing away all sensible thought and bodily functions before leaving him stranded on unknown, pristine shores.

For the next twenty seconds that stretches like a lifetime as he is caught in his first glance of you, Suna is suspended in that void. White sand in his ears, and his eyes sees nothing and everything simultaneously in an ivory world.

(It feels exactly like the moments before a car crash where life flashes by in a white blind)

Suddenly, his hand is freezing hot and Suna is dragged from that sandy void.

“Shit–”

Dulcet chocolate covers his hand, trickling from the melted cone he was supposed to hand to the perturbed, waiting customer in front of him. Uttering a quick string of apologies, Suna sets about serving a fresh cone whilst enduring your barrage of giggles as you wait next in line, his face hotter than summer itself.

The door chimes again, and he is left alone with you in this tiny, humid shop with fans blowing revoltingly loud and you’re still grinning teasingly – blinding – at him. He pulls his stupid pink and yellow cap down over his eyes.

“If mine melts, can I get a free scoop?”

‘No,’ his mind says but his mouth fires off a “Yes.”

He didn’t think it was possible for your smile to grow any wider. Windchimes jingle in the timbre of your pleased laughter, not expecting his answer. “Guess I’ll have to make sure to distract you long enough for it to melt,” you chirp, browsing the display with an impish smirk.

Suna knows right away he wouldn’t mind getting ice-cream all over his hand again if it means you’ll stick around longer.

By the Gods , was he always this much of a chump?

He’s not a casanova (that’s Atsumu’s shtick), but Suna never gets nervous around the opposite sex, and he likes to think he can pull in girls if he wants to. However, between school, games, and volleyball, there was no space for romance in his life yet Suna finds himself pulling and fanning at his collar as he tries to maintain eye contact with you. He’s strangely nervous and it shows in the way he continuously drums his fingers on glass.

Suna never talks to customers beyond what is necessary but he continuously finds ways and topics to keep you around. Usually, he works fast to have all his customers served so that he may return to his phone. Yet, thirty minutes has passed since you entered the store and you’re still standing without a cone in your hand and he’s leaning across the glass, handing you your thirteenth free taste.

In that period, he’s found out that you’re visiting the area with your mother for two weeks, that you’re his age, and attend school in Tokyo. And he’s shared that he’s originally from Aichi but goes to school in Hyogo, is working here for the summer, and this is his uncle’s shop. Favorite music, recommended sights and places, food, hobbies, and a slew of other random tidbits about each other were also mutually exchanged in between.

(He wonders if he can entice you to stay with the other flavors available.)

Another ten minutes later and you finally settle on a flavor, but Suna knows by that curl in your lips that’s been there since twenty-five minutes ago that you already knew what you wanted the moment you stepped foot into the shop.

“I’ll have Rainbow Sherbet.”

He makes a face. “I’m judging you.”

“It’s a good flavor!”

“It’s sour–”

“And sweet.”

“–and leaves this tart, prickly taste in your mouth. It’s terrible.”

“No it isn’t! Here, try some!” You bring a small spoonful to him.

“No–” he swats your hand, “I know what Rainbow Sherbet tastes like. I work here.”

You press against the glass– he’s going to have to clean it of your grubby hand prints later – but he doesn’t mind it one bit when he sees you straining over the display in an attempt to reach him. Honestly, if his uncle saw him now, he’d get an earful for ‘messing and flirting’ with a customer but Suna is unable to stop himself from gravitating towards your hand and the spoon pinched precariously between your fingers.

“Just try it!” you insist.

Suna frowns at your persistence, adjusting his cap with one hand as if he’s about to tell you off. But he tips it up instead, so that he has a clear view of you when he grabs your wrist and leans in to close his mouth around your spoon. His cheeks hollow and Suna sucks the sweet ice with an obnoxious slurp that has him smirking around the spoon and you, gaping.

Zesty lime and sour raspberry goes off like fireworks on the roof of his mouth before melting with a trail of fragrant pineapple on his tongue.

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to do that, thinking that he would at least take the spoon from you first.

To be honest, Suna didn’t expect himself to do that either, especially not with the rapid pace of his heart. It’s worth it though, to see the obvious flush racing up your neck to fill your cheeks. It matches what is on his but he tells himself it’s the heat.

He releases the spoon with a pop but keeps his grip on your wrist. He can’t stop grinning but forces an impudent gag through the stretch of his cheeks.

“Yuck.”

He lets you go, fingers sliding soft on the back of your hand.

The spoon is brandished at him. “You liked it. Don’t lie. I also demand a free scoop.”

“But it didn’t melt?”

You stick your hand out and sure enough, there’s a trail of sticky green and orange running down your arm.

“You took too long,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes. “Could have just eaten it normally.”

Another smug smirk. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The fans are deafening but its winds are cool on his hotter-than-ever skin and lovely in the billow of your dress. The bell chimes and a gaggle of children rush into the store alongside a woman that taps your shoulder with a call of your name. He guesses that’s your mother, wondering where her daughter’s been for almost an hour.

He realizes then that neither of you introduced yourselves.

Your mother leaves and your eyes flicker to the tag pinned to a strip of pink right above his heart. “I will collect my free scoop tomorrow, Suna Rintarou.”

The promise of your return lingers in this tiny, breezy shop, and tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

It finally feels like Summer.

(And he’s on his way to a car crash)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why here? There’s not much to do in Aichi in general, needless to say here.”

You shrug. “We just wanted some place a bit more slow, more relaxing, you know? My mum’s tired of the city and I don’t really mind. She’s paying for everything anyway.”

“Where would you choose to travel though?” He steals a spoonful of colorful ice-cream from your cup and you let him.

“Hmm, I don’t know for sure,” you muse. “Probably somewhere outside of Japan. I’ve always wanted to go abroad. What about you, if you’re not working here?”

He shrugs. “Nah, too much effort.”

“Can’t believe you got scouted for volleyball with that lazy-ass attitude.” You fling your crumpled tissue at him.

Suna catches it and shoots it straight into the bin without moving from his seat. “Work smarter not harder.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks whirl by quicker than a sunshower.

Suna spends it chatting with you during your frequent visits (your hotel isn’t too far) to the store, hanging with you at the beach (the one a stone’s throw away), and texting with you till late night in the comfort of his bed.

Your mother definitely gave him a few looks during the times she came to the store with you. Her flavor of choice is caramel coffee and yours, rainbow sherbet.

He gave her a free scoop once, and now she praises him, “You’re such a good kid,” every time before leaving. You’ll roll your eyes and he’ll give you a peace sign.

He stays in touch with you for the rest of summer break after you leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When school restarts, the two of you are still in contact. You don’t use social media, but you’ll send him photos of your life in Tokyo and he’ll send you links to his posts and stories.

September wind blows and this gradually peters out in autumn as the Inarizaki High Volleyball Club shifts into full gear for Nationals in winter.

[Good luck preparing for Nationals! Maybe we can catch up in Tokyo when you’re here!]

He’s so tired from practice, he tells himself he will reply tomorrow. But Suna forgets, and he does reply, only two weeks later. Yours come in another week. Then his, the week after.

Eventually, rainbow sherbets and the girl he met over summer fades to the back of Suna’s mind, just as the last leaves of autumn sheds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It momentarily crosses his mind to contact you again, two nights before Nationals.

In the rush of prepping for the games and packing for the trip to Tokyo, it slips his mind until he’s standing outside the stadium gates. But they lose to Karasuno, and the message is never sent as he is once again packing to leave.

He suddenly feels like eating rainbow sherbets, but it’s too cold for ice-cream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Suna sees you, it is once again in Aichi, in the summer of his sixteenth year.

He didn’t plan on coming back here, but after their loss at Nationals and the rigorous training in the following months, Suna decided he needs a break away from Hyogo and the goons he calls his teammates.

He definitely did not expect to see you again.

The sight of you, fingers waving timidly from the sunlit entrance accompanied by bell-chimes, melts the cone in his hand. A fuzzy, sticky repeat of last year.

He’s in that void again, where everything else seems to vanish and there’s hot sand in his ears, between his toes, warm wind in his stomach running up his throat– déjà vu has never felt more full yet it’s different. It’s the same blank space, only less… empty. Less white. There’s color to the sand this year, and he can hear rustling in trees that weren’t there before, only it’s not the wind but fans.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I had fun here last year so,” you shrug, small and shy, head tucked into yourself. “I asked my mum if we could visit again.” A finger twirls a lock of hair.

Suna’s heart leaps as his mind races, jumping and wondering if it was fun because of him because he remembers how you brought Summer into his August. Even if he hasn’t tasted rainbow sherbets since he last saw you, and cannot remember what you talked about under the cover of night and cotton sheets.

In a close replay of last year, Suna feels rejuvenated with your presence in this tiny, warm shop. The fans are a godsend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wonders if he should apologize for not responding about Tokyo and his haphazard responses until that point. It’s probably weird to do that now.

You don’t mention it either so he figures it doesn’t matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I wondered if you would be here, but didn’t think that you actually would,” you say, licking at your rainbow sherbet. Typical.

“Me? I’m more surprised you’re here again. There’s nothing to do here.”

“That’s not true. My mum liked it. She likes that it’s close to the ocean but she can still hop on a train and go shopping.”

Suna side-eyes you with doubt but finds you facing him with a grin. His body naturally turns towards you.

“Besides, you’re here too!” you giggle, meaning nothing more than a joke easily said between friends. His chest thrums all the same and white shores seep into his vision.

Suna flicks your forehead in response.

“Hey–”

“Gimmie a bite.”

“I thought you hated rainbow sherbet!” you protest, but bring your cone up anyways.

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

He grabs your wrist as if to steady the cone and prevent any attempt to smash the entire thing into his face. The way he looks at you, steady and unwavering, from underneath the hood of his uniform cap is telling you something else.

Cracks dance up the cone from where your fingers press tightly into the biscuit, raining crumbs onto the space between your bodies. Suna pulls back and you take a large bite opposite of where he sunk his teeth into yellow.

“Yep, it still sucks.”

His face scrunches and you punch his arm. At least he didn’t gag this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suna keeps in touch with you regularly through the year, until the following summer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On his seventeenth summer, Suna plans to go back to Aichi again. This time, he knows you will be there because the two of you planned it.

Now that you’re older, your mum is allowing you to travel on your own; she also trusts the ‘good kid’ to take care of her daughter, to your chagrin.

The Miya twins are constantly bothering Suna this year, wondering why he keeps going back to Aichi when all he’s done is complain about how boring it was in previous years– which it is, besides you. They’ve heard about you before though, the girl he met in the summer of two years ago.

“Ya’ know, she must really like ya’ if she’s goin’ all the way there again to visit ya,’” Atsumu comments, chomping on yakisoba bread. Osamu makes a garbled sound of agreement through his food.

“We’re just friends,” Suna says, face straight, but he wonders if you know how the world vanishes into nothing when he’s with you. He feels anxious merely thinking about it.

“Sure, friends,” Atsumu waggles his brows and Osamu nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This year, his uncle invites you to join them for dinner at his grandmother’s home.

He’s spotted you a few times over the years, and gives Suna much grief about the girl his nephew's constantly loitering around with outside of work, and during work. He often says with a wink, “I’m paying you to work, not to flirt!”

Suna never says anything in response, only squints his eyes and shakes his head at the older man that acts younger than Suna himself; he knows he does the work expected of him even if he may slack here and there.

Dinner with his uncle, grandmother, and a cousin that decided to join them last minute is a simple yet loud affair.

Suna’s uncle is rowdy with a positive outlook on all things in life; says he chose to open an ice-cream shop because ice-cream makes everybody smile. His grandmother is along in years, silver crowning her demure frame and lovely smile. She absolutely adores you.

“I’ve never seen Rinrin bring a friend, much less a friend, around. You are his girlfriend, yes?”

Suna’s never had miso up his nostrils before but there we go. A first time for everything.

“Grandma–” he groans but says nothing more; doesn’t attempt to deny it, only glance at you snickering next to him. He notes with a little shake of his leg that you didn’t either.

(He’s overthinking, he’s assuming, he definitely is–)

It’s late when you finally leave, and Suna volunteers to walk you back to your lodge before his uncle can offer to drive you. He can feel their grins burning into his back as he puts on his shoes after you, and throws them an exasperated glare before the door closes.

“Your family is really nice.”

He rubs the space between his brows. “I’m glad they live here and not in Hyogo. They’re too much.”

“What are your parents like?”

“Like that . My mum had to get it from somewhere. My father’s quieter.”

You laugh and conversation flows easy as it always does when he’s with you. He doesn’t have to think about anything in particular; colors naturally flow to color the void without his intention. It’s all peaceful, the world vanishing and leaving a blank canvas that’s meant for you to cover with pale cream footprints, and greens, pinks, and oranges.

Night zephyrs slap a leaf onto your face and you throw it at Suna. A splotch of green spreads on the canvas.

You’ve long since walked by your lodge and Suna follows without question, trailing gravel crunching beneath your shoes and the ocean breeze in your hair. The stars are out in full force tonight but the brightest star is next to him, voice shimmering with August life.

His Summer.

The ocean, pulsating in deep indigo, stretches beyond concrete barriers erected on the road side.

Suna watches when you ignore the barrier’s sole purpose and climb onto it, inviting him to join you with the beckoning of your hand and a pat to the empty space next to you; a space he gladly fills.

“You don’t see stars like this in Tokyo,” you whisper, afraid of shattering the quiet seaside.

Suna takes his phone out, wiping at the black of his screen. You tilt your head, asking doubtfully if he can even snap a photo of the stars with that, but it changes to pleasant surprise when he flips the camera and shifts closer to you.

The dim light from a nearby lamp is barely enough to illuminate your features but if he squints and zooms in, barely – just barely –, you can make out the ridge of his nose below glinting chartreuse through prismatic noise. And Suna can somewhat trace your teeth glowing baby blue and the push of your cheeks.

“It’s so shit,” you guffaw, snatching his phone to zoom around your unrecognizable faces.

“It’s natural lighting. None of those disgusting filters you kids like to use.”

“We’re literally the same age!”

His phone is returned, and Suna’s fingers tap on the back of his case as he deliberates, jittery under the universe and you, wholly unaware of his nerves.

In another 3 hours, the sun will rise and when you finally stand, he finds the courage to blurt the words that have been spooling in his head since midnight.

(He wishes for a longer Summer with you)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All the nervousness that hounded Suna when he invited you to the local fireworks festival a few nights ago? It’s all gone the moment he sees you in your yukata, the folding fan his grandmother lent you slipped neatly into your obi.

Never mind that you packed one for your trip. “Swimsuits are not the only essentials for a summer vacay~”

So you say. Suna isn’t complaining.

Festivals have never been his thing; it’s hot, humid, crowded– moist . Yet, he looked forward to this one with you. He’s never been to this festival until now, walking next to you with a cooler in his hand.

“What’s in there?” you peek curiously at the box, reaching for the clasp.

Suna lifts the box up high where your grubby hands are unable to grab them.

“Later.”

You pout; long fingers poke your cheeks but later comes sooner than you expected. Sitting on a green picnic sheet that has seen better days, Suna opens the box. A pint of rainbow sherbet beams from a bed of ice, to your great pleasure.

“I thought you hated rainbow sherbet!” you exclaim, heartily accepting the spoon he hands you.

Suna shrugs, struggling to keep his expression even at your simple joy. “It’s alright,” he says coolly, popping the lid off and letting you take the first scoop.

A triple-colored wave curls against your spoon just as the first boom goes off, splashing starlit skies with fiery flowers of red, green, and gold.

The plain skies above white shores he shares with you, too, are filled with bursts of rainbows.

(Perhaps it isn’t purple lightning. Instead, it is a pint of ice-cream between your bodies. Love at first sight is a trifecta of colors, exploding)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Your jaw drops, not expecting that question from Suna Rintarou. Nonetheless, you pause, and Suna can see the gears churning in your head. He doesn’t know why, but he appreciates that; a certain pair of twins wouldn’t have given him the same courtesy.

When you finally answer, Suna leans in. “It’s hard to say for sure but I probably do.”

“Probably?”

“I mean, I don’t know if it is love at first sight, but maybe more like wanting to know a person more. Way more than other people, right away.”

Your answer, though not bad, makes Suna a tad nervous.

“It’s like discovering a new place, you know?” You nod to the world outside the shop window, sweltering in the unforgiving sun. “I didn’t think I would love this place the first time I came here. Now I’m here for the third year in a row!”

“With this shop or my hometown?” Suna wears a teasing smirk but it feels like he’s about to have a heart attack.

You smile furtively and Suna never gets an answer. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He very much does.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On your last night in Aichi before you take Summer away with you, Suna unlocks the door to his uncle’s ice-cream shop. He has received express permission to “help yourselves” to a buffet of ice-cream as your farewell gift (until next year).

He’s never eaten so much ice-cream in one sitting before in his life, and likely, neither have you judging by the way you’re massaging your stomach. His own hurts, and the sugar running in his blood makes him want to grab your hand and run out onto the beach.

You groan, poking at the remains of your rainbow sherbet. “Rin~ help me finish this!”

His tongue juts out. “Ew, rainbow sherbet. No thanks.”

“Please! I’m struggling,” you bemoan, listlessly swallowing another spoonful.

Torn between sighing and chuckling at your torment, Suna moves his chair next to yours. His acquiescence revitalizes you, and you immediately bring your spoon up to feed him in a familiar repeat of the first time you met him.

And just like the first time, Suna wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling the spoon– you– closer as he leans in. His palms burn like the mid-August sky over your midsummer skin.

His lips part.

Lime and raspberry. The sour taste makes him squint.

His expression makes you grin, causing the little stripe of green lime on the corner of your mouth to stretch.

It’s that damn stripe’s fault.

It compelled Suna, pulling him beyond the spoon falling loose in your hand to touch his lips on that stripe of green.

A soft taste of lime. Sour. It makes him squeeze his eyes shut, or so he tells himself.

It’s not the hard beating of his heart, the panic that lances him when he realizes what he has done, the fear of seeing your reaction and feeling your mouth tremble against his.

Surprise and nerves, he likes to think, and tells himself.

Suna keeps his eyes squeezed closed, the layer of sweat between where his hand meets your skin palpable as the damning taste of lime on both your lips.

Hours seemed to come and went in the seconds he allowed his hormones and stupid, summery feelings get the better of him and you only sat there, still and silent. Suna still has his eyes sewed shut, and can’t see your expression. He can’t see jack shit and the only thing telling him that you’re still there is the unbroken touch of your lips against his and your shaky, warm breaths.

It was only seconds but it felt like an eternity to Suna, before you finally moved and saved him from his spiraling mind and the awkwardness that was creeping upon him.

It’s tentative, unsure, and Suna wasn’t sure if he imagined it at first but there’s no mistaking the light press back and gods, Suna would have heaved in relief if he wasn’t still connected to you by the mouth, featherlight it may be.

At seventeen, you and Suna shared your first kisses with each other. It was awkward, weird, sticky and tasted like lime. Short. But sweet.

Perhaps rainbow sherbet isn’t as bad as he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s not sure why but in the weeks, then months, following that kiss– unaddressed, unspoken of henceforth– the two of you don’t speak as much anymore. The messages petered out like the end of a summer shower, muggy and uncomfortable, and clings to him long after summer and rain have gone.

The last exchange had been amiable.

‘Good night.’

Yet, it was excruciatingly hard picking it up again as the days slipped by.

The last of autumn’s leaves fall and Suna wonders if it would be strange suddenly messaging you out of the blue. He stares long at the ‘seen’ and timestamp from hotter days.

Gods, he’s seventeen and thinks it’d definitely be lame to do so. Besides, if you wanted to talk to him, you could always message him first too.

And you haven’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You too, stare at the ‘seen’ and timestamp recollecting balmy days. With cheeks pressed deep into your arms and blankets wrapped tight all around against the encroaching winter, wondering what it’d feel like if it were the arms of a certain ice-cream shop boy instead.

But you’re seventeen and the future is scary and uncertain.

The letter confirming your acceptance to your chosen study abroad program peeks tauntingly at you from underneath stacks of books.

You were happy– still are– when you received the news back in July. You had planned to share that joy with Suna when you met him in Aichi in the summer. Yet, something held you back, kept the words from being spilled even as ice-cream melted and foolish secrets were shared under starry skies and blanket of waves.

You were resolved to tell him and had been prepared to do so on your last night in Aichi–

Then he kissed you. And you kissed back, with surprise and an elated heart.

And you didn’t say anything after that.

Stupid.

It’s all so silly. This crushing in your chest– you want to stay, to visit Aichi and see Suna again. You want to go, pursue your dreams and studies abroad as you have always planned before him and his damn pink-yellow cap ever appeared in your life.

You want more summer days with Suna, and autumn, winter, and spring! You want all the seasons with him, to explore this undeniable attraction but–

‘Good night.’

It’s been weeks since either of you said anything. They always say that if a guy truly likes you, he would reach out no matter what.

And he hasn’t.

You’re going abroad. You already know that, deep in your mind, despite what your young heart longs for.

You’re seventeen and decided that it would be illogical to pursue anything with the ice-cream boy, with the most brilliant, unforgettable set of eyes you met over summers.

And just like that, it was as if neither of you were ever in each other’s lives.

Like fireworks, the two of you splashed and burned brief, shared months and dispersed in wisps of smoke to the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On his eighteenth summer, Suna returns to Aichi again to work at his uncle’s shop.

He has since moved to Tokyo to pursue his own ambitions, but something he wishes to not name pulls him back to his uncle’s shop, like it had every year, for the past three years.

His eyes constantly dart to look at every shadow that passes by the windows, and his head zooms up with every ding of the bell. The days pass slowly, more excruciating than usual, thick and syrupy from dawn to dusk.

You never showed up.

(It doesn’t feel like summer at all)

The bell chimes for what would be the final time for Suna. As the last customer of the summer and the rest of his life ponders what flavor they will have, Suna impetuously stabs the tasting spoon he had been holding into the swirly tub of green, orange, and pink– and takes a bite.

Yuck. Rainbow sherbet isn’t as good as he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are eighteen and abroad, young and excited.

Yet everytime you come across an ice-cream shop, hear waves and feel the sand between your toes, see the occasional, miraculous starry sky–

From halfway across the world, you are reminded of brilliant yellow eyes and a boy in pink and yellow stripes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On your nineteenth summer, you return to Aichi.

With a thudding heart and hopes and young daydreams of what could be.

Will it be awkward? What shall you say first? Something witty or nostalgic? What will he say when he sees you? Will he be happy to see you?

The bell chimed and none of those mattered when it wasn’t Suna at the counter but his uncle instead.

“Didn’t he tell you? He isn’t returning to Aichi this year.”

“Oh.” Your throat is closing up. “I wanted to surprise him so I didn’t ask him in case it tipped him off–” You rub your neck to alleviate the embarrassment burning hot there and blink multiple times, forcing away the rising pressure in your eyes.

“You silly kids!” Suna’s uncle laughs. “He was here last year but you weren’t! And now you are! Wait till I tell him–”

“Please don’t tell him! He might feel bad if you did, and it was entirely my fault for not checking with him.” In truth, you called but the line didn’t go through. His number has changed.

“You sure? Knowing Rintarou he’d just scratch his bum about it–”

You giggle despite your falling heart. “I’m sure. Perhaps next year.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You return to Aichi again on your twentieth summer. And your twenty-first.

Unlike previously, it was less for the specific purpose of seeing him and more to visit a place, and its inhabitants, that has grown close to you.

But the hope that he would be there never truly died, and each time you entered the ice-cream shop with a full heart close to combusting, that does, inadvertently burst.

For Suna never visited Aichi again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been four years since Suna last visited his hometown. He is now twenty-two.

In his defense, he presently plays for EJP Raijins and has been incredibly busy with his career; the last few years have been tough: training, press, tournaments, and everything else that comes with becoming an upcoming pro athlete.

His family understands that. Still, it has been a while since he saw his grandmother and uncle; his parents visit him in Tokyo every year. So he’s invited them all to his game this year, fully paid for by him.

Only, in place of his grandmother, he saw you instead when he went to greet them in the hall before the game. There you were, shuffling nervously next to his uncle, looking as if you haven’t changed at all in the last four years, even if you have grown up. The both of you have.

Suna felt it again, the same feeling he had when he saw you all those years ago. It’s faint, dimmer than when it first manifested in his fifteen year old self; a white void, great and silent, cascading onto him. But it’s the same one, he’s sure of it. Because he’s never felt it with anyone else he’s met, and he’s met a lot of people in recent years.

Suna doesn’t know why; it’s illogical, but he supposes that everything concerning this feeling is, though he is reluctant to name it. He’s always thought that, long before it happened to him.

Long before he met you.

“Hi,” you say shyly.

It feels like he freshly emerged from an overtime match when he breathes out, “Hey.”

These two words are all that is said between you before he is marching off to the locker rooms with an empty head– white shores– ‘Hi’s and ‘Hey’s etched in the sand. Suna wants to ram his head onto the lockers for reasons he cannot comprehend.

Seeing you again after all these years…he is transported back to his uncle’s shop, wearing that stupid pink and yellow striped uniform with chocolate dripping down his hand. The EJP Raijins jersey he’s quietly proud of melts away in the face of you, an occurrence he never fathomed.

The void stays when the whistle blows, but he isn’t distracted. On the contrary, the thought of you in the crowd, watching him, sustains the quiet shores inside of his mind and heart; its peace drowns out the cheers.

And Suna played the best he has ever played since he joined the team.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rintarou, stop being dumb. I thought you’re smarter than this.”

“Uncle, what are you talking about–”’

“You know what I’m talking about! Watching you two during dinner was embarrassing! You barely spoke! Your grandfather’s rolling in his grave!”

“...no one asked you to look,” Suna counters weakly. “And leave grandpa out of this. Have some decency.”

His uncle rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes before carding them through his graying hair.

“I’ve watched you dance around each other since you were fifteen! Especially you, Suna!” he complains then repeats, “Fifteen! I didn’t let you have an ice-cream buffet for it to turn out like this!”

“We weren’t doing anything–”

“Rintarou.”

The serious tone his uncle took on made stops Suna mid-sentence. “She visited Aichi the last three years that you haven’t. She says it’s not to see you but she always asks how you’ve been doing.”

The information stuns Suna. You went back to Aichi? Why didn’t you say anything– oh. He changed his number. Well, why didn’t his uncle say anything?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he inquires.

“She told me not to tell you, says she didn’t want to bother you and that ‘it’s weird.’ You kids and your social taboos. Still, I promised and I don’t break my promises.” He jabs Suna on the chest and adds, “You better not too!”

“It’s why I don’t make promises,” Suna mumbles and swats his uncle’s hand away. “Anyways, there’s nothing to say–”

His uncle lets out a loud, garbled cry of random sounds. “Your grandmother didn’t give her tickets away for you to chicken out! Your parents raised you better than this!”

“I can’t believe even grandma is in on this…”

Strong hands clasp him on the shoulders and Suna is forced to look his uncle in the eye.

“Go and talk to her. Properly. Like an adult.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

knock knock

‘Talk to her or I’ll tell grandma about the things you post on your Instagruel, Instrument– whatever it’s called!’

Suna sighs as he wonders why he never saw his uncle as the extortionist that he is. The man quite literally made him promise, with linked pinkies and all, to go talk to you before the night is over.

Suna doesn’t make promises but he keeps those that he does.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you. But what is there to say? Things weren’t exactly… clear , the last you and him spoke and saw each other, for that matter. He kissed you, you kissed back, and then poof. In modern dating terms, it’s safe to say that you mutually ghosted each other out of sheer– he doesn’t know what on your end– but definitely young stupidity on his.

“Rin? It’s getting late, what are you doing here?” You blink at him, surprise plain on your face at the unexpected guest.

Suna almost smiles at the nickname. It’s been a while since he heard you address him by that. At all, really.

He takes in your appearance, notes your fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt and the drumming of the other on the doorknob. Have you been as restless as he was this entire evening?

“I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk with me?” Suna winces at his unnatural politeness. It’s you; he’s never this polite with you, not even when you were a customer. It’s bizarre.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance, unconscious, in the way you took a small step back before you’re nodding and asking him to wait whilst you went back inside your hotel room to change.

The winter air is crisp, wind tunneling between the buildings whipping at your figures as Suna leads you around aimlessly. Truth be told, he had no idea where to go or what to say.

“How have you been?” You break the ice.

Right, that’s a good place to start.

“I’ve been good. You?”

“I’ve been good too.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.”

Suna wishes a truck will run off the curb and hit him now. His fingers are freezing off in his pockets and somehow they’re still sweating.

This is absolutely terrible.

A ray of hope cuts the grey path ahead, and Suna manages to peel his eyes away from his shoes to gaze upon his salvation–

Oh. It’s an ice-cream shop.

The irony isn’t lost on him. You don’t miss it either, for you peek up at him shyly, scratching at your cold cheeks, and ask, “Do you want to get any? For old time’s sake.”

When he nods, you turn and lead the way, grabbing the handle and missing how Suna stops following you just shy of the shop’s awning. He prefers to quickly rip the bandaid off.

“What happened?”

“Huh?” You look over your shoulder, confused. “What do you mean?”

Suna buries his face into his scarf as if to hide the burning ridge of his nose. “That night… you kissed back,” he mumbles. He has to force himself to look back at you, to discern and verify the rapid changes in your expression as you look for an answer.

Surprise, self-consciousness, bashfulness, nervousness, nostalgia–

“I–,” you clear your throat, the shop light shining like a beacon on your blushing skin, “I did.”

“Why did you kiss me back?” he addresses the giant, tri-colored elephant that has been slumbering in the back of his mind for years.

You sputter. “Why are you asking this all of a sudden? It was so long ago.”

“Tell me.” Suna persists, taking a step forward with narrowed eyes, pushing for a reason, an excuse, to justify the cloudy feelings he has been harboring for all these years and now jostled up by your unannounced appearance in his life again.

He’s not mad, he doesn’t not want you here, but the lack of closure for his young feelings, your reaction, and the lack of events that followed all those years ago isn’t pleasant. It leaves a muddy clog in his chest and quite frankly, he dislikes it. There was so much left unsaid and unexplained; perhaps he should have let it go and Suna thought he did. Until he saw you again.

And Suna knows, he just knows, that you feel the same way as he did.

Why else would you come see him play? Why else would you go back to Aichi the last couple of years?

Why did you two simply drift apart?

He’s so close to you now that he can see the perspiration beading on you, feel your warmth radiating and seeping into the folds of his clothes. You refuse to meet his eyes, looking here and there and everywhere but him right before you. Similarly, his heart is beating so loud that he’s sure you can hear it.

“Tell me.”

“Because I liked you! Okay?!” You finally cave, admitting with eyes squeezed tight. It reminds Suna of how he too kept his eyes closed as if his life depended on it when he first kissed you.

“Then why didn’t you say anything!? Why did you stop responding?”

“Don’t try and pin it on me. You didn’t contact me any further!”

“Neither did you!”

“Well, you changed your number and didn’t tell me!”

“That’s because I thought we’re no longer speaking with each other!”

You’re both breathing fast, hearts and emotions rising, and Suna glimpses the shop staff staring in concern through the glass. He deflates with a sigh and steps back before the staff misunderstands the situation and calls the police.

The streets of Tokyo are rarely silent yet somehow, this little area in the big city is exactly that. There’s only the sound of distant cars humming like waves on distant shores, and the muted chatter of people buzzing like summer cicadas; it reminds Suna of the times he went on late night walks with you along the beaches of his hometown.

You slap your hands over your face. “Oh my god…”

He snorts and laughs in turn at the incredulous conversation that took place. It doesn’t take long for you to peek through your fingers and join as well, chortling in disbelief.

“We were fucking dumb ,” he states.

“In our defense, we were young.”

“Still dumb.”

“Yeah, we were.”

An embarrassing silence follows as you stare at each other. Sunca can see the gears in your head churning, processing the revelation that the two of you had been, well, dumbasses for years. He can empathize, for his brain hurtles through the same process.

You break eye contact and look down at your shoes, scuffing them against concrete. “I guess there’s also another reason why I was hesitant to contact you after,” you begin mumbling, and Suna reflexively curls his hands into fists within the confines of his pockets.

“Yeah? Besides being a teenager incapable of communication?”

“It’s a better reason than that!” you pout furiously, head sinking into your scarf. “I was going abroad. I have been abroad, the last few years. College.

Suna whistles, sincerely impressed. “Nice. Where at?”

“Irrelevant. I’ll tell you later,” you brush off his question to continue your explanation– reasoning– to why you stopped contacting him.

Suna watches intently as you take a deep breath, idly noting how the ice-cream store staff are still staring at your figures with too much curiosity and intensity, the shop door failing to completely mute his conversation with you, bits and pieces filtering through the little vents at its foot.

One male staff even holds a cone in his hand, watching the scene unfold as if this were a movie. The man takes a long lick, eyes all the while glued on your figures.

“That night when you– we, well, you know–” you stumble over your words and Suna finds not much has changed; you were still as bad at communicating your feelings as you were at seventeen. You clear your throat of the clogging shyness, “At that time I already knew I was leaving Japan as soon as I graduated. I planned to tell you but then you–”

“I kissed you,” he supplies plainly.

“Yes. And, well, there didn’t seem to be a good moment to tell you after that,” you finish softly. Regret isn’t the right word to describe your feelings in this moment, reflecting back on that summer night and the next four years without closure. You do not regret ever following your aspirations abroad, especially not over a boy in your youth. You weren’t that dumb. However, you admit that you could have handled it better, communicated it, talked with him– “I should have handled it better.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

A disbelieving gasp leaves you, head whipping up angrily to tell Suna off but the teasing grin that greets you has your anger easily deflating.

Suna understands. He really does, because he would have done the same thing in your position. Had he known you were going to leave the country, would he still have kissed you? Probably, only because his body moved on its own that night. Though it doesn't mean he forgot the flutters, the want, whenever he was with you back then. It’s not too far off from what he’s feeling in the present; it’s dimmer, but it has grown, matured with him in age. He’s no longer as jittery and blinded by white shores.

He’s grown. You’ve grown.

“I should have done better too.”

A cloak that has long rested on the depths of his heart– of gray clouds and why’s, unnamed yet felt, ignored but not forgotten, existing as surely as he does breathes– lifts the moment he utters these words. He feels revivified– released, of this midsummer memory that has crawled into his mind countless times in the minutes before sleep takes him (his brain has a penchant of replaying it for him unbidden at 2am). Suna shudders to think that had his family not invited you to his match, he and you would have continued on with your lives carrying overcast hearts caused by something as silly as simply being teenagers still learning and growing.

Judging by the smile dimpling your cheeks, Suna knew you felt the same.

He nods at the shop door behind you. “We should probably go inside. That is…if you still want to?”

Your answer comes in a shy smile burrowing into clothes and a blast of hot air that his chilled body welcomes. The shop bell chimes and you are both transported to past summers and the first time you met in a wave of nostalgia.

Suna hasn’t gone to an ice-cream shop since the last time he worked for his uncle, having subconsciously avoided them in the shadow of his volleyball career as an excuse; your love for ice-cream shops developed because of many days spent at one with a special boy, and many more visited over the years in reminiscence and perhaps regret.

“There’s a buy one free one scoop deal for couples.” The male staff, the audacious one from before, announces when you reach the counter.

“Oh, we’re not–” you begin but Suna nudges you sneakily.

“Pick whatever flavor you want, honey. My treat.”

You had been his first love at first sight. And likely, you are the last.

Because Suna thinks that people who fall head over heels for someone at first glance are fools. Love is something that is grown into, to be slowly nurtured with time and dedication. To his logic-based brain, the entire idea of smashing head first into love at a glance is ludicrous, like a bad car crash where you never see it coming until it's too late.

He knows because he’s experienced it. Both the unexplainable, ridiculous butterflies sprouting into existence the moment you stepped through the door and into his life, and the subsequent 7 years it took to nurture it.

There was no car crash however, only teen folly and human imperfection.

You glance up at him with a cheeky grin as you answer, sing-song and all-knowing.

“I’ll have a rainbow sherbet.”

“Yuck.”

“It’s a good flavor!!”

An expression you’re not sure you have ever seen Suna make before lights his face for but a transient second. It’s one of those laughter-smiles, all teeth with wide lips and wrinkles accompanied by tuneful joy. Suna knows it too because the muscles pulling at his cheeks are unfamiliar, straining wider than he usually lets them in his side smirks.

“In that case, two rainbow sherbets please,” he tells the staff. He can feel your gaze pressing onto the side of his face with a question unspoken, and this is when Suna brings out his infamous smirk.

He takes both cones and turns to you with green, pink, and orange in the palms of his hands. A trifecta of colors.

They say that everyone becomes a believer of love at first sight when it happens to them. Well, Suna rightly doesn’t know.

All he knows is that, instead of purple lightning striking, there was only a void filled with empty white shores whenever he saw you; it didn’t matter how many times or how long in between. All Suna knows is that the world fades away in the presence of you.

As he hands you your cone, Suna sees colors dyeing the white shores below his feet once more.

And Suna knows he will do it right this time.

#suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintaro x reader #inarizaki x reader #hq x reader #suna rintarou #suna x you #hq!! x reader

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