#Hoping u guys still enjoyed though!! :D

[lovscb97]

tags: step-brother!park jongseong x fem!reader, d/s dynamics, dom!jay x sub!reader, manipulation lowkey?, implied male masturbation, kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, use of nicknames (baby, princess, jjongie, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), spit kink, begging, daddy kink, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, choking, praise kink, creampie, fluff and uncertainty at the end, etc

wc: 4.12k

add. notes: ok i know i said i would Not upload soon much less written work either but guess who lied!!! no but fr my mood was pretty terrible yst morning bcs of some stupid classmates not contributing to group work but u know what i had food n ice cream w my friend n i felt a bit better at the least. it still doesn’t excuse their actions but ya anyways bcs of my peace of mind n bcs i finished my part for my presentation, i present to u a Very long stepbro jay fic hehe.. some parts or sentences may look familiar but that's cus i acc sent them to a blog here as anon messages LMFAO but yea i hope u guys enjoy :3 icon creds to @/purinkiss btw!

. . . 

ever since your parents’ divorce, your entire world shattered. it only got worse when your dad announced he’d be bringing home a new woman, much less one who had a child the same age as you. of course, you disagreed at first, throwing harsh words at him up until the point he forced you to meet the delinquent, dragging you by the arm to the restaurant where you were to have dinner with whoever these random people who were about to become part of your small family circle were. you’d even made a firm promise to yourself to not entertain them and to be petty, whether that translated through snide remarks or rolling your eyes, and you swear you really were going to go through with it—

that is, until you met jay.

jay was nothing like you’d imagined him to be. in your head, your new, soon-to-be stepbrother was an ugly, rude and snobby brat who didn’t give two cents about joining your family, the jay you met in reality though? everything but that. he was sweet, and polite, and absolutely fucking gorgeous; blonde hair swept back with a strand falling over his forehead, lean shoulders outlined in the tight fitting black shirt he’d decided to wear for the occasion, and a smile worth a thousand bucks or even dying for. any words that were previously on the tip of your tongue died down when he took your hand in his to shake it, the soft feel of his skin and his bright grin making your insides positively melt and the thoughts of your parents split dissipate within seconds. 

your stepbrother’s attitude and good looks carried through the months you spent with him too. if anything, it became even more reinforced with him taking care of you whenever you needed him. he’d handle sharp objects for you while making your favourite food, hold your hand on the street if you had to cross the road, carry your bags when they got too heavy, rush in front of the door to open it for you, and so, so much more. you were at a privilege to be able to watch him walk around with nothing but a simple shirt and sweatpants around the house too, shamelessly raking your eyes over his attractive features and boring them into his back when he leaned over the stovetop to cook you ramen. 

part of you felt like a perv, for behaving this way and finding him good looking even if he objectively was. you knew it wasn’t like you could help it, you had eyes and they obviously saw what was in front of you, but you tried shoving it down anyways. it also didn’t help that jay constantly hovered around you and made your relationship out to be so.. domestic. he’d narrow his eyes when he caught you talking on the phone to your friends about your latest hook-up, lecturing you on the use of safe sex and how college boys were no good for you until you were red in the face with embarrassment, or he’d offer for the both of you to hang out together after classes ended for you every other day, draping a blanket over your figures and scooching in close to you up until you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. your dad and his new wife thought nothing of it despite your mind spinning, cooing over how well you two got along and relishing in the fact that their children were such good siblings already.

oh, if only they were aware of the twisted fantasies swirling in jongseong’s mind.

because from the minute jay saw you, he knew he had to have you. your pretty face, your soft-spoken voice, and of course, your fucking body. he felt like he was about to lose his damn mind when he first saw you walk around the house in nothing but skimpy shorts and that stupid pink top that left nothing up to the imagination. to an extent, it almost felt like you were teasing him on purpose, especially when he’d find you seated on the couch with your exposed thighs and the subtle dip of your cleavage peeking through the measly clothes that practically coaxed him to sport a hard-on right then and there. it’d be the dead of night when he’d finally find some relief after a day of watching you parade around the kitchen, wondering what it would feel like to grip your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pull your nose flush to his pelvis with him nestled deep inside your throat. and it was only when jongseong came all over his hand and sheets for the nth time after fantasising about you that he realised he needed to do something about this, whether that went against his moral compass or not.

it started with light touches. 

jay would grasp your shoulder to move past you when you were in the way, barely mumbling an ‘excuse me’ to alert you of his presence so you wouldn’t practically jump out of your skin when he did so. his hand would linger in yours for a second too long when he tried not losing you in crowds, gently commanding you to stay close to him in that stern tone of his that made your panties stick to you. it was common etiquette, you thought, he was just doing his job as a brother would normally do for his sister, but the only thing in jongseong’s mind was to make you let down your guard, let it down so much that he could swoop in at the perfect time to take advantage of it. he knew it was wrong, so sinister and dark to want to fuck his own stepsister to the point the only way he could get it up was to the thought of you, but jay didn’t care about any of that at this point, far too fucked out in his own head to think of having eyes for anyone but you.

and as expected, all throughout this, you didn’t suspect a thing. how could you? jay was so perfect, so well-mannered and so attentive. he listened to you rant about anything trivial in your life and drove you around when you wanted to meet up with your girls. he’d wake up late at night if you had a bad dream, consoling you even through the sight of your tears making him worked up, and rub your back softly when you needed to be taken care of. he’d let you sneak back in the house after you’d told your dad you were going out to the library to study, making up excuses for you when your lies fell short. he had your back, and in turn, you had his, so you would’ve never thought of him as anything but a gentleman and big brother.

until everything he did grew into more. 

until having an arm behind your carseat while looking into the rearview mirror turned into placing his hand on your thigh, inches away from the seam of your skirt. until sitting next to him while watching a movie with a shared blanket turned into him nuzzling against you under the covered fabric. until having dinner with both your parents present at the dinner table turned into his foot grazing against yours ever so slightly.

until your honey-like voice calling out for him to help you get the glass on the top cabinet turned into full blown moans of you getting eaten out on the living room couch, echoing throughout the empty house because of-fucking-course, your parents were out for the night on a dinner date.

you weren’t even sure how it happened. one minute, you were struggling to reach on your tippy toes, your mouth instinctively moving to utter jay’s name because he was the only one besides you at home who could help out, but the next, he was pressing up against you to the point of grinding himself into your ass, causing you both to inhale sharply. you vaguely recall turning around, ready to ask what your stepbrother was doing when you’d caught sight of his darkened eyes, practically eyeing you like a piece of meat. and by the time anything even registered in your mind, his lips were already on yours, and his hand was dragging you over to the couch in record time.

“j-jay, we shouldn’t be doing this.” you stuttered out, your voice meek and quiet as you tried not to roll your eyes back at the sight of him slurping up your juices. he didn’t respond, instead opting to move his mouth up to focus on your clit, sucking it into the hot cavern and rolling his tongue against it to the point it had you seeing stars. you knew it was wrong, going against so many moral standpoints and rules, but god did it feel so good. you quickly came to understand that the jay who was going down on you currently was nothing like the jay who engages with you in your day to day life. that jay is gentle, well-meaning and answers all your questions despite how dumb they may seem. but this jay? he’s fucking filthy, messy to the point you can tell your juices are dribbling down his chin.

“fuck, you taste so good.” he gasps out when he finally decides to pull away. “thought about this so much when jerking off.” your eyes widen at his crude admittance, and you know you really should be disgusted at it, but something about the idea of jay being alone in the darkness of his room, hand wrapped around himself while saying your name under his breath only makes you wet, even more so than you already are. at the back of your mind, something screams at you to stop, but you’ve already gotten a taste of what your stepbrother can provide you, and you’d be damned if you didn’t stick around to find out more about it. 

“this is wrong.” you quietly admit anyways, even if it’s not what you want to say. but jay just hums, leaning down to hover above your figure as his arms cage you in underneath him, doing very little to help the fact of how much smaller you feel below him. his lips ghost the shell of your ear as you shiver at the proximity between you two, and he gently nips at it, leaving you biting your tongue to hold back the noises you long yearn to let out. “i know it is, baby, but doesn’t it feel so fucking good?” jay questions with a low chuckle, pulling away to cock his head to the side. you curse internally at the way the nickname sounds coming from him, a dust of light pink spreading across your cheeks because fuck, how can someone be so alluring at all times?

“don’t you want to feel even better, princess?” jay’s voice draws you out, and you hold back a moan at the way he grinds his clothed bulge against your bare opening, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s slowly convincing you over to the dark side. “don’t you want your big brother to spread this pussy open and fuck it ‘till you’re crying from how good it feels?” you almost nod, trying to resist the urge to buck your hips up to catch the sensation of his lower region against you once more. instead, you choose to turn your face away from his striking gaze staring you down, but jay just grips your jaw and turns you to face him once more, the action only making your insides swirl with delight.

“still, what if your mom and my dad find out?” you mumble, and jay just grins wickedly. he swoops in, dipping his head down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that makes you giddy with joy, sneaking his tongue past the opening of your mouth to lick into it. when he pulls back, there’s a thin line of spit connection you both, prompting you to squirm at the sight to which jay’s chest rumbles with laughter. “you’re so fucking cute, y’know that? been dreaming of having your pretty body underneath me since i met you.” he admits lowly, your wide eyes only spurring him on further. “wanna know what i think?” you slowly nod, unsure of where this is going. jay’s voice drops an octave lower as he leans in close and whispers—

“i think you’re a dirty, little slut who deserves to get fucked by her big brother.”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes you at his words this time, and that’s all the confirmation jay needs to sit up and tear off his shirt, bringing to life all the fantasies you’ve had about his body this entire time. you can’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand to touch him, nails grazing across the ridges of his toned stomach and the dip of his v-line that’s hiding the very thing you’ve been craving under his sweatpants. meanwhile, jay just watches you with lust swirling in his orbs, a small smirk playing at his swollen lips as he takes in the picture of your innocent little face ogling his figure. “you like what you see, don’t you, pretty?” he murmurs, biting his lip at the way you nod in shame. “don’t worry.” jay grunts, standing momentarily to loop his fingers inside the edges of his pants. “you’ll get what you’re craving real soon.” he winks before he’s yanking the only thing separating you both down, exposing himself in all his glory to your awaiting eyes at last. 

“goddamnit, it’s pretty.” you think to yourself when your eyes finally settle on your stepbrother’s dick. the tip is an angry shade of red, dribbling with a few beads of precum that your face falls at when jay swipes them away with his thumb as he wraps his large hand around himself. your disappointment is short-lived, however, because he’s back on top of you soon, holding the very same thumb up to your awaiting mouth to taste, to which you eagerly wrap your lips around, the salty flavour of him invading your senses. “good girl.” jongseong commends as you suckle at the tip of his finger, the praise going straight to your core. he pulls his hand away from you after a short while, that same wet thumb snaking its way down to find your clit and pressing against it, which does nothing but rip a noise of satisfaction from you. jay continues to rub at your engorged nub, his gaze fixated on the sight of your pussy as if he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“shit. i can’t wait any more.” he growls after another second, retracting his hand to wrap it around himself instead, pumping once or twice before he’s pressing the head against your awaiting entrance. you watch with bated breath as he rubs against your folds, slicking up with your oozing juices until your patience starts wearing thin. “jay,” you huff after a minute, legs kicking up in frustration as your stepbrother glances at you teasingly. “what do you want, angel? use your big girl words and tell me.” he smiles, almost innocent to the point you even forget the compromising position you’re both in.

“want.. want you.” you admit shyly, averting your eyes to a forgotten corner in the room as jay tsk’s. “look at me when you speak, whore.” he spits out, his entire demeanour changing in an instant. it only makes you leak even more, and you swallow thickly, eyes pleading. “please fuck me, please. wan’ you to do what you said, spreading me open and using me until i cry, please, please, please. jjongie, daddy, please, i—“

you don’t even get the chance to finish because by the time both the nickname and title leave your mouth, jay has long lost his composure, instantly pushing inside you as he attempts to bottom out his large cock. he hisses at the way your warm walls envelop him, and the only thing you can do is cry out at the way you’re being stretched out to your limit, finally having the emptiness inside you satiated with the presence of your stepbrother’s dick. “fuuuck, that’s it, look at this tiny, little hole sucking me in.” jay curses, and you flare red in embarrassment at his nasty words, ignoring the way they only make you gush around him even more. 

“i’m going to absolutely ruin you, baby.” is the only thing jay says before he’s pulling out and slamming himself back into you, leaving you to cry out as his mushroom tip instantly hits that one spot deep inside. his thrusts are erratic, filled with a fervour none of the other guys you’ve ever slept with had, and you think the way he’s fucking you now is definitely going to rectify his promise of fucking you until you’re crying, the occasion seeming to be very well on its way of happening. 

“fuck, there is no way this is the last time we’re doing this.” jay groans, the noise of skin slapping and your moans echoing throughout the living room as he continues absolutely drilling you. each drag of his cock drives into you with sheer power and raw desire to completely destroy you it seems, and you’re sure nobody is ever going to top it. “gonna use you everywhere, every time i please. you want that too, don’t you? tell me you do, princess. tell me and daddy will fuck you like he means it every single time.” he blurts out. the only way you can respond is through incoherently mumbling and the nodding of your head, far too dazed out already at the way your stepbrother is pounding into you, which only draws a breathy laugh from jay. “seems i’ve fucked you dumb already, huh? cock that good? so good it’s got my baby all dumb?” he taunts. you only whine at his words, drool spilling out from the side of your lips which jay wipes off with a chuckle.

“i’m already close, god.” he sighs, his movements unrelenting and balls tightening with the way they slap against your ass. “want me to cum inside you? for daddy to breed this pussy full? maybe i should do it and make you walk around with my seed lodged deep in your messy cunt.” jay hisses, his hand snaking it ways to your neck as he continues talking. “bet you’d like that ‘cause you’re a filthy fucking bitch. letting your stepbrother fuck your tight cunt as he pleases.” slender fingers wrap around the skin and tighten their grip slightly to restrict your airflow, and that’s all it takes to abruptly push you over the edge, leaving you dropping your mouth open in a silent scream as you cum. jay continues fucking you through your high, making out your small mewls amongst the lewd sounds of his cock shoving into your hole. 

“good girl, good fucking girl. did so well for me, came so much all for daddy. you’re so, so good to me, princess. fuck, i love you.” jay blabbers as he lets go of your neck, too lost in chasing his own peak to even realise what he’s just admitted. you don’t catch it fully either in your haze of overstimulation that he continues to fuck you through, but some unconscious part of you mutters it back as best as you can somehow. jay’s heart swells at the way you take him, so small and pliant for him to just use for his own good, and he leans in to smash his lips against yours, drinking in your loud sounds as his movements start to falter with his upcoming release washing over him. 

“just a bit more, pretty, just a bit. such a good fucking girl for daddy, letting him use your body, fuck. i’m gonna cum deep inside you, angel. gonna reward you with my cum. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? like me to creampie this precious hole?” jay stammers out, the coil in his stomach close to snapping. he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up his exterior, sweat dripping down his forehead and closed eyes as his tired hips continue ramming his cock into you. he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, cracking his orbs open to find your fucked out face mumbling for his cum, your legs wrapping against his waist to keep him locked into you. 

“cum in me, daddy, please cum in me. wan’ your cum, i’ll take it like a good girl. please, daddy.” you babble, and that’s all it takes to send jay over the edge too, loud groans leaving his mouth as he shoots thick ropes of white inside your walls, painting them with his release. he cums for what feels like forever, holding your body close to his as his cock throbs inside your spasming cunt that’s still greedily sucking him in, urging him to fill you up. he finally stops after seemingly a good minute, panting against your neck where he’s buried his face into as he lets the post-orgasm bliss wash over himself.

“fuck,” jay heaves a breath once he’s finally recovered, making sure to use his softening cock to keep you plugged up in fear his cum will drip down and stain the couch, much less make your scandalous activities known to both your parents. he knows he’s going to have to face the reality of everything soon, but for now, he chooses to ignore it, propping himself up with an arm as he takes a look at your tired face that’s still so beautiful even after he basically fucked you within an inch of your life.

“you okay?” he asks softly after a while, prompting you to open your eyes and look up at him. there’s so much love and adoration in them that it makes jay feel all gooey inside, and when you nod with a small smile on your lips, he can’t help but lean back in and kiss you, desperately wishing this won’t be the last time he feels your mouth on his. “you think we made a mess?” you wonder out loud with a giggle once he’s pulled away, and jay just laughs breathlessly at you, brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face to take a proper look. “i’ll clean it up if so, don’t worry, baby.” he reassures in a quiet voice, leaving you to hum in agreement as a response.

“jay.” 

“hm?”

“..what now?” 

jay inhales when you bring forth the question he doesn’t have an answer to, looking down at you to find your worried expression staring back at him. he coos when you jut out your bottom lip, brushing a thumb against your cheek smoothly as he sighs. “don’t worry about that now, princess. just sleep.” he murmurs. 

he can tell you’re not entirely satisfied with his admission, and that you want to say something more, but even if you do, you choose not to, instead opting to follow his advice and shutting your eyes by letting the fatigue from what you’d just been through take over your body. jongseong watches as you slowly close off your thoughts and mind, gently resting his body weight on top of you in favour of pulling you closer. he tries to avoid thinking of the inevitable that’ll come to wake him up, but he’ll deal with that later, choosing to bask in this moment with you for as long as he can before he has to face reality. instead, he presses a small kiss to your cheek, nuzzling it with his nose before closing his own eyes. he eventually drifts off to dreamland, where his thoughts will still be filled with your face.

. . . 

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[meetmymouth]

social media au: harry and y/n are besties. really good besties. featuring LOTS of tweets, memes, insta posts and harry being horny in the comments section.

note; i rarely use a face claim. for this one, i somehow (it just happened) used gracie abrams. there’s not many photos of her, though. hope u still find something funny below to enjoy either way.

liked by yn and others

lloyddddddddddddddddd Love On Tour. Nothing I can type here can describe what the past 18 months have been like for me. I’ve loved every second. Thank you so much to everyone involved and to all of the incredible people Ive met along the way for making it a truly phenomenal experience.  And ofc a special thank you to @harrystyles for bringing me along, what a boy.  Hope you all enjoyed the pics 💘

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bradgouldtraining Best in da game

ynsgolden LLOYD ITS SEVEN IN THE MORNING!!!!!!!

glenne_azoff @yn

paulithepsm @yn

harryshoehouse bet u were giggling taking the second pic

lolharryshouse why's everyone tagging y/n lmao

harrysgrapejuice EVERYONE TAGGING Y/N JHFBSDNS

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harrysgotthestyles YN!!!! LMAOOOOOOOOOO jessbrian ok girly we see u dianelouise JUST TEXT HIM LMAO

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yn day n night (see also: my two personalities)

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ynsbread ok but queen

harryteheestyles sooooooo classy 🙄

harryscowboy WHOSE PILLOWS??????????

gemmastyles That t-shirt is so you.

yn thanks again 😂

bradgouldtraining 👀

anthonypham don't start yn yeah be gone mr. muscle

harrystyles 🐎

theestylees OMG HAYRY????D??@EFKCJ giawilliams ARIANA WHAT ARE U DOING HERE harrysgoldboots boY JUST TEXT HER LMAO ynshouse you guys are so h*rny for each other it's insaneeeee lovemeontour gIRLLLLLLLLLLLLL WHATS THET MEAN bradrry YOU ARE INSANE FOR THISSSSSSSSSS

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yn i ♥��� italia

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ynxniall i recognise that eye

aveceyepatch GREEN EYES

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ynarchive soft launch.........SOFT LAUNCH

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fratrryy BOY BYE breadkingharry GIRLLLLLLLLL YOURE TOO MUCH zarrysheart harry.... ynspookie you're playinnnnnnn too much

bradgouldtraining Slay!

yn i will be blocking you

stylesarchive faves

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kidharpoon Slayed

[dkfile]

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.

[withloveajaxx]

so baby let's keep this secret

𓂅 genre: modern! childe, scara, al haitham, xiao x gn! reader

𓂅 warnings: hints of making out in scara's part + childe's part is a hint of suggestive teasing

𓂅 summary: secret relationship with the genshin boys

𓂅 note: this is my first time writing for scara and haitham so,,, apologies if i mischaracterize them or they seem out of character :"D comments on their characterization are greatly appreciated ^^ but yea, that's it hehe, hope u enjoy this fic n have a wonderful day!!

CHILDE

tbf a secret relationship with childe isn't a secret to anyone at all because mans is whipped for you, but we gotta give him some credit for holding himself back from kissing you 24/7.

a "secret" relationship with this man is basically minimalized pda with a huge amount of teasing.

he absolutely loves to be the sole reason why your cheeks get red and you get all flustered in public.

when people ask you what's wrong and you can barely get out a blatant lie, childe already has a smug, yet somehow charming smirk on his face.

he's not good at hiding how whipped he is, but he does surprisingly well hiding his touches from the general eye of the public.

like whenever he's in a restaurant with you, he always makes it a point to sit beside you. he is never sitting anywhere else.

secondly, his hand is always on your thigh or fiddling with your fingers beneath the table. he simply cannot resist touching you in any way.

and finally, if he's being a little bitch… he'll slyly sneak an arm around your waist, squeezing it gently. i can bet my life he's lifting your shirt up slightly to rub your exposed skin to get you all bothered.

he's absolutely ravishing you when you get home though. spoiling you with kisses, cuddles, and anything you ask from him <3

ngl, with how touchy feely he is, i don't think people are gonna take that long to figure out what's going on between you two. the "secret" relationship is unfortunately a 5/10 in terms of success.

SCARAMOUCHE

you cannot tell me this man wouldn't take your relationship to his grave. 10/10 in this secret relationship 💀

unlike childe, he can keep his eyes and his hands off of you in public. he has a lot of self control and no amount of your teasing is going to get him to expose you guys (unless you pull out the tears or some begging then maybe). but like childe… he is absolutely obsessed with you when yall have a little private time.

this is where it gets spicy but i can just imagine scaramouche just reaching his limit from holding himself back from you after a long day, and he's just ready to break when you two are behind closed doors.

after all, he is a man of little patience isn't he? when you two get to his place after a long day, he doesn't even wait for a split second until his lips are slotting themselves against yours for a heated kiss.

he has you pinned against the wall beside the door, one elbow beside your head while the other slides down to rest on your hips.

when he parts the fairly passionate kiss his lips are still hovering dangerously close to yours. he doesn't even take that long to catch his breath, diving in for another kiss until he hears abrupt knocks at his door, and a voice he knows distinctly belonging to childe.

cursing under his breath, he holds a hand over your mouth, making sure you're hidden from the direct line of sight of the door before opening it to reveal the ginger headed man.

"make it quick, dimwit. i was in the middle of doing something," scara hisses venemously, eyes narrowing at childe. poor childe chuckles in nervouseness, scratching the back of his neck. "is that so? sorry, didn't know, maybe i'll come back later."

"yeah, whatever. just scram." and with that, the door is slammed closed and sacra's undivided attention is back on you again.

"c'mon," is all he says, taking your hand in his before leading you to a more secluded space in his apartment where no one and nothing can interrupt him from having his time with you.

ALHAITHAM

i think he'd be pretty good at keeping things lowkey. he acts the same towards everyone with some exceptions to you, so i'd say 10/10.

definitely not touchy in public (nor in private to be honest), but he's definitely into the little moments.

little moments like making eye contact from across the room and sending you the slightest hints of a smile.

or even grazing your pinkies together when your walking side-by-side in thr middle of the campus hallways.

there are bits of physical affection here and there, but the main thing that gives this man away is the quality time and acts of services that he does towards you.

hatiham doesn't spend nearly as much time with others as he does with you. you're always with him whether it be in the library studying, in a coffee shop while he reads a book, or in museums looking around and scuptures and paintings.

it's especially in crowded places like museums and coffee shops where he does small actions of adoration and affection.

like when you guys go on study or book dates, you'll feel his eyes on you when you're trying to write something down or read something.

when you look at him to ask you what's wrong, he's simply staring at you with a soft expression that screams nothing but admiration and love. it's quite endearing really, to see his ears turn the lightest shade of pink afterwards.

"do you need something, haitham?" you ask, the smile he loves so much gracing your features. he gently shakes his head, reaching his hand out on the table to take yours, "no. nothing. i was just admiring you, is all."

XIAO

there's a constant redness of his usually pale cheeks is a dead giveaway to your relationship, and he's pretty protective too so i'd say a 6/10.

whenever you catch xiao staring at you, his cheeks and the tips of his ears immediately burn red, and he whips his head around so fast.

people always notice and his friends always tease him for it, but he can't help such a reaction when what he thinks is the most stunning person is looking right at him.

or whenever he looks around the room to search for you only to find that you're already looking at him… his cheeks are literally on fire.

the adorable glow on his cheeks isn't the only sign he gives though. mind you, this man is very protective over you.

he wants to make sure that absolutely no harm comes in your way, and he'll do anything to make sure of that. he doesn't care if your relationship would be exposed that way, all he cares about is your overall safety and wellbeing.

he's the type of man who pulls you closer to him while you're crossing the street or walking by the road, having his hand on you in some way in case anything happens.

the type of guy who brings random stuff like bandaids, hair ties, and sweets for you just in case you need anything.

he's also constantly asking how you are through text, just in case you need him to do something or in case you need him by your side for whatever reason.

my favourite part about secret relationships with xiao is the kind of dates you'd have. he's definitely the type of man to do homey, indoor dates. he'd build lego bouquets for and with you, he's sit for hours bingeing movies or series you like, relax and read a book with you, or even just nap and cuddle. even though your dates are mostly at home to keep away from the prying eyes of others, he's sure to make it something you'll always love and never regret.

© withloveajaxx 2022. please do not copy, plagarize, or translate in any way.

[writingstoraes]

the other side 🥡

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!horner!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this was actually a request but it somehow got lost in my inbox so im so sorry to whoever requested this 😭 i hope you still see this though and i hope u like it! lmk what u guys think hehehe

about: fans adore your support for ferrari, given your dad is literally their rival's team principal.

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 1,201,294 others

ynhorner had the best view at monaco 🏎️

(ps. i hope my dad isn't using his instagram right now)

christianhorner I have no words....

ynhorner see u at home 😘

redgirlz LMAOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY

maxverstappen ??? Hello

ynhorner hi, max :)

daylightcharles if years ago you told me christian horner's own daughter would be openly supporting ferrari i would have laughed in your face

hamilecs not charles liking this 😭

sainzlines QUEEN DO U PLAN ON WATCHING SOMEDAY AT FERRARI'S GARAGE 🎤🎤

ynhorner i would if i'd still be my dad's daughter afterwards

ynhorner

liked by christianhorner, landonorris, pierregasly, and 1,028,248 others

ynhorner i may scream "forza ferrari sempre" during race weekends, but i am my dad's daughter still 🫡

therealgerihalliwell There we go, Dad was waiting for you to wear that 😊

ilpredestinato she is me and i am her (i too, would support ferrari to hell and back)

lovesgasly my ferrari queen ❤️

britcedesbros LOVE THE JACKET drop the link pls 🙏

ynhorner dad brought it home after seeing me check out another ferrari cap 😆

ynhorner recently added to her instagram story!

ynhorner

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, therealgerihalliwell, and 1,019,294 others

ynhorner clearing my gallery so enjoy this race week’s dump! life's good when i'm not torn between two teams; i can bust my lungs out to "super max" and forza ferrari my way every sunday ❤️

queensland mother pls tell me that man is just an uber driver

charlierari That's literally Charles 😭 loverslane reaching we can't even see the face???

paddockgirlie MAM IS THAT CHARLES PLS SPEAK INTO THE MIC

ynhorner i think my lawyer says i'd rather not say anything 😅

maxverstappen Glad to know "Super Max" is on your playlist

ynhorner are you kidding? i play that when i drive so i can get to where i'm going faster christianhorner Your karting races are not an excuse for you to overtake whenever you want, Y/N ynhorner it's okay i'm driving a ferrari anyway :D

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and 1,503,994 others

ynhorner okay maybe there's another reason why i love ferrari, but it's really not my fault they signed someone so breathtaking and loveable to be their driver 🤷‍♀️

merchamilton someone check up on christian quick

sainzzzzham Y/N IS UR DAD OKAY 😭

ynhorner oh don't worry about him, i'm sure he'll be fine!

charles_leclerc Saw the sign today, apparently that's why you sent me out to buy red poster board?

ynhorner yes, gotta stick to my ferrari girl agenda

paddocklovez MY NEW PARENTS ❤️

maxverstappen Finally, growing tired of hiding Charles when he visits the garage 😐

christianhorner So you were in on this? maxverstappen For legal reasons, I will be blocking you.

------------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @cxcewg, @sassyheroneckgiant (lmk if anyone else wants to be part of my taglist!)

notes: tysm for reading <3

[jacesbeloved]

amidst the waves: special part

summary: born a lowborn, your family a group of fishermen that supply the market; one day, it wasn't a fish caught but rather, a young man.

pairing: lucerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: heree’s a special gift in the name of hotd s2 !! had this in the drafts for so long and just finished it after the first ep as a warm up for the fics to come :D i hope u guys enjoy

part: I, II, III, special

You had hoped for a nicer sea.

Inside of a sturdy wooden fishing boat, situated in the middle of the waters, all the while rain was pouring down on you, the waves wasn't cooperating as well.

Your hair was tied into a knot, absolutely drenched from the rainwater, as you desperately tried to help Alaine tie the net inside of your boat. Some of the sea creatures you've captured managed to jump back out because of the chaos inside of the boat.

"Are we not heading back!?" Alaine yelled, hands clutching the sides of the boat as the waves rocked the both of you.

"What do you think I'm doing!?" You moved the oars aggressively. Alaine groaned before joining you in rowing the boat.

Your hair strands stuck to your forehead by the time you arrived at a part of the sea where the storm had calmed down. Only a light shower of rain droplets fell on the both of you.

Alaine wiped her forehead tiredly, resting her head on her hands while you continued rowing. Desperate to head back home and escape any possible storm that may follow your boat.

Something seemed to feel wrong; like you were forgetting, neglecting something.

You sneaked your eyes to the side, a second before you sharply turned towards your sister's direction. Her skin was pale, body shivering.

"Alaine? Alaine!" You pulled off the extra piece of clothing around your neck and proceeded to place it around your sister. "Hey? Stay with me, okay? I'll bring us back." You whisper on her forehead and she weakly nods.

A sigh leaves your lips, forgetting the ache in your arms as you started to row continuously without any break.

It took the both of you an hour at most; your arms were practically crying and shaking. The fear and nervousness inside of you growing whenever you glance at your sister still trembling in your scarf.

The familiar shore reappears in your sight, even though it was still far away, you felt a bit relieved seeing it.

There was no one by the shore when you got closer. Your hut's door closed shut and you couldn't see any movement from inside of the open windows. You gently grabbed your sister's head, whispering her name on her head as you tried to wake her up.

"We're here, Alaine. Please stay for me," you spoke, rubbing her head as you started screaming your brother's name. "Arrel! Where are you! We need you, now!"

By your first scream, there wasn't anyone that came out to help bring you fully to the shore. You screamed Arrel's name again, this time even louder which caused Alaine to groan.

You apologized softly, pulling back the oars and rowing.

Someone yells your name, at first you thought it was Arrel but it wasn't.

There was another figure right beside your brother's. A figure that seemed taller, a little bit bulkier, and certainly more layered. The figure had a unique coat on, a luxurious one.

Your eyes go wide when the two of them run to your boat, pulling the front to the shore as your body freezes on the spot.

It's Luke.

Or, to be correct, Prince Lucerys.

"What happened to her, Y/N?" he asks out with concern, rushing to pull off the coat he was wearing and place it on top of your sister.

You weren't sure what to tell him; do you just answer and act normal as if there wasn't anything that went on between the two of you three years ago? Or do you ignore him, throw a tantrum, reject his offer of a helping hand?

"Y/N! What happened to her?!" You were snapped back to reality when Arrel was the one that asked you. Your eyes blinking erratically as you stammered through your words, telling them that it seemed Alaine caught a cold because of the rain.

"We have to bring her to the hut. Arrel, get some new clothes for her, the ones I bought, those are comfortable and warm enough for her." Luke instructs, your brother nodding as he runs off.

"What- Arrel! Help me bring Alaine there what are you doing!"

Luke sighs, obvious to him that you were ignoring him.

He grabs hold of Alaine's arm, helping her up with his hand on her hips. Despite not wanting to, you grabbed the other arm and proceeded to help your sister out of the boat. Choosing to set aside your pride for now.

"You should run inside. You're drenched! I will carry her." Luke says, stopping for a moment.

"No!" You yelled.

Luke huffs, rolling his eyes as he nods.

By the time you got to the hut, you had quickly finished dressing Alaine in a new set of clothes from her wardrobe, not taking the ones Arrel was handing you that were from Lucerys.

Arrel had brought in a pot with cold water, and you grabbed a towel and submerged it in cold water before folding it to place on top of Alaine's forehead. The younger woman was still shivering, even though her forehead was hot.

"Here," Luke joins, entering the open room with some liquid inside of a small cup.

You looked at him, confused. "This," he says, raising the cup. "It's tea. We can use it to make her sweat and get the cold out. We have to get the heat out of her body."

"I know how to treat a cold, Luke," you grumbled. Arrel is looking at you with an "are you serious" look. Another sigh leaves your lips. Arrel rolls his eyes and takes the tea from Luke.

You held the back of your sister's head up, helping Arrel and Luke as they tried to make her drink it. Making sure that none of the hot liquid falls on her. Alaine coughs loudly, grimacing at the taste.

When the two males get her to drink it all, you set her back down and wrap a blanket over her body. Letting her rest and sleep.

Hours passed by in such an awkward atmosphere. You were seating on the seat by the kitchen, quietly cutting an apple as Arrel assorted today's catch into different tubs. Luke was out for a bit, unclear to you what he was doing but all that you remembered was him borrowing a piece of parchment and some ink. After that, he stayed inside of the living room, right across from the open kitchen with Arrel in the middle.

Your youngest sibling suddenly stands up, informing you that he'll be taking them to the market and that he left some to cook for later.

"W-what, you're leaving now?" You stammered, eyes flicking over to Luke before snapping back to Arrel.

"Yes. I have to get these to the market. I have to buy some herbs and other food as well, some you can use for our dinner with Luke later-"

"I appreciate the thought, Arrel, but there is need not of an extra dinner. I can leave before dinner if needed-" It was Luke's turn to speak now.

Your lips go dry, Luke gulping, Arrel staring at the both of you weirdly.

Taking none of yours statements into account, he leaves the hut. Ignoring your empty threat.

That is why here you both were. Sitting in silence, not a word spoken, no stories of what happened in the other's life for the past years.

You lean back a bit, catching a glimpse of the sun setting so you stand up. Rubbing your hands on your hips. "I'll start cooking."

Luke was quick to stand as well, following your footsteps to the kitchen. "I can- I'll help!"

"No need. Sit."

"Nonsense. I used to cook for your family all the time." He says with a chuckle, an attempt in lightening up the atmosphere. "Used to, Luke. I'm sure your maids and cooks cook for you now, of course you'd forget how to grill and cook."

He grabs the small pail filled with fish, running outside and away from you.

Being the person that you are, you ran after him. Dashing out of the door while screaming his name, glaring at him. A smile draws on his lips as he runs near the shore, the weight of his clothes evidently wearing him down.

You shove him hard, gripping the padded shoulder of his shirt when you catch onto him. Luke laughs at that, acting as if he was getting hurt with each time you smacked his shoulder.

"Give me it; I'll cook," you demanded.

He calms down a bit, sealing his lips as he thinks for a second. Eventually, he hands you the pail with a small grin. "As long as you'll let me help."

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he walked away without a word. Luke catches up to you with no problem and sets out to walk beside you with his hands behind his back.

"I missed you, you know," he said. The sudden statement surprised you, a faint red hue threatening to show on your cheeks.

"I wrote to you many times," and you started to feel a bit apologetic. Remembering the times when a random raven flies to your hut, having a letter with Luke's signature? Speaking about how being with his family was weird but great,. He was still weird even after months, but he grew back into his family. Though he also missed staying in the hut, in his own little tent, grilling seafood at night for dinner.

"I didn't know you did," you lied.

You hear him scoff a bit: "I found my letters underneath your bed; Y/N. Arrel showed them to me."

And there it is. The nerve to apologize after being caught.

"I assume you have your reasons, and I respect that." He cuts off your train of thoughts, already assuring you when he sees the guilt strike your face.

"Forgive me," you said. "There is nothing to forgive, Y/N. I understand that we did not really leave each other on a good foot." He spoke with some sense of maturity, different from the one he already had way back.

You nod, pursing your lips.

The two of you remained silent, him watching as you prepped the fish, expertly using your knife quick and clean.

"So what brought you back here?" It was your turn to speak, opening up a conversation.

"I told you." He smiles at you. "I missed you."

You look away from him, acting as if you were looking for something, just to avoid him seeing your cheeks. The sun was still setting, and he would still be able to see the rosy stains on your cheeks from his reply.

"And the sea," he laughed, pointing at the waters. You laughed with him, and although it was forced, you tried your best not to. "Of course, the sea."

The rest of the conversation passed by awfully comfortably. It was like two childhood friends catching up about what happened in their lives. Loud laughs and playful remarks thrown here and there whenever one joked about something.

Arrel arrived, not really interrupting them when he did. Just simply walking inside the hut silently carrying some other already cooked food.

You remember one simple question that you had—something that was lingering in your head for the whole day ever since you saw him today. "What is it, my lady?"

"So, uh, how is life betrothed?" The response you got caught you off-guard.

Luke laughed. He laughed. Loudly. Not just a simple laugh; no, he was laughing hard.

You got thrown off by that, shaking your head and looking away. Focusing down on what you were cooking over the fire, as you just chose not to push on it. When he laughs at your name, you scowl. "What?!"

"Y/N-"

A loud roar cuts you both off, and your heart almost falls out of your ribcage when you see two big dragons flying in your direction. Your hand immediately comes over to grip Luke's arm, squeezing it as you point at the two creatures with fear on your face.

Compared to the pure fright on your face, Luke's face had relaxed as he recognized the two dragons despite the dark skies.

Both dragons flew above them, circling their little vicinity before the two dragons disappear for a few moments. Taking deep breaths, you slowly released your hold on his arm. A small smile appeared on his face as you went back to the clay pot hanging over the fire as if nothing had happened.

He followed you to your spot, ghosting over the fire as he watched you in silence. I watched the way your forehead creased in concentration, but the nibbling on your lips told him you were still irritated.

"I do not have a betrothed, my lady," he says the answer that was interrupted before.

"Rest her soul."

Luke shakes his head, "She is not dead. The betrothal was called off a few days after I returned."

"Oh!" you sigh, biting the inside of your cheek awkwardly at the piece of information. You didn't necessarily know what to do with the information but it certainly did lift a lot of weight off of your chest. "That is... unfortunate."

"Incredibly unfortunate," Luke echoes in the most monotone voice you ever heard. A deadpan look on his face.

You were about to take notice on that response of his when three figures appear behind him. I am walking towards the both of you. Luke, looking back as well, turns again to you but now with a genuine smile.

When they come closer, your breath hitches. It's Queen Rhaenyra with Prince Jacaerys and Joffrey.

"Your grace," you say, taking a knee and bowing to them. Luke glances at you as he does a shallow curtsy himself before he stretches his arms to hug his family.

"It is our honor to meet you, Lady Y/N. You are my son's savior," Rhaenyra reaches to shake your hand, a look of genuineness on her eyes. Jace and Joffrey reach as well, each taking turns saying their greetings.

"You praise me, your grace. I simply did what any normal person would do. It is more surprising and commendable that Prince Luke—" you pause, "Lucerys—managed to live through our impoverished, penniless—"

"Y/N." Luke stops you there, holding your arm with a frown. "You should not bring your family down. You guys have been more than welcoming and accommodating for me."

"I agree with Luke. It is us that are in debt to your hospitality. Without you, I do not think our family could have been complete again." Jace cuts in with a solemn smile.

Rhaenyra comes forward, glancing at your family's hut. "Oh, my parents are yet to come back from the town. My brother, Arrel, is also in the market for dinner—perfect!"

"I had just remembered. I will be able to cook a bigger dinner once he arrives."

"There is no need, dear. We have come here to express our gratitude for your hospitality to my son," Rhaenyra says softly. "May we?" You nod eagerly, opening the front door of your hut to welcome the unexpected family.

Luke tends to Alaine first, covering her with the curtain to provide her with some privacy as she is sleeping, before he happily accompanies his own brothers. Even telling Joffrey to start fanning the pit of fire while Jace skewered the fish. You and his mother having a cup of tea inside.

"You are all fishermen?"

You nod, "My mother and father deliver these seafood to King's Landing on occasion, which is why only us three are left here."

Rhaenyra hums, looking around. "Luke has told us all about this. According to him, he learned a lot more lessons on livelihood here than in King's Landing."

The two of you share laughters at that. "My apologies, your grace. My family—I included them—had not known of Luke—Prince Lucery's status so we had treated him as normal as we would any other person."

"There is no need to call him with such formalities. I am aware of the relationship you both share," Rhaenyra replies and you look at her awkwardly.

What even is this relationship that she speaks of? You weren't quite sure.

"There is no need to feel troubled, Y/N. If my son has yet to tell you, his—"

"Betrothal was called off," You finish for her. The Queen sends you a knowing look as she nods. The two of you comfortably sitting in silence.

A gasp disrupts the silence, "Oh my, your grace," Alaine's head falls to bow. Gulping as she looks at you with major confusion. You shrug discreetly, not knowing how to reply.

"This is Alaine. Our middle-born." Alaine does a curtsy with nervousness before Luke's call from outside echoes inside. "Mother! Y/N! Dinner is ready. Arrel has arrived back as well!" Luke yells from outside.

The three of them head back out to reveal the four boys getting along with each other. Arrel, despite being younger than the other three, is tallest and is the one ordering them around. They were fixing the plates and preparing the cooked meat.

Alaine had already run to the food as soon as she came out. You and Rhaenyra... still chatted.

"I know my son's attachment is heavy but I tell you this as a mother: all I want for Luke is happiness. He is to rule Driftmark after his grandfather. I figure it will be an incredibly burden, not to discredit your or..."

"Your grace, I do not know."

"Mother," Luke calls. The two of you turning to him. "You shan't pressure Y/N. Let us have supper."

Rhaenyra squeezes your hand as she sighs, nodding while pulling the both of you to where they were eating.

It was a rowdier but definitely cozier supper. Laughters and stories both from the sea and the castle were shared as if there weren't a barrier between their status—because to them, there weren't.

Luke was right beside you throughout supper. Comfortably jesting with your siblings and his. It was all too casual.

The two of you share a look at that moment, eyes staring longingly at each other. A smile comes onto your lips when you feel his hand slowly and softly creeping into your free hand. You glance at his hand, then at his face.

He's smiling at you. One that pulls at your heart again, just like before. Only this time, he's sure he won't be leaving you any time soon.

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - part 1

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara finds herself in a weird place in the museum

warnings: none

word count: 1700+

author's note: this was a request (find here)! hope u guys enjoy :D the english major in me really popped the fuck out in this one 🤭

next part

Spending a rainy Sunday in the Museum of Modern Art was far from what Tara wanted to do, but she had been outvoted by the rest of her friends, all of whom thought that it would be fun (well, all but Chad, who wanted to stay in and have a movie marathon).

She found herself wandering aimlessly through the halls, glancing this way and that at different exhibits, though nothing really piqued her interest. Sam and Danny had escaped to the Egyptian gallery, Chad and Ethan were exploring the gift shop, Mindy and Anika had rushed off on their own almost as soon as the group walked through the front doors--if Tara had to put money on it, she would guess that they were making out in the bathroom--and Quinn was flirting with the ticket booth guy.

Tara pulled her phone from her back pocket.

Tara (3:46pm): can we go soon im bored

Sam (3:48pm): Danny and I are only halfway done!

Chad (3:49pm): anyone got some extra cash??? really want this weird t-shirt

Ethan (3:49pm): i got u buddy

Mindy (3:51pm): fh2p9hr2$!8tn

Sam (3:51pm): Mindy, what?

Mindy (3:52pm): sorry butt text

Mindy (3:52pm): me and nika r busy

She huffed when no one in the group chat seemed to be on the same wavelength as her and shoved her phone back in her pocket, continuing her shuffling. She wasn't even sure where in the museum she was, and she didn't really care.

Or, at least, she didn't care until she heard that voice.

"And here we have a painting depicting the celebration that occurs in the beginning of one of Shakespeare's earlier plays, Titus Andronicus."

Tara looked to her right, where the voice was coming from, and was met with a large sign that read Pop-Up Shakespeare Exhibit! She frowned. Shakespeare? she thought. Seriously?

"Now, this celebration is quite important to the rest of the play as..."

The voice was luring her in. Okay, maybe I can dig Shakespeare.

She wandered into the room, eyes flitting around as she searched for the person that the voice belonged to. Instead, she was met with numerous paintings of different scenes from Shakespeares' plays, or people that influenced him or were important during his time period.

And why the fuck is this man so iconic? she thought as she quickly scanned over each painting, finding nothing extraordinarily special about them. This shit is boring.

Still, she ventured farther in, determined to find the reason she had entered the exhibit in the first place. She wasn't, however, paying much attention to her feet or the paces in front of her, and the next thing she knew, she had bumped into someone else.

"Oh, sorry," she said.

"It's okay! That's my bad!" you replied, and Tara's eyes widened as she glanced in your direction. You were the voice that she was trying to find, and now that she had found you...well, she wasn't really sure what to do.

Honestly, she hadn't expected you to be so, in layman's terms, hot, and she could feel herself blushing up to her ears as she stared at you, awestruck and nervous and itching to talk to you all at once.

You offered her a wide grin and gestured toward the painting the two of you had ended up in front of. "Big fan of King Lear?" you asked.

Tara glanced at the painting. Two men stood in a vaguely grassy area, one old and the other younger. The older one had his arms thrown out, and despair was clearly controlling his emotions. The younger one was simply standing back and watching. What the fuck is this shit? she thought before realizing that you were awaiting her response.

"Yeah, definitely!" she lied. "It's probably my favorite Shakespeare play."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Really? You strike me as more of a..." You trailed off as your eyes flitted down her body, taking her in. Tara gulped. "I would say Twelfth Night kind of girl."

Tara shrugged. "Well, I can be surprising." She pointed lamely at the painting. "Besides, I love history plays."

"Oh!" You raised your eyebrows as your eyes widened, and you chuckled. "King Lear isn't a history; it's a tragedy."

"Right! I--That's what I meant," she rushed out, trying to backtrack. "But, I mean, couldn't all of Shakespeare's plays technically be histories? They're all old."

You giggled, and Tara found that she liked that sound even more than she liked your voice. "That's not really how it works." You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and glanced at the watch on your wrist. "If you want, I could give you a tour through the exhibit and explain some of the plays to you. My next group isn't coming for another hour."

I would rather Ghostface pop out of one of these paintings and attack me than have these boring-ass plays explained to me. She wanted to say that--god, did she want to--but you were looking at her with a soft smile and even softer eyes, your hands buried in your back pockets as you shifted on the balls of your feet, and her reply was tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

"That would be great!"

* * *

You were only halfway through the exhibit, talking about some lady named Portia who could only marry the man that chose the correct casket--how fucking stupid, Tara thought--when you turned to her, a pitiful smile pulling at your lips.

"You find this boring, don't you?" you asked, though there was no judgment in your voice. If anything, Tara could detect a hint of teasing.

She shook her head. "No, no. Portia and Bassanio and caskets are all very...interesting." When you tilted your head at her, your eyes sparkling with disbelief, she sighed in defeat, allowing her shoulders to slump slightly. "Yeah," she admitted, "it's kind of boring."

You shrugged half-heartedly, a crooked smile on your lips. "That's okay. Shakespeare's definitely not for everyone." You looked back at the painting you stood in front of. "I mean, even I hated half the plays when I first read them."

"Then why are you a tour guide for this exhibit?"

"Money," you confessed. "I'm a broke college student who has tuition to pay for. Plus, I've read all of these plays ten times over, so I know them pretty well."

Tara wrinkled her nose. "Why would you subject yourself to that?" she asked. "I couldn't even imagine reading these plays once, let alone"--she gestured in the air--"as many times as you've read them."

"I'm an English Lit. major, so it's kind of my thing." You sighed in a dreamy sort of way, and Tara couldn't help as her eyes flitted down to your lips, her tongue dragging across her bottom one. She quickly shifted back to your eyes when you looked at her. "But it's not everyone's thing. I get it."

She frowned. "Sorry if I, like, wasted your time."

You waved her off. "Don't worry about it. I like talking about the plays, and if anything I said in the last fifty minutes got through to you, then I did my job."

Tara nodded. "Oh, it definitely did. Yeah, I learned so much about Shakespeare today," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You chuckled. "Sure you did."

She took a deep breath in and then rushed out, "If I could prove to you that I learned something, would you let me take you on a date?" She watched as your eyes widened in surprise before being narrowed by the smile that took over your face.

"Okay," you agreed. "I'll ask you a question, and if you can answer it, then I'll give you my number. How's that?"

"Yeah," she said, grinning. "That works."

You glanced around the parts of the exhibit that you had taken Tara through, and she watched as you thought for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration and your hand scratching at the side of your neck.

"Oh!" you said after a minute. "I've got it." You turned to her, a wicked smile on your face. "In Twelfth Night, what's the name of Viola's brother?"

Oh shit, Tara thought. I should've listened harder when she was talking about that play. But it's not my fault she looked so cute when she was talking about the different theories of human gender.

She blinked at you, trying to come up with the name, or, frankly, any name that you had mentioned during your little tour. You waited patiently, watching her as the gears turned in her head.

Orsino? No, no--that's the Duke. Was it Cesario? Toby? Malvolio? None of those. Oh! It was--

"Sebastian!" she practically yelled.

You giggled at her enthusiasm and pulled the pen from your front pocket. As you clicked it open, you said, "I guess you do listen." You took her arm, pushed up her sleeve so that you had enough skin to write, and jotted down your number on her forearm. She looked at it when you were done, blushing at the sight of a poorly-drawn heart at the end. "Text me, yeah?"

"Totally," she breathed out. "Yeah, I'll do that. For sure."

"Okay." You glanced at your watch. "My next tour's starting in, like, a minute, so I've gotta run." You quickly looked around the exhibit and, upon finding no one near, leaned close and pressed a short kiss to her cheek. "Bye!"

Tara was left in the center of the Shakespeare exhibit, watching as you walked back toward the entrance, with a burning cheek and butterflies stirring in her stomach. She looked at the portrait on her right.

"Shakespeare, you're not good for much, but apparently you're good for getting cute girls' numbers," she muttered.

bonus: "so, what exhibits did you go to, tara?" sam asked as the group sat in a little coffee shop down the street from the MoMA.

"uh, the shakespeare one," tara mumbled.

everyone's eyes widened. "what?" came the resounding reply from all of her friends.

"you hate shakespeare," mindy stated.

"yeah. when they tried to teach us about it in senior year, you literally left the classroom," chad said.

"why the hell would you spend all your time in a shakespeare exhibit?" sam asked, furrowing her eyebrows at tara.

anika reached over and pulled at tara's shirt sleeve, revealing the numbers hidden beneath. "i think that might be why."

tara groaned as everyone started talking over one another, asking questions (sam) and squealing (quinn and mindy) and grumbling (chad and ethan).

"god," mindy started when everyone was finally quiet, "you are so gay, t."

[httpiastri]

NSFW alphabet – pa17

author's note: hello hello, finally finished this <333 (after idk how many months lmao) happy to finally post it! hope u enjoy !!! and please let me know if you have any opinions or thoughts, feel very free to fill in with what you think abt these prompts (or any other paul prompts 🤭) hehe

nsfw content below !! minors dni !!!

a – aftercare (what he is like after sex)

i see paul as someone who doesn't like to make a mess, so the clean-up process is important to him. he'll either want to clean you both up with a warm, wet towel, or take a good old shower. he'll find it super cute if you don't have the energy to shower because he'll love holding you up, having you lean against his chest as the water pours on you two.

but in general, i think he'll be very soft after sex. he makes sure to tell you how good you did, praising you and letting you know how much he adores you. it's a lot of smiles and giggles, a very lighthearted vibe. and he craves skin-on-skin contact, holding you close and brushing his fingers along your skin.

b – body part (his favorite body part of his and also his partner's body)

his favorite body part of his own is his hands – just because he knows how much you love them. he loves how he can use them to give you so much pleasure, and how much you tremble from just his touch.

his favorite body parts of yours are anything he can cover with his hands. he loves seeing how big his hands are compared to your body, so holding you in his hands makes him crazy. he likes your boobs, butt and thighs specifically. (boob man!paul headcanons here)

c – cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

like i mentioned before, he dislikes making a mess. so cum will go either inside of you, in your mouth, or possibly on your chest, but then he's gotta be ready to clean it all up quickly (or lick it up). he isn't a fan of the like stickyness of it, especially in combination with your sweat, so he'll want to clean you both up after your session.

d – dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

i wouldn't say that i think paul is a switch, but he definitely enjoys being bossed around by you every once in a while. he loves it when you think you're in charge (when in reality, he's just toying with you, sorry), he thinks it makes you look so cute.

e – experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?)

hmmm honestly he's young so i wouldn't say he's got a ton of actual experience. though, i still think he knows what he's doing; he's a fast learner, good at adapting, and he listens well to your needs and wants. he's really good at picking up on your little signs and tells of how you like a specific thing, which i think makes him seem more experienced than he actually is. i also think he's learned a lot from watching videos, so don't be surprised when he pulls out some random trick that has you falling over the edge immediately and he just says "i saw it online"….

f – favorite position (this goes without saying)

mmmm paul will never be a more content man than he is when his girlfriend is riding him. is this a biased opinion? possibly, but i really see him enjoying it because 1. boobs on full display, so easy for his hands to cup. 2. he really enjoys not having to do as much work, especially after a long weekend etc. 3. again, he likes you thinking you're in charge when in reality, he's definitely going to be thrusting up into you.

though i also think he loves something where he can be more in control, setting the pace and just making sure you feel good. paul is a simple man, and nothing gets him going like a good old missionary where he can pin his girl's hands over her head and watch her gaze flutter as he thrusts into her.

g – goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous? etc.)

paul is a goofy guy but also very serious at times? which makes me think that he would be more serious during the deed. he'd of course be able to smile or laugh a little if something funny happened, but mostly he just wants to enjoy the intimacy and get as much out of the moment as possible.

h – hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

when i said i think he doesn't like things to be messy, his hair falls under that category, too. he wouldn't be completely clean-shaven, but he likes things to be neat and tidy.

i – intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i personally feel like he can be quite romantic? not over the top but a bit. i think half the time, it's just a good old fuck, but the other time he sees it more as lovemaking and he gets really soft about it. it depends a lot on his mood and the day, but if he's in the right state of mind, he loves having a long go where you're both just fully relaxed and he loves to make sure every cell of your body feels good.

j – jack off (masturbation headcanon)

oh he enjoys jacking off as much as the next guy. he's a busy guy and doesn't have time to be with you as much as he wants to (and maybe if you even live in different countries, it's extra hard). and therefor, his own hand is just the second best thing. esp during a bad race weekend when he just needs to get some of that pent up frustration out. you'll always be there with him though, no matter if it's in the form of a picture, a voice recording, a clip, etc.. and when you've spent a lot of time apart, he loves to have you on the phone with him….

k – kink (one or more of his kinks)

size. seeing you in his oversized clothes would make him go crazy. (size kink headcanons here)

l – location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere inside the house. in his bed, on the couch, having you sit on the kitchen counter, in the shower, you name it.

i think he would be up for some teasing in public; his hands on your thighs inching up under your dress when you're sitting down for dinner, possibly even letting a finger drag across the soaked fabric of your panties. but i don't think he would want to go any further in public, because he would much rather have a real one at home where he can enjoy the moment fully and not risk anyone else seeing. you're his and only his, after all – he doesn't want anyone else to see you like that.

POSSIBLY in his driver's room if he needs to get off before/after a session. oh, and in hotel rooms during the season, but more about that later… AND OKAY LAST ONE: in his car. yes yes yes.

m – motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

honestly, whenever you take the first step, it gets him going instantly. if you insinuate that you want to have sex with him, or that you want to try something new, he'll be jumping into bed instantly. he also can't keep his hands to himself whenever you dress up in certain outfits, especially short dresses (no matter if it's a sleek fancy one or a cute summery dress)…

n – no (something he wouldn't do, turn-offs)

he refuses to share you. he's possessive like that; you're his and only his. no threesomes or anything like that, just the thought of you with another man makes him icky. and it's not even like a funny thing, like "oh he gets jealous so easily, haha!". even teasing him by trying to make him jealous is a no-go zone, he doesn't find it amusing at all. he just gets mad and it's a huge turn-off for him. flirt with any of his friends and he will just leave the room.

o – oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

that's all i have to say abt this.

p – pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

like i said before, i think it depends on his mood!! he can be both, depending on how a race weekend has gone or just his general vibe for the day. mostly probably somewhere inbetween though.

q – quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

they're definitely a part of the equation, esp during race weekends. a must to get out some of that pent up energy he so often has. makes him relax more (and he says it improves his performance, too. he got like one podium once when you had a quickie before a race and now he insists on them every time he has an important race).

r – risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.)

in the bedroom, possibly. i think he would be up to trying new things if you really want to, but personally, he could just as well do what you always do. nothing dangerous or something that could ever hurt you even the slightest, so like even if you're trying bondage it has to be with the softest of silk straps.

outside of the bedroom, nuh uh. especially not out in public. like i said, he doesn't enjoy the risk of you accidentally being seen.

s – stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

he's a strong guy with good stamina, not sure how well it translates to the bedroom though. surely he can go for a few rounds but i think he's okay with just going all-in into one round instead. it doesn't really matter that much to him.

t – toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

not a big fan of using them but he likes to watch you use them on yourself :)

u – unfair (how much he likes to tease)

oh, he enjoys teasing you quite a lot. especially with his hands since he knows they make you so weak; showing them off, flexing them, placing them on your thighs, etc. he loves to rile you up, pretending like he isn't sure whether he will give you what you want or not, making you whine and beg for it.

he also loves it when you tease him back. it's hard for him to pretend like your actions make him feel what you want, because he's always looking up at you with a big smile and showing off how much he enjoys it. this connects to what i wrote earlier about him liking when you're in control; you're just too adorable, he can't hold back his grin.

v – volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

mmmm not too loud but not quiet, i feel? groans and moans a lot but also loves just talking and praising you. i also see him being… maybe just a little whiny……. when he's being teased etc. because as we've discussed on this blog before, i think he has a little submissive streak and just. there are some sounds he can't control.

w – wild card (a random headcanon)

there's just something about doing it in hotel rooms when he's racing that really gets him going. after a while, it's like he's one of pavlov's dogs because just being in a hotel room gets him going. celebratory, fluffy sex after a good race, or rough sex after a bad weekend – it doesn't matter. it's just bound to happen.

x – x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

gonna let someone else fill in on this because i just can't 😭

y – yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

high, but again not over the top. he doesn't need to get going 24/7 but if he has a gf as hot as you, then it's gonna get high. idk he just sees you and boom, instant boner. doesn't need to act on it every time, but he could if you wanted to.

z – zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterward)

quickly!! a sleepy boy, he needs his beauty rest. quick aftercare, and he'll make sure you're comfortable and good and resting properly on his chest before he lets himself close his eyes. but then it won't take long before he's dozing off…. he puts so much energy into the act that he's completely worn out after it, poor boy.

[urlovebot]

masterlist

dude finally i'm getting to this. hopefully this helps you guys navigate a little bit better!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Headcannons

bada + reader at the club

✮⋆˙ bada and reader go to the club, bada almost gets into a fight over her girlfriend

bada as your tall sexy dancer gf

✮⋆˙ here are some hcs of bada as your tall sexy dancer gf

bada + corruption kink!

✮⋆˙ gf! bada lee got a corruption kink fr and let me let yall ponder on this with me

experienced!bada + innocent reader

✮⋆˙ experienced bada tests the waters with you

˙whipped bada + oblivious reader

✮⋆˙ bada is your gf and you dont even know it

bada + idol reader

✮⋆˙ bada and her golden retriever, high energy, secret idol gf

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Text Series

texts with gf!bada

✮⋆ cw: really suggestive. bada just wants you to be a stay at home gf so please just quit your job for her

texts with gf!bada 2

✮⋆cw: its always gonna be suggestive idk what to tell yall tbh

˙texts with gf!bada part 3

✮⋆cw: mentions of baby making. drunk y/n...

texts with gf!bada part 4

✮⋆cw: not suggestive... actually theres some angst ☹️ but very very fluffy at the end :D

texts with gf!bada part 5

✮⋆cw: ....suggestive u know the deal. just crack texts idk really no like theme here. enjoy!

text pranks with gf!bada

✮⋆cw: slightly (and very slightly) suggestive i cant help it i want her to **** ** ***** * *** me so bad. enjoy

jealous bada lee texts!

✮⋆cw: jealous, possessive bada lee. she is so fine. i won't her 😍

reader reacts to bada's wkorea photoshoot

✮⋆ i cannot believe our tall sexy gf showed that much of herself to the world. i'm with reader on this one

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Full fics

Too close

✮⋆˙ c/w: angst. angry howl, homophobia, minor and very, very minor physical harm done to bada. closeted bada, out and proud reader. its alooooot of angst. some comfort at the end though so don't worry!

Luxurious

✮⋆˙ c/w: spoiled ass reader. down bad bada. suggestive. a little more than suggestive? not full on smut though. what does bada like more than checks? money!

My love is mine, all mine

✮⋆˙ c/w: severe anxiety/panic attack. bada comforts reader through an anxiety attack. bada best girl.

Attention

✮⋆˙ cw: bada accompanies you to your high school reunion. nothing too bad. actually, not suggestive! bada lee being fine as hell... y/n acting up per usual. really fluffy at the end. enjoy!

tell your friends

✮⋆˙ cw: requested! smut. full on. cunnilingus. strap/harness. possessive bada hitting it from the back 🧎‍♀️

takeout (on me)

✮⋆˙cw: pussy whipped bada lee taking you in several different positions. cannot get enough of the noises you make and how good she makes you feel. good god.

kissin' and hope they caught us

✮⋆˙ c/w: reader gets into their head alot, but bada is always there to reassure you.

water

✮⋆˙c/w: bath time with bada. aftercare bur bada is still h word on main. fingering, praise, and soft!dom bada.

Garden Kisses

✮⋆˙ cw: friends to lovers. a bit of angst in the beginning. cunnilingus. jealous bada. bada is bad at communicating feelings. some texts thrown in there. possessive bada. pussy drunk bada.

who jerks off the most in zb1

Haobin x reader series

night routine with haobin waking up with haobin randon haobin + reader hc's zb1 being done with haobin + reader grossly domestic haobin + reader

Seok Matthew

matthew + doggy style soft dom matthew

Shen Ricky

eating you out after dinner what he's like during baby making

Zhang Hao

idol!reader accidentally turns him on riding hao's face

Sung Hanbin

angry hanbin

enha as employees at my old coffee shop

Yang Jungwon

brat tamer jungwon

Lee Heeseung

8:16am

Park Jongseong

empty

Sim Jaeyun

quickie with jake certified munch makeup sex with jake 11:32pm certified munch #2

Park Sunghoon

making brownies with sunghoon sunghoon thinks you're pretty

Kim Sunoo

empty

[nymphomatique]

-ahem after reading your nerd/loser!Miguel I just CANT ✊😩 ❤ I gonna need ask orrrr request something !...YOU MADE SOMETHING AWOKEN something in me that I i JUST can't explain😵😳 but NEED TO BE RELEASED (😏) and now today I wanted to request my take on it if that ok with you 😌😏

Ok hear me out nerdy loser/horny!Miguel x YOU GUESS IT popular/richfm!reader 😝!!!..

So let me explain the plot first 😌 .so let just say we never seen Miguel (it been an long time since) only remember that name while reader was in highschool and reader was one of Miguel bully I guess.. (even though she not the one laying an hand on him 😒😔) as she just watch as her popular group of friends bullied Miguel seeing him have tear down acting nothing like an man... ( what an man baby)'Which taught was more *interesting* about this nerd. but reader always think he was cute (I guess reader say it in her mind) even if he was an loser nerd at high school and more of an quite guy and only care for work.but the best part of Miguel in high school is that he ALWAYS obey no matwhat towards you/fm!reader 😩(god I don't know if I have to explain the next scene but I think I just hints some 😝😋 blow jobs overstuim- i mean many !! I want to see. Him cry on the desk while reader under it 🗣✊)

This is could be an flash back honestly I don't care 🗣🗣 I hope your doing great and having an awesome day

you were cooking nonnie‼️ i hope this translated well into writing. and yes timeskip crumbs 🤭

cw: no smut in this one folks! timeskip present, mentions of cannabis use, miguel gets bullied ;(, reader saves him tho dw, genuinely just fluff, teeny bit of d/s stuff, allusions to sex at the end. italic text is a high school flashback! enjoy 🫶🏾

“i cannot believe you had braces!” miguel laughs at your yearbook picture. you smack his arm and roll your eyes at his laughter.

“s’not funny. was only my freshman year.” you mumble,

“i’m just kidding honey, you’re still gorgeous, braces or not,” he says, kissing your temple. the two of you were sitting on your couch in your shared condo, looking at your old high school yearbook.

“you’re flattering me to get in my pants,” you quip. miguel wraps an arm around you and kisses your neck whispering low. “don’t need flattery to do that.”

you push his face away and snort. “when did you get so suave, mr. o’hara?” you question. “you weren’t as smooth in high school if u remember correctly.”

“you’d be right, but meeting you changed me for the better, no?” he flips the yearbook pages, finding his picture in the sea of others.

“maybe you changed me,” you say lowly.

“aww, come on pete, lay off him will you?” flash thompson laughs. “nah, he’s too easy,” peter replies. they had been roaming the halls, cutting class to smoke a joint. since peter was out early, he figured meeting you once your class period was over would be fun, high sex in the bathroom stalls was on his bucket list after all, and you never told him no when it came down to a good time.

in the midst of both flash and peter roaming the halls, they had ran into miguel o’hara, clutching his books in his hands during his free period, roaming the halls like them. nudging flash in his shoulder, peter made a show of miguel. he had pushed him into the lockers, feigning accident. miguel hit the rusted metal with a thud, dropping his books in the process.

“oh, did i bump you? my deepest apologies,” peter mocks, flash not even trying to hide his smile. miguel looks up from his place on the ground between the two, rubbing his shoulder that hit the locker. not worth it, he thinks, and moves to reach one of his books. before he can grab it, peter kicks it across the hall. miguel’s eyes stay focused on the ground. “aww, what happened? you got butterfingers, o’hara?” flash laughs.

“pick up your fuckin’ books, you’re blocking the hall,” peter directs towards miguel. miguel stays unmoved, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyes still glued to the floor. peters angry, feeling disrespected. “hey,” he says, and the hostility beginning to bubble in his voice is clear. “you fuckin’ deaf or what? i said pick up for fuckin-”

“the fuck is going on here?” you interrupt, seeing peter and flash freeze for a split second. you had left a while ago to go to the bathroom and skip class, but had decided to stop by your lockers, where you found peter and flash bullying some random.

“hey, baby,” peter begins. your eyebrow raises and he drops the act. “we uh- we were just tryna help h-”

“can it. i can smell the pot off you guys, fuckin’ gross. get outta here before you get caught with no hall pass,” you dismiss both peter and flash. peter makes way to kiss you goodbye but you move your head, your eyes telling him to get the fuck on.

when both peter and flash are long gone down the hall, you turn to miguel. “hey,” you say. he finally looks up at you and you see tears welling in his eyes. you wince, and wordlessly kick his book back to him. watching him gather up his books is almost disheartening, usually you laugh at something this pathetic. your feelings get the better of you, so you walk to miguel and buy your hand on his chin, lifting his head up to look at you. the eye contact sends a weird feeling in your chest, his tear stained brown eyes filled with emotion.

“chin up, dweeb,” you say, touching the tip of his nose and winking at him before you get up and leave, off to see what trouble peter found himself in.

miguel is in shock. that’s the first time he’s ever been talked to by someone popular. a popular girl at that. miguel looks back at your figure walking away, hips swaying with determination and he feels his heart swell in his chest.

“you gettin all sappy on me now, baby?” miguel quips. “funny. you must have forgotten what to address me as. i’ve been too nice to you,” you reply, your gaze intense. miguel swallows and his whole demeanour changes. “i didn’t forget, mistress,” he replies. you smile, getting up from the couch, pulling miguel up by his shirt to follow you.

“that’s my good boy.”

[stuffed-x-arts]

HEY GUYS GRINS. IVE BEEN SO OBSESSED WITH SLAY THE PRINCESS THE PAST FEW DAYS IM GONNA FUCKING EXPLODE !!!!! :D

anyways take this.

I don't see them as romantic but they are still so fun. love story !! u can interpret it all how u like though lol i enjoy it all the same and just hope u have fun <3

also below the read more im gonna dump some doodles and sketches of me tryna figure out how to draw the voices and stuff smh. none of it is set in stone also maybe some spoilers idk smh go play the game !!!

HIIII here. hands u this. silly birds.

the cold is one of my faves smh but they are AAAAALL good smh. contrarian. paranoid. hunted. broken. NARRATOR holy fuck i love timeloops and tragedies and horror and narrator characters and AAAAAARGH go play slay the princess RIGHT now smh ive mostly been watching playthroughs but trust me i need to buy it soon and play it a million times over smh

[itsjustaninchident]

I feel like an interesting prompt for Lando would be being with/meeting a girl he likes who isn’t an influencer or popular, just a regular girl who stays more private. (Me for example, a girl who lives in the middle of no where Texas, with a regular business office 9-5 job) lol

You Are in Love

Lando Norris x Interior Designer!Reader

socmed au

summary: seems like mclaren's driver is not available in the market anymore but the real question is, to whom?

warning/s: none

author's note: hello! I am so sorry for taking so long to respond to this request 😭 I didn't know how I would create this and I am still quite scared to take requests but here we are and I hope you enjoy it! A little warning I'm not very knowledgeable about America so I might have overlooked some things and I am sorry for that 😭 and also lmk~ I also chose interior designer as the career for the reader I hope you don't mind >< 🫶 Please request more!

Part 2

yourusername

Texas, USA

liked by yourbestfriend, yoursibling, and 129 others

yourusername another tiring week but at least i get to be a passenger princess hehe :)

view 10 comments...

yourbestfriend tell him to watch his back i CAN take you back 😏

yourusername dont worry bae im all yours 😉

yourfriend is this the london boy 🫢

yourusername well...

yourfriend when will we meet him👀

yourusername he's a little shy😆

yoursibling mom says she miss him more than u

yourusername i guess i have been replaced in the family now

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, carlossainz55, and 320,478 others

landonorris another normal but lovely week

view 1,093 comments...

user1 this is so out of character of him😭

user2 fr why is this kinda lowkey of him to do though👀

user3 am i thinking what you're thinking

user4 is he yknow the d word 😭

user7 okay pack it up people he can have a life that does not concern us at all

danielricciardo 🤠

user9 what's with the emoji

maxfewtrell when will u be back here

user5 oh OH

user6 since when are you interested in architecture 🧐

user6 trying to connect shit...

user7 no you're not go get a life

user8 baes take all your delusional asses elsewhere 😭

yourusername

liked by yoursibling, yourbestfriend, and 218 others

yourusername golf isn't as bad as i thought

view 2 comments...

yourbestfriend am i really about to lose you to some guy who drives in circles???

yourusername nah still urs babe 😆😘

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 530,789 others

landonorris golf kinda day

view 305 comments...

maxfewtrell you got beaten up bad...

landonorris she was just lucky

maxfewtrell sure...

carlossainz55 i guess ill replace you as my golf buddy

user1 why are his pictures so boyfriend coded lately?

yourbestfriend that's really a nice pic i wonder who took it? 🫢

yourusername 🤐

user2 the comments from max and carlos😭 who's able to beat this man in golf😭 i need to pay my respect

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, yourbestfriend, and 137 others

yourusername fun week in canada :)

view 6 comments...

yourbestfriend I should've went with you!

yourusername definitely! 😭 It will be so much more fun with u around luv :'(

lilymhe hope to see you again !

yourusername looking forward as well! I miss u alr 🫶

lando.jpg

liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 834 others

lando.jpg canada you were fun 😏

view 1,456 comments...

user1 DID HE JUST HARD LAUNCH?!

user2 I AM NOT SO READY FOR THIS

user3 i genuinely think he has no idea what he posted....

user4 LANDO WHO'S THAT IN THE 3RD PHOTO

danielricciardo mate I think you're not supposed to post the 3rd photo...

carlossainz55 she will definitely kill him

maxverstappen1 im here for it

maxfewtrell so much for being lowkey

this post has been deleted

lando.jpg

liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo, and 234,598 others

lando.jpg canada you were fun 😏

view 5,405 comments...

user1 no way you're trying to gaslight us

user2 man really said nope not today

danielricciardo i saw nothing

carlossainz55 me too

maxverstappen1 me three

user3 twitter fans gonna have a field day with this 😭

to be continued...

[potatobugxo]

Hey I saw your have requests open and I was wondering if you were willing to write a very fem presenting f!reader who is ace but doesn't really care how she is perceived based on her taste in clothes or the infamous being walked into while changing x Alastor and Lucifer (separate, together or just one of the two. However you like it).

How would they react? I think Al would be ever the gentleman and maybe appreciate that he can just be and live with the body he was given and she would look in his eyes even if he'd be bathing or something (ngl I think bathing together is such a cute thing and I hate that lewd minds ruin the innosence in it and the level of trust and comfort with one's self and another one can gain from it)

Like he is not just some hot piece of ass but a person in her mind no matter how he is presenting himself.

As for Lucifer I think he'd be curious about how she sees those situations as sensual and innocent where everyone else would just jump to sex and maybe find comfort in her view of him.

Or just a very oblivious sweet f!reader with them.

Idk if I make much sense and if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine. I hope you have a lovely day!

Thank you so much!!!!

i really like the contrast between these two for this idea!! i wasnt sure if you meant them walking in on the reader changing or the reader walking in on them changing (so i went with both sjsjfs) and thank u bby i hope you have a lovely day as well <33 warnings: mentioned nudity (not graphically described) lucifer's part is more suggestive silly

walking in on alastor/lucifer changing & vice versa (seperate)

you walking in on him changing:

"o-oh! uh! sorry, sweetheart! i didn't, uh, see you there!"

very flustered right off the bat. man was in the middle of putting his pants on when you walked in okay he was not emotionally prepared

you just blink at him widely and then smile, saying, "dinner's ready whenever you're hungry!" before abruptly leaving

f l a b b e r g h a s t e d

lucifer knows your ace but he thought you'd have more of a reaction to seeing him with his lil white booty hanging out

he joins you for dinner later and you make conversation about your day as if you didn't just witness his bare cheeks walking in on you changing:

"OH GOOD GOLLY UH, SORRY ABOUT THAT!"

his wheeze laugh really comes through with this one

"oh, it's okay, luci, i was just getting ready for bed."

he doesn't know what to do, should he cover his eyes and turn his back to be polite?? should he leave?? is he allowed to stare??

you just continue to take your clothes off and put your pajamas on while he's gawking like an idiot trying to think of what he should do

by the time he snaps out of it you're shimmying under the covers and patting the pillow beside you for him to join

it's obviously okay for him to change in front of you now so he does and rolls under the covers beside you

poor guy has a tough time understanding how you can be so innocent, a sweet lil smile on your face as you snuggle up to him with nothing but a shirt on and no ulterior motive

you walking in on him changing:

he'd be in the middle of removing his dress shirt when you stride into his room

"alastor are you- oh are you getting ready for bed?"

"why, you're right on time my dear! i was just about to take a bath. care to join me?"

you both are asexual you got no problems here 💀

bathtime is something alastor genuinely enjoys with you because he knows you won't feel uncomfortable or make things weird

he loves when you wash his hair for him and he enjoys giving you shoulder rubs

he's content that neither of you are ashamed of your bodies nor ashamed of showing them as there is no sexual motives to any of it

walking in on you changing:

"oh, my apologies my dear!"

he would be strolling into your room while you're slipping into your regular attire for the day

very gentlemanly, and even though he knows you're okay with showing your body around him he's still polite about it and turns on his heel to avert his gaze

"it's okay alastor, it's no problem!"

sometimes if you'll allow him to, he'll assist you as you change, for example pulling your overshirt or coat over your shoulders, or assisting with pulling your boots on

its a sweet way for him to express his affection for you! he needs to treat his lady right after all!

[punktactical]

ASSHOLE , eustass kid ★

★

summary ; a one-night stand with kid, more emotion spills out than it should.

warnings ; 18+ content , smut , mutual - masturbation , eating out , controlling behavior , cursing , light angst , kid is bad at feelings , he's also a lil asshole

a/n ; this was originally taken from my quotev one-shots , so if u recognize it , u know why lol ! woohoo my first post , i hope it does well *clasps my hands together obnoxiously*

★

★

eustass kid is an asshole for sure.

that much could be said as he spat on her, grabbing her hips harshly.

"d - don't be so hard! it hurts." she whines, tears pricking her eyes as she pushes at his chest. he smacks her hand away, sneering at her. "don't tell me what to fucking do." he lifts up her dress, revealing her white, puffy bloomers.

"ya dress like a lil' girl." he shimmies her bloomers down to her knees, the fabric resting down her legs. her pink panties peek through from under her skirt. he reaches a large hand out to rub her, but she stops him shyly. "you said you wanted me to . . ." she looks away, embarrassed. " suck you off . " he grins, his gums showing from behind his lips. "so? i changed my mind, not like you get to decide what i do."

his thumb grazes her clothed cunt, making her suck in a breath. he licks her through her panties, saliva mixing with her slick. "oh, oh, eustass!" she gasps, squeezing her thighs around his head. he growls, his tongue pushing and prodding at her entrance. "you still got yer panties on, y'know? ya really gonna cum when i'm eating you out from behind yer panties?" she blushes, holding a small hand up to her open mouth. she sounds like she's about to cry, with the way she hiccups every so often. "besides, i needa get ya ready for my cock, it's big, y'know?" he laughs at her horrified expression. he pulls her panties to the side, his tongue diving into her wet cunt. she screams in delight, her fingers winding themselves up in his hair.

what wonders a guy with a rude mouth could do.

"eustass, i think - i'm gonna - !" her breath catches in her throat, a sharp shriek ripping through the air, he doesn't stop licking up her juices.

"then do it." he spits out between his sucking.

she grinds her teeth, screaming from behind them as she feels the waves of pleasure come crashing down onto her. her hands pull at his hair, tugging it harshly. he hisses, lapping up her juices quickly. her body is sweaty, the remaining clothes she had on sticking to her body. everything was so hot now, too hot. "take yer clothes off, i'ma jack myself to ya now. so get comfortable."

eustass kid is an asshole for sure.

that much could be said as he forced her clothes off, stroking himself as she watches with a red face.

★

"what's yer name?"

"excuse me?"

they both laid in bed next to each other, still naked. they weren't touching though. his hands resting on his stomach while hers were holding her hips. "i never got yer name." she frowns. "does that really matter now? i'll be gone as soon as the sun rises." she closes her eyes, enjoying the plushness of the sheets beneath her. "no, but i just wanted to know, i guess." he turns his head the other way, hiding his embarrassed blush. god, why did he care anyways? she hums. "you're not the most kind man, are you?" he huffs. "what's the point of being nice? i'm a pirate." she looks at him with drowsy eyes. "i suppose so but." she reaches out a hand, the back of her fingers grazing his cheek.

"you're not being a complete asshole, just a little mean." she smiles, watching as he scowls, a visible blush on his cheeks.

"if yer gone as soon as the sun rises just like you say, then."

"i'd like to . ." he hesitates.

"i want to hold you." he gulps.

"only if you want to." he sighs.

it was almost a relief as soon as the words left his mouth. her smile widened. she shuffles over, her smaller body curling into his own. his hand hand rests on her hip, but it's cold, no affection radiating from it.

the cool metal reminds her that she is nothing but one night.

eustass kid was an asshole.

that much could be said as he woke up the next morning, the other side of his bed empty. he'll look around, confused, unsure as to what happened last night and if he'll ever remember. the only thing to remind him is a small, crumpled up letter with a name on it. he thinks about writing the name down.

he thinks about sailing the ocean, looking for the person that the name belongs to.

he thinks about fighting through thousands of marines, to get to that name.

he thinks . . .

he rips the paper up, the flakes falling to the floor. his hand continues to tear the paper up, his human hand. the only hand that has flesh. the only hand that has meaning.

as he said, he was just a pirate. what's the point?

eustass kid is and always will be an asshole.

not much can be said.

★

[lightwing-s]

hii love your work!! you're one of mu favorite blogs atm :D

can i request trying to study late at night, only for jason in his red hood suit to come bother u??

thanks 🥰✨

omg i’m so glad you’ve been liking my stuff, hope me taking this long hasnt made you hate me lol i’m so sorry. but here it is, hope you enjoy 🩷🩷

Exam season was driving you crazy. Exams, essays, projects, all stacked up and taking 100% of your time. And for this, you were wake at 3am on your 100th pomodoro session of the night, fighting a battle with your own body to keep yourself awake.

Concentrated on your text book, you were unaware of your surroundings, of the window slowly being open, and of the giant creeping into your bedroom. It wasn’t until you felt a strong presence at your side, heart speeding up in fear as you slowly turned your head, that you saw the bright red skull of your boyfriend and let out a loud scream in fear.

“Relax, it’s just me” he told you through a laugh, closing your mouth with his large hands. In return, you repeatedly slapped his chest, hardly causing any pain, as Jason’s laugh continued.

“D’you wanna fucking kill me?” you whisper-screamed while he removed his helmet.

“Sorry, you just looked cute, all concentrated and shit.” you rolled your eyes at his compliment, caving in to his sweetness and pecking his lips. “Just this?” Jason complained.

“I have to study.” you explained, but he still threw at you his big puppy eyes. To counter him, you pouted your lips, which he kissed away swiftly and moved to sit behind you on his bed.

“Fine.” he still sounded upset, but he left you to study with a smile planted on your face. Or so you thought, as minutes later you felt something hit your shoulder, and then another.

“Really, Jason?” you turned around to see him pretending to be asleep in your bed, the large smile on his face giving him away. Turning back to your studies, it wasn’t long till you felt him throw something at you again, and again, and again, not caving in to his incessant tries to get your attention.

Suddenly, though, you were being pulled from your desk with your chair and placed between his legs as sat on your bed. “You really can’t be serious about ignoring me.”

“I have to studyyy! I’m so full of stuff, Jay, you can’t even imagine how…”

“I know!” he cut you off, hands holding onto your waist. “But you also need to rest, it helps with retaining information. And you also need to give your boyfriend some attention too, or he’s gonna get upset and go punch bad guys on the streets. You really don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his silliness, but there was still so much to do. “I just have two chapters left.” you stared at him innocently. He huffed and spun you back to your desk, kissing your head while complaining.

“Whatever, I’ll just go to sleep.” You watched through the mirror on your wall as Jason stripped down to just his underwear, throwing his pants on your head and going under the blankets, looking all warm and hugging your stuffed frog, Mr. Lollihops.

You tried to focus on your book again, but the sight of your boyfriend all wrapped around your childhood toy was too much to handle. So you fixed your desk, turned off the lights and headed to his arms that he had spread out for you.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me.” he said as you snuggled into his chest.

“If I get a bad grade on the test it’ll be your fault.”

“You’re too smart, you’ll do great.” he kissed your forehead, fixing the blankets around you both. “Besides, the Red Hood can always threaten your professor to give you a better grade.”

Laying there on his chest, eyelids heavy with sleep, his fingers caressing at the nape of your neck, you allowed yourself to forget school, forget the world, and just melt into your boyfriend for the comfort you so wanted that night.

.

a/n: i’m writing this after spending all night awake and bombing my test today. all i wanted was sweet giant jason to hug me to sleep tonight and pretend i don’t have any school work to do.

send me a word or prompt and I'll write you a 200 words blurb x

[twilghtkoo]

HI!!!! TOTALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!! but I wonder if I can request a haechan drabble where his s/o putted a lot of lipbalm on her lips and haechan said it'll go to waste so he'll kiss her and say he's sharing it with her. HSJSHSJSBSJSNSJNS

pairings. haechan x streamer!reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship

warnings. shy haechan?? small make out sesh, mentions of zelda again bc i love zelda

notes. THIS REQUEST IS SO CUTE??? thank u anon for requesting this ! i hope you enjoy this just as much as i did writing this one :D

haechan masterlist | main masterlist

-

“i blocked and muted anything related to zelda because i do not want spoilers!” you exclaim into your mic, mindlessly scrolling through your playlist on spotify to play another song.

user same i blocked and muted everything bc my game doesn’t get here til the twentieth

user same

user i like playing new games going in blind it’s exciting

“me too, i love it. even though the trailers and concept art drops give away a bit but not too much.” you agree to the last comment you read.

user how are you

user hiiii yn

user how long have u been streaming

user is haechan home?

“i’ve been streaming for two hours and thirty-eight minutes,” you answer. “and haechan is almost home actually!”

“oh let me show you guys my new wallpaper.” you excitedly say, minimizing your current windows, displaying your wallpaper to the viewers.

it’s just a screen capture of a scenery from one of your favorite game franchises, the legend of zelda twilight princess. an official illustration that shows link on his horse, epona, with the master sword in his hand, looking handsome as ever in his green tunic. princess zelda and the twilight princess in the background and wolf link in front. the colors are so pretty and you’re very proud of it.

user oh my god that’s so cool

user tp yessss

user who is that fine man

user that is fire

“that fine man is link–“

knock knock.

“who?” speaking of the devil. your favorite person walks in, staring at you quizzically with his work bag hanging off his shoulder. he looks absolutely ravenous and you want to thank his parents once again for giving birth to this man.

“hi babe!” you chirp, straightening your posture as you weakly hold out your arms in the air, waiting for him to walk into your embrace.

he cradled your head against his tummy, being careful of your headset. his hands move down to the area just below your ears, pulling you in for a kiss but you slyly dodge him. haechan rarely kisses you while you are streaming, he doesn’t like showing that in front of thousands of people. but he can get affectionate and touchy sometimes, so he’ll pull you towards him with his back facing the camera and blocking both of your lips.

“haechan’s home guys,” like it wasn’t that obvious…

you grab your tube of lip balm that was across your desk, quickly and evenly applying some to your lips. when you rub your lips together, it feels a bit thick but you try to ignore it.

he hums, “that’ll just go to waste, let me get some.” he cups your face again, pushing your chair with his knees to make room for him to stand in front of you. you instinctively place your hands on his waist from the sudden movements. he bends down, his face inching closer towards yours and it’s like your brain goes haywire because your lips quickly connects with his before you attempt to shove him away.

you know where this is going.

he lets out a whine, “kiss me.”

you giggle, your head is still in his hands. you try to look at your monitor, already forgetting you had a live audience. haechan noticed your concerns, he turns his body slightly to tap your mic, turning it off so viewers can’t hear anything.

“now kiss me.” he says impatiently, the corner of his lips curving upward in a smirk.

you roll your eyes before your eyes flutter close and you let him indulge. he takes his time kissing you, long and slow yet hard, and he’s smiling into the kiss.

“ok enough stingy,” you managed to say in between kisses.

you can feel your lip balm being smeared all over your lips and around, all sticky and uncomfortable.

he chuckles, he bite on your bottom lip gently pulling on the flesh as he pulls away slowly before resting his forehead onto yours. a familiar action that makes your thighs clench together.

“you’re calling me stingy when you weren’t gonna share,” he points back, ruffling your hair before he turns your mic back on.

you look at him once more. “aigoo, look at you!”

you grab his wrist before he manages to walk away, pulling him down so he can show his face. his lips are glistening from your make out session and his cheeks are all red.

he gasps when he sees his reflection, immediately straightening up so he’s out of frame.

user theyre so disgustingly cute

user i feel like we’re interrupting something even tho we were here first

user GET A ROOM

user in front of my sandwich too?

you cackle at his reaction, too distracted by him to be reading the comments. tapping the mic once again with your hand.

“look who’s shy when you were begging to kiss me in front of twelve thousand people.” you jokingly tease.

“yah! is it a crime to kiss my girlfriend?”