#Watched it a couple weeks ago and thoroughly enjoyed it

[jadeite-art]

Y'all are like "but he's actually a very good looking ghoul" and yes, he is, but THAT'S NOT THE POINT. I mean, consider this:

Women see Coop who does have a great body shape and overall bone structure but is still a noseless ragged crispy critter who is less than 6ft apparently (and we all know how men are always whining about women only going for men over 6ft) and their reaction is like: mmmh perfect! Radioactive cowboy daddy! 10/10! Would rail!

Meanwhile men (at least this one man who, I believe, very well represents a certain subcategory of men) are offered Lucy: a doe-eyed, long-haired, super cute-faced, slim and shapely, state of the art convenionally attractive young woman and their reaction is like: meh, not good enough, needs a bigger ass (and probably bigger tits too)!

[daringdarlingdt]

tv show tag game

rules: list eight shows for your followers to get to know you better

thanks to @majorbaby for tagging!! I love doing these even if it takes me days and days to actually get around to them

1. Doctor who (2005- present)

2. M*A*S*H

3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer

4. Firefly

5. Good Omens

6. Fleabag

7. Derry Girls

8. DuckTales

as usual I’m not gonna tag anyone but consider this a free tag— if you wanna do it tag me cuz I’d love to see em :)

[gyuswhore]

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (2)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut, making out, breast play, fingering (f. receiving), p in v sex (protected + unprotected), oral (f. receiving) uhhhh i think that's it lmk tho

[A/N]: Part 2 !! shit goes down in this one so be prepared ig lmao. thank you for the love on part 1, i hope you enjoy the finale too hehe

For the third time this week, you wish you could squeeze your brother’s brains with your own two hands and watch it explode like a grape without legal repercussions. Or parental ones. 

You slam your phone down on the counter after you end your conversation with him, frustrated as you watch the empty shelf where you left your dinner for today in the fridge last night, and the other green box that was actually your brothers. Refusing to eat the dry PB&J he usually packs for himself, you slam the fridge door shut, trudging out the door to leave for work, thoroughly annoyed at the prospect of needing to eat out. 

It’s gone forgotten for most of the day, that is until the clock hits eight and you feel your stomach grumble, immediately putting you in a sour mood as you remember you couldn’t enjoy your pasta because your brother was enjoying your pasta. You only had another hour left, supposing you could wait till you get home to make dinner yourself, not feeling the burger joint across the street in the slightest. Eating a moonpie to satiate yourself for the time being, you go back to stocking the shelves for the new LP shipment, making a vague mental note to ask Mingyu if Jia liked the gift he picked out a couple weeks ago. 

Your opportunity arises almost automatically as you walk over to greet whoever came in, abandoning the opened box of bubble wrapped LPs as you hear the bell chime softly at the front of the store.  

Mingyu was here (again), hands occupied with a bag, looking relieved to find you emerging from the shelves. 

“Oh, you’re here. I was afraid you left already,” he says, smiling slightly. 

“Would’ve been closed if I did.” You nudge your head towards the clearly unlocked door, donning the neon open sign. 

He looks a little dumb, turning to look at the door. “Oh. Right.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Caught me at a good time though, I was just about to start wrapping up here.” 

He suddenly looks like he’s reminded of what he’s come here for, placing the bag on the desk next to him. “Seok told me to drop this off for you, he said it’s food.” 

Snorting, you take a look at the inside to find takeout from your favourite pasta place, which also happens to be your most expensive favourite pasta place. Seokmin felt bad enough to spend extra dollars on your dinner tonight, you guessed you could forgive him. 

You sigh as you speak. “And you strike as his errand boy yet again, sorry he’s been making you do all this.” 

“Did he piss you off?” Mingyu asks.

“Hm? He’s been pissing me off all week, this is him trying to get on my good side before I spit in his coffee.” 

He laughs at that, a toothy smile that has your stomach lurching. The flashback was brief but vivid all the same, his grin triggering a long forgotten memory. You could almost see the black studs in his ears again, his bangs falling in chunks on his forehead, his face turning into the boyish sixteen year old recollection on your kitchen counter, drinking cans of Monster and helping you lie to your mom. 

“Explains why he was ready to drop that much on a bowl of pasta.” 

“Hey, it’s good.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” He grins, “I’m gonna leave your pasta in your loving embrace, I have to feed my car now. Been putting it off till payday.”

“Oh, right. Thanks for dropping this off though, appreciate it.” You offer him a tight lipped smile. One that he returns, canines almost glinting in the light (but that’s just you). 

“No worries, I’ll see ya around.” You don’t remember what you were meant to ask him until he’s long jingled the glass door shut, walking to his parked car. You supposed it could wait, Jia would’ve liked anything he got her. You could ask him later, not wanting to have him turn around to answer the obvious question. 

The opportunity does not arise as easily as it did this time, a couple weeks passing in relative uneventful indifference, slow days at the store and nights in seven days a week. You were starting to wish you’d taken summer classes while you were stuck here anyway, the mundane days pushing you to believe you’d rather be busy than inexplicably bored. It’s not until your brother has a near mental breakdown from only having a sister as his main recreational contact that there’s a change. 

Mingyu sits on your couches in the dark, useless blanket thrown over his torso as both of his sock clad feet hang out in the air. To be fair, nobody’s looking at anybody as the eyes remain on yet another unnecessary explosion on the screen. You vaguely wonder how the ship hasn’t sunk yet. 

“What the fuck do you mean he’s been alive this whole time?” Seokmin utters, voice thick with the entire stick of butter he stuck into his bowl of popcorn. 

“Who funded this?” Mingyu mumbles from the other end, a deep frown etched on his face. 

“The people who funded the other three monstrosities.” You roll your eyes, inching your way into a sitting position, the ache making its way into the crick of your neck. 

“There’s more?!” The prospect had Mingyu hurtling into a sitting position, but not without his own set of winces as he feels the bones cracking and muscles aching. His hair is a mess, his hoodie nearly backwards, and you can’t help but laugh at the mildly confused and bewildered expression he has on. 

“Yeah, you wanna watch those too?” you ask through giggles.

Glancing at the final pub scene that’s playing on the TV, he's quick to mumble, “Fuck, no.” 

“I haven’t watched a real shitty movie in a while.” Seokmin groans as it’s his turn to stretch. “This was fun. Hollywood’s back.” 

Both you and Mingyu pointedly ignore his statement, your own mind debating whether you wanted to watch another movie. It’s not until you look up to see Mingyu doing something on his phone that you remember what you wanted to ask him. 

“Hey, Mingyu, did — Seokmin!” Your brother’s decided to begin his aerial stretches, touching his toes and cracking his back. You shift your head wildly to get a gap through his restless movements, eventually giving up finding Mingyu. He could hear you. “Did you – ugh – did you get to give Jia her present?” 

You aren’t sure what it is, but the way the question has Seok landing on his heels mid tip toe stretch and how Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up, you don’t doubt you’ve touched on something sensitive. There’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to take it back when both boys make eye contact with each other, but your brother beats you to it. 

“I, uh…forgot to tell her,” he lowtones. 

You look to your brother and then to Mingyu. 

“We broke up.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu smiles a little awkwardly, and Seok makes a strangled sound that may have been a laugh of his own. Or a cough, you aren’t too sure. “But…she did like the present, when I gave it to her anyway.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s good,” you manage, not knowing what to say. “Sorry that happened though…sucks.” 

“She ended it–” that has your own brows shooting up in disbelief. Kim Mingyu got dumped? “–over the phone, she decided she wanted to stay home for a while to figure out what she wanted to do. Uni wasn’t cutting it for her here…” 

“I mean, good for her, I guess. Hope you’re doing okay, though.”

He blows air out of his cheeks, scratching his neck. “I mean, we’re fine. Ended it on good terms.” 

Seokmin’s still standing awkwardly staring at the still running ending credits for something to do. “Should we get food?” 

“I don’t know, are you hungry?” Mingyu asks.

“How is the heartburn not getting to you yet? You basically emptied the country’s dairy reserves in a single popcorn serving,” you grumble. 

“Don’t underestimate my ingestional abilities,” he retorts.

Mingyu stares for a moment. “Aren’t you lactose intoletrant or something?”

Seokmin turns to him, mouth open as he points his finger, “You know, I might be.” 

“No you aren’t, if you were lactose intolerant then I’d be lactose intolerant,” you shoot. 

“Explain the empty can of air freshener in the bathroom after queso and chips?” 

“Have you considered during queso and chips that queso is a dip and not an optional beverage?” 

Mingyu’s cutting between you two before you can go on with your bickering, afraid he’d have to physically peel you off of each other if it goes on, “Let’s just go to a drive thru, you can get your lactose or…non lactose options however you like.” 

That’s how you’re shoved into the backseat of Mingyu’s car, Seokmin fiddling with the GPS to find the nearest McDonalds. 

“How do you not know where the nearest McDonald’s is, you live here,” Mingyu hisses as he takes his fourth right turn in a row.

“We always just order in, who sits in a car and goes to McDonalds.”

“Us apparently,” you lowtone to Mingyu from the back, picking at a crusty flower that you found in between the seats. They ignore you. 

“Okay, I think it’s this one. Dude, get a new GPS, this one responds after fifty years, of course it’s gonna take this long.” 

Their own bickering is starting to zone out into a buzz in your ears as you stare at a patch of leather behind Mingyu’s seat. You vaguely considered that you’re falling asleep. 

The streetlight has other plans, however, when you sense something glinting in the sudden light underneath the seat. Your interest is piqued, moving forward to see what it was. Mingyu senses you shifting and asks you what you’re doing. 

You don’t answer him as you shuffle around to catch sight of it again. And then you see it, a tiny necklace on the slightly dirty mat, a circle charm with a single ‘J’ in the center. You aren’t sure why you froze at the sight, the gold glinting prettily even in the dark. Leaving it there, you emerge from under the seat, trying to seem nonchalant. 

“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”

Mingyu’s common occurrence in the bookstore is starting to concern you, never catching him as the type to read something other than the occasional bad riddles on the back of a cereal box. You stand corrected however, as you find yourself trying to find a hardcover for him on the computer system, mumbling incoherently.

“Never knew you read.” 

“Well, now you do. This one’s really good though, you should read it too.” He notes, motioning towards the paperback version he brought with him for the book he’s finding. 

You snort at his suggestion. “Have you realised this is one of the most popular books in its genre right now? Hard to find someone who hasn’t read it.”

He frowns at the revelation, “Oh. None of my friends read it.”

Seokmin hasn’t opened a book for recreational purposes since he was twelve. As for his other friends…they didn’t exactly seem like the smart type either. You get up to move to the shelf the computer’s indicated, trying to walk off your annoyance at a particular memory before it begins to show. Mingyu follows you in your pursuit to find his book, skimming the shelves himself as he strolled behind you. 

“Oh, right, how’s that exhibition thing going? Forgot to ask about it,” you ask as you spot the box of the hardcovers at the top of the shelf. You grab the ladder that rests near the wall as he answers.

“It’s going pretty good, nearly done. I just need to send the final pieces over – what’re you doing?” 

You grunt as you begin to climb up the metal ladder, trying to get to the box. “Getting your book, genius.”

“Wait–” He moves to grab the ladder at the base as he watches you step higher. “Get down! I’ll go up instead.” 

“You get cold feet at the bottom of an escalator, be serious, Mingyu,” you grunt as you pull the box towards yourself, the ladder shaking with the force it takes, and it has Mingyu gripping the metal tighter. You pull the familiar cover out before closing the box back up. “There.”

“Why would you keep supposed bestsellers there, isn’t this like, in demand?” He grumbles as he continues to hold the ladder as you climb back down. 

“Ran out. Need to restock them at the front, but I’ll do that tomorrow.” You huff as you jump the last step, earning a loud yelp from Mingyu. 

“Chill out,” you chuckle as he puts the ladder away. “Okay, do you want me to look at anything else for you?”

“What would you recommend for my next imaginary adventure?” he asks as he picks out a random book from the shelf, trying to find the blurb. 

“Not that one.” You scrunch your nose at the sight.

“This one I know is popular. What’s wrong with it?” He chuckles as he puts it back.

“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet,” you call out as you walk back to the front.

“And believe you instead?” 

Oh, you wish.

Picking up your current read from the front of the store, you wait for him to reach the end of the opening where you stand to hand it to him. 

“You can decide that for yourself. Haven’t finished it yet, but it looks super promising. Try it out if you want.” 

He barely looks over the glistening title before handing it back to you, and you nearly assume he didn’t want it. 

“Ring both of them up,” he says, and then with a pause he continues, “And anything else you think is good too, I don’t really care.” 

Deciding you’d test the waters with this first recommendation, you only cash him in for two. He doesn’t question it as you do your job behind the desk, making casual conversation as he waits for you to find the right barcode. 

“How far are you with that one?” 

“The one I gave you? Just touched chapter 20, I think.” 

He only hums in response as he pays, grabbing the bag that you push towards him. 

“Let me know how you like it,” you comment before he begins to turn to leave. 

“‘Course.” He grins, and you can't help but grin right back. He leaves you in the store with a slight heat coming up to your cheeks, and a wad of gum in your mouth to keep your stomach in check. 

By the time the next day rolls around, it’s been nearly 24 hours before you hear from him again, his contact seemingly only ever gracing you within the walls of the bookstore – except he isn’t physically here. Mingyu texts you, and you nearly fall out of your chair at the sight of his name on your phone. 

It’s near embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone, passcode going wrong once, twice, thrice…you decide it’s the top five worst times your phone’s refused face ID. You’re slamming your fingers onto the screen harder than you should, watching the warp in the pixels at the pressure. By the time it does open its secrets for you, the annoyance has settled. Not at him though. 

[Mingyu]: hey [Mingyu]: i got to chap 20  [You]: what [You]: how [Mingyu]: started reading when i got home [Mingyu]: and then i got to 20 [Mingyu]: i think i pulled an all nighter [You]: you think? [You]: was it that good [Mingyu]: couldnt put it down [Mingyu]: i wanna talk about it but my eyes are closing  [You]: you know where to find me when you wake up

The typing ellipses don’t pop up after that, and you assume for the better that he’s succumbed to his afternoon drowsiness. If he was serious about that all nighter (which you don’t doubt, no way he could’ve plowed through twenty chapters and gotten any sleep), you assume he’ll be knocked out for at least the rest of the afternoon. 

Smiling to yourself at the thought of him wanting to text you about your matching achievements (and actively pushing your mind away from the blessed image of a napping Mingyu), you find yourself scrolling up the conversation, trying to remember the last time Mingyu had texted. That was easy to find out as the short scroll past the sparing details from your photography adventures landed you straight into late last year, a sparse conversation regarding your brother’s whereabouts when he wouldn’t answer his phone. 

You remembered the conversation. As mundane and ordinary as it was, it was difficult to forget the way your hands were shaking as you typed your one word replies, how your breathing was coming out uneven at a mere text back. You could argue there was less of that this time round, proud of yourself for learning to control your emotions better. 

There’s a train of thought that leads you to every recent interaction you’ve had with him. The conversations where you could look him in the eye, your relative indifference when he would show up unannounced, the disappearance of the wad of emotions in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. 

The latter may be slightly untrue, but you can't help but note how the ounces of fear within the concoction is gone. You were never quite sure what it was that you were so afraid of, perhaps the fateful night at Seungcheol’s party had answered that question for you, but still. 

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

Despite telling yourself it was the alcohol talking, maybe even a couple puffs of whatever — the mild disappointment remains. Thinking about the weeks following that, the moping and the hurt, you almost don’t blame Mika for acting the way that she did. 

Your brother had always been oblivious to all the frolicking in your heart that would ignite as Mingyu would enter the room, and for over a decade at that. And yet, it was during those weeks that he had noticed you acting like you had been dumped, asking you what on earth was wrong with you. 

“Did somebody say something to you?” he asks.

“Huh?” you frown, annoyed at the way he's planted himself directly in front of the cabinet that held your beloved moonpies. 

“You’re acting like you’ve been rejected by the love of your life. Nayeon’s not telling me anything and you’re being avoidant, what is up with you?” He huffs, hands on his hips. 

Oh, if only he knew how right he was. But you weren’t upset because the love of your life rejected you (anymore, at least), you were upset because he was a public asshole. 

It takes more coaxing from him to get you to start talking. It’s easier when he brings out the big guns: “D’you want me to tell mom?”

You tell him a little, not naming any names, much to his dismay. “Some guy was an ass, something about me being too easy or whatever.” 

“You’re upset because some drunk dude decided to run his mouth?” He scrunches his nose at the thought. “Ignore him, he’s stupid.”

“Thanks for the help, I’m cured,” you deadpan, pushing him aside to get to the gold inside the cabinets. 

“I could get Mingyu to help me beat him up, I just need a name.”

Oh. You briefly wonder how he'd feel if he had to beat up his best friend.

More than his attempts to sound like a cool older brother, the image of Mingyu beating himself up brings you more amusement than anything else. You crack a smile at the thought. 

That was months ago, yet you can’t seem to forget the hurt. Trying to shake off where your thoughts were taking you, you get up to take a walk around the store for something to do, fixing microscopic displacements on the shelves and wondering if you should restock something, only to realize you’d already done that when you came in, not wanting to whip out the ladder again to restock the ones you'd just landed from.  

Landing inevitably back behind the counter, you instinctively reach for the book wedged beside the computer. Your outstretched hand stops midway, thinking about how Mingyu’s reached as far as you in the story quite literally overnight. Retracting your hand, you decide you’d wait. 

The bell chimes signaling a customer, and you find yourself grateful for the distraction.

It’s nearing 8:30 when you decide you should close early. It was slower than usual today, the few walk-ins leaving without purchases too hefty, rendering you bored in your seat for most of the day. You’re locking the drawers of the main desk when Mingyu walks in with the familiar tune of the bell chiming, soft smile as he greets you quietly. 

“How was your nap?” you ask, trying not to giggle at his still dazed expression. 

“Pretty good, didn’t wanna wake up though.” His voice remains relatively coarse, and you don’t miss the light indent on his left cheek. It’s endearing, enough to have you wishing you could cup his face in a loving squish. 

But you don’t. 

“You don’t say,” you comment. Pointing at your own cheek as you continue, “You sure you don’t wanna take the night off too?” 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he looks down to fumble for his phone to see for himself in his front camera. The puffiness hasn’t gone away entirely, evident when he’s frowning and looking downwards, and the urge to squeeze comes hurtling back. 

“Did you drive like this?” 

“Uh, no, I walked.”

“Walked?” You try to comprehend if that was even more dangerous. He only nods. “Why?”

“Wanted to see you.”

It takes effort to not clutch your chest at the way your heart leaps. Kim Mingyu, you bastard. 

“Had to talk about the book.”

Your voice comes out a little more breathless than you’d like, but you hope his drowsiness skips over it. “You could’ve texted.”

He pauses as he mulls it over. “I mean, yeah…I don’t know. I just put my shoes on and came here.”

You decide you’d spare him the brain power and continue your remaining closing duties, talking to him as you move around the store. 

“We can take my car to my place, better than getting distracted here.”

He only nods in response. “Do you want any help?” 

“Nope, just need to turn off the lights and lock the doors. Let me grab my bag.” 

By the time you’re home, an XL pizza and drinks in your arms to satiate Mingyu’s post nap ravenous tendencies, you drop down on the couch with a huff. Seokmin hears the ruckus and appears from his room, not wasting time to break on the pizza with Mingyu as you leave to freshen up. By the time you settle with your own slice it seems as though Mingyu has roused himself significantly more than before. 

“Okay,” you huff as you land on the soft cushioning, “What did you think about the book?”

“Hard to believe this is her first book, it’s really good.” 

“Her world building is amazing, some of the best I’ve read.”

Your back and forth discussion grows increasingly passionate, forgetting the fact that your brother was also right there excluded from the conversation. His head shifts back and forth as the both of you converse, utterly lost. It would’ve been funny, except neither if you were actually looking at him. 

He manages to get a word in as one of you pauses for breath. “Since when do you read?” 

Mingyu gapes at the question, seemingly trying to find an answer. “Recently.”

“Why?” 

“What do you mean why? I just wanted to start reading,” he scoffs in a manner that could be described as exaggerated. If he’s trying to throw Seokmin off his scent, he’s succeeded, as he watches Seokmin get up and announce that he has work to do. That leaves the both of you alone. 

The conversation takes you into the late hours of the night, Mingyu’s prior nap releasing him from the chains of reasonable sleeping hours as he remains wide awake despite the 3 AM time on the dial. You manage to keep up with him, even when he follows you to the kitchen to brew a coffee. 

“Do you usually work this hard just to make coffee?” he asks as he watches you discard the used espresso puck. 

“We have a bottle of the instant stuff here somewhere for when I’m lazy,” you explain as you pour the fresh shots into the prepped ice and milk. “Doesn’t taste the same though.” 

“Coffee is coffee,” he says as he stirs the drink you push towards him. 

“Quite the contrary. Besides, the instant stuff fucks with my stomach, I’d rather not.” You take a sip of your coffee, glancing at the sink. “Will say, hate everything I have to wash afterwards.”

“I’ll do ‘em later, gotta pay you back for all the manual labour that went into this thing,” he refers to the latte he’s sipping on currently. 

“The appreciation is enough. We can make Seok do them in the morning for being a loser and going to bed early,” you snort. Mingyu laughs at that, the image of Seokmin doing dishes while the both of you sleep in. 

“You sure you don’t wanna call it a night?” he asks you as you place yourself on the kitchen counter. 

“I’m having fun, Mingyu, seriously. I’m off tomorrow too, I don’t have to wake up,” you reassure for the nth time. 

He doesn’t reply, only stares up at you from his leaned position. He’s chewing on his lip, and you find yourself unconsciously chewing at your own, the already raw skin stinging at the abrasion. Mingyu’s hands come up to your face slowly, like he knew it was hurting as he pulls your bottom lip to release it with his thumb. 

“You’re gonna bleed,” he whispers. His hand that grasps your chin doesn’t move, rough thumb continuing to graze at your lip lightly. 

“You never stopped picking at your lips, did you?” he wonders out loud, eyes trained on your mouth. 

Your own hand comes to lightly grip at his forearm. He remembers your habit, picking at the skin of your lips since near middle school, getting yelled at when you had to excuse yourself from the dinner table when they would bleed. 

“Old habits die hard.” Your voice is thick despite the gulp you had to take before opening your mouth. 

It was true, probably too much as you continue to look at his near perfect face. The oldest habit, the hardest to die. 

Mingyu drops his hand, landing it in your lap, your own hand still gripping his forearm. You aren’t sure what’s going through you as you trail your hand up further, to his wrists, to the dip of his palm, landing on his fingers. You grip his hand, tight this time. 

“I’m gonna jump,” you whisper, and you feel his grip tighten around yours as he braces to support you off the counter. 

You face him in silence, contemplating, “It’s hot in here, let’s go back out.”

He watches as you pick your cup off the counter and leave, not waiting for him to follow you. He finds himself trying to take deeper breaths, stalling, but not for long as he joins you back on the couch.

It probably came as a shock to both of you the first time Mingyu announced his leave much earlier in the night, when you stopped him, asking him to stay. It was silent for a few sparing moments as you both absorbed what had come out of your mouth, trying to make sense of it. You found yourself needing to coax him a little more to convince him he wasn’t overstaying his visit, that you were having fun. He sits back down, warning you that this was going to be a long night. 

You don’t think you could ever forget the absolute somersault your stomach performed, the after effects leaving you still as a plank. 

It was a long night indeed. And yet, when you found your eyes closing after a fight, much later on the couch with a large blanket shared between the both of you, Mingyu watches you doze off while leaning on the couch facing him, wishing the night was longer. 

If you were awake, you probably would’ve found yourself agreeing.

There’s a lot Mingyu has to learn about himself. He’s reminded of the fact nearly everyday. Especially right now as Seokmin runs his mouth sitting with him at a secluded booth in some bar. 

They had company, a couple guys joining them for dinner before leaving not too long after. That left him and a slightly tipsy Seokmin alone, who’s currently munching on a platter of crackers in front of him. He was bright enough, the energy from the others keeping him going as they played their drinking games and ate their obnoxious amounts of food. It was alot more somber with only the both of them left, his mood deflating as their friends slowly dwindled in number. That wasn’t about to stop him from ordering another beer though. 

“Summer’s so boring,” he grumbles in dejection, flicking a stray crumb off the table. 

“You chose to stay here,” Mingyu replies. 

Seokmin doesn’t answer him, but continues to look like a kicked puppy, a slight pout forming on his face. 

Mingyu fights the urge to scoff, “You can’t possibly be this upset about summer being depressing.” 

“It’s not about that.” 

Mingyu takes a swig of his own drink before sighing loudly, “What’s this about then?”

Seokmin says your name, and Mingyu is suddenly very interested. “She just seems to be doing a lot better since she started working at the bookstore.”

“Better?”

 “She told me about this guy a couple months ago.”

Mingyu’s trying really hard to not look visibly deflated, not that Seokmin would notice considering his state, but he attempts to sound nonchalant regardless. “Do we know him?”

“I – no, that’s not,” he huffs in exasperation, “She said she overheard him, basically calling her easy.”

“Easy?”

“I don’t know, something about her chasing his tail or whatever, she won’t tell me who it is. She hadn’t been doing too great recently and I’m pretty sure it was because of him.” 

It is dawning on Mingyu, embarrassingly slowly, that the guy Seokmin is talking about — may be him. 

His voice is hoarse, a little frantic. “And she’s doing better, you said?”

“Oh yeah, the bookstore’s been amazing for her. Not sure how though, ‘cause she just sits there doing nothing for hours.”

He can’t bring himself to meet Seokmin’s eyes, remnants of his memories flurrying around in his brain in an attempt to figure out what other bullshit he had spewed that day. He was sure you weren’t there, you couldn’t be.

“Maybe doing nothing was what she needed.” Mingyu’s reply is whatever came to him off the top of his head, mind still racing. 

“Hm, I guess. I was trying to get her to tell me, we could’ve chopped his dick off together,” Seokmin grumbles.

Mingyu winces slightly, eyes tight shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a protective hand that subconsciously reaches his crotch area. “Yeah, yeah totally.” 

“Fucker got let off easy, he should be happy she’s doing good.” Seokmin continues to ramble, voice getting increasingly louder. 

“Yeah…”

“She’s not easy. My sister isn’t easy at all! Running after his tail, my ass! She doesn’t need some motherfucker with bad hair to be running his mouth, drunk as a bitch.” He stabs a single chopstick into the spare piece of meat on his plate, and the force has Mingyu flinching slightly. 

“How do you know he has bad hair?” Mingyu continues to stare at the impaled piece of beef that Seokmin brings to his mouth. 

“I don’t need to know a motherfucker to know he uses shitty hair gel.” 

Mingyu may try to run his hair gel past Seokmin at some point. But right now, he’s only trying to make it out of the bar with his sex organs intact.

“Hey, we’re past this, remember? She’s doing great right now and that’s all that matters.” Mingyu sounds overly flustered, but he can’t bring himself to care as he attempts to reign in an angry Seokmin. They were garnering looks, and the last thing he wanted was to get kicked out before they had paid. 

Seokmin is still huffing and puffing, but significantly less so as he finds reason in Mingyu’s words. “I’m gonna find out who he is.”

“You hate living in peace.”

“My sister’s hasn’t had any peace because of this dickwad, I’m—” 

“OKAY! Okay, got it. We’ll figure that out when you’re sober.” Mingyu rises from his own seat as he finds Seokmin lifting his own butt off his chair in a near war cry. 

He manages to fend him off, waving for the bill before he has to pull him back from aimlessly marching to whoever’s house he had in mind. He calms down as they wait for the check, finishing the remaining scraps on the table in silence. 

Seokmin seems nearly back to his regular self after a few minutes, forehead creases smoothing over during his cool down time. He speaks, except this time it’s in a more socially acceptable manner.

“Hey, I’ve been noticing, you and her have been getting pretty close lately. I don’t know, it’s just, I woke up and saw both on the couch and —” 

“Here’s your bill!” The waiter cuts him mid sentence, placing the check on the table. 

Mingyu knew what Seokmin was getting to, and he was thanking every star in the galaxy for bringing the waiter into their lives at that exact moment. He’s quick to fuss over the glossy piece of paper, humming and making comments at their purchases to fill in any silent opportunities to let Seokmin continue. Mingyu’s slips his card in the wallet.

“It’s on me,” he announces as he flashes a quick smile to the waiter. “You can cut a ten for yourself.” 

“Wait, what — let’s split, what’s wrong with you?” Seokmin jolts up as registers what’s happening a little too late. 

“It’s fine, you can pay for the next one.” He says as he shifts around the table to look for his phone. “You should probably go to bed too, it’s getting pretty late. Sleep off the beer and whatnot.” 

Seokmin is left speechless as Mingyu gets up, grabbing his stuff. 

“Wait, your card—” Seokmin starts. 

“Is here,” Mingyu spews a quick ‘thanks’ to the waiter, waving his card in front of Seokmin so he’d finally stand the fuck up.

“Do I need to drag you out of that chair, let’s go!” he says, grabbing Seok by the arm to lift him off his seat. It was nearly funny how he couldn’t get him to stay within the vicinity mere minutes ago and now is begging for him to get up. 

By the time Mingyu’s jamming Seok’s key into your apartment, he’s tired of his endless rambling. He can only appreciate his drunk brain for not bringing up the last question he tried asking him. He’s opening the door, urging Seokmin to walk inside, slapping him awake from his nap against the wall.

Mingyu deems it best to physically put him in bed for the furnitures’ sake, pushing him in front to lead him to his room. Mingyu’s spent by the time he’s done and Seokmin is snoring, his back cracking from the hunched position he’s kept from tucking him in and taking his shoes and jacket off. 

He tiptoes out (despite knowing it’d take a marching band to wake him up at that point), closing the door as quietly as possible. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Mingyu nearly jumps out of his skin, landing a mile as he hears your voice in the dark hallway, hand coming up to his heart. “Jeez— announce yourself, would you?” 

“In my own house?” you raise an eyebrow. 

“Just—” he waves you off as he comes round, standing straight. “I was putting Seok to bed.”

You inhale sharply. “Did you drink?”

“Me? No, but he’s knocked out right now, he’s probably gonna need a pill in the morning,” he replies. 

“Hm, I’ll see to it in the morning, or whenever it is that he wakes up.” 

“Yeah.” Mingyu is standing awkwardly in front of you in the dark hall, not having anything else to say. “I’ll get going now.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Get some sleep,” you say as you let him move past you. 

“You too, don’t know why you’re awake,” he chuckles quietly. 

“Couldn’t sleep, I’ll go to bed now though.”

The awkwardness is painful, Mingyu can feel it in his chest. But what he’s feeling more is the way you look in your night shirt now that you’re in the light of the living room, legs shown farther up than you’d usually let them go. He wonders if you're wearing shorts underneath, but slaps himself out of it when he realises he’s been silent for too long. 

“Uh yeah, I’ll go now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

Mingyu replays the last five minutes in his head the entire car ride home, when he’s changing out of his clothes, when he’s brushing his teeth, when he crawls under the warm covers to finally call it a night. Mingyu thinks about what he said all those months ago at a dumb party, how he’s hurt you more than he thought he had. There’s an ache that plunges into him, the thought of you going through that because of him while he stayed blissfully unaware. 

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do to make it up to you, but right now, he’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a while, falling asleep to the thought of you. 

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

You, on the other hand, are far from happy as you find yourself in yet another car related predicament. 

Having to run to work in the middle of July is never a preferred option, yet you find yourself needing to do it anyway when you walk out to your engine refusing to start. 

You really needed a new car. 

Abandoning the hunk of what was turning out to be just expensive scrap metal, you rile other options out in your head. 

Seokmin was long gone with his car. The bus was gonna take too long. No way in hell were you about to overpay a taxi to take you somewhere that was essentially just a 15 minute walk (read as run). 

So you find yourself slinging your bag as a crossbody, thanking the heavens that you at least didn’t need to change your shoes. You pray for your white sneakers as you run across town, blurting apologies to passerbys that would gape at your hurried form. As apologetic as you were, it didn’t compare to how sorry you felt for yourself, the heat pricking your skin in an agitated rise anytime you’d slow down. 

The AC is near heavenly as you gasp walking into the bookstore, red faced and hair sticking to your forehead. 

“Sorry,” you gulp frantically. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh god,” you hear your boss comment as she sees you walk in. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just need a minute. Car broke down.”

She ushers you in front of the AC, waiting for you to collect yourself before taking her leave. 

“I think I’m okay now, sorry about that.” Your chuckle comes out a little choked. So much for being convincing. 

“You really should get a new car. I have a friend who’s daughter is selling hers, do you want me to ask them for you?” She’s patting your shoulder as she talks to you, and you recognize her courage to look past the sweat that’s accumulated there.  

“That’d be great actually, thank you.” 

Your second blow of the day comes right after you’ve finally gotten rid of the buckets of sweat on your body, seating yourself behind your desk to do some digging of your own.

You immediately wish you hadn’t as soon as you open the first second hand market site, the price tags landing you somewhere between never happening and impossible. Groaning, you place your head in your hands as you try to think of what to do. You pray your boss would come back with a quote that isn’t as outrageous as everything else you’ve cursed your eyes upon, seeing as that seemed the only viable option for you. 

Closing the windows off your computer, you decide this was a headache for another time. You reach for your bag to rummage through it, only to find yourself in your third predicament of the day. 

You had forgotten your book. 

It shouldn’t have been a worry, considering you were in a bookstore and had access to about 56 more of the same edition that you could borrow for the day. Except it was a worry, because your copy had been religiously tabbed and annotated as you would read, not a single thought left to be forgotten in your head as they would spring up. You can almost see the pink cover sitting on your desk and you nearly begin to cry. 

You wonder if you could break your ‘one book at a time’ streak for the sake of it, picking up another one off the shelf to start. The thought nearly makes you gag, the anxiety of losing interest in your current one leading you to sit aimlessly at your desk for the rest of the day. 

What’s even more anxiety inducing to you, however, was the promise you’d made with Mingyu the week prior, to be finished with the book by the end of today so you could finally decide whether the end was worth it or not. The thought has you nearly picking up a copy off the shelf anyway, annotations be damned. Force of habit, however, forbids you as you are shunned by yourself to play solitaire for the rest of the day. 

Things seem to look up for you though, as you find yourself reading a text from Mingyu nearly halfway through your day. 

You hadn’t spoken to Mingyu at all for the entire week, caving when you found an excuse to finally talk to him to ask where he’d left off on the book. It was even longer before that, reaching the near three week mark where you were virtually zero contact.  

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you, his sudden absence raising a mild panic within you as your mind raced with the possibilities. 

Was he uncomfortable with you? 

Was he avoiding you? 

Were you less low key than you thought? Was he catching on to how you still weren’t over him? 

The wilder thoughts seemed to be laid to rest when you couldn’t take it anymore, texting under the guise of your mutual book topic. Your brain still couldn’t handle it, picking up minuscule details in his texting behavior. Perhaps his replies were choppy, perhaps they were shorter than usual, but it was enough to give your mind the rest it needed regardless of whatever the facts were. 

Needless to say, you were more than happy to receive a text from him first after weeks, immediately replying. 

[Mingyu]: hey  [Mingyu]: are you at work today?  [You]: yeah  [You]: i get off at 10 tho  [Mingyu]: can i see you today? 

You try to contain the growing flurry of excitement as you type. It was easier to stay casual over text, you find yourself appreciating. 

[You]: course [You]: are you coming to the store?  [Mingyu]: i’ll meet you at your place when you get off  [You]: okay!!! [You]: see you then 

There’s a ghost of a smile on your face as you switch to playing computer chess in celebration. Your day was going horribly, but perhaps it was to balance out the happiness you were feeling at the thought of seeing Mingyu in person after nearly a month. 

Were you being dramatic? Possibly. But you figured you’d been left waiting long enough. You let yourself have a spring in your step for the rest of the day, closing up nearly an hour early as you practically skipped back home, enjoying the significantly better nightly weather. Maybe you were abusing your employee privileges, but you couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. 

Humming to yourself, you're hopping into the shower as soon as you get home, wanting to freshen up as quickly as possible before he gets here. It was near heaven’s plan the way the day is unfolding for you. Perhaps the universe knew you needed the time to unwind today, bringing Mingyu to you despite the near four week gap. 

Grabbing your pens and your book, you settle on the kitchen counter to do something you’d been looking forward to all day, nearly giddy that Mingyu would be joining you to wind down with you soon enough. You’re invested by the time the doorbell rings, a simultaneous text from Mingyu, confirming that he was at the door. 

Opening the front door is probably the easiest thing you’ve done all day, grin at the ready as you greet him. 

“Hey,” you breathe out at the sight of him. 

“Hi,” he replies, slipping inside as you give him space to take off his shoes. 

Leading him into the kitchen, you comment lightheartedly, “Nice to see you’re still alive.” 

He chuckles slightly at that, “Yeah…sorry about that. I’ve been pretty caught up with…stuff.”

“The exhibition? Weren’t you nearly done with that?” you question as you pass him a glass of water. 

He takes a sip before setting it down again, both hands holding the cup on the counter. “It wasn’t that, I’ve been done for a while. Just waiting.” 

“It’s next week, isn’t it?” 

He hums in response, taking another minuscule sip of water.  

“What was it that was keeping you this occupied for so long then?” you continue with a slight snort, trying not to over analyze his slightly…off putting behavior. 

“Uh,” he starts, “Is Seokmin home?” 

“Seokmin?” you frown, confused. Was he here to see your brother? “He’s out. I thought you knew.”

“Yeah, I know. Just confirming.” 

“Oh.” You sit down on your own chair at the counter, trying to make sense of his mood. 

“Mingyu, are you okay—”

“I need to talk to you.” 

“O-okay.” 

It’s silent. Painfully so. 

“I don’t know how else to bring this up so I’m just gonna cut to the chase.” 

There’s no reply from your end as you simply stare at him in anticipation, wondering what on earth had him looking this serious as he faces you in his seat. 

“I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you. Never enough to match what you’ve felt, but I know you’ve been through the muck because of me, and it makes me feel horrible that I was the cause of something like that.” 

“Mingyu—“

“I want to apologize, before I say anything else. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. And I know an apology isn’t gonna take away what I did to you, but I just need you to know that I’m really, really sorry.”

His breathing is heavy as he talks, while yours is near nonexistent as you need to remind yourself to breathe manually. 

“I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past year. And I hate myself for making you a subject of that transition when you were the last person that deserved it. I’m happy to say that won’t happen again, because I’ve learned my lesson. For good.”

He pauses. 

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, because… because I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve it for what I’m about to say. I may be acting selfish right now but, I think you deserve to know after everything.”

“I love you. I love you so, so much it hurts. I…I’m sorry, I love you. I don’t know how else to say it but, I love you. And I might be hurting you even more with this but I swear I’m not lying. I love you.”

There’s tears now, heavy ones that drip down his face as he refuses to look back up at you, eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to halt the pure emotion that’s trailing down. 

You have your own wet cheeks, glossy, shaking eyes that don’t tear away from his hunched form. You’re listening. You’re listening to everything and it’s too much. 

“Mingyu,” you whisper. You give up on trying to talk as you let out a breath that sounds almost like a sob. 

It’s silent for a few more moments as you absorb everything that’s happening, mind running a hundred miles an hour yet, still as a rock. It’s too much. 

“Mingyu, I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.” Your voice is quivering, but you manage the words. “After everything. You’re standing in this very kitchen and saying this to me.”

The deja vu was overwhelming, and you’re projected back to last year when the both of you stood on these very tiles, as you poured your heart out to the man in front of you, only to be told you were an idiot to think he could ever love you like that. The words may not have been said, but the message was clear: you were not made for Kim Mingyu. 

And yet, you find yourself in front of an apologetic man, expressing his remorse. And oozing love for you, of all people. Why now? You want to scream. Where was this when you were ready to take him so willingly in your arms. 

You’re lying if you say you still don’t want to plant yourself in his hold to sob out your own wretched “I love you”’s. You wanted to go to him. To take what you’ve wanted for so, so long. 

But you can’t. You can’t do it. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m not asking you to do something about any of this. I’m not asking anything of you at all. I just need you to know.”

You bite back a remark, trying so hard to calm yourself down. 

“I think you should go.” Your voice breaks. “Please.”

Mingyu is gone. But his scent lingers. His cup remains on the counter, the same one he put his lips to. As he prepared to speak, and speak, and speak. 

You can’t stand to stay in the kitchen anymore. 

You were fourteen the first time Mingyu broke your heart. 

It was an accident, perhaps, considering you were willing to do absolutely anything to be around Mingyu when your brother would have him over. What you didn’t know this time, was that the both of them had company. 

Tiptoeing down the hall was easy the second you heard your brother's voice coming from the kitchen, announcing that he was getting drinks for them. The plan was simple; walk in under the guise of being annoyed at Seokmin for something and then relish when Mingyu would defend you from his inevitable rage — except this time you’d have a few extra minutes alone with him before your brother trudged back.  

Putting on the best annoyed face you could, you stalk past Seokmin’s room, immediately wishing you hadn’t. Mingyu was in your brother's room as expected, sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers with numbers and letters too complex. But he wasn’t alone. There was a girl that sat between his legs, turned over in his arms as they whisper to each other. They weren’t studying at all; the giggles and smiles were a dead giveaway. 

You halt in your tracks at the edge of the doorway in mild disbelief, brain computing the situation in front of you. They hadn’t noticed you yet, it was apparent with the way she leans into him to place her lips on his in a peck. 

There’s a yell of your name behind you as Seokmin sees you loitering around his room. You jump in surprise, not expecting him back so quickly. Your brother, too, isn’t alone, a girl of his own accompanying him with her arms full of cans, peeking over his shoulder to catch sight of your distressed form. 

“What’re you doing?”

Running was the worst thing you could do, and yet you found yourself doing just that in your cornered state. Catapulting face first into your pillows, the sobs coming before you could muffle them. It was humiliating, even more so when you feel your mother’s hand coming up to your shoulder in a stretch of comfort. 

“I yelled at him, he won’t do it again!” she attempted to reason with you, trying endlessly to get you to emerge from your cavern of comforters. 

“It’s not that!” you groan.

“What is it then? Darling, I won’t know if you won’t tell me.” 

Your mother gave up a little bit after that, and your brother had apologized for yelling at you; apologized for all the wrong reasons. You brushed him over.

There were worse things circling your mind in that moment, like the image of Mingyu in a liplock with another girl, the image of him holding her with all his limbs. 

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

“What the fuck, is wrong with the both of you?” Your brother swoops in like a pesky seagull and snatches the book right out of your hands, eyes blown in exasperation. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Give it back!” you yell, reaching for the book that he’s placed over his head. Climbing the couch does little when he simply moves away from you. 

“Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Mingyu.” 

“Nothing is — ugh,” you drop back onto the couch in frustration. You take a deep breath. “Nothing is going on. Now can I have my fucking book back?” 

“No, you're avoiding each other.”

“He’s your friend, why would I hang out with him?” 

“Stop dodging the question!” he spits. 

“Stop dodging.” You exclaim as you jump for the book another time. 

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” He throws the book to the corner of the room. It takes every fiber in your body to stop yourself from plucking every strand of hair off his head. 

“Seokmin!” you scream. 

“Your book’s fine. Is this about the guy you told me about?” He asks, hands grabbing you by the upper arms, forcing you to look at him. 

“No, it’s not,” you grit. 

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” he repeats, making direct eye contact. 

“Because,” you start, exhaling deeply, “I’m tired.”

“It’s an exhibition for fucks sake, an exhibition with your face plastered all over it. You go in for five minutes and you’re out. Put something on and let’s go!” 

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve been doing nothing but go to work and stay home, you need air.”

“I need you out of my air,” you swat his hands away, thoroughly disgruntled. 

“I’m giving you twenty minutes.” 

He was serious, you realize as he begins to pound on your door with two minutes left to spare. You decided you weren’t about to be embarrassing and show up in your sweatpants, encasing the final shreds of dignity you had left. You couldn’t imagine being asked “who?” when the face on the walls doesn’t match with the one you brought to the place, not doubting the number of fancy scouters that’d be gracing the crowd tonight.

 Opting for a plain black dress and a coverup felt enough for you, your usual makeup and matching accessories helping you feel better about the bags under your eyes your concealer couldn’t quite erase. 

Seokmin says nothing for probable fear of having you landing back on the couch, choosing to ask you a simple, “Ready?” instead.

The drive is short and silent, the remnants of you and your brother's prior argument still hanging in the air. You weren’t about to apologize to each other, but you would let the hours cool you off before you’re back to your normal selves. For now, you’re glad to step out of the stuffy car, the anticipation having you needing to breathe in an elevated sense. 

The place is more crowded than you thought it would be, men and women in fancier than necessary clothes loitering the entrance carpeting. You suddenly feel underdressed. 

Catching Mingyu’s name is easy, the display at the front doing the most to highlight the star of the night, catching sight of him is proving a little more difficult. Not that you’re trying, but Seokmin’s embarrassing neck stretches are having you restraining yourself from pulling him down by the collar. 

Walking into the display is a strange experience, for you at least. The pictures are larger than you’d thought they would be, spanning the giant walls of the gallery. Your face is huge. 

There’s a few other one’s that scatter between the portraits, beautiful all the same. You find yourself wandering as you note the plaques next to the pieces, descriptions and words from the artist; Mingyu’s words. It’s easy to begin looking at the pictures through his eyes, the meticulous scanning you’re doing proving easier for you to zone out despite the crowd. 

You’ve gone through nearly every picture, approaching the last one, the one that looked a little more important than the rest as you take in its size. The steps you take towards the plaque are halted as you hear someone calling for you. You recognize his voice, how could you not?

Mingyu is weaving through the crowd to get to you, eyes locked as he tries to make way for himself. Your mouth is open by the time he’s here, mind frantic as you try to figure out what you should say. 

Congratulations.

You’ve worked hard on this. 

This looks great.

How’ve you been?

“You’re here,” he says, simple as that. 

“I’m here,” you breathe out, a nervous smile on your face as you look down at your shoes. 

“Seok told me you were here too.” 

Your head snaps up, “You were looking for me?” 

“I mean, it’s a bit difficult with the crowd—”

“Oh,” you cut him off before you could forget. “Congratulations, by the way. The turnout looks great.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s great.” His eyes skim around the large hall.

You hate how his craning is drawing your eyes to everything else. So to say the plain black button up and slacks he’s sporting, the thin chain he wears around the unbuttoned collar. You hate how he’s put in no effort, and you hate how it makes him look even better somehow. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks after he rounds back to you. 

Your reply is drowned in your throat as somebody calls for him across the hall, pointing at a mic in their hands. 

“I have to go address everyone, you’ll be here, right?” he asks, but he once again has no chance to listen to your answer when somebody physically drags him by the elbow and yanks him away from you. You lose sight of him in the crowd of people, his face disappearing.

It gives you enough opportunity to slowly turn around to go back to your plaque reading, exhaling loudly as you walk up to the final, biggest piece on the wall. It’s labeled as the focal point of the collection. It’s a picture of you, and for some reason, you can’t remember taking it, or posing for it at all. 

You recognize the mountain top, more so the grueling trek up the place for your last shoot with him. It’s a side profile, your arms folding over the railing, face tucked into your padded arms. A single ray of light illuminates your eyes, the background soft. 

The picture was an accident. A moment that may have gone forgotten, yet one that appeared right when it was meant to. A mistake made on purpose, one that manages to carry the weight of years. A slow accession of golden rays, dawn illuminating the subject in hues indescribable, except those that describe a feeling. A feeling in turn, indescribable.

Soft. Legible. New.

You take a step back. 

And another

Then another. 

You look at the picture, the picture of you. Taken the one time you weren’t actively posing for the camera, the one time he wasn’t meant to take a picture of you. It landed here, at the seemingly deserved position of a final piece. The piece that was meant to emulate all that the artist wanted to come out of his work. 

You crane your neck up higher, the name of the collection in bold block letters right above the picture that supposedly says it all. 

THE BEGINNING

There’s a ball forming in your throat, one that's cementing itself where it stays. 

There’s noise happening in your peripherals, somebody speaking into a mic on stage. You’re not paying attention until you hear his name. 

“I’m pleased to present to you the man of the hour, mister Kim Mingyu…” 

You watch with glossy eyes as he takes the stand, clearing his throat before he begins to speak. 

You needed to leave. 

Finding Seokmin is easy, and you thank every plane of heaven that it is, considering you’d rather be caught dead than be seen red nosed and teary eyed. 

“Let’s go home.”

“Huh? Right now? He just started talking.” Seokmin argues, tearing his eyes away from the stage to gape at you, only to note the expression on your face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Seokmin, you said five minutes.” You grip his sleeve tight. “Please, either give me the keys, or I’ll get a cab.” 

He pauses for a moment, and you immediately hate yourself for making him choose between staying for his best friend or leaving for his sister. He slowly comes down to grip your hand, pulling you away. 

“Let me drop you off home.” 

You’ve calmed down a significant amount during the car ride home, managing to convince (fight) Seokmin into going back to the exhibition hall before Mingyu noticed that he was gone. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you made him miss something as important as this just because you couldn’t control your emotions.

He hugs you at the door, tight, and you hug back just as strong, holding back the river of tears that suddenly threaten to let loose. He presses his lips to your temple, muttering a little ‘I love you’ before he leaves. He knew nothing, yet was ready to comfort you like he did.

You let yourself sob after that, as wracking and strong as they’d come. It’s freeing, to fall to your knees and simply cry like a child. You aren’t sure what it is that you’re crying about, yet you know all the same. The thought of both those things make your head begin to spin, causing another fresh wave of tears to come rushing down. 

Remnants of the day Mingyu spoke his truth to you in your own kitchen come tumbling back; the shock, the anger, the hurt, and despite everything, the love.

You loved Mingyu, you weren’t going to sit here and deny it when you were a mess of jewels on the floor with only his face at the forefront of your mind. You’re a liar if you say you don’t love him. You’re a liar if you say you’ll ever stop. 

Years and years of pining and wishing and praying, to hope that one day, Mingyu would open his eyes with the realization that he loves you the same. 

The day came. Your prayers were granted, your wishes came true; you no longer had to sit on the sidelines as an ignored constant. And yet, you found yourself wanting to be anywhere but in his presence as the prayer unfolded. 

Were you too weak to handle reciprocation? Have you gotten comfortable pining by yourself? Or was it something completely else. Were you still hurt by his words? Were you aghast at his audacity to have the courage to speak his heart to you, when you went years without doing so? 

Were you protecting yourself? Or were you actively throwing the golden chance you’d received right out the window? 

You’re tired, it’s evident with the effort it takes you to simply reach your bedroom, heels thrown somewhere in the doorway as you made the trek barefooted. Hoping your muscles would release the pent up tension at the learnt feeling of the mattress, you find yourself closing your eyes awaiting the relief. 

Still clad in your dress and makeup, you attempt to find the solace of sleep, knowing you’d feel nothing if there was nothing to perceive. The universe doesn’t seem to want to give you that luxury, your eyes wide awake despite closed lids. The thoughts aren’t showing signs of slowing down either, every part of your mind alive as you remain still as a rock on your bed. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been in bed, but as you hear the distinct jingle of keys in a lock, you know Seokmin is home. The door of your room is opened very quietly, and closed just as quick when he sees your form in bed seemingly asleep. 

You open your eyes for the first time in hours, the darkness remaining as you slowly sit up against the cushions. Your movements are sluggish as you stare into the abyss, brain quiet for once as you swing your bare legs over the mattress, slowly trudging down the hall to your brother's bedroom. 

Knocking slowly, you hear a slight shuffle before the door is opened, the light from inside the room illuminating the dark hall and forcing you to squint. 

“Did I wake you?” Seokmin asks, sporting formal trousers with his dinosaur pajama shirt.

“Uh, no, I was awake.”

“Why haven’t you changed yet?” 

You ignore him, cutting straight to the chase, “Can I borrow your car?” 

There’s silence for nearly three seconds before Seokmin speaks, “What on earth do you need my car for this late at night?” 

“Nayeon’s” 

“Bullshit.”

You let out a loud, loud sigh, “Will you believe it for now?” 

Your brother looks at you with an expression you can’t really pinpoint, eyes like he’s scanning into your soul. “The keys are at the door.”

You walk back to your room to grab your phone and your cover up, not bothering to change as you grab Seokmin’s keys and leave. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave the house so late at night, but your brain seems to have activated tunnel vision as you nearly stalk towards the car. You’re pulling up to where you need to be within minutes, the empty roads leading you on near autopilot. 

By the time you’re standing in front of the door, your desire to settle this once and for all turns pungent in your head. You needed to end this one way or another, you were tired of running in circles. 

Ringing the doorbell is easy, it’s just the realization that settles during those few moments of waiting that grab you by the throat. You were really doing this. 

Mingyu opens the door quicker than you’d anticipated, after briefly wondering if he’d already gone to sleep after the long day he’s probably had. His brows furrow as he registers you at his door, your name tumbling out of his lips in mild confusion. He’s still in the clothes you saw him last, and you doubt it’s been long since he got home too. 

“Promise me you mean it,” you say. 

“What?”

“Promise me you mean it.”

“Mean what?” The crease between his brows deepens as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying. 

“Whatever you said. Promise me you mean it. Promise me. On all the years we spent together, on every truth you've ever said to me. Promise on me that you mean it.”

The silence is deafening, yet you wait. You wait for him to respond. You wait for him to understand what you’re saying. 

Mingyu gulps before opening his door wider, expression neutralizing slightly as he invites you inside. “Why're you standing on the door? Come inside.”

“I’m not taking another step in your direction, Kim Mingyu, not until you answer me,” you snap. 

Letting his hand leave the grip on the door, he brings them both up to rub at his face, taking a simultaneous breath, deep and shaky. When he emerges his eyes are showing a hint of red as he licks his lips. 

Your grip on your own fingers tighten as Mingyu talks. 

“I want to rip my heart out for what it wants from you. I want to rip it out for what it did to yours. Believe me when I say I’ve forgotten how it felt to be this sincere. I love you. I don't deserve to say it, but I love you.”

There’s a beat that passes, one that you barely feel as you throw your bag on the floor of his entryway, grabbing him by the collar with both hands as you yank his face down to hover right in front of yours, nose touching, lips not quite. 

“If you’re lying to me,” you whisper, shaky voiced, “I’m gonna chop your balls off.”

Mingyu answers for you as he finally, finally closes the cursed gap between you, lips capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. You let him pull you inside as you move your lips against each other, the distinct click of the door signaling you were finally inside. 

His hands grip your hips and waist in a manner that’s near painful, yet you can’t find yourself complaining even as he pushes you against the now closed door, hard. His mouth leaves yours for what is barely a second, before your desperate hands move his face back in to continue what you’ve been wanting to do for years. 

His mouth is warm, the vaguest hint of champagne on his tongue. You wonder how many toasts he’s clinked and downed, how many times he thought of you as he celebrated. 

“I love you,” you mumble against his lips. 

Mingyu’s hands are pushing your body against his own, so flush and tight you can barely breathe. Like he’d rather die than bring space between the two of you in that moment. 

“I love you, too,” he mumbled back between kisses. “I love you so much.”

Both of your hands are beginning to roam, less innocent than the fingers tangled in his hair and digging into his shoulders, less innocent than the grips on your hips and neck. It isn’t until his hands are groping your ass that you begin to subconsciously tug at his shirt, wanting the wretched thing out of the way to finally feel him in full. 

There’s a warm hand that grips yours as he stops you, lips pulling away slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. There’s a wild moment of sobriety as you wonder if you’ve read the situation wrong, if you pushed too far. 

“You’re asking me for something I’m ready to give you.” He sounds breathless. “But I need to know if you really want it.”

He looks absolutely gorgeous with his swollen lips, your lipstick staining his own mouth, his messy hair from all the desperate fingers running through them. It takes one look into his bedroom eyes to have your yeses tumbling out your mouth. 

“I want it. I want it if you’ll give it to me. Mingyu, please.”

He leans in to give you a soft peck before pulling away slowly. “You can stop me whenever, just say the word.”

He’s facing you as he speaks, hands pulling you further into the house in slow and steady steps. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, I promise.”

By the time you reach the four walls of his bedroom, you’re itching to have his hands on you again, something he senses as he presses his hot mouth to your awaiting lips. His touches become decreasingly respectful as his hands run up your sides, thumbs brushing against the sides of your clothed breasts as he moves his mouth further down. 

Kisses line your jaw, reaching the joint as he nips at your earlobe teasingly. Pushing the coverup off of your shoulders is easy, fingers tracing the exposed skin as his mouth moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking teasingly. Your breathing is embarrassingly heavy. 

“You’re gorgeous,” you hear him breathe out. 

His fingers fit under the zipper of your dress not too long after, pulling it down to reveal your back tantalizingly slow. His hands smooth over your waist once he reaches the bottom, bringing them up to your upper body as you feel his palms grab your breasts in a soft squeeze. The moan you let out is small, but enough to encourage him to bring his hands to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders one after the other. 

“Do you realize how good you looked in this today,” he says. “Was so happy you came, so, so happy to see you after so long.”

Mingyu kisses you again in a slow, passionate manner, hands pushing down the tight fabric of the bodice to let it fall off your body to a pile on the floor. It leaves you bare save for your bra and panties. 

Mingyu lets out a groan at the sight in the dimly lit room, the sound checking in as one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard, the vibrations leading straight to your core like they belonged there. The focus goes back to his hands that continue to roam your body, mouth traveling further south to leave hot, open mouthed kisses on your cleavage. 

Your own fingers come up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, managing to pull a couple loose as you whine, “Mingyu.”

“Patience, my love.” He moves you backwards slowly as his mouth leaves your chest, pushing you into the plush of his mattress as you feel the back of your knees bump into the edge. “Let me take my time with you.”

He brings a knee up to the bed as he keeps his gaze on you, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt as you prop yourself up on your elbows. For once, you’re allowed to stare at the sculpt of his chest and abdomen, letting your gaze take you to the dipped V before the cut off. The mere sight of his fingers working against his belt have you needing to close your thighs for the sake of your now throbbing core. 

Only clad in his dark boxers, you let him climb over you in a way you can only describe as a prowl, inserting himself between your legs as he pushes your head up to the headboard. The hand that splays out on your thigh is having the muscle twitch, the anticipation for what he might do next gripping you. 

“Let me get this off of you,” he says with his hands toying with the elastic of your bra, prompting you to arch your back so he could reach under to unclasp it in a way you can only call professional. 

There’s barely any time for you to feel a semblance of embarrassment when he flings the padding away, mouth coming in direct contact with your breast in a harsh suck. The feeling has you moaning his name into the dark room, only encouraging his wet tongue to circle around the bud before going back to suckling. He doesn’t forget your other breast as he brings his hand up to squeeze the mound and play with your nipples the same. 

The sensations are overwhelming already, your hands gripping his hair in desperation as you throw your head back at his ministrations. The ache in your underwear is becoming increasingly difficult to resist, the foreign feeling of his mound against your inner thigh only coursing more want into your awaiting heat. 

Your chest is a mess of redness and saliva but the time Mingyu’s had his fill, pulling away to admire the work he’s left. 

“Fuck, Mingyu, please,” his name is the only thing that comes out in your pleas, hoping he’d give you wanted before you lost your mind for good. 

“I love this lighting on you,” he says simply, moving to sit on his knees as he takes his eyes up and down your practically naked frame. 

Both hands come in to push your thighs further apart, giving him better access to the gold that sits right in between. “You’re beautiful.” 

You feel the pad of his thumb come in contact with your clit in the lightest pressure, slowly brushing over the muscle as he continues. “The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He presses his thumb in further, pushing down to meet your hole, the source of the large wet patch on the fabric of panties. The whimpers the new feeling is having you let out are near embarrassing. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he asks, “Can I take these off?” 

“Yes!” you gasp out immediately, hip rising to let them slide the pesky fabric off and away. 

He wastes no time in bringing his fingers to your folds, gathering your arousal in his fingers as he spreads them across your throbbing clit. He’s rubbing the area in circular motions, the feeling having you wracking out sounds you never thought you could make. The sheets are bunched up in your grip as you throw your head back at the feeling that encases you, eyes screwed shut. 

“Oh, Mingyu,” 

That only encourages him as his other hand joins the party, a lone finger circling your entrance in preparation to plunge into you, slowly, all the way to the hilt of his finger. Zoning in on the feeling, the pump of his fingers into your core, the constant ministrations of his other thumb on your clit. Your hands leave his wrinkled sheets as they come in to grip his wrists and forearm, needing to feel his skin to anchor yourself into the present. Not being able to bring yourself to open your eyes, he takes it upon himself to insert another finger, encouraging your lids to fly open at the stretch and the loud moan that comes with it. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet, I’m barely pushing.” It may have embarrassed you a little if you weren’t so withdrawn from pleasure, the prospect only having you whimper his name even more. 

It isn’t when he curls his fingers inside you that you feel the need to stifle the sounds that come out of your throat, hand to mouth as the volume has you needing to shut yourself up. He brings his hand off your clit to grab you by the wrist, freeing your mouth of restraint. 

“Don’t,” his voice gravelly as he gets off his knees to hover over you, his other hand continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you in perfect motions. “I wanna hear your voice. I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you’re making.”

He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your mouth, fingers quickening their pace as your sounds grow louder, “Mingyu, I think I’m…I think I’m close.” 

“It’s okay, let go whenever, darling, it’s okay.” His other hand goes back to its rightful position on your clit, thumb circling the bud in quick motions as he encourages you to climax. 

And you do. The blissful release comes crashing into you hard, the feeling leaving nothing but white hot space in the expanse of your brain, letting the feeling take over as you melt into the sheets. “F-fuck…”

He doesn’t stop either hand till you physically have to push his fingers off of you, the overstimulation coming in hot. 

You don’t come around for a little bit, but feel every searing kiss he leaves on your skin in the aftermath. Pressed into your chest, your collarbones, you neck and your jaw. He makes his way up to your face slowly, pressing his lips onto your closed lids as you wait for your breathing to even out. His face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, leaning forward to press your own lips against his. 

“How was that?” he asks slowly, and you don’t miss the hint of a smirk on his face. You can’t help but break into a smile of your own. 

“Great.”

“Great?”

“Amazing.” You lean in to kiss him again, palms coming in contact with the expanse of his back as you move your mouths together. It’s not long before your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, hands coming up front to feel him through the fabric, palming him in the process. 

You feel him shudder in your hold, lips pulling away as he stares into your eyes. 

“What?” you ask in a whisper when he makes no other moves. 

“I’m trying to think if I have condoms or not,” he whispers back, and you can’t help but let out a laugh at his delivery. He begins to giggle with you, backing up as he reaches over to rummage through his nightstand. 

“Fuck yeah,” you hear him say as he comes round with the shiny pack. He’s giggling as he undoes the wrapper, the lighthearted nature of it all bringing a laugh to your own lips. 

Pulling his underwear down and off, you watch as he preps himself with the rubber, your own hand coming up in a trance to stroke his gorgeous length lightly, his palms ghosting over your hand at the feeling. Once he decides he can’t take it anymore he’s grabbing both your wrists to pin them beside your head in one swift motion, earning a gasp from you at the abruptness. 

“I’m gonna put the tip in first, let you adjust before I go in further,” he explains as he uses his knee to push your thighs apart to grant him more access. “I’m gonna listen to you throughout, okay? Just say so if you want me to stop, I’ll hear you.” 

When you don’t reply he continues, “I need to know you heard me, baby.” 

“I heard you,” you answer, and he finally lets go of one of your hands to guide his length to your entrance, gathering your remaining arousal. He’s sliding his tip across your folds, grinding onto your clit within his length and it has you nearly careening off the edge. 

“Mingyu, in, please!” you beg, and you hear him chuckle before he’s finally pressing the tip into your prepped hole. 

You almost breathe a sigh of relief as you feel him begin to push into your hot core, keeping his promise of only getting to the tip, before bringing himself out and going back in. He’s slow as he stretches you out, his hands coming up to the sides of your head as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. Lifting one of your legs, you wrap them around his waist as you grant him further access into you, one of his hands coming up to keep your raised leg steady. 

He halts when he finally bottoms out, pausing for breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just,” you manage, arms wrapped around his shoulders tight. “Give me a second.” 

When you give him the green light and he begins to move out slowly, only to thrust back in, you find yourself settling into the sheets more consciously, ready to take what he was about to finally give you. You’re both a mess of whimpers and sounds, the feeling overtaking any shreds of restraint you had left. His hands are groping you everywhere, his fingers finding your breasts again as he begins to toy with your nipples, all while thrusting into you at a steady yet equally maddening pace.

He feels amazing, beyond just his dick. The feeling of his body pressed against yours is heavenly, the tears beginning to slowly prick at your eyes as you let yourself melt into his hold, a metaphorical layer away from morphing into his skin entirely. The sounds he’s making are pure melodies, the groans, grunts and heavy moans floating around in your otherwise empty head like they’d never ever leave. They do more when they encourage the building feeling in your abdomen, your moans growing increasingly erratic. 

If the bed is creaking from his incessant thrusting, you don’t hear it. The only thing ringing in your head being the near closure you’re about to receive from him. “Gyu, I’m…”

“Shit, me too.” he grunts, and you believe him as his movements begin to grow sloppier, his hips slamming into yours with more force than before. 

And then it’s bliss, the feeling dropping in on your body as you feel yourself begin to spasm in his hold, the loudest moan ripping from your throat at the sensation. You’re contracting around him so, so good, and it’s enough to have him moaning into your own ear as he feels his climax come over him as well. 

He’s shooting his load into the rubber, and for a wild moment you wish he’d rip it off and finish inside you instead, your blabbering brain wanting to take all of him in. The fever passes in a few heavy minutes, Mingyu’s body is dropped on top of you, his length remaining inside your warmth as you both relished in the post sex haze. 

He’s first to pick his sweltering body off of yours, the cool air hitting your skin as he pulls out of you slowly. You’re still trying to come to earth, even when you hear the water beginning to run in the attached bathroom, even when he walks out in a fresh pair of boxers, walking over to your form on the bed. 

His fingers run through your hair as he places soft kisses on your temple, coaxing you to open your eyes. “Come on babe. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

When you make no moves to get up despite opening your eyes, he’s physically pulling you up to grace your head on his chest in an effort to take a step back into the world. His fingers continue to thread through your hair, massaging your head lightly as you breathe in his scent. You do end up getting up and letting him lead you to the bathroom, but only after he threatens to carry you there over his shoulder. The bath is already drawn when you dip your feet into the warm water, planting yourself inside as you lean against the walls of the tub.

“Gyu, why is it warm?” you whine, wanting a cooler temperature to hit your sticky body. 

He chuckles as he sits by the tub, hands coming in to wet your hair for you, “I’m scared your body’s gonna go into shock if I chucked you into a cold bath. You’ll feel better in a minute, love.” 

You don’t argue as he does most of the work for you, shampooing, scrubbing and conditioning. He lets you sit in the tub for a little bit as he leaves to get you a towel and a shirt, coming back to continue coaxing you to leave the tub this time. You grab his outstretched hand, pulling him down to sit next to you again. 

“Sit with me for a little bit, right here,” you say as you lean over the edge of the tub. 

“I can sit with you in bed once you’re dried up,” he tries to reason. “Under the covers. Where it’s more comfortable than hard acrylic, remember?” 

Pouting a little, you let him wrap you in a towel as you admit defeat, too tired to argue much more than that. He continues to shrug one of shirts over your shoulders, going as far as drying your hair before finally letting you crawl back under the covers. He joins you soon after, wrapping his limbs around you in a tight embrace, breathing in the mix of his own shampoo and your scent. 

“Are you okay? Did I do too much?” he asks quietly.

“Mhm,” you hum into his chest. “I’m okay.”

There’s a deep vibration in his chest as he finds your lack of response amusing, looking at your face that looks about three seconds away from slipping into dreamland. Nearly, he realizes, as your eyes are suddenly pushed wide open, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“What? What?” Mingyu asks as you sit up all of a sudden scrambling to find your phone. 

“My phone, where is it?” you ask as you ruffle through the covers. 

“Did you bring it with you?” 

You suddenly remember your bag that you threw in his entryway a couple hours ago, your phone nestled inside. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you attempt to stand up to retrieve it, only to find out the universe wasn’t about to let you do that. You don’t miss Mingyu’s chortle as he watches you nearly fall over after wobbling around like a fawn, your arms trembling as you pull yourself up back on the bed. 

“What the fuck?” you breathe out. 

“Get back on, I’ll get your bag for you.” He’s still smiling when returns, throwing your purse on the bed. 

You immediately unlock your phone to find Nayeon’s contact, choosing to leave her a text considering the late hour.

“What is it?” Mingyu asks again as he watches you type, arms coming up from behind to engulf you in his hold again. 

“I told Seokmin I was at Nayeon’s. He didn’t believe me but I’m telling her to cover for me anyway.” 

“Oh.”

The thought comes to you later than it should have, realizing you’d have to involve Seokmin in…whatever this was, sooner or later. 

“Don’t,” you hear Mingyu say behind you.

“What?”

“Don’t. I know what you’re thinking about. We can deal with Seokmin when we need to, don’t think about it right now, that’s my job.” 

“I-”

“He needs to deal with me being serious about you,” he continues, giggling, “Even if I have to make you run away with me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

He brings your wrist up to his mouth, placing a kiss there, “It won’t. I promise.” 

The sitting up thing doesn’t last for too long, both of you wanting nothing more than to lay down for the lack of energy. Limbs are a tangled mess as you both lay in silence, tired but not wanting to go to sleep just yet. It stays that way for a while, head on his chest as you take in the aftermath of everything that’s happened. 

You just had sex with Kim Mingyu. He loves you back. And you know he means it. This isn’t a hyperrealistic childhood fantasy, this is real life. You’re touching him, he’s holding you, you can hear his heart beat, you can feel his skin under the palm of your hand. 

You’re distracted from your thoughts as you sense Mingyu reaching over the edge of the bed to his nightstand as he looks for something, bringing his hand over to show you a very familiar pink cover in his hands. 

“Oh,” you let out as you recognize the title, snorting as you remember where the verdict for that ended, “We were supposed to talk about the ending.”

“We could do that right now.”

“Uh, about that,” you say. “I never actually got to finish it.”

“You were supposed to be done like two weeks ago,” he frowns.

“I didn’t get to finish it the day…the day you came over. Couldn’t bring it in myself to touch it after that.” you say as you note the little tabs sticking out the sides, wanting to address them. 

“You can use this one to finish it then, it’s yours.” 

You glance up at him as he talks, opening the book to skim through the pages. And then you see it, tiny scribbles on margins, sticky notes at chapter ends with his thoughts, colorful tabs sticking out of every highlighted line, everything complete with a color coded key in the front.

“I saw you do it with your other books, found out it’s not actually a crime to write in books and…I guess it became fun.” he explains as he watches you flick through the pages. “I was gonna give this to you at some point. Sounded like a thoughtful idea in my head.”

You don’t answer him, simply facing him in silence before continuing, “I would’ve been sucking your dick right now if I wasn’t so tired.”

He throws his head back in a loud laugh, the high pitched noise sounding across the room as he nearly curls up from the hilarity. You don’t think it was that funny, but maybe it’s because you were telling the truth. You’re pretty sure you’ve joked about wanting to do that to someone who’d do something like this for you, perhaps you could find the transcripts hidden in some text messages with Nayeon later to show Mingyu.

 His laughter is contagious regardless, giggles of your own coming out as you watch him practically lose it. 

“I think you need to go to sleep,” you comment through bouts of laughter. 

He sighs a vocal sigh as he calms down slowly, agreeing with your suggestion that the near morning delirium was getting to both of your heads. You rest your newly acquired, yet equally prized possession to the side, finally turning in for the night as he reaches to turn his night lamp off. 

Mingyu moves to press his forehead into yours, not before placing a tiny peck into your lips as he mumbles against them in the dark, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you hum back as you press your lips together one last time, finally letting his breathing lull you into sleep. 

The mattress is foreign, so is the pillow, and so are the scents that linger in the room. It’s colder than you’d usually have it and the blankets feel different on your skin. And despite the most foreign thing in the room, the one that has his arms and legs wrapped around you, the one that whispered his love for you into your skin before drifting off, you find yourself falling into a sleep that’s more blissful than any you’ve had in a very, very long time. 

The sun is doing nothing to help itself against the tide of annoyance tht rises in your sleepy state. You’d get up and yank the curtains but can’t bring yourself to have the motivation to leave the soft mattress, simply bunching the blanket up to your face to block out the remnants of sun rays that invade the room. You’ve nearly lulled yourself back to sleep when you start registering noises coming from outside the bedroom walls, muffled yet familiar. 

Your brother is talking about something you can’t make out, Seokmin’s voice is undeniable despite passing through the folded layers of comforters around your head. You don’t doubt the presence of the sweat that’s probably already accumulated on your scalp. 

 There’s nothing that alarms you in the moment despite Seokmin’s yapping — that is until you hear a second voice.

You recognize it immediately as the sound of Mingyu’s talking, the words equally as muffled yet the intonation clear all the same. 

Kicking the sheets off of your overheating body, you squint as you open your eyes in a desperate attempt to reign yourself back to earth, recollections of the past twenty four hours hurtling back to you like a constant line of K.O’s. 

The gallery, the picture, the drive up to Mingyu’s place,the sex, the falling asleep in his arms. You sit up in Mingyu’s bed, clad in nothing but his own T-shirt as you realize your brother is downstairs talking to Mingyu, and you have no idea if he knows you're here. 

You realize very quickly that you’re trapped, being left with no other option than to remain in Mingyu’s bedroom until he comes back up to give you the clear, despite wanting to walk out to take the tiniest peek. You’re not sure what’s worse, getting caught or sitting in the growing pool of anxiety before Mingyu gets back. 

It’s a long, long twenty minutes, in which you’ve done just about everything to get to hear their conversation a bit better; or to distract yourself from the fact that it’s happening at all. Pressing your ear to the door before going back to make the bed. Freshening up in the bathroom before going back to jamming your eye into the keyhole (you aren’t sure why considering door faces a plain wall). You even hijacked a spare cup Mingyu had lying around the room to stick into the wall, hoping all those Mr. Bean cartoons hadn’t been lying to you. 

They were simply talking in a tone too low for your ears to catch (despite the Mr. Bean hack), and you resorted to scrolling on your phone to pass the remaining time. It’s catastrophic to say the least, when you’re met with a string of frantic messages from Nayeon as well as a couple missed calls from your brother. 

[Nayeon]: fuck [Nayeon]: i didnt see this [Nayeon]: he called this morning asking about you  [Nayeon]: i accidentally told him you werent here [Nayeon]: im so sorry where are you  [You]: its okay its my fault for texting so late [You]: i was at mingyus place [You]: ill tell you more later [Nayeon]: WHAT???

By the time Mingyu walks in, he’s mildly surprised to see you awake, pausing at the door as he takes in your huddled form. You sit up immediately, noting his still messy hair and the backwards sweatshirt he’s thrown on over his boxers. The question tumbles out of your lips before you can help it, “Was that Seokmin?”

“Good morning to you too,” he grumbles sarcastically, coming up on the bed to join you in your huddle fest. You’re a little embarrassed at the way you’ve greeted him first thing when he sees you, but his expression when he continues replaces it with something akin to fear. “And yeah, it was him.”

You want to ask him a follow up question, but you aren’t sure what to say, simply staring at him, hoping he’d get the hint and continue by himself. He does. 

“The idiot has a spare key so he just…” He trails off, rubbing his hands on his face,  “he just walked in straight to the room. Got the shock of his life, I suppose, ‘cause it woke me up while you kept snoring.” 

“He walked into the room?!” you nearly screech, hand clamped over mouth, horrified. “What did he say to you?”

Mingyu has the audacity to laugh, simply tugging you back down on the bed to hold you. You briefly wonder how he’s so casual about this. “There’s not really an expected reaction from someone when they find you half naked in bed with their sister.” 

The haphazardly shoved sweatshirt and no pants look was starting to make sense. “I heard you talking downstairs, what were you talking about?” 

“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about,” his lips graze the shell of your ear as he snuggles further into you. “He wants you home by seven though.” 

You throw your head back in a whine, “God, what am I gonna do?” 

“You’ll be fine, he didn’t smack me, he can’t possibly be that mad at you.” 

“What was he then, ecstatic?” you retort. 

“I mean,” his energy shifts a little. “I think he’s just a little hurt that he wasn’t told.” 

“So you’ve done your damage control and now I need to pray he doesn’t disown me.” 

“God, you’re being so negative,” he comments and you can’t help but round up on him.

“And you’re acting like you don’t care!”

He’s planting a fat kiss on your cheek at your outburst, coming in to coddle you even more. “I’m kidding, I just want you to relax, don’t be upset.” 

“Has he given you his verdict yet?” you ask quietly.

He sighs at the question and you can’t imagine his answer being any good. “Not yet, pretty up in the air about it.” 

When he sees you deflate even more in his arms, he continues, “I’m sure he’s gonna come around, he loves you too much to not. It’s just a matter of time while he gets to make sense of the situation, don’t worry about it.” 

“I hope so,” you reply.

“We might have wash his socks for the next five years once he does, but it’s okay.” 

You can’t help but snort at the prospect, “His feet are stinkier than the regular human’s, are you sure about that?”

He grins, “I’d do it for you.”

You push his face away, rolling your eyes at his attempt to be sappy. “You’re gonna keep me for five years?” 

His smile drops as you feel the atmosphere shift in the slightest, his presence moving impossibly closer to you. “I’m gonna keep you forever.”

Hearing it is enough to have you lurching forward, closing the final gap between you so you can give in to the urge to kiss him. He’s enthusiastic to give back, pulling your body to face him entirely as you mumble between kisses, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

The rest of the day (once your anxiety’s calmed down, at least) is spent loitering around each other as you migrate around the house in random excess. He makes you breakfast, and you need to physically restrain him to stop feeding you every bite of pancake and bacon. You let him make your favourite for lunch though, after you finally admitted how much you truly liked his Chow Mein, going as far as to run to the store to grab the stuff he was missing. He returns with a bag of groceries, not missing an abnormal amount of moonpie value packs that he stashes in his cabinets because “you’re gonna be around all the time”. 

6:30 rolls around quicker than either of you would have liked, needing to wiggle out of Mingyu’s hold on his couch to change out of your half naked state. He continues to delay you another ten minutes as he refuses to open his car door to let you walk into the apartment building, leaning over the console to continue mumbling whines between your own consoling kisses. 

By the time you’re making the walk of shame up to your door, the pit of anxiety that began to brew this morning returns from its dormancy, no Mingyu here to help ease your nerves, Gripping your key tight in your hands, you brace yourself to jam and twist to finally end this matter once and for all (at least you hope you can). 

Seokmin is waiting on the couch for arrival like a parent waiting to catch their child in the act. He briefly glances over at you as you whisper a tame “Hi”, slipping off your shoes. He doesn’t reply as he merely grabs the remote to pause his show, casting a heightened awkward atmosphere at the silence that’s now engulfing the room. You tread carefully over to the couch, where Seokmin sits with his arms crossed. 

It takes one look at his face for you to suddenly want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. He didn’t look angry, and perhaps you would’ve preferred his aggression if it didn’t mean having to look at a hurt Seokmin. You sit in silence for a couple dramatic minutes, hoping he would start talking so you wouldn’t have to. Yet, when you realize you might have to say something anyway for fear of crushing under the pressure, you find yourself opening your mouth. 

“Are you upset?” Of course, he’s upset, you idiot.

“I just–” he starts, before sighing. “I just wish one of you would’ve told me what was going on.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” you reply. “I didn’t want either of you to have an excuse to be upset with each other, so I just…”

“I get that it was a recent thing but I think I deserved as much to know what was happening when I wasn’t around.”

You wince as speaks, realizing he hasn’t caught on to the fact that this isn’t recent at all — for you at least. “Um, about that…”

“What? There’s more?” he scoffs. 

“I, uh…I’ve liked him since like fifth grade—” He’s immediately jaw dropped, eyes bulged, taking a sharp breath. “But! In my defense, it was really obvious—it’s honestly your fault for not noticing.”

‘My–My fault?!” he sputters. “That’s like, forever, and you told me nothing? Mingyu told me this was recent, why did he lie?” 

“He didn’t, nothing happened till last night, I swear.” You cringe at what you’re entailing. “It was just me that liked him for that long, he figured it out pretty early on but…”

“He’s finally reciprocating now?” he suggests, almost sarcastically. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out lightly. 

“This is insane,” he blows out a breath of air, massaging his temples. 

“I’m not being stupid about him,” you mutter lowly, “This isn’t some puppy dog crush, especially not after so long.” 

He’s silent. 

“I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m jumping into this blind, especially for what it means for you too.” 

No response. 

“I’m sorry that you had to find out like this, it’s really not how I wanted it to go.” And when you’re met with even more silence, you find yourself continuing. “Please, talk to me. Cuss me out if you want, I’d honestly rather you yell at me.”

Seokmin sighs for the near hundredth time, finally looking like he might say something. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.”  

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, mind immediately going to the worst. Was he going to ask you to break up with him?

“I’m gonna choose to trust the both of you on this,” he starts, and you nearly melt into the cushions, “It’s your life, you can date whoever you want. And…I guess Mingyu is better than someone else. Probably uses bad hair gel though.” 

You’re catapulting yourself off the couch at the sound of that, throwing yourself onto an unassuming Seokmin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

“OW! Okay! Geez, get off,” he grumbles as he finally stops wrestling you to let go of him, hugging you back as you squeeze his shoulders tight. 

“I promise I won’t keep anything like this from you again.” 

“You better not,” he huffs as you let go of him, “Don’t think this means you’re forgiven. You still have a lot to tell me.” 

“I promise I won’t leave out a thing.”

The following weeks are near bliss, following your very loud confrontation with Nayeon when she gets back from her summer vacation, her screams at every plot turn having you praying for her neighbors. You doubt she believed you despite everything, not until she physically sees Mingyu come in one day, making a beeline to peck you on the lips before greeting anyone else. Her dropped jaw was very telling. 

Even now, as Mingyu sports the title of the lame alumnus that still hangs around campus as he grips your hand, walking through the grass, the double takes you’re receiving seem to be traveling quite fast. You wouldn’t necessarily blame them considering the trickier than usual dynamic you sport due to your brother (and you guess due to his reputation as well). 

But you also knew they’d be quick to die out as the newer batches of students come flying in — Mingyu will soon become a very well kept secret, in one way if not the other. 

His neighbors, however, must be wishing he had the same sentiment as well, considering the absolutely foul noises that are coming from his apartment. 

You’re learning very quickly that Mingyu’s innocent touchiness can turn into something of the opposite at any given time, exhibit A being now as you try your damn hardest to muffle the sounds coming out of your mouth as Mingyu works his own mouth on your cunt. The knees over his shoulders are shivering from the expense, fingers pumping into your hole as he rubbed a particular spot with his tongue that had you gripping onto his hair tight. 

As much as Mingyu loves to hear you, you find his other hand being brought up to place two fingers in your mouth for you as the perfect pacifier, sounds limiting extensively. 

By the time you’re coming undone, sprawled on his couch like you just ran a marathon, you’re quick to realize that he has no intention of letting you have a breather. It takes one shove for him to pull his pulsing length out of his pants, tip pushing into your still sopping hole as he invited all of him inside you. 

You’ll never forget the first time Mingyu fucked you raw, right after you told him he had the green light after taking your birth control pills. It was magic, you’ve never seen him this vocal as he finished inside you nearly four times in a single night. His moans remain loud even still, as he brings your thighs to press over your chest, basically folding you in half. The mere sound of your wetness as he pumps in and out of you is enough to have you nearly careening over the edge, especially when you feel a desperate hand reach out to rub fast circles on your clit. 

You throw your head back as you cum for the second time, pulsing around him in a grip Mingyu can’t believe has the ability to become tighter. It’s enough for him though, as he leans his forehead against your chest as he releases himself inside you. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it, watching you filled to the brim with his cum, even as it drips onto the blankets you’ve laid down below. He has half a mind to stuff the liquid back inside you, but fears you’re tired enough, the overstimulation too much for you. 

By the time you’ve cleaned up and resumed the movie you should’ve been done with hours ago, cuddled impossibly close to him, you find yourself remembering something quite out of the blue.

“Hey, not that I really care anymore,” you start, “But who were the guys you were talking to that day? From the party.”

“Stopped hanging out with them ages ago,” Mingyu scoffs, face souring at the mention of them. “I mean, it was me who said all that bullshit, but they weren’t exactly good influences either. Learned that pretty quick.”

“Oh,” you reply simply, letting your head fall back onto his chest.

He doesn’t seem to be having any of it, grabbing your chin to have you face him. “I’m still really sorry about that. I don’t care if you chase my tail for another fifty years, it’ll always be adorable.”

“Forgave you a long time ago, but I think I have a condition now.” 

He quirks a brow at your words. “What does her Highness ask of me?”

“That you chase my tail for another fifteen to make up for all the running I’ve done.” 

He’s laughing at that, agreeing to your condition as places loving smooches all over your face. “Consider it done.”

It’s later on in the night, both of you huddled in ratty hoodies and mismatched slippers, plastic bag crinkling along Mingyu’s arm as you giggle about something he said. You’re enjoying your fudgsicle in the peace and serenity of the 1 AM hour, making your trek home after raiding the corner store down the block. Mingyu suddenly halts in his tracks as he sees a particularly pretty set of flowers, illuminated by the fluorescent street lights. 

“Babe, babe, stand here let me take a picture of you.”

“What?” you frown, holding up your stick of iced chocolate. “I’m not done yet.”

You watch as he grabs the melting popsicle from your hand downing the entire thing in one go as you watch him, hand still outstretched and jaw dropped. “Mingyu, you bitch!”

He only smiles as he mulls the chocolate in his mouth, words basically gibberish, “‘ere’s more in the ba’, now go stan'!” 

You huff as you trudge to where he was asking you to pose, throwing a couple peace signs to satiate the home video urges in him so you could rip open your second fudgsicle. 

“Wait! You got a little chocolate on your mouth.” he announces, and you stick your tongue out to lick past the remnants of the sweetness. “No— wait.”

He walks over to you as your still trying to find the spot you missed, unassuming as he swings into your face to kiss the remaining off. “Oh, nevermind, it was nothing.” 

You push him off as heat crawls up your face, feigning annoyance at his antics. You decide to forgive him when rips open another fudgsicle for you, offering it with both hands, promising to not steal a single lick. You believe him, snatching the stick from him as you continue your trek home. 

It’s not until he’s attempting to send you the pictures he just took to your phone so you could post them (which, with the way you looked, fat chance) that he notices something in your albums. 

“Oh, are these grad photos?” he asks as he clicks the album open.

“Mhm,” you hum not paying too much attention as you walked and ate. 

“Why’s there only one picture here?” he asks as he pulls up to find nothing more left to load. 

It’s only then that you bring your full attention to your phone in his hand as you realize what picture he’s talking about, “Oh god, don’t look at that one.”

He does the obvious thing and opens it anyway, a louder than necessary “aw” coming out his mouth. “Why do you look like I’m about to eat you?” 

“It felt like it!” you whine, remembering the moment clear as day. “They kept pestering me to take a picture with you too, I was tryna book it out of there at first chance.” 

He giggles as he zooms into the photo, “I’m sending this to myself.”

You groan loudly at the thought, “God, just delete it, leave it alone.”

He tucks the phone into himself further, not letting you grab it. “No, you’re not deleting it. Why do you have it tucked into a separate folder if you hate it so much.”

He’s got you there, you realize quickly, and he reigns in his victory as he watches you grimace at the phone slightly, adding on, “it has a lot of feelings attached to it, I get it. But look, we can attach new feelings to it, now you’ll think about right now the next time you see it.”

“Think about you hijacking my fudgsicles? I think I prefer heartbreak,” you say, bringing your half eaten pop closer to your body in case he tries anything. 

You’re deemed correct when he replies, motioning towards your concealed treat, “Careful, I can still pounce when you’re not looking.” 

Shoving your hands into the swinging bag hanging on Mingyu’s arm, you bring out a thing of sausage and shove it towards him, “You leave me and my fudgsicle alone, go be lousy and suck on this or whatever.”

“You’d know alot about that, wouldn’t you?” he notes casually, grabbing the sausage anyway as he unwraps it to take a bite. 

It takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about while he stares at you with a mischievous expression, coming to shove him when the innuendo finally registers in your head. You do the opposite this time, pointing the melting chocolate toward him instead, threatening to smear it all over his white hoodie. 

He laughs at the sight, disarming you by simply moving your wrist away, coming to kiss you on the mouth hard regardless of your annoyed expression. 

“Love ya’” he giggles. 

“Hm.”

“What, hm? Say it back.”

You pretend to wonder, “I don’t think so.”

“Say it!” he groans, “Say it, say it!” 

You manage to wriggle out of his hold, booking it before he realises what’s happening. 

“Hey!” 

Your both probably waking up the entire neighborhood with how loud you’re yelling and laughing, and even when he manages to tackle you down on somebody’s lawn, coaxing the words out of you with borderline violence, you still manage to smile, thanking your lucky stars that you got what you wanted after all. 

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks with an undertone. 

“Thanking my stars they led me to you,” you reply. 

“More like the other way around. Needed the fattest fucking star to realize what was in front of me all along,” he jests himself. 

It sparks a laugh out of you. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

[acewritesfics]

Birthday Surprise | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Wife!Reader

Request: No.

Warnings: Nothing but fluff.

Word Count: 1,099

Jay Halstead Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Hey, did you get it done?" Y/N hears Jay ask into his phone as she approaches his desk and leans against it after exiting Hank's office.  

He winks at her with a smile on his face. They're the last two members of the intelligence unit remaining upstairs. Everyone else had gone home early, leaving the couple to finish theirs alone. What Y/N didn't know was that the paper work that needed to be done could have waited until the morning and that Jay's using it as a rouse to distract Y/N from leaving when the others did. 

"I'll call you tomorrow," he assures whoever is on the other end of the phone call before ending it. 

"Who was that?" she inquires, curiosity getting the better of her. 

"That was Will," he replies as he stands up and grabs his coat from the back of his chair. "He asked my opinion on something he was contemplating." 

"I'm guessing he listened to you," she comments as she takes his coat and helps him in putting it on. 

"He did," he says as he spins around to face her before leaning forward to plant a kiss to her lips. He steps back from her and asks, "Are you ready to go?" 

Y/N nods and returns to her desk, where she picks up her coat and beanie before putting them on. As they walk out of District 21, he takes her hand in his and kisses the back it. 

When they reach his truck, he draws her in for another kiss before unlocking the front passenger door for her. He helps her into the seat and kisses her once more before closing the door. 

As she watches Jay run around the front of the truck and into the driver's seat, she blows hot air into her hands to keep them from freezing. 

"You've been oddly affectionate today," she comments, recalling all the times he's pulled her aside for a short sweet kiss and a private moment with her. He was a lot more touchy with her, even in front of the others. 

At work, they kept their relationship professional and kept their affection for one other to a minimal, saving it for when their shift is over. Calling each other babe was largely a slip of the tongue; they kept their hands to themselves, limiting their intimacy at work to an embrace and a kiss in the locker room and a sneaky kiss in as they gear up to take down an extremely dangerous suspect. At work, they'll always be partners before husband and wife… until one of them gets hurt. 

"Can't I show my wife some love on her birthday?" He asks, unable to disguise the joy in his voice, his smile radiating from ear to ear as he began the drive to their apartment. 

"Oh, I'm not complaining," she says, smiling as she hears his excitement and delight in his words and sees it on his face. She stares at him and feels herself falling in love with him all over again. Her heart always soars when she sees him happy. "I thoroughly enjoyed it." 

"Good," he replies, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it as they come to a halt at a red light. 

"Before we walk inside, you have to promise me you won't murder me," he says as he steps between her and the apartment door and removes her keys from her grasp. 

She glances at him with suspicion. "What did you do?" 

"Nothing bad," he quickly replies. He's aware of her dislike of surprises, so he kept this one to a minimum, including only his brother and the unit.  

Kim, Adam, and Kevin wanted to throw her a surprise party, but Jay immediately vetoed that idea since he knew it would be the last thing she wanted, especially the day after Christmas. She'd told him a week ago that all she wants for her birthday is a night in with her husband, eating pizza and having a couple drinks. 

So that is what Jay planned. 

He opens the door and walks ahead of her inside the apartment, laying his stuff on the floor. He looks around the room, noting that he owes Will big time. 

Y/N follows Jay into the apartment, a shocked expression on her face as she takes in the dim lighting and candles flickering about the room. The fire is roaring and there's a bottle of wine, two glasses and a pizza box set on the coffee table, which she giggles at. It isn't her first birthday spent with them as a couple but it is her first birthday as Mrs Halstead and he wanted to make it as special and meaningful as she is. 

"Happy Birthday, babe," Jay says quietly as he approaches her and helps her take  off her coat and beanie before kissing her on the cheek. 

She spins around to face him as his arms encircle her waist, drawing her into him. "I really do have the best husband ever." 

"And brother-in-law," he smiles, implying that he had help in setting things up. 

"Is this what you were discussing with him?" She asks, amazed that they were able to keep it so well hidden from her. 

"Maybe," he shrugs, his smile turning into a smirk. 

"Make sure to thank him tomorrow," she adds, running her hands up his arms, shoulders, and neck to his head. "Until then," she adds bringing him into a soft and loving kiss.  

Before either of them could deepen the kiss, her stomach rumbles as the smell of the pizza invades her nostrils. Breaking the kiss, she pulls out of her husbands hold and moves toward the coffee table. Opening the pizza box, her mouth waters at the sight of her favourite toppings on top of her favourite pizza base. Jay moves beside her and opens the bottle of wine, pouring some into the glasses. He hands one of the glasses to her.  

"I love you so much," she says taking her glass. 

"I love you too," he smiles and kisses her. 

"Best birthday ever," she says breaking the kiss and taking his glass from him. Deciding to ignore her stomach, she places the glasses back on table and moves back into her husband's arms. 

His lips meet hers again as he guides her in front of the fire, his hands grazing her skin underneath the shirt, that just so happens to be his, that she's wearing. As he lifts the shirt off her, he tells her, "Babe, we're just getting started." 

[miscling]

they're mean to me and i love it

so i keep telling folks that my nestie isn't into kink as much as i am, which is... largely true, but i think there's something they actually really enjoy, which is being mean to me and teasing me.

when i was in chastity last week they loved to watch me squirm, a couple of days ago i was having kittytime with them and they were very rough with my new collar and lead, and they've been much more confident peppering in 'good girl' and 'good kitty' for me during affection time. last night, as i'm going to bed, they say to me 'i want to do something mean to you,' completely unprompted.

now, earlier in the day, i was subject to a little magic (💚). there are spells i can give to others to manipulate and play with me like a precious little doll. a new spell was woven around me, which i then told my nestie about afterwards. the spell itself a simple command that can be used to tie me up in body or mind, or even tie up concepts - a word, a number, that sort of thing.

so my nestie wants to do something mean to me, and i say 'do it'. i love it when the people who care about me are rough with me. i've been thoroughly enjoying all the teasing and play they've been giving me lately, because they're enjoying it way more. i am, in the back of my mind, still not used to them being 'mean' to me. i think to myself 'how bad can it be?'

so anyway, this is a story about how my libido got tied up.

it feels weird. unlike chastity, which has me horny but i can't touch, having my libido tied away has me perplexed. i still get that delicious feeling in my stomach when i think of the things i've been playing with lately, but it doesn't go to my cunt afterwards. touching is something i can technically do, but... eh. physically everything is still working down there, my libido is just tucked away, just out of reach.

do i like it? i like that it amused my nestie to watch my mind fold in on itself as i processed the spell. i like that some of you will also appreciate the story. it's also giving me a new perspective on my sexuality and kink and how the two interact. i'm also pretty amused by it myself. i didn't expect something like this to happen, so i'm having another adventure, and i didn't think they had it in them.

it turns out they do, and i love them for it.

[elizais]

hi! can you do a little something like if dazai and reader knew each other in the PM and stay together and go to the agency? not like a fic thing more like a short little thing of all of the ada together! if not don't worry x

of course!! i love requests 🩷🩷

"remember this one?"

osamu dazai x fem!reader established relationship, reader was in PM with dazai, fluff warnings: ??

everyone knew of you and dazai both being from the port mafia, it was rarely brought up anymore. the agency enjoyed having a big group hang out every few weeks at someone's place, nothing over the top but it usually ended up in a couple of arguments over a board game. (monopoly ended up being banned for a year after kunikida and dazai got into a screaming match at yosano's place.)

and tonight, it was yours and osamu's turn to host. at some point during the work day, ranpo suggested unsolved cases online. nothing serious, just thefts. and that was the plan!

everyone was turning up in casual clothes, kunikida being the first to arrive. osamu greeting him at the door of a home he had certainly not expected to belong to dazai. how you two were together was also a mystery to the man. how you could put up with him? nobody knew.

when kunikida was admiring the interior, osamu read his mind and answered his unspoken question with, "when you are an executive in the mafia you get good savings, kunikida-kun!" he smiled.

"where is y/n?" kunikida asked dazai as he was getting kunikida a drink. "she's gone to grab ranpo, and to approve of whatever cases he wanted to solve. to make sure he doesn't get too out of hand for a relaxed evening."

kunikida and dazai simply watched tv as they waited for everyone else, dazai trying to gossip but kunikida shutting him down immediately. you and the others all walked in with a box in hand with the cases. the only person who couldn't make it being fukuzawa as he was meeting with a friend.

"osamu? can you get everyone drinks please?" you asked as he and kunikida walked towards you and your group. "of course, bella!" he smiled before asking everyone what they wanted and grabbing the snacks.

everyone made themselves at home as you and atsushi chose a case, a comfortable silence between the two of you as you flicked through the large thefts that were forgotten about years ago. "how is this one, y/n?" atsushi spoke as he shown you some papers conjoined with a paperclip. the summary being two unknown teens stealing miscellaneous objects from an office. roughly amounting to $2000 in damages.

not looking over it too thoroughly, "looks good!" you spoke as everyone else filtered into the living space.

although ranpo was the one who suggested it, he knew it would be you and him gossiping whilst everyone else racked their brains over why they would have done it. and that was just what had happened!

everyone else was trying to figure out who and why as it just seemed weird to steal stationary and other random items!

you and ranpo were sat on one of the couches talking as everyone else was sat in a circle on the floor in front of you with paperwork being passed around.

"so.. did you hear about-" ranpo begun, trying to gossip about the cafe's workers drama before getting cut off by osamu tapping you on the knee from where he sat on the floor with the others cross legged.

" 'donna! remember this??" he shown you the photo caught on cctv that was incredibly blurry whilst giggling. squinting, you took the piece of paper before letting out an "ohh! yeah, of course i do!" quiet enough so only osamu and ranpo would hear.

the photo showing an approximately 15 year old boy dressed in a suit with bandages over his eye, black dress pants with a white shirt and a black tie. next to him, a young girl close in age who was smiling and wearing a long black coat too big for her and also formally dressed, carrying a bunch of staplers.

ranpo didn't tell the rest of the group and neither did you two, laughing quietly as they got incredibly frustrated with how it seemed that the thieves done it just to confuse people (which is exactly why you both done it).

would you ever tell people that you both done these thefts as teens whenever you were bored? maybe. but tonight while everyone was stumped? not a chance.

a/n! the poll for bf!chuuya has been written but is in my drafts for tomorrow for those who voted for him. i will do more polls in the future but school has started again and homework/sports are heavy rn !!

reblogs are appreciated and covered in glitter

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Heyyy idk if you've done this before but Maid x prince ( or any other monarch) but it's kinda smutty and angsty because they can't be together ❤️

She knew there was one thing he loathed more than dancing: social gatherings.

He bored himself to death when he had to talk to other people. When he had to pretend to be interested in others, when he had to smile and laugh all evening. He wasn't a very talkative person and he was certainly not a social one.

She knew that he could come across as harsh or cold but she was also aware of his many interests. And how passionate he could be about them.

However, she had not expected him to return this early.

She looked up from the bed she was making, fearing the worst. Although he didn't like it, these social gatherings were incredibly important to secure their country's alliances.

Admittedly, she was interested in politics and power. But she also knew her place.

"Are you alright, my lo-" She swallowed the my lord. He had asked her not to call him that quite a while ago. But old habits were hard to kill for her. "Are you alright?"

The prince looked at her, exhaustion painted all over his face.

"...no," he admitted. He was always someone who buried his true feelings and replaced them with indifference. Today, he seemed frustrated enough to start crying.

The maid's heart clenched in her chest.

"If there is anything I can do for you-" She walked up to him and took his hands.

She knew what they had been doing for the last weeks wasn't right. She knew they weren't supposed to do the things they did, but...she couldn't help it. She loved him. And she didn't want this man to fall apart.

They had spent their entire childhoods together and for some reason, he only smiled when he was with her.

The maid couldn't watch her prince, her friend turn into someone callous. He was too important to her for that.

"I'm tired," he said. He gave her hands a little squeeze and kissed her temple before he was heading for the bed. "I wish you could join me next time. You make these things bearable."

"I think it would be quite strange to let your maid join you," she said. She watched carefully as he took off his clothes.

"I wish it wasn't," he said. "I can't help it, I am not good at it. Whenever I see so many people in one room, the world starts to spin. I loathe it. I loathe what they are talking about. Do they seriously think I care for their dog? Or their third cousin? Do they think I actually enjoy their presence?"

Good heavens, he was almost naked.

He slowly crawled under the blankets but he kept talking.

"What about literature? What about warfare? Are these people not interested in anything?" He groaned. "My head started to hurt as soon as I had to dance. Horrible. I left as soon as I could."

He was laying down, head buried in a pillow. His entire back was exposed. The maid could see a few scars she recognized. One time, he had fallen from his horse. Another, he had survived an assassination attempt. There were other scars she didn't recognize.

She wished she could name every single one. She wished she could know him so thoroughly that she wouldn't have to read his lips to know what he desired.

The maid walked up to him and kneeled beside the bed. Her hand went through his hair a couple of times before she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"It may seem irrelevant to you but appearing to be interested in someone's family or dog can be quite helpful. It's even better if you remember those details. You need to know your allies. You need to maintain good relations." Her gaze stayed on a new scar. Absentmindedly, she let her fingertips follow it.

He shivered.

"Forgive me," she whispered. But all he did was turn around and take her hands into his again.

"Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if our roles were reversed. If you were a princess and I was your knight..." He kissed her knuckles and her heart started to pound. Witnessing his softness was a privilege exclusively reserved for her. Sometimes, he really made her feel like a princess. "You understand all of this so well."

"The court was a good teacher, I suppose," she said. "Books can only get you so far."

That made him smile.

"Are you doubting your prince's way of education?"

"Well, he is misanthropic. So something must have gone wrong," she said. She seized the opportunity to get on top of him and focus on some other scars on his chest. Somehow, she ended up with her palm pressed against his chest right where his heart was.

"Still beating?" he asked. The joke didn't really come across though. She had stopped counting the many instances where she had had to tend to his wounds.

"Still beating," she said. His eyes didn't leave her.

"I don't think I will ever get married unless you are my bride," he said softly.

Instead of answering, she leaned in and kissed him. Deep down, she knew he couldn't afford that. In his world, the court and politics had no real meaning. But she knew it dictated all their lives, especially his future marriage. He was a quiet dreamer.

But some couldn't even dare to dream.

So, she kissed him softly. Kissed him until she could swallow her own tears and forget about all her worries.

[max--phillips]

The File Room

This is the fic I wrote because I started a run of the mill office job a little over a week ago and couldn't help myself. Partly inspired by the fact I did, in fact, spend a good part of my day one day filing contracts away. Enjoy! (oh, also, tagging @miraclesabound as requested!)

Pairing: Max Phillips x afab!reader (otherwise gender neutral, no references to reader's chest)

Warnings: office shenanigans, Max sneaks up on reader and gets punched for it, reader gets eaten out from behind, piv, creampie, a little bit of spit plus something extra (but I'm not gonna ruin the surprise), Max and reader have an ambiguous relationship (ie not explicitly romantic but could be read as such)

Word count: 2k

You had a stack of reports that needed to be filed away. A big stack. And of course, because nothing can be easy, it’s not like they could be all put in the back of the drawer and be considered in order. No, they all had to be put in order in their respective accounts based on which reports they were and what dates they covered and on and on and on… Normally you wouldn’t mind doing this, because you were pretty good at staying on top of putting them away as you got them, a few at a time at most. But unfortunately, one of your coworkers from the sales department was recently… relieved of his position, and he left the big stack of reports behind. Completely unorganized to boot. You were going to be among the filing cabinets and bankers boxes for quite a while.

Honestly, while you were at it, a few of these accounts could stand to get reorganized… Lord knows some of your coworkers barely even tried to put these reports in the right spot… So off you went to the large room filled with shelves and filing cabinets, earbuds already in and playing your favorite music to work to.

A couple hours into your project, the door to the storage room opened. You didn’t hear it, so you were still entirely focused on your current task. You were putting away a stray report, bent over at the waist to get to the back of a filing cabinet drawer. This gave Max Phillips a spectacular view of your ass. And to make it all that much better, you just so happened to be wearing his favorite bottoms on you. He closed his eyes for a moment and brought his fist up against his mouth in a quiet celebration of this treat.

Max was the sales manager in the office, and despite being in a different department, you somehow managed to spend quite a bit of time together. You’d caught on like a wildfire when he started--after you’d managed to see through his extremely irritating caricature-of-a-business-major facade, that is, and made it clear you weren’t going to put up with his bullshit. That was when he asked you out for drinks after work one Friday, let you in on his little supernatural secret, and very thoroughly disproved your assumption that he was not particularly good, and certainly not very generous, in bed.

Max continued to watch you from the door as you worked for a few more moments, quietly locking the door because of course he was going to get a taste of you in here, how could he not? You dropped a small stack of files you had set aside, and cursed as they fluttered onto the floor. You got on your knees to gather them up again, another sight Max would never tire of, before getting back up and resuming your sorting.

Max finally decided to actually make his presence known. Clearly you were in the zone, your earbuds blocking out the rest of the world. He came up behind you, shamelessly taking your ass in both his hands.

You shrieked as you felt hands on your ass, scaring the hell out of you as you hadn’t heard anyone come into the room. You then whirled around, and, without thinking or registering who actually was doing this… punched the perpetrator directly in the face.

Max recoiled, bringing his hands to his face, as you realized what you’d just done. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands, afraid for a moment you’d actually done damage or hurt him.

“Oh my god, Max, don’t do that! Are you okay?” you asked, reaching out a bit as you realized you’d definitely hurt yourself. You looked at the knuckles on your hand that had collided with his face, investigating for any visible injury as you clenched and unclenched your fist.

Max started laughing, standing back upright and taking his hands away from his face. “I’m fine, holy shit, if that was anyone else though, they’d have a very broken nose,” he said, taking your now aching hand in his, and looking at you with what someone might call adoration. “Are you okay?”

You sighed in relief, then took out your earbuds so you could actually participate in a conversation with him. “I think so. Don’t fucking scare me like that again, though.” You firmly poked him in the chest, glaring at him.

Max chuckled a little. “Message received, don’t worry,” he said. “Sorry I scared you. I saw how good your ass looked just a second ago and couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks. Do you need something, or did you just come in here to grope me? I have a lot of reports to put away now that your shitty employee is gone,” you said, gesturing towards the still pretty substantial stack of reports. “And I think I’m going to reorganize some other accounts while I’m back here.”

“Actually…” Max started, taking a few steps forward, making you take a few steps back, towards a table between two sets of shelves that was just below hip height. He let go of your hand and turned you around, moving you to bend over. He once again put his hands on your ass, then dragged them to your hips, then the waistband of your bottoms, which he pulled down and out of the way along with your underwear, letting the fabric pool around your ankles. He got down on his knees, pulling your flesh apart where your ass met your thighs, exposing your cunt to him. “I think I’m gonna do a little more than grope you.”

You muffled a moan as he licked through your folds, then prodded at your hole with his tongue. “Max… I really need to get this done…” you said, but only half-heartedly. You’d definitely much rather be doing this than filing reports all day.

Max hummed, the tone questioning your statement as his tongue moved again, his mouth enveloping your clit and sucking gently. It was a teasing motion, and it made you groan in frustration. “You’ll have plenty of time, sweetheart,” he said, mischief thick in his tone.

He licked against your clit again, then switched to sucking on it, and back and forth for a while, driving you crazy. You were getting close, you just needed…

“Max, fuck, please,” you groaned, reaching behind you and grabbing his hair, pushing him further into you. He firmly sucked your clit into his mouth for a long moment, and groaned into your pussy, which did you in. You moaned as you finally tumbled over the edge, only barely muffling the tail end of the sound. Max worked you through it, lapping up your release feverishly, until you were pulling his hair the opposite direction, starting to edge on overstimulated.

He pulled away, his hands going from the back of your thighs to your hips again as he stood up. “Don’t tell me you’re done,” he said. You looked over your shoulder to see his downright devilish grin. His face was wet with your juices--a sight you were quite a fan of, honestly. “Because I’m not done.”

You smiled as you pushed your hips back, connecting with his. Max grunted as his cock, still confined behind his pants and boxers, made contact with your ass, grinding together briefly before he took half a step back to unbuckle his belt and shove his pants out of the way enough to fuck you. You both moaned as he swiped the tip of his cock through your slit, then began pushing into you at a pace you would describe as teasingly slow given how ready you were for him.

“Are you teasing me to keep me away from my job longer, Phillips?” you taunted, though you were unable to stop the groan leaving your throat as his cock rubbed up against something delicious inside you, just like it always does.

“As if you don’t love this,” he said, snapping his hips forward the rest of the way, ripping another sound from you. You could only imagine the grin on his face at this point, especially knowing there was no arguing with that.

Max began fucking you in earnest, setting a quick pace right away--no matter how much he’d like to, he couldn’t keep you both occupied all day. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to stand up against him, wrapping his other arm around you to rub your already sensitive clit as he did. You moaned out again, clenching down around his cock as he gave you more stimulation, which made him groan in your ear. He could smell your blood rushing in your vessels just millimeters below the skin of your neck right by his lips, but he would save that for when you were over at his place, not in the file room at work. He compromised by merely nibbling on your skin, then sucking a very visible mark to the same spot.

You moaned at all of the sensations he was bombarding you with, once again getting close to a climax, his expert fingers and cock slamming into that sensitive spot giving you no other choice. You should care about the hickey he just gave you, probably, but in this moment, it just added to the intoxicating cocktail he was serving you.

“I can feel you, baby, c’mon, give it to me,” Max mumbled in your ear. “Cum on my cock, I got you.”

You could never say no to that. You gave in immediately to his encouragement, crying out his name as you went over the edge a second time, your walls rhythmically bearing down on Max’s cock as you did. He moaned your name in your ear, hips stuttering as he closely followed you to his own peak, filling you to the brim. He slowed down as you both came back down to earth, dragging his hand from your clit to your hip, just holding you close to him for a moment.

Just as you thought you were out of the woods, Max bent you forward on the table again. You gasped in surprise--what else could he possibly have in store for you? You both made a noise as he pulled out, and you hummed as you felt his cum start to leak down your thigh. You gasped again as you felt Max’s tongue lick up the same path, gathering his own cum in his mouth.

Every time you think you’ve found everything he does that you find irresistibly hot, Max manages to surprise you.

Max stood again, and turned you around to face him finally. He grabbed your face, making you gasp in surprise again. He dug his index finger and thumb into your jaw at the joint firmly, and grunted, clearly trying to get you to open your mouth.

You obeyed immediately, and whimpered as he spit his own cum into your mouth. You swallowed, and he groaned, finally leaning forward to kiss you. You grinned into it, and let it go on for a while before you gently pulled away to pull your bottoms back up from the floor. Max followed suit, tucking his shirt back in as he quickly fixed his clothes.

“So… wanna come over tonight?” he asked, leaning against one of the shelves as you picked up a new stack of reports to put away.

You hummed exaggeratedly in thought. “Oh, I don’t know, Max, every time I do it’s so disappointing,” you responded sarcastically.

“Well, I bet I can make you ‘disappointed’ twice as many times as I just did if you do,” he snarked back.

You laughed quietly. “Alright, now, don’t make any promises you can’t keep,” you warned.

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?” Max asked, a very confident smirk on his face.

You honestly thought about it for a second. “No, I suppose you haven’t,” you admitted. “But we both need to get back to work. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Max grinned, that genuine grin that made you melt a little bit every time you saw it. He kissed you again, a deep, lingering thing that was full of affection. “I’ll see you tonight.”

[m3talmunson]

WORD COUNT: 2,296 (just warning u <3 enjoy loves)

Steve didn't expect anyone to remember. It's not like his parents ever remembered to leave a message. It's not like Nancy remembered (although, a couple months later she called him bullshit, and well, that takes the cake). He never bothered to tell the kids, and he didn't blame Robin for not remembering when the day they told eachother they were still coming off of those Russian drugs. He remembered hers though. He remembered that her birthday was March 10th. He threw her a surprise party, invited her band nerds, invited Eddie, fresh out of the hospital, invited Dustin and Erica, their whole trauma bonded troop.

And somehow in the mix, a month later when it was his turn, nobody remembered his.

That was, at least, what he believed. But one person remembered.

A week prior, Dustin had got his grubby little hands on the information of Steve's birthday. He needed to know and wasn't willing to ask Steve, not willing to expose that he didn't know the older man's birthday. So he asked around.

After going down the list, through most of the other kids, through Robin, and even Eddie, he ended up slinked over at the Byers-Hopper residence, quizzing El on how far her powers go, if she could maybe find a way to figure out his birthday. El explained that she probably can't do that, but she was willing to try for Dustin's sake. She rushed into the living room, Dustin in tow, finding the nearest radio and trying to rush out with it before getting stopped by Hopper and Joyce, who were on the couch watching the TV, which those two gremlins so unceremoniously cut in front of it twice already.

"Woah woah woah! Slow down there, what's going on?" Hop asked. He knows when El frantically needs access to a radio, that something's going on.

"It's Steve." She says, not offering any context. That immediately gets Joyce into defensive mode. Nobody messes with her boys. Or any of her kids, for that matter.

"What's wrong with Steve?" She asks, jolting up out of her comfortable position.

"Woah hold on, he's ok!" Dustin explains. At that, Joyce let's out a relieved sigh and lays back into Hoppers arm that was just wrapped around her.

"Yes! He is ok, we just need to see him." El finally explained.

"Yeah! About early June a year ago I said something about his age and I was wrong, which means his birthday is some time soon and I don't know it! And El said she might know a way to find out!"

"Oh you don't need to go through all that! Steve's birthday is next Thursday. I was gonna make him a cake and bring it to his house, like I did last year! Why didn't you just ask around?"

All three of the others in the room were confused by her response, even Hop, who had never even thought of the idea of doing something for the Harrington boy's birthday, even though he's the closest thing to a father figure the boy has got.

"Next week??" Hopper asked, suddenly feeling bad for not knowing that about the boy, or that Joyce has been the only one caring for him the year prior on his birthday.

"No I did ask around! You just happen to be the only person in Hawkins to know it!" Dustin said, cutting off any answer that might have come to Hopper's question.

"Not even Nancy or Robin or Eddie?"

"Nope. You're the only one." El said. El didn't really have a birthday, so they threw her a 'Found You!' party every year. It gave Will something better to focus on that day every year, so it made everyone pretty happy. She knew how much birthdays meant now.

"Well that just can't be. We'll have to throw him a party. Everyone needs a good send off into year 20." Hopper said, standing up and getting Joyce and El and Dustin to the dining room table, pulling Will away from his painting too, to plan how they were doing this.

One game plan, a thoroughly scribbled-on napkin, and a couple of phone calls later, Robin and Eddie were in on it, finding a way to get Steve from work to the Byers-Hopper house on a random Thursday. Robin wouldn't be working that day, so Steve wouldn't need to drive her to work. Eddie was fresh out of high school, (it really was his year!) so he did actually have a job, but he was pretty used to spending his lunches at Family Video.

They decided that Eddie would offer to hang out after work, shoot the shit or whatever, and pick Steve up from his house after work, bringing him to the house where the kids and everyone would be waiting.

This year, Steve was going to feel valued, no matter what.

~~~~~

Steve woke up, dreaded his shift ahead, and got ready as per usual that day. It didn't really matter that it was his birthday, there was no red dot on the receiver saying anyone else knew it was his birthday and might have called, so he pretended it was just a normal day, exactly like the rest of the world was doing.

The real crime is that his birthday fell on a Thursday. Thursdays, even over summer, are the slowest days for Family Video, so they don't even bother scheduling two people for the day. So he couldn't even hope Robin had maybe remembered his birthday, because he wouldn't see her all day. He would at least see Eddie, who he thought didn't know his birthday, so he couldn't feel bad for not telling Eddie, and Eddie couldn't feel bad for forgetting.

He had grown to love Eddie's lunch visits, sitting behind the counter talking to someone who understood him, who he could lower his mask around. Not all the way though. There are some parts of Steve that are for Robin's eyes only. Like the fact that he has feelings for Eddie. Feelings that he intended to keep hidden away. Where they were safe. Where he was safe.

Nonetheless, he lit up when that bell above the door chimed at 12:35, accommodating the quick ride from the record store Eddie worked at.

And, so what if Eddie didn't know it was his birthday, Eddie still asked to hang out after work, said "I found a spot you'll want to see," in that voice of his that eludes mischief, and Steve was in. He was going to go home, put on a nicer shirt and the watch he forgot on the bathroom counter that morning, and he was going to hang out with Eddie for his birthday.

He kept that dinky little smirk on his face for the rest of the day, and clocked out the moment Keith walked into those doors to pick up the closing shift, not sticking around for chit chat. He had 20 minutes till Eddie was off of work, which meant he had 30 minutes to get home, change shirts, spray on fresh cologne, and then pretend he wasn't waiting by the door to hear Eddie knock.

When he did though, Steve was not prepared to see a Eddie's bandana wave at him.

"You're gonna want full shock value for this one, big boy." Eddie said, whilst Steve hoped Eddie didn't see the blood rise to his cheeks at the nickname.

"Can I at least put it on in the van?"

"I'll settle for that if you don't gripe about the music!" Eddie joked. He had actually gotten a tape from Jonathan of Tears for Fears, so he knew Steve wouldn't.

"How am I supposed to do that when you blare it loud enough for Indianapolis to hear?"

"I think you'll like it today Stevie." Eddie said, opening the car door for Steve and giving a little bow, then watching Steve tie the bandana around his eyes as he walked around to the driver's side.

"Feel like I'm getting the full El treatment." Steve chuckled, as he heard the car door open.

"Hardy har, just make sure you can't see. I mean the shock value thing." He said, turning the key in the ignition. As the music started, Steve let out a little gasp, and reached blindly for Eddie's arm beside him.

"Is this?? Tears for Fears?? Aw, Eds, you don't hate all of my music after all, how sweet." Steve joked.

Eddie was thankful that Steve was blindfolded, so he couldn't see the pink tinge to his face.

"Just for you Stevie."

Steve relished in the quiet music, the bumps in the road, and the comfortable silence between him and Eddie with a smile on his face. It was a miracle, to Steve, that someone cares for him on his birthday, even unknowingly, because it hadn't happened in so long. Steve was even contemplating telling Eddie it was his birthday, thanking Eddie for the best birthday he had in a long time, when the van stopped, and the music right after.

"We're here!" Eddie told Steve. "Ah ah ah, don't take the blindfold off, I'll help you where we're going. Full. Shock. Value."

"I'm beginning to think it's a special occasion or something." Steve said, like it wasn't one. That hurt Eddie's heart a little, but it's ok, he thought. Steve will know how loved he is soon.

"C'mon, I'll help you up the steps." Eddie offered, grabbing Steve's hand for completely platonic reasons.

"Steps? Eddie where are we?" Steve asked.

"Full shock value, remember?" He said, opening the door for Steve and guiding by the shoulders into the Byers-Hopper living room, where the party, Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, Joyce, and Hopper were waiting behind a cake that Hopper haphazardly stuck 20 blue and green candles on. Lucas even dragged Erica along, when she pretended she didn't want to go wish Steve happy birthday.

"Blindfold off Stevie." Eddie said.

Steve didn't expect anyone to remember. Didn't expect to peek from behind the blindfold with one eye and be serenaded with a chorus of "SURPRISE!!!"

He stepped back into Eddie at the loud noise, Eddie grabbing back on to Steve's shoulders.

Steve didn't expect Joyce to be holding up a cake with 20 lit candles, didn't expect Dustin to rush to his side, didn't expect Hopper to clap him on the back after he stepped forward.

"Happy birthday kiddo." Hop said.

"How did you- when did- guys!!" He said, looking down at the cake.

"Red velvet and chocolate icing, with blue and green candles, your favorite." Joyce told him.

"Just like last year-" He was cut off by Joyce putting down the cake on the coffee table and wrapping Steve up in a hug. Which caused the rest of the group, even Mike, to wrap Steve in a huge group hug. When they all pulled away, Lucas held up the cake.

"Make a wish, man." He said.

"Guys- I don't deserve all this, how can I-"

"Oh cut the shit Steve, we love you. Now, you heard him, make a wish."

And so, Steve closed his eyes, thought for a second, and blew out the candles. And then, just like that, the big old sheet cake was getting sliced into enough squares for all of them.

As the party went on, and they all laughed, and drank an obscene amount of soda, Steve slipped into the silent outdoors offered by the Byers-Hopper back porch swing. He stared off into the treeline, hoping nobody would notice his absence. He would be back inside in a minute or two, he just needed to catch his breath after it all. Then he heard the squeak of the screen door, and saw Eddie's leather jacket sleeve before looking back into the tree line.

Eddie took a seat to Steve's right, and placed a little wrapped package on Steve's lap.

"Oh Eddie, you didn't have to-"

"Open it." Eddie cut him off.

Steve carefully tore the (oddly enough, very neatly done) wrapping paper away, revealing a hellfire shirt.

"You? You got me a hellfire shirt? But I'm not a part of the party?" Steve failed to stop the smile from leaking into his face.

"Of course you are? Considering how since school got out you've let us use your house, you drive the goblins around, and you've been doing it for years! It's about time you have one." Eddie explained.

Now, Steve couldn't stop the tears from gathering in his eyes.

"Yeah but, I don't deserve any of this. Anyone can drive those kids around, anyone can lend you a space, it's the least I could do. Hell, I'm not even going to college, I'm just another a high school has-been asshole working at a barely above minimum-wage job. There's so many better people you guys could have chosen to care about." Steve settled his eyes back on the treeline, trying his best to hide the tears that his voice revealed, that were now slowly streaming down his face.

"Steve no. Absolutely not. You're so much more than that to all of us. To me." That got Steve to look back at Eddie. Eddie held Steve's face in his hands, let the tears run down his arms."You're our warrior, you keep those little misfits safe, you saved my life. And we all know you would take bullets for those dorks. You heard Little Red. We love you, Steve..." Eddie hesitated, looking away for a moment. "I love you, Steve. Even if none of the other assholes in this world will, I do."

Steve couldn't let Eddie go on any longer. Not when he was saying stuff like that. So he closed the distance. And when Eddie kissed back, he knew everything would be alright.

He didn't expect people to remember. He didn't expect people to care about him. But now he finally understood, the unequivocally did.

[theleastprofessionalchef]

Ah jeez, I started making this post end of May and saved it as a draft so I could come back with the recipe, and fully forgot to do that for uh. Yeah. A long time. I've since made a few more batches of successful mead, and have a couple more fermenting right now! I'll reblog with pics of them later.

Well! better late than never. Leaving what I'd written initially unchanged, so-

-

Two months apart - start and end - my first successful batch of mead! I've tried a handful of times over the years, but had an unfortunate habit of doing... SOMETHING wrong each time that resulted in lightly sweetened cleaning alcohol 😅

But finally, a success! Real mead! Sweet, but not too sweet, and boozy enough without being straight up moonshine

Recipe:

Roughly three pounds of honey

3? 4? Of those little mandarin oranges, quartered

1 packet ale yeast, I used this

Various whole mulling spices, I used a stick of cinnamon and a few cloves this time, but I've also tossed in cardamom pods and anise occasionally, maybe a couple peppercorns. Go wild

So much filtered/distilled water. So much. Like two gallons?

I'll be real folks, I used a cheap shitty online guide that I don't remember the link for, that said it was a good basic way to learn how to make garbage mead and that any brewer worth their salt would cringe at. It is also coincidentally the same guide I used years ago in the aforementioned cleaning alcohol incident; I haven't changed what I used or did, so I honestly don't know why that came out bad and this good. Shrugs! Yeast can't read.

Dissolve the honey in warm/hot water. Not boiling- you don't want to kill the yeast when you add it in. Think a nice, warm shower. Stir it well, add the oranges and spices, and mix in the yeast until also dissolved.

Load it all up into a large glass container like the one pictured. I ordered a carboy online for this, which is the 'proper' thing to use, but you can honestly get away with an old milk jug you've thoroughly cleaned and sanitized, if you again, don't care about it being the highest quality. Carboys come with the fermentation/filtration Thing on it to let gases out and nothing in (the little doohicky plugged into the top of the lid) but you can also get away with stretching the mouth of a balloon over where the lid would go and poke a teensy hole in it with a needle. The goal is to let the gases that build up during fermentation escape the container, but not to let outside air in.

Fill the container the rest of the way up with water, but leave a couple inches of space on top. This thang's gonna bubble like crazy once the yeast start feeding, and you don't want it to overflow and make a mess of your cupboard.

Put it in a dark, cool space, and wait a few days!

It'll bubble a lot those first days; DON'T mess with it. Leave her be. Let her have her hot girl summer. After a few days, maybe a week, it'll calm down a bit; now you can top off the water supply.

Fast forward uhhhh two months or so, and it's done! There's a more legit way to know for sure when it's done that involves watching the tiny bubbles that form near the top as part of the fermentation process, and figuring out when they'll stop, but I'm impatient and don't know jack and am here for a good time not a long time.

Enjoy mead! And maybe do some better research than I did if you want something fancy.

OH AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT STIR IT WHEN YOU GO TO DRINK THE FINISHED STUFF

You'll want to scoop the fruits and spices off the top and then siphon it off into another container, or do what we did and simply ladle it off the top (because on a ship of 10-13 sailors, 1 1/2-2 gallons of mead won't last longer than an off day), and NOT drink the detritus off the bottom. You can kinda see it in the picture above. It is not like unfiltered apple cider. That stuff tastes gnarly.

Do not shake the mead before drinking.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

There were more than a couple of shows ending this week. And when that happens I go to my mdl page and click that box that says completed.

Sometimes it's with the feeling of "finally,it's over", and sometimes just that little action makes a bit sad. Playboyy is in the first category, I will not elaborate. I will just say a few words about the shows that this week are part of the second category.

I ticked that box twice yesterday and once just an hour ago. My heart is full, the joy is overwhelming and the bit of sadness that comes from the end of something I love has settled a bit (not really but let's pretend).

Perfect Propose was a gift. I didn't see it coming, and I was hooked from the first minute. Even with the shorter running time, Kai already occupies a special place in my heart and will join others as one of my favourite bl characters of all time. I don't think it's any secret for anyone that follows me that jbl has a special place in my heart. Maybe because it was my first, or maybe just because it's better my taste. But in 6 short episodes we got to see these characters confront their own issues and grow into themselves and each other, and still managed to have a story that incorporated workplace criticism without detracting from the love story which is super impressive. I wanted more because I could keep watching them but it felt complete.

Ossan's Love Returns was another surprise. Because I wasn't planning on watching. Mostly because I thought it wouldn't be my thing (crazy talk) and also because I would have to go back and watch everything that came before. But then, @twig-tea, as usual being the voice of reason, told me to just watch this season. And, not that they are on the same level in my heart, but this show filled a little bit of the hole left by WDYEY. It wasn't a perfect season. And I liked some characters more than others but in the end, this family had me in tears. This episode was beautiful. The speeches for Haruta got me so emotional, and then the cherry blossoms and the last fight between Maki and Kurosawa ending with the "We are family" left me with tears in my eyes that came back today as I was giffing it. It's amazing to me that this show has the success that it does and it gives me hope that we might get more stories like this. (Would also like to take a moment to thank @isaksbestpillow for subbing the episodes and giving us more cultural context so we can fully appreciate this show)

I LOVE cherry magic. All of it. I love the manga, I love the japanese version, the thai version and the anime version. Give me all of it. Forever. And so I was cautiously optimistic about this one. Optimistic because I really like Tay/New, cautious because in my brain I could only see how they could ruin one of my favourite stories. I didn't have to be. This was wonderful. I really wanna re-read the manga in its entirety because I wanna see how it compares now that it's over. Not to criticize it or be able to spot what they got wrong but to appreciate the changes they made and why it worked so well. Because the things that I noticed were really well done.

Not to repeat myself but... I LOVE Kurosawa/Karan. All the versions. I need more of him. I think from the main four, he's the one, that I notice changes more from version to version. And I love them all. I mean, Tay Tawan is a beautiful human. And his Karan had me practically swooning on a weekly basis. And I'm not a swooner. I loved New as Adachi, I think he embodied the character really well and I thoroughly enjoyed all his facial expressions. I loved this version of Minato and Tsuge more than the japanese version. I think it was more fleshed out and more balanced and obviously it was helped by the longer runtime. Even Pai and Rock had my heart by the end. It was so good.

_

I need more shows like the ones above and I'll be waiting for the next one that consumes me. In the mean time, I guess I'm gonna go watch some kids being awful to each other. Balance is good. 💜

[avocado-writing]

Helloo would love love love some more Gabriel/Jim if you have any? Could be literally anything maybe a continuation of the last two or something but anything at all pleaseee 💕

notes: ask and ye shall receive 😌

pairing: Jim x reader

rating: T

“You’re joking. You must be.”

“Why would I be joking?” Jim furrows his brow, perplexed. You tap your spoon on the side of your coffee mug with vigour. 

“Because Notting Hill is a classic! I can’t believe you’ve never seen that film…”

Jim can actually count the number of films he’s seen on one hand - less than one hand really - because he’s seen none of them. But you seem to be incensed by the discovery of him not seeing this one in particular, so he remains quiet about all the others. 

“Are you free tonight? You could come over and we could watch it at my place. You could stay the night if you wanted. I could set the couch up for you! Or, you know, otherwise,” you say, not wanting to put too much pressure on the situation for a first overnight. But Jim lights up at the idea, excited. To be honest it’s nice to just take things slow with him. The relationship doesn’t seem to be hurtling towards sex, neither of you have brought it up, and that’s… fine. It’s nice, actually. It’s low pressure in a way you’re thoroughly enjoying, and Jim is a great boyfriend. 

For you, the event in the park is all but forgotten. 

It isn’t for Aziraphale and Crowley, though. That flash of Gabriel emerging a couple of weeks ago has very much seared itself into their psyches. Neither of them are certain what it means but they’re reasonably sure it can’t be good, so when Jim appears in the bookshop asking what he needs to bring to stay overnight at yours they’re a little… worried. 

“He’ll probably be fine,” Crowley reasons, not wanting to play devil’s advocate - well, not any more, at least - but having been significantly more affected by Gabriel than his lover. He knows the danger of the archangel. But at the same time Gabriel has never shown himself to be any danger to you, quite the opposite in fact; he seems rather smitten. This will be the first time they let him out of their sight for any significant amount of time and there’s a nervousness in the air which can’t be ignored. 

The two of them turn to see Jim packing as many books as he can into his overnight bag, “just in case”, and Aziraphale sighs.  

“Well they both have your mobile telephone number. If anything happens then they can get in contact. Besides, I’m sure nothing will go wrong.”

Neither of them say anything as Jim hoists his several-kilogram backpack onto his shoulder and grins. 

🪽

“Hey! So I’ve ordered pizza and set up the film on the tv in the lounge. Do you want a drink?”

You give Jim a greeting kiss and he grins in a dopey sort of happiness at it. 

“Sure, thanks. What kind of drink?”

“Well, I have wine, or uh, Pepsi?”

“Yes, Pepsi. Please,” he says quickly. He recently became aware of its delights and spent a whole evening at the shop drinking a two-litre bottle and giggling between every sip. You load up the pint glasses which, in traditional English fashion you nicked from the pub, and settle in for a film night with Jim. 

The pizzas arrive about halfway through Notting Hill and you think Jim might explode at the narrative being interrupted. When the pepperoni feasts are devoured and the boxes shoved into the recycling, the two of you end up in a slouchy sort of cuddle. Your head falls onto his shoulder and by the end of Four Weddings and a Funeral you’re fast asleep. 

Jim looks down at you. You’ve managed to miss some marinara when you wiped your mouth so it’s smudged on your lip, but you’re none the wiser. Your chest rises and falls easily and your eyelids flutter as you dream. 

Because he’s pretty sure that Aziraphale and Crowley have done the same for him when he’s fallen asleep, he gently carries you to your bed, lays you down, tucks you in, and whispers ‘goodnight’ knowing that you won’t hear. And then he means to head back to the couch to go to sleep. 

At around two in the morning you stir, desperate for a wee. That is the unfortunate downside of Pepsi. You swing your legs over the side of the bed—

And your heart stops. 

Gabriel is standing there. In the corner. His eyes so luminously purple that they light the room around him. He’s been watching you for some time now, just observing the way that you breathe. He wondered if he should get in bed and hold you. Just to satiate his own wonder about how you feel. Too late for that now, you’ve spotted him. 

“Be not afraid,” he says.

You scream. 

🪽

The next morning Crowley wakes up to a text message from you.

I think there’s something wrong with Jim. 

“Bollocks,” he says. 

[tiggymalvern]

White Collar Conclusions

I finished watching White Collar, a late 2000s era doing crime for good causes polyamory vibes show that often gets mentioned alongside Burn Notice and Leverage.

It started off amazingly well. The opening two parter was hilarious fun and established great characters and I was solidly into it. It had the same mix of plot of the week and little bits of arc plot each ep that early Burn Notice had, but it hit the ground running so much faster than Burn Notice. (BN took a while for the writers and actors to really gel with the characters, but then when they did, it became amazing.)

I loved the first season of White Collar. Really enjoyed the second. Enjoyed the third. And by the fourth it was starting to become stale.

Nothing changed. The characters didn't change. Their relationships didn't change. The innate premise was whether Neal would be a thief for selfish reasons or for the greater good, and that same will he-won't he was still driving the season's plot six years later, by which time it had frankly ceased to be tension at all.

I watched the whole six seasons through because I kept hoping there would be a change, that things would develop. Every now and then there were suggestions that it would. There was a great season ending where Neal was betrayed and Peter told him to run, and at the start of the next season Peter went off the books trying to track Neal down before his colleagues did. Imagine if that had been left to play out, to disrupt all of their lives, to send the series in a new direction? But no, by the end of the season opener, the status quo was re-established and everything went on as before.

There was so much potential in the White Collar characters, in their situation and their moralities, and in those actors because they're a great cast. But at the end of all those eps, after all the traumas and moral conflicts they'd suffered together, Neal was exactly the same person as he was at the start, Peter was the same as at the start, and so were El and Jones and everybody. When I compare White Collar to Burn Notice, with the people we met in the pilot and who they were by the end - there simply is no comparison. Frankly, the biggest character development in White Collar was in Mozzie, who genuinely came to like and trust Peter.

Another thing I personally disliked about the final season was Peter and El having a baby. It had been great to see five seasons of a professional couple mid 30s/early 40s without kids where the subject was never raised. Nobody acted like it was odd they didn't have kids, nobody questioned it, and why should they? It's a perfectly reasonable thing for people just not to have kids. And then suddenly El's pregnant at 40, and they're all, 'Oh, we've been trying for years, we just thought it would never happen!' Really? It's the first we've heard of it. So suddenly the show's selling the whole 'Now their married life is complete' angle and El walks out of her dream job that she'd landed weeks ago because apparently that's what career women do when they find out they're pregnant and it's so ugh.

I'm glad I watched it, but I won't ever watch it again, and frankly I'd say watch a couple of seasons for light-hearted entertainment and then don't bother with the rest. I had such high expectations and ended up thoroughly disappointed ☹️

[somebluemelodies]

almost gave up on writing this bc all my progress got deleted over a couple weeks ago but i am nothing if not determined (read: a stubborn shit) so i finally came back to rewrite cross-posted to ao3 here :>

As a kid, Roier was obsessed with the sea. He loved everything about it. Including the merfolk.

Every book about mer and their lore he could get a hold of, he read. They fascinated him to no end.

It's why he's never trusted the Federation. Why he never told his abuelo about his fascination. Roier knows what they do to the mer they capture.

His abuelo is a long-time Federation officer, and he remembers overhearing many a work-related discussion at night when he was younger, or reading his classified documents when he wasn't home.

The Federation "studies" mer, asking people that if they ever see a mer, to report the sighting to an officer. And by that, they experiment. All under the guise they preach to the public of "studying" them.

(Deepsea mer get it the worst. Labelled as aggressive, human-killing monsters, the Federation has made everyone fearful of them. Roier pushes everything he's ever read about a captured deepsea mer to the far back of his mind.)

(Surely they can't be that bad, can they?)

When Roier was old enough, he took off to live a life on the sea. A pirate, if you will, because that's what the Federation calls everyone smart enough to not conform to their overbearing ways. And he's been thoroughly enjoying his life ever since.

As it stands currently, he and the rest of the crew - friends, really - have been docked for a few days now for reparation and selling purposes. He tries to ignore the fact there's a plethora of Federation officers wandering the town, with a base of operations just outside of it, and instead spends much of his time wandering up and down the beach.

It's what he's doing this late afternoon. About to walk past a cave, a slight glint in his peripherals has him glancing into the mouth of the cave and freezing in his tracks.

Roier finds himself staring at a mer, who appears to be tangled in a net. Their tail almost looks black, but under the light of the sunset, he realizes the scales are actually the deepest emerald green he's ever seen. Looking around to make sure no one - no officer - is watching him, he slips inside.

His boots in the shallow water catch the attention of the mer, whose head snaps up at the sound. Piercing blue eyes almost seem to glow in the dim light, glaring daggers at him, and Roier freezes, holding his hands up. "I just want to help! I'm not here to hurt you or something. Can I help you?"

(Can the merman even understand him?)

The silent question is answered by the snarl on the mer's face gradually dropping, followed by a hesitant nod. His eyes continue to follow Roier closely, though, who tries to mask his surprise at the fact he's just been comprehended by a mer.

Kneeling next to the mer, he's able to make out more detail. Most notably, a bunch of scars, be it a long, thin one stretching across the bridge of his nose or the sheer amount littering his arms.

(It looks like there are more on his torso, but his arm is covering the lower half. Alarmingly, Roier swears he sees red underneath, too.)

(One step at a time.)

Roier pulls out his dagger, and starts the process of carefully cutting the merman free from the net. While doing so, he notices one signature detail of the net.

It's white.

"Did the Federation try to capture you?" he asks, sparing a brief glance up at the merman's handsome face. "And you managed to escape?"

(Focus. Focus.)

The mer nods. Roier sighs. "Fucking hate those guys, man."

He perks up a bit, as if to say "you too?" and the pirate offers a small smile in turn. But it fades after a moment. "I know what they do to you guys. It's not fair."

Silence befalls them, save for the slicing of his dagger against the net. It takes a bit, but he's finally able to pull the netting off of the mer and toss it off to the side.

The mer looks some semblance of thankful, although it turns to a grimace when he goes to move his arm that's been wrapped around his stomach this whole time, and it resumes its original place.

Roier frowns. "You're hurt. Let me see."

He doesn't move his arm, though, and it takes Roier gently prying it away so he can inspect the damage. Doing so reveals some type of stab wound, but from what, he isn't quite sure. It's not life-threatening, that much he also knows, but it's certainly bad enough to warrant concern.

(And he's very concerned.)

But he quickly realizes yet another problem. Said problem being that he has no medical supplies on him. Granted, he could go back to the ship for some, but that means either running into another member of the crew or worse... someone else stumbling upon this mer.

(Is it worth the risk?)

"Okay, bad news," he speaks up again. "I don't have any supplies to help you on me, but I might be able to--"

Roier is cut off by watching the mer reach for a satchel he didn't even realize the latter had. "Oh, shit-- Do you have your own supplies?"

The merman nods, but before he can take out any of the supplies on his own, the pirate is reaching out to take the satchel. "I can help you again," he offers. "It'll be a lot easier than trying to fix yourself, you know?"

He seems surprised by the offer, but holds out the satchel after a few moments, watching him with a look Roier can't quite decipher.

(Apprehension? Fondness? Incredulousness?)

(All he knows is those bright eyes are a lot less scary than they've been made out to be.)

The patching-up process takes a little longer than the untangling, and Roier has to light up the lantern he brought with him now that the sun has set, but he finally finds himself wrapping the mer's torso, sitting back slightly on his knees to inspect his work. "I think that should do it. Just... be careful, okay?"

Another nod, and Roier takes another few moments to study him. Between the glowing eyes and the scars, the slight rips in some of his fins, thinking about his initial attitude...

"Are you a deepsea mer?" he asks after a beat.

The mer freezes, watching him closely and seeming to scan him for any signs of hostility. Roier only looks back at him, though, making no subtle movements, and he finally nods slowly.

Roier hums. "I figured. But for all the Federation talk about you guys being ugly monsters... you look like the opposite." The merman looks stunned. "You're... very pretty, you know? Handsome."

(Beautiful, even.)

It's his turn to be surprised when the mer smiles for the first time. A relatively small smile, but one nevertheless, and it's one that makes something warm start to bloom in his chest, everything feeling just a little fuzzy.

The mer then picks up his satchel again, rummaging through it until he pulls something out. He grabs one of Roier's hands, holding it up and gently placing something smooth in his palm before closing his fingers around it.

(Roier mourns the loss of the brief contact, and then immediately mentally kicks himself in the ass for the fact.)

("Please be careful, okay?" Another nod.)

With the high tide coming into the cave, the merman is able to start making his way out with relative ease, sparing a brief glance back to Roier and waving before disappearing under the water with a glint of emerald under the moonlight.

For several moments, he stands there in silence, processing. And then, he looks down at his hand, opening it.

A sizeable piece of dark green sea glass rests in his palm, and he can't help the smile that etches its way onto his face.

The pirate carefully pockets it, and, on his way back to the ship, can only hope to whatever god is listening that this isn't the end, but only something just beginning.

[pixeldistractions]

The work was grueling and gross. These university kids were foul, shameless, and awkward, and he would spare Maria the gritty details. But he felt accomplished, anyway, and a couple thousand dollars richer. The job was done, not just for the day, but for the week. Happy Friday. He finished the day and showered thoroughly. Maria told him to come meet them in town when he finished.

It took him a moment to find them at the center of a small gathering, playing music for a pleased little crowd. Maria played her violin while Johanna danced with a tambourine in her hand. Johanna clashed with the tune, spinning and chiming off-beat, but she was adorable enough to make up for the discord.

He held back and watched from a bench, not wanting to distract her or interrupt. He couldn’t name the song and he didn’t have a musical bone in his body, but it was upbeat and he knew it was impressively played. He couldn’t believe he’d known her for so long and never heard her play until now.

Then his phone rang. It was Colette, so he didn’t answer it.

The boys were fine, he heard from them just an hour ago, so she could leave her complaints in a voice mail. And she would. He waited for it.

Unfortunately, he had to listen to the voicemails for fear that one day it might be something serious.

I had to miss a client meeting for a parent-teacher conference. I had to take them to the dentist, to the doctor, to tai kwon do. How am I supposed to do my job? Because I’m sure you like to think money doesn’t matter, but it does. And you’re where? Utah last week, Arizona this week. Nevada? California? I don’t even know! The phone calls aren’t enough. The child support isn’t enough. They need their dad here. Why do you get to ditch all of your responsibilities and wander around in your wreck of a camper, because what, you hate capitalism or some bullshit? Newsflash, you can’t escape capitalism. You can try, but the rest of us still have to live in it. You’re a selfish sack of shit! You’re a pathetic wreck of a man and my boys deserve so much better!

That woman sure knew how to put a black cloud over his day.

Maria finished her song. It seemed he missed the end of it. She bowed to her enthusiastic crowd, Johanna included. Johanna picked a flower from a roadside planter and presented it to her mother, which made the small crowd coo with awws.

Then she saw him and bounded over to where he stood, throwing her arms around him. He gladly lifted her up off the ground. She was a force of pure happiness strong enough to dispel even the blackest of clouds.

“Wow,” he said. “That was incredible.”

“It’s so funny. I wasn’t even asking for money, but they threw it in my violin case, anyway. I made fifty-five dollars.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time I ever heard you play.”

“Oh, how is that true? But I guess it is. It’s been a while.” Her smile grew timid, but that didn’t diminish its shine. He guessed she must have some experience with performing, even if it was a long time ago. The attention suited her.

“So I’m gonna buy us dinner,” she said. “And you’re going to let me.”

“I can live with that,” he said.

This will transform her. It might take some time, but it will happen. These little flashes of courage, the bursts of inspiration, a walk alone in the forest at sunrise, dipping her bare toes in a river, riding a horse even though she didn’t enjoy it, a tiny concert played for strangers.

She was like a flower once confined to a window sill, finally let out into the wild bright sun. Who ever put her on a windowsill? She didn’t belong there. So he took her outside and the sun shone bright on her face and she bloomed. Oh, how she bloomed.

Jordan felt overwhelming pride to witness it, but also dread. To be a part of it, for as long as she wanted him, before she would soon grow bigger than any need she ever had for him.

Then why would she still want you, you pathetic wreck of a man?

— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (4/10)

^ Just some picspam of JoJo on the playground while they talked.

Next -> // 5.2 start // index

[cbk1000]

Hey, what are you into right now (movies, books, series)? Or even not right now, but in the past, outside of Merlin? I feel you have wicked taste, and I’m desperate for a new hyperfixation. Please, some recs if you have them!

Hey, anon! Sorry; I spaced on answering this.

I don't generally watch a lot of movies or TV shows, because I prefer reading. TV is generally for when I want to shut my brain off and just be entertained, so I wouldn't call a lot of what I do watch good. But if you haven't seen them yet, Our Flag Means Death and Sense8 are both really good shows. Both were pretty popular on tumblr at one point or another, so you may have already seen them, but if not, I really recommend giving them a go. Also, this is dated now, but it still holds up as a sitcom: I've spent most of my recovery rewatching Frasier, which I saw as a kid when it was first airing in the 90s. Ditto Third Rock from the Sun, which still makes me laugh, no matter how many times I've seen it.

This is a video game, but I've been playing an RPG set in medieval Bohemia that's really scratching my nerd itch; it's called Kingdom Come. It's very immersive and has been keeping me company the last couple of weeks while I get to the point in my recovery where I feel well enough to do more than lay in bed staring at my tablet, but am not quite yet a fully functioning human.

As for books, I'm finishing up a historical mystery series, 'Brother Cadfael' by Ellis Peters, set in medieval England during The Anarchy. I've thoroughly enjoyed it and am sad to have only one book left.

I just started rereading 'The Wolf Hall' trilogy by Hilary Mantel, which follows the rise and fall of Thomas Cromwell during Henry VIII's reign. I found the trilogy very gripping and difficult to put down my first time through, and though I've only just started the first book again, it's having the same effect, even though I just read it a couple of years ago. Definitely check out a preview of this first, though; I love Mantel's unique style, but I know a lot of readers find it difficult.

I read 'Shadowplay' by Joseph O'Connor a couple of years ago and really enjoyed it. This follows Bram Stoker during his time as a manager at a London theatre, his struggles with his writing (he didn't really find commercial success until after his death), and the experiences that led to 'Dracula.'

For the last couple of years I've been making my way through most of Guy Gavriel Kay's work, which I recommend if you like poetic, historically-inspired fantasy. I started with 'A Brightness Long Ago', but I recommend picking whatever time period that interests you personally (the Sarantine duology, for instance, is set in an analogue of the Byzantine Empire; 'A Brightness Long Ago' evokes Renaissance Italy, and then 'Under Heaven' and its companion 'River of Stars' imperial China).

Ditto with Terry Pratchett and his Discworld, a hilarious satirical fantasy series. I started with 'Guards Guards' and read the City Watch books and then moved on to the books featuring the witches. Special shout-out to his 'Nation', which is not a Discworld book, but is one of the best novels I've read in years.

I've also been immersed in Arthurian literature and heaps of non-fiction about the Plantagenet reign for the last few years. My favourite work of Arthuriana is probably 'Idylls of the King' by Tennyson. It's gorgeous and haunting. 'The Plantagenets' by Dan Jones is a good, accessible introduction to that period of history if you're at all inclined to non-fiction. He's a historian, but it's not a stodgy, academic text.

I hope there's something here for you!