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gyuswhore · 1 year ago

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Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« 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 tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom.

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin.

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice.

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly.

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands.

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers.

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter.

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her.

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?”

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.”

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future.

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt.

“Sure, yeah. What is it?”

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all”

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway.

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring.

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-”

“I have class tomorrow.”

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.”

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now”

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night”

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building.

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically.

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down.

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process.

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding,

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed.

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself.

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids.

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.”

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.”

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted.

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done.

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation.

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand.

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way.

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express.

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display.

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you.

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night.

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew.

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head.

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.”

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe.

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines.

You deserved to wallow in this pit.

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath.

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds.

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock.

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name.

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond.

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.”

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears.

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut.

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call.

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response.

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.”

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over.

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows.

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?”

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further.

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands.

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.”

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.”

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh.

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot.

The doorbell rings.

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling.

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!”

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door.

Mingyu’s brought a girl.

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later.

“This is my sister”

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky.

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit.

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge.

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her.

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.”

There it is.

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence.

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance.

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over.

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you.

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister.

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from.

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun.

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”.

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder.

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression.

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already.

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?”

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!”

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going.

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect, “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away.

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.”

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you.

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity.

“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you.

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.”

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice.

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.”

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice.

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion.

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?”

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter.

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances.

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles.

“What? Is it bad?”

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?”

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?”

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face.

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside.

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later.

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her.

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight.

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside.

There’s no Nayeon in sight.

But there is Mingyu.

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both.

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears.

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him.

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?”

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?”

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?”

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.”

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny.

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest.

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck.

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up.

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.”

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream.

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.”

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral.

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see.

“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.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure.

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting.

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality.

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school.

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner.

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner.

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose.

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand.

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself.

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?”

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!”

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland.

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit.

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does.

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.”

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form.

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart.

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear.

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed.

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite.

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.”

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again.

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet.

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you.

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.”

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.”

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus.

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…”

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.”

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation.

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses.

“Especially when it’s none of my business.”

“Charming.”

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major.

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.”

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.”

“Are we getting paid?”

“You get to say you modeled for me.”

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans.

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you.

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh.

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?”

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices.

“I am,” You confirm.

“For what?” He sputters.

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?”

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question.

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?”

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks.

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.”

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.”

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.”

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-”

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika.

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk.

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.”

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that.

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table.

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch.

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.”

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.”

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers.

“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause.

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in.

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face.

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face.

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it.

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort.

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points.

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!”

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor.

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat.

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over.

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite.

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.”

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?”

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes.

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.”

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.”

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar.

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance.

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last.

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive.

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time.

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all.

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers.

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity.

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence.

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week.

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information.

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone.

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins.

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.”

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name.

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you.

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t.

—Kim, Mingyu.

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes.

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was.

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him.

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here!

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off.

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true.

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up.

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him.

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand.

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus.

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously.

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.”

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually.

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything.

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin.

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you.

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?”

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back.

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?”

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour.

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?”

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly.

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.”

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.”

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?”

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.”

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.”

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.”

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod.

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared.

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.”

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing.

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling.

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is.

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry.

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat.

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake.

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human.

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on.

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash.

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness.

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch.

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice.

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard.

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to.

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else.

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh.

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help.

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention.

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor.

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her.

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house.

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more.

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked.

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down.

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention.

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel.

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car.

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further.

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns.

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.”

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard.

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed.

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended.

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister.

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.”

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat.

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride.

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.”

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought.

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip.

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results.

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.”

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair.

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done.

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you.

“What?”

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation.

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?”

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.”

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes.

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.”

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years.

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night.

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there.

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing.

He’s probably fine.

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu.

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos.

“Oh, hey,” he says normally.

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room.

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.”

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.”

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway.

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.”

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you.

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round.

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour.

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.”

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself.

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.”

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?”

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it.

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff.

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.”

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.”

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch.

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night.

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car.

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest.

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip.

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!”

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks.

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants.

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak.

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.”

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.”

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise.

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried.

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them.

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room.

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked.

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you.

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping.

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it.

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room.

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry.

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls.

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots.

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn.

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces.

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break.

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time.

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts.

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.”

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?”

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.”

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out.

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.”

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights).

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away.

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.”

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood.

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare.

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine.

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today.

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera.

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it.

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound.

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket.

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see.

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?”

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.”

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least.

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off.

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route.

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing.

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.”

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?”

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.”

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting.

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends.

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day.

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home.

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little.

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!”

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here.

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in.

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.”

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm.

“Ah, I see.”

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?”

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.”

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.”

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.”

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.”

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection.

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.”

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation.

“When does your shift end?”

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that.

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.�� You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously.

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.”

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.”

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.”

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.”

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement.

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible.

Truly.

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention.

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?”

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial.

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.”

“Seok!”

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!”

Beep.

The bastard hung up.

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu.

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle.

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy.

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night.

“Babe?”

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?”

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long.

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word.

“Fifteen.”

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected.

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it.

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?”

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.”

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.”

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.”

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms.

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her.

“What now?” she groans.

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!”

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours.

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally.

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy.

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up.

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.”

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past.

It doesn’t.

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.” Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully.

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice.

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated.

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!”

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place.

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!”

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it.

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!”

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.”

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done.

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it.

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project.

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful.

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card.

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece.

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

#mingyu #mingyu fluff #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu angst #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #svt #svt fluff #svt angst #svt smut

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star2fishmeg · 4 months ago

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ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

“Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person. “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“ his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator.

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes smut #lh43 #nhl smut #nhl x reader #hockey smut #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfic #≡lh43

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cozage · 5 months ago

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hello! Im kinda new to tumblr so i dont really know if im supposed to send requests here so sorry if im supposed to send it somewhere else, but for my request can it be fem! Reader x sanji? Hurt to comfort where he says something mean but then apologizes? And can you pull out the angsty bit a little, but make the ending fluffy? And for the format can it be like a mini fic? If you want you can add other characters but i mainly want sanji! Thats all! Sorry if my request didnt make sense as im new to tumblr😔. Thank youu!

A/N: Hi! You did everything perfectly!! Thank you for the request <3 it was so hard to make Sanji mean even accidentally 😭 I hope this is good! It’s also not edited so please forgive any grammatical errors! Characters: fem reader x Sanji Cw: Sanji is an idiot and says mean things (and is a little sexist) Total word count: 900

Rude Comments

“I can do it, Sanji.” Your words came out quick and short. Your temper was rising, both at your task at hand and the blonde who was hovering behind you. He didn’t normally come with you on jobs for Franky, but he had been free today.

“It’ll be faster if I do it,” Sanji offered. He reached out for the wrench.

“I can do it!” you snapped again. You pulled away from the task and glared at him. “Franky asked me to do this, so let me do it!”

“Well, it’s just…” Sanji eyed your clenched fist around the wrench and took a step back. “It’s not really a woman’s job to do this sort of thing, and-”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” you bellowed. “You think I’m not capable of doing this?”

Sanji threw his hands up in a plea. “No my love! It’s not that at all! It’s just…you’re not very good at this.”

It felt as though you had swallowed a stone. “Franky always asks me to do this.”

“And you’re being very helpful!” Sanji said quickly. “But he gives it to you because it’s not exactly a top priority task and…well, it’s really hard to mess up.”

Sanji gave a weary look back to your workplace as if your handiwork spoke for itself. His pitied gaze and words made you suddenly want to be alone.

“Fine,” you mumbled, dropping the wrench to the ground. “Fix it for me, then.”

“Of course, darling!” Sanji jumped at the wrench. You were fairly sure he was already starting to explain how he turned the bolt, but you walked out the door without listening further.

You didn’t see Sanji for a while. That was fine with you, though. You retreated to the back of the ship and perched atop a barrel, staring out at the sea to think. Did Franky always give you useless tasks just to keep you busy? You frequently had to return to the same tasks again and again. What if Franky broke things just to have you fix them?

The thought brought tears to your eyes. You had been so sure Franky enjoyed your company and valued your help. He had called you “super indispensable” more times than you could count. Was it all just a lie?

“Darling?”

Sanji’s voice broke through your mental spiral and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“Yeah?” Your voice came out wobbly, but there was no point in hiding from Sanji.

You turned to face him. You had been ready for him to fuss over you, but you found that he was covered in sweat and grease and plenty of other weird stains and smears. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge your puffy eyes at first. He looked too exhausted.

“So, this is the part where I apologize,” he said softly.

He strode over to you in three steps and swept your hair out of your face. His hands were covered in grime, and you could feel the oily substance stick to your face. The feeling made you jerk away from him, but he was already pulling out a clean cloth and wiping it away.

“I’m sorry I said those things, my love. I know you are very capable of doing anything you put your mind to. Your persistence is one of my favorite things about you. I shouldn’t have tried to take that away from you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry I thought I could do something better than you just because of our genders.”

His words made your eyes swell. You had planned on still being mad at him after this. But seeing those crystal blue eyes and hearing his sweet words made you crumble all over again.

“I forgive you.” You sniffed and wiped the tears from your eyes again. “Just don’t do it again.”

Sanji let out a laugh. “Oh, I will never be taking on a task Franky gives you again. You know how I said it was ‘hard to screw up’? It turns out that was wrong. I broke the whole pipe. Franky was pissed. He said he doesn’t let anyone touch that problem except you and him. Something about the pressure system needing a delicate hand, and only the two of you have the knack for it.”

It took a moment for his words to process, but you could feel your heart swelling. “Franky only lets me do that?”

Sanji nodded, guiding you towards the kitchen. “And a few other tasks. Says you’re the only one he trusts to do it right.”

“I didn’t know that.” You had a vague feeling that you needed to cry for an entirely different reason now.

He gave another laugh and sat you at the counter. “Well, you always excel at everything you do. It turns out I have a lot to make up for. What should we start with, chocolate cake or ice cream?”

#one piece #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #cozage #i hope this is decent i haven't written in SO long but I'm (trying to) be back!!!!#✧˚sanji✧˚

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eddiesghxst · 1 year ago

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ohhh the post about eddie masturbating in the bathroom was AMAZING AHHH!!

could i request something where nancy, robin, jonathan, eddie & reader are having a sleepover at steve’s & when everyone’s asleep eddie & reader get all handsy, so she jerks him & then rides him, trying to be quiet because they’re still in the same room as the others (robin sleeps with steve in his bed & jonathan, nancy & the two of you on the ground on mattresses) but at some point they move it to the bathroom just a few doors down.

in the end, steve gets woken up & catches them in the bathroom because they accidentally left the door open but they don’t notice so steve just goes back to bed traumatized for life💀😩

sorry it’s a bit long i just LOVE your writing!!

because i won't be able to get the next part of price of fame up this week, here is some spooky slut action to tithe <3

ALSO, im so sorry it took me forever to write this BUT THANK U STINK, i changed a few things around, i hope u don't mind, but here u gooo!

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

It’s wrong.

What you and Eddie are doing is so wrong.

It's gross and something you would probably scrunch your nose at and fake a gag if anyone ever told you they did it. But fuck, you’d be lying if you said it isn’t turning you on to no end— Eddie’s fingers working you towards your first orgasm as your nails dig into his thighs to keep you grounded as you try to remain quiet for your sleeping friends.

The older half of the gang decided to pull a spooky night at Steve’s place, ‘This is strictly rated-R, shitheads.’ Steve explained when the younger half tried to join in. You’d all settled into Steve’s comfy basement after a long week and ran through A Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Carrie, and endless junk food and beers before everyone slowly began to tap out.

Jonathan was the first to fall asleep, and once Nancy noticed, she went ahead and moved them to the bigger couch, where she inevitably dozed off as well. Robin was next, claiming she could feel her arteries clogging up with the amount of sugar you’d all ingested and, ‘If I die, it better be in my sleep, not watching shitty horrors with you three idiots.”

And then it was just you, Eddie, and Steve.

One thing about Eddie is when the lights go down in a room, and he’s next to you, hands will roam. Fingers will grab and squeeze at skin, caress and provoke goosebumps across your arms, and eventually sneak into sensitive areas— and it doesn’t matter who else is in the room.

You already knew where things were going when you felt Eddie’s cool rings press into the warm skin of your thigh. You had just begun the fourth movie of the night, Ghostbusters, because you claimed you needed a break from the horror movies, and Eddie couldn’t wait any longer to get his hands on you. Luckily, Eddie’s wandering hands are hidden beneath the blanket you share, so Steve is clueless about the sinful actions happening across the room.

And you were able to hold off your moans and whimpers for the most part, but Eddie was getting mean with it. Two fingers dipping in and out of your wet cunt at a painfully slow and agonizing pace that had your legs quivering. He occasionally curves his fingers up to brush up against your spot, teeth digging into his lip to hide the groan of pain when your nails dig deeper into his skin— he’s sure you’ll leave a mark. And you were doing good.

You were doing so good.

Until Eddie added a third finger, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Fuck sweetheart, you get any wetter than this, and I might have to fuck you now,” with an added swirl of his thumb over your clit, and you were done for.

You moan unexpectedly loud and pathetic, and anybody with common sense would know what the two of you are doing. The sweaty palm of your hand slaps over your mouth as your eyes widen in surprise, gaze snapping over to where Steve is laid back in the La-Z-Boy recliner, and from this angle, with Steve’s chair turned towards the TV, you can only see his full head of fluffy brown hair.

You don’t want to risk it, you think. So, you curl your fingers around Eddie’s wrist and pathetically tug, “Steve,” You whisper, alerting Eddie that maybe this isn’t a good idea.

But Eddie only nuzzles his face into your neck and quickens the pace of his fingers, reveling in the soft gasp you let out as he whispers in your ear, “He’s asleep.”

You look to where Steve is sitting again, wearily searching for any signs that he might still be awake, but to your favor, you find none— and maybe you ignored the small moment where Steve shifted, but between the overwhelming feeling of Eddie’s breath on your neck and the toe-curling sensations he’s bringing between your thighs, you can’t seem to care anymore.

“I’m close,” you rush through a whispered breath, hips tilting up to meet his skilled actions. “Yeah?” He nips at your ear, and you whimper, eyes shutting. “You gonna cum on my fingers? In front of our friends, honey? You’re dirtier than I thought,” He teasingly growls the last part, licking behind your ear before sucking the tip between his lips. You pant his name, this time loud enough to cause Eddie’s hand to slap over your mouth.

“As badly as I wanna hear those pretty moans of yours, sweetheart, you need to be a little more quiet,” He whispers. You nod as best as you can, drool smearing over Eddie’s palm as you roll your hips against his palm as quietly as you can.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie encourages, calloused fingers digging into your cheeks, “Want you to cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are.”

Your legs quiver at that, eyes rolling back as you begin to teeter over the edge. “Gonna take you upstairs after this so I can fuck you real good. Split you open nice and wide on my cock; you want that?” He hums, slinking his hand down to squeeze at your jaw and turn your head to where his lips catch yours as he speaks. You nod desperately and pathetically, and Eddie smiles, licking across your lips once before your eyes squeeze shut, and the dam finally breaks.

Eddie presses his lips against yours to silence your noises, which go unheard with the help of the movie playing. Eddie can feel you squeezing and pulsing around his fingers, and his cock jumps at the thought of what’s to come after he drags you out of this fucking basement.

Eddie kisses you throughout your climax, fingers gently guiding you through the hurricane of pleasure until you push him away with a whisper, “S’too much.”

Eddie lets you have it, removing his fingers from you with a lewd squelch that reaches his ears, pulling his hand out to hold it up in front of you. His fingers glisten under the TV light with your slick coating his knuckles, some dripping down onto his rings. You watch with lust-hooded eyes as he brings the soaked digits to his lips, making a show of licking up the length of them and swallowing every drop. Your cunt throbs, and you shift as his eyes meet yours.

And you don’t have to say anything because you already know, and before you know it, you’re dragging Eddie up the basement stairs with a racing heart and an aching center.

But what neither of you knows is Steve has been awake the entire time.

#HIIIII #IM ALIVE #FEELING SPOOKY AND SLUTTY #eddie munson x reader #drabble #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you

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narryffdreaming · 1 month ago

Text

lia and harry's story (four - ii)

summary: harry is a bartender and lia lives right across the street. rating: +18 || warnings: mental health (anxiety) and smut word count: 6,3k

(ONE) | (TWO) | (THREE) | (FOUR - I)

Harry replied after sixty-four slow and agonizing minutes.

(11:02 pm) Harry: hey babe (11:02 pm) Harry: im downstairs

(11:02 pm) What? (11:03 pm) Right now?

(11:03 pm) Harry: yeah (11:03 pm) Harry: can you open the door for me? (11:04 pm) Harry: please?

By the time Lia read the last message, she was already buzzing him in.

She put her phone aside and opened her apartment door, then stepped outside to wait for him in the hallway.

She wasn’t expecting to have a face-to-face conversation. At least not so soon. Not right then. She figured they’d text a little before seeing each other, or…

Well, to be completely honest, she wasn’t so sure what she was expecting would happen. But he had called her babe, so that was a good sign…

Right?

Lia sighed. The palms of her hands were sweating, and she rubbed them on her thighs, then crossed her arms under her chest.

Things were quiet in her building. Silent. So it was easy to hear him as he made it to her floor.

And then, when she finally saw him, her heart instantly sped up. He was wearing his usual black pants, a black t-shirt, and a cardigan. On the other hand, he looked tired, not carrying his usual cheerfulness and excitement. His hair disheveled, his jaw all tense. And Lia didn’t like that.

She really didn’t like that.

She tightened her arms around her and shuffled on her feet, and Harry lifted his gaze from the steps to her face.

As soon as their eyes met, he curled his mouth into the softest smile, then pulled his curls back and away from his forehead.

“Hi,” he murmured, gradually shortening the distance between them.

Lia took a step closer, too, and dropped her arms to her sides.

“Hi…”

Harry frowned.

He stopped in front of her and took his hands to her face, cradling her cheeks. Lia tilted her chin up and wrapped her fingers around his wrists, meeting his stare.

“Were you crying?” he asked.

She blinked, flickering her eyes between his.

“Maybe? Kinda?”

“Hmm…” He furrowed his brows a little deeper, and rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs. “What’s ‘kinda crying’ supposed to look like?”

“I think… It’s when you were crying… But you don’t want to admit it?”

His face softened, and he curved his mouth up. Pulling her face closer, he pressed his lips to her forehead and kissed her gently, then pulled away and searched for her eyes again.

“We need to talk,” he said, “and we will. But what was up with your texts? Did you really think there was a chance I wouldn’t want to see you?”

“I—I don’t know? I mean… I didn’t want to just assume…”

“Why wouldn’t I, tho?”

Lia shrugged.

“You were mad this morning.”

Harry sighed. “I wasn’t mad, Lee, I was upset… It’s different.”

“Oh…” She brushed her thumbs on his wrists, and nodded. “Well, I mean… Still… I’m sorry… Y’know, for upsetting you.”

“I know. It’s okay. I could’ve handled it better, so I’m sorry, too.”

“You handle everything way better than I do, so…”

Harry chuckled.

“You give me too much credit.” He pulled her closer, embracing her shoulders into a hug. “And yourself too little.”

She circled his waist with both arms and rested her cheek against his chest, aware that she didn’t have an answer for that and trying to find something else she could say.

Harry beat her to it, though.

“Why were you crying?”

“I just… I didn’t like how we left things this morning.”

“Yeah… Me neither. Let’s not do that again, yeah?”

Lia smiled. “Okay.”

“And also,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head, “I might not always handle things very well in the moment, but I don’t want you to feel like we can’t talk about things, ok? I would never just… Disappear. Or anything like that.”

Lia nodded, and sighed.

“Yeah, I… I know, I know. I freaked out but… Yeah, you’re right. I know you wouldn’t.”

Harry pulled away from their hug with a smile on his face.

“Good. And please don’t ever be so formal with me again because that freaked the shit out of me.”

“Yeah…” Lia laughed. “It felt weird after I sent them.”

“I’m glad you did, though. I’m glad you reached out.”

“Me too.”

“Now,” he said, once again cradling her cheeks and taking a step forward, carefully guiding her inside. “I gotta go back to the bar, but can we meet tomorrow to talk?”

Lia nodded, following his movements and walking backwards while still holding onto his waist. “Yeah, of course.”

“Ok. And can I kiss you a little before I go?” he asked, already leaning down and brushing his lips with hers. “Have something to think about while I miss you in the middle of the night?”

Lia nodded again, breathing him in.

“Good.” He stopped walking, and lifted his foot to kick the door closed. “C’mere, then.”

Lia wasn’t the jealous type of girl.

Insecure? Sure.

Jealous? No.

At least she didn’t think she was. During the five years dating Cole, she’d never worried about—

Okay, maybe her last boyfriend wasn’t the best example.

And maybe thinking about him wasn’t a smart move.

She couldn’t help it, though. At the end of the day, Cole wasn’t just her last boyfriend — he was the only boyfriend she’d ever had. And a pretty serious one.

The only long-term relationship she had experienced, and therefore the only one she could base herself on.

So, yes, she shouldn’t think about him, but thanks to everything that she had gone through with Cole, Lia knew she wasn’t jealous.

She was insecure, but not jealous.

She just wasn’t.

Not until the next Friday night, at least, when she was walking back home from the grocery store and saw Harry outside the bar talking to someone.

Talking to a girl.

And the world around her simply… Stopped. In a different way. In a new way.

In a worried, scared way.

Mostly because things between her and Harry were still weird after that Tuesday morning.

They’d talked, yes, and they’d made up, yes, but things were still… Weird. Probably because none of them had mentioned the elephant in the room — which meant they had talked about how Lia hadn’t accepted Harry’s offer to drive her to work and how it’d hurt his feelings, but they hadn’t talked about the fact that Lia hadn’t accepted any offer about anything yet.

Including going to the bar.

Which she still hadn’t done it.

Lia still hadn’t gone to the bar.

Even though he’d invited her.

Multiple times.

And then it was Friday night and there he was, leaning against the wall of the bar, wearing his usual black pants, black t-shirt, and black cardigan. Arms crossed while looking at his feet.

And next to him, there was a girl. A girl that kept moving her hands while talking excitedly to him. Her clothes reminded Lia of things Jillie would wear back when they were in college — a golden slinky top with a (very) low front cut, paired with a tight leather skirt and black heels.

Lia couldn’t imagine herself wearing anything even slightly similar to that, and it didn’t seem to match the cold weather at all, but the girl was dressed in what many would consider a perfect outfit for a Friday night out. And, to be honest, she looked pretty. Really pretty.

Prettier than Lia had ever looked. Or felt.

And it occurred to her, right then and there, how she’d never worried about losing Harry to someone he could meet at The Wandering Triplet. She’d been so focused on protecting what they had inside their little and private bubble, that she hadn’t thought about girls he could meet while spending time at work. Girls who could be funnier than her, prettier than her, more confident than her. Girls who would keep him company at the bar, and wouldn’t give a single damn about who would see them together or not. Girls who wouldn’t wait for an invitation to be on their way to see him. To be with him.

Girls like the one across the street, or like the woman she’d seen with him so long ago.

Girls who were nothing like her.

Why was Harry even wasting his time with her?!

“Lia, hey!”

Lia jolted, stopping on her track.

Of course he’d call her name.

Of course he would make her feel seen, and prove her paranoid thoughts all wrong.

Again.

Taking a deep breath in, she shook her head briefly, then focused her sight on him.

Harry watched her with a smile on his face, arms dropped by his side.

And Lia’s mouth twitched.

Damn.

The girl next to him faced Lia as well, but Lia tried not to look at her. She didn’t want to freak out. Feeling nervous because of Harry was already too much, she didn’t need to add any other insecurities on top of it and make herself feel even worse.

“Hii,” Harry said.

“Hey.” Lia waved — yes, she waved. Because, well, what else was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to walk to him? Cross the street? Keep walking and go home?

Harry opened his arms and wiggled his fingers — giving her the answer she was looking for without even hearing the question.

“Come here!”

She tightened the grip of her fingers around the single grocery bag and nodded, then walked towards them — towards him. Aware that each step she took, each thump of her heart got louder and heavier inside her chest. And that the closer she got, the higher it raised to her throat.

Things only calmed down when she reached the sidewalk and Harry smiled even wider, then embraced her shoulders in a warm hug.

“Hiii babe,” he said.

Lia accepted it with a quiet sigh, timidly circling his waist with her free arm. “Hi…”

Harry pulled away, but kept his arms around her neck and their bodies close together.

“Where were you?” He dipped his chin down and looked inside of her eyes, curling his lips into such an affectionate smile that it caused her belly to flutter. Damn you, Harry. “Went over to yours just minutes ago.”

“Oh.” She smiled, too, not able to hold it back. It was easy to forget the rest of the world when it was only the two of them. “I just went to get some pizzas for later. And ice cream.”

“Hmm.” He leaned his back completely against the wall, pulling her along with him. “What pizza did you get?”

Lia chuckled through her nose. “I got pepperoni for you, don’t worry.”

Harry’s smile grew wider. “Did you, huh?”

Standing between his feet, she tilted her chin up. “Yeah. It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

He chuckled lightly, and the happiness that radiated off him — through his eyes, through the wrinkles around them, through his grin and his dimples — brought happiness to her own chest.

He was too good to be true.

Definitely wayyyy too good to be true.

Next to them, the girl cleared her throat, and the sound brought Lia back to earth. She looked down to Harry’s throat, hoping he didn’t notice how her insides shriveled.

Or maybe hoping he did.

Either way, the only one who moved to look at the girl was him.

“What?” he deadpanned.

“I’m going back inside,” the girl said.

“Ok?”

“I just… Thought I’d let you know.”

“Why? I didn’t ask.”

Damn, Harry.

Lia widened her eyes and looked up at him.

He was frowning at the girl, and his rude attitude took Lia’s mind back in time, not too long ago, when she could only dream about being part of his life.

The caring and affectionate version of Harry was one she didn’t get to experience until they actually got to know each other, and she had somehow forgotten how he used to close himself and be a completely different person unless he was around people he seemed to want to be around. Or around people he wanted to be nice to. Or something along those lines.

And although Lia had many times wondered why he’d changed so suddenly with her, the truth is that she hadn’t seen that old version of Harry since the night she’d freaked out on him. And she also had never questioned him too much about it.

Or maybe at all.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry breathed out, then pressed his forehead against hers. “She just wouldn’t stop talking.”

Lia dropped her shoulders and licked her lips. She hadn’t paid attention to the moment the girl had left, but she definitely wasn’t there anymore.

“Do you know her?”

“Fuck no.” He chuckled, humorlessly. “I don’t know why she decided to stay here.”

Lia snorted. “C’mon. You really don’t know why?”

“I mean… I certainly didn’t give her a reason to. I wasn’t even talking to her.”

“Hmm…” Pulling her head back, she took her free hand to the side of his face, reaching his ear and rearranging a few of his curls. His hair kept getting longer and longer, and she was loving it. “Why didn’t you go inside, then?”

“‘Cause I was waiting for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… Why do you sound so surprised?” He chuckled, tightening his arms around her neck and shrugging. “I’m on my break, told ya I went to see you and you weren’t home, so I waited for a bit.”

“That’s… Thank you, Harry.”

“C’mon, don’t thank me for that.” He brushed the tip of his nose with hers, from one side to the other, then up and down. Lia fluttered her eyes shut, and then, lowering his voice to a whisper, Harry asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Lia licked her lips, and nodded.

He leaned in, then, pressing their mouths together in a short and soft kiss.

A kiss that tasted like simplicity. Like easiness. Like home.

A kiss that had her sighing into his mouth, and him squeezing her into his arms.

And a kiss that, when he finally pulled away, had her threading her fingers on the back of his head and smiling at him.

“You taste salty,” she murmured.

Harry chuckled. “Thank you? Sorry? ‘M not sure what you meant by that.”

“Definitely a thank you.” She smiled. “Can I have another one?”

“As many as you want.”

Their next kiss was longer, but somehow even softer. As if they had all the time in the world, and nowhere else to be. Nowhere else to go.

After a while, though, and after a couple more kisses, Harry pulled away again, pecking her mouth one last time before resting his forehead against hers.

“I swear I don’t want to go,” he said, then licked his swollen, just kissed and nibbled lips. “But I’m sure my break ended like… Ten minutes ago.”

She chuckled. “That’s—”

“Twenty, actually.” A male’s voice interrupted, startling both of them.

Lia took a step back and looked to her side, finding the bouncer on his usual spot — sitting on a stool, by the front door of the bar, and scrolling through his phone.

Had he been there the entire time?

With a chuckle, Harry took a step back from the wall, forcing Lia to take another step back, too.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” Harry said.

“Mhm. Sure.”

That had been their first public interaction, hadn’t it?

And she hadn’t even realized. Everything had happened so naturally, that she hadn’t even worried about who could be around them. Or who could see them, or who could—

“Babe.” Harry squeezed her arms. “Look at me.”

“Hm?”

Lia faced him, and Harry furrowed his brows.

“Don’t worry about him, ok? He won’t say a word about us. He sees me walking over to your place almost everyday now, so it’s not actually news for him, yeah?”

She swallowed, and nodded.

“Yeah? Alright?”

“Yeah.” She nodded again. “Okay.”

How did he know she was so scared of people saying something?

Did he know she was terrified of messing it up in front of other people?

Did he know she was terrified of embarrassing him in front of other people?

Did he know she was terrified of other people pointing out to him how socially awkward she was?

Did he know she was painfully convinced people would think he could do better than her?

Did he know she was painfully convinced people would laugh at him for being with her?

Was Harry actually that good at reading her mind? To the point where she didn’t need to tell him anything, that he would always get her?

Because it surely seemed he was.

It surely felt like he was.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Harry asked.

Sitting on the floor and leaning her back against the couch, Lia shook her head.

“It’s just Molly. I’ll call her later.”

“It’s the third time she’s calling you,” he said from above her, still braiding her hair — or, well, still trying to braid her hair, because they’d been there for half an hour already, and he had started over at least four times. “What if it’s something important?”

It wasn’t.

Lia knew it wasn’t.

“It’s not. Don’t worry about it.”

The phone stopped ringing, but only for a second, and then Molly was calling again.

“Ok. That’s it. You gotta answer your friend.” He held her hair with one hand, and with the other reached for her phone on the coffee table. “I can go to your room and give you some privacy if you want to, but please just answer.”

With a sigh and a groan, Lia grabbed her phone from his hand. Molly’s name flashed on the screen, and her chest tightened. She really didn’t want to face whatever it was that her best friend had to say — because she knew that no matter what it was, she was for sure about to be lectured.

“Want me to leave?” Harry asked, just as she was answering the call and taking the phone to her ear.

She turned her head, and tilted her chin up.

“Hey Mols.”

Stay, she mouthed.

Harry nodded, and Lia faced forward, letting him resume with his task while she handled the consequences of ignoring her best friends for the last three weeks.

“Oh my God! Fucking finally, Lia Lane!”

Lia chuckled.

“Hiii, I know, I’m sorry… What’s up? How are you?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s up?’ Are you kidding me? You haven’t been answering our texts, and you didn’t come to Jillie’s the other night… I’m worried, y’know?”

Lia looked down to her lap, finding a loose thread on her shorts to fidget with.

“I know… I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to ignore you guys.” Actually, she did mean to ignore them, but she couldn’t fully explain herself while sitting in between Harry’s legs, and a half-explanation would only make things worse. Hopefully, at some point she would be able to tell them about what was truly going on.

“Yeah well, I also miss you, okay? It sucks to be ignored by your best friend.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I miss you guys too... How are you?”

“I’m good, yeah. Things are good.”

“Okay… I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah.” Molly cleared her throat. “I… Look, I met someone.”

Lia widened her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah… She’s… She’s great. And I wanted to tell you and Jillie about it, okay? You know you’re like, the only family I can introduce her to, so… I mean, that’s why I wanted us to meet the other night… And it just… It sucks that you didn’t show up.”

Harry’s fingers tickled her skin, and Lia pulled forward. She bit her lip to hold back her laughter, then patted Harry’s shin, ignoring his own chuckle and rolling her eyes at him. He shushed her and took his free hand to push her back against the couch, then went back to braiding her hair.

“Lia? Are you there?”

“Hi, yeah, sorry! I’m here. Again, I’m sorry I missed dinner at Jillie’s. I shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, it’s whatever… Are you okay, tho? Is everything okay?”

“Mhm, yeah. I just… I’ve been busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Y’know…” Lia shrugged. “Just… Stuff. Nothing important. Can we meet this week?”

“Sure… Are you sure everything’s okay tho?”

“Yes, Molly! I'm fine! Don’t worry… I’ve just been busy with work and you know… Outch!” She winced, Harry’s ring getting caught in her hair. He murmured an apology, and tried to untangle the mess as she kept going. “You know how I get sometimes with my anxiety… So I’ve been taking some time to myself, that’s all. But I’m good, I promise.”

“Mm. So… No news?”

“No Mols, no news,” Lia chuckled. “Everything’s the same here.”

Lifting his leg, Harry moved to get around her, then got up from the couch.

Lia bit her lip as she watched him walk to the kitchen, then to the fridge, finally disappearing behind the open door.

“Lia?” Molly called.

She blinked.

“Sorry, what?”

“Nevermind… We can talk another time, I can tell you’re busy.”

“I’m not! I’m just… Shit. Sorry I’m so distracted. I’m watching a movie, that’s all. Let’s meet this week, yeah? Maybe get some coffee, or dinner. We can call Jillie, too.”

“Sure. Let’s do that. But please show up, okay? And answer our calls.”

“I promise I will.”

“Okay… Bye Lia, love ya.”

“Bye Mols, love—”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?”

Lia sighed. She closed her eyes for a second, then stared down at her stretched her legs. “I’m fine, Molly.”

“I know, I know… It’s just… You’ll let me know if you’re not, right?”

“Of course.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay then. Love ya.”

“Love you too, Mols.”

When Lia hung up, she took her phone to her lap and stared at it for a moment. Worrying her friends was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had been so busy and distracted with Harry that she hadn’t been able to balance everything at the same time anymore. She didn’t spend as much time alone as she used to, so she had to reorganize her routine. She couldn’t afford not focusing on her job, and she still had an apartment to take care of, and a family to talk to. So, yes, she’d put her friends aside for a while. Not because she didn’t love them, and not forever, of course. It was just a break she needed until she figured a way to keep up with everything in a healthy and not overwhelming way.

Still, it sucked that she wasn’t there for them. Lia needed, somehow, to find a way to balance things again. To be there for her friends, like they’d been there for her before. So many times. She needed to—

“Hey,” Harry said, standing next to the couch.

Lia turned her head, and looked up.

“Heyy… You didn’t finish my braid?”

“Hm, no, sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Was getting my rings caught there and I couldn’t get it right, so I gave up.”

“Oh, okay.” She nodded, smiling at him as she dropped her head back and rested it on the couch. “Do you still wanna watch a movie?”

“Actually, I was thinking I’d go back to mine.”

“What? Why?” She sat upright and turned her body fully to the side, facing him from the floor. “You’re not shaving again, are you?”

Harry chuckled, rubbing his hand on his chin and scratching his jaw.

“No, not yet, don’t worry. I just… Y’know, need to change my clothes, water my plants… That stuff. Haven’t been there since yesterday morning.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah. Of course.”

She didn’t want him to leave — she really didn’t want him to leave. But they had already spent a lot of time together, so she shouldn’t pressure him on staying any longer than he wanted to. Right?

Besides, she’d just been thinking about how much she needed to balance things out again, so maybe some time by herself would be good for her. For them. And even for her friends. Right?

Maybe it was a step to move things forward.

Right?

Lia couldn’t remember how long it had been since the last time she’d been at the bar. And, truth be told, she still didn’t feel like going. She really didn’t.

She still had hundreds of questions and insecurities about it. She was still terrified of entering Harry’s workplace and seeing him surrounded by so many people. By his coworkers. By other girls. What was she supposed to do around him? Was she supposed to talk to him? Was she supposed to hug him? To kiss him?

Would he act differently with her now?

He would, right?

Of course he would.

But what if he wouldn’t?

What if he went back to being rude to her?

It got to a point where staying inside and thinking so much about it became unhealthy. Where all the scenarios she created inside her mind were getting in the way of her living her normal life and doing the smallest tasks, like having dinner, or reading a book. And then it got even worse — when she couldn’t even focus on planning her next classes without having an intrusive thought about the whole thing.

Which was why, on that Saturday night, Lia decided to just go.

Without thinking again, and without wasting any more time. That way she wouldn’t change her mind. She would just go to The Wandering Triplet and say hi. Simple like that.

And that’s what she did.

When she arrived, the bouncer smiled and greeted her with the same excitement as always — although he also started by asking if she wanted him to get Harry for her. He’ll be happy to see you, he said after she announced she would actually get inside to say hi. And Lia felt the excitement of a teenager, so it wasn’t a surprise when she walked through the door with a glowy smile on her face.

Inside, people were laughing, chatting, and drinking. Filling the entire place. An acoustic guitar played softly in the background, and a gentle male voice sang a popular song. Despite the big crowd, the atmosphere felt cozy, and joyful. Happy.

Seeing the place so alive and full made her chest tighten, knowing there was a high chance it suddenly wouldn’t exist anymore.

Distracted with her thoughts for a couple of seconds, Lia had time to take a deep breath before glancing where she actually wanted her focus to be. There were so many people around the bar that she didn’t see anyone behind it until she stood close enough to lean her elbows on top of the wood. And then, she found them. All of them — Sage, Rohan, and, of course, Harry.

She smiled, then bit her lip.

Unfortunately, he stood too far away for her to call his name without getting everyone else’s attention, so she took a moment to watch him quietly. Secretly. His perfectly messy curls, his facial hair. Black pants, black t-shirt. Mixing drinks, focused on doing his job. Casual. Soft. Hot.

And all ready to spend the night with her.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t help her smile from getting bigger. There was nothing new about watching him behind the counter, and yet everything was suddenly different. They were different.

Lia didn’t have to wonder about how it would be to kiss him anymore, about how it would feel to be wrapped inside his arms, or how his voice would sound in the mornings. She didn’t have to fantasize about being touched by his incredible hands, or about tracing his many random tattoos, or about his facial hair scratching her skin.

She didn’t have to wonder anymore, because she was living all of it.

And even more than all of it.

In front of her, someone cleared their throat, and Lia blinked.

“So…” Sage watched her with a smirk, arms crossed over her chest and a towel on her shoulder. “Should I get your order, or should I call the reason behind that smile to get it for you?”

“W—what?”

“Lia!” Rohan cheered from the opposite side. A loud exclamation of her name that got everyone’s attention. Hers, Sage’s, and, most importantly, Harry’s. “You’re back!”

Rohan opened his arms and grinned, turning towards where she and Sage stood.

Harry whipped his head to follow Rohan’s line of sight, quickly meeting her stare. He widened his eyes and smiled, glancing briefly at the drinks in front of him before glancing back at her.

“Oh I know he’s just dying to come over right now.” Sage laughed. “He’s just got this super annoying group of people waiting for drinks tho.”

Lia nodded, unable to look away from Harry.

Hi babe, he mouthed.

If possible, her smile got even wider.

“I’m Sage, by the way. ‘M not sure if we’ve been properly introduced before.”

That got her attention, and Lia finally darted her eyes away from him.

“Sorry, I don’t think we have, no. I’m Lia.”

“Oh, I know who you—”

“Look at you!” Stopping next to Sage, Rohan threw one arm around his coworker, but his stare never faltered from Lia’s face. “You’re alive!”

Lia blinked a couple of times, and nodded.

“Um, yeah,” she said, holding the most stupid smile on her face while darting her sight from him to over his shoulder, where she could see Harry staring at her. “I am, yeah… It’s been, um… It’s been a while, huh?”

“A long while, yeah.” Rohan chuckled. “You can’t go missing like that. This place is not the same without my favorite customer around.”

Sage snorted, pushing his arm away. “Okay, Casanova. First, you’re making me nauseous. Two, you can’t just assume people want you to flirt with them.”

Rohan chuckled and mumbled something Lia couldn’t hear, nor wanted to hear. Behind him, Harry focused back on his drinks, then back on her, then back on his drinks. And Lia tapped her foot on the floor, wanting nothing more than for him to be done and walk up to her.

In front of her, Sage cackled, and Lia blinked.

“Whatever,” Sage said, shaking her head and focusing back on Lia. “I’m gonna see if Harry needs any help. Maybe I can speed things up a little.”

Sage winked, then turned around and walked away.

Lia glanced back at Harry, holding his stare until Sage said something that got all of his attention. He broke eye-contact, then, but kept smiling, shrugging and going back to the drinks in front of him while Sage involved herself as well.

“He probably does need all the help,” Rohan said with a chuckle. “Girls go crazy with him. He’s always the busiest. Anywho, how are you? Huh? What have you been up to?”

Lia sighed. Of course she understood that Harry couldn’t leave everything just to talk to her. She wasn’t expecting him to do so. After all, it was his job. However, as Rohan waited for answers to questions she couldn’t even pay attention to, she kind of wished he had.

It was obvious she wasn’t there to talk to Rohan, and that it wasn’t him the one she wanted to be there with. If Sage had noticed already, why couldn’t he notice it, too?

“Lia?”

“What, Rohan? What?!”

Rohan flinched back, and Lia widened her eyes, turning to him so fast her neck snapped. She winced, then pressed her hand on top of her throbbing muscle.

“Oh my—Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m—I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just— I— I had a long day, and... It’s too crowded here and… I’m really sorry!”

Shit.

She was lying about having a long day, but not about everything else. It was crowded there. And she didn’t mean to be rude.

In fact, she didn’t even want to be rude.

She hated being rude.

She’d been just thinking too much, too nervous about everything. Wishing that Rohan would, at least, notice she wasn’t even looking at him, y’know? Wishing he would stop talking for a little bit. That’s all. But she didn’t mean to snap at him. Especially when he had been nothing but welcoming and nice to her.

God. She hated being rude to people.

“It’s fine.” Rohan rested his hand on her arm, squeezing gently as he offered a soft smile. He loosened the grip, and then moved it away. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay tho? Do you need anything?”

Lia sighed and shook her head.

See? Rohan wasn’t a bad person. He had been so sweet to her from the beginning. She shouldn’t just snap at him out of nowhere. That wasn’t nice of her. And it wasn’t fair to him. She could be better than that.

She was better than that.

“I am okay, thanks. But I’m really sorry. I really am.”

“Like I said, don’t worry. Just forget about it.” He waved her off, and she smiled. “Let me get you a drink tho, yeah? On the house.”

“Oh, no, please no.” She shook her head, but made sure to chuckle, keeping everything as light as possible. “No need to, really.”

“I insist. C’mon, what do you want? Or… What if I surprise you with something different tonight, huh?”

“Rohan, it’s fine, really.”

“Lia.” He lifted his eyebrows, as if trying to prove a point. “You’re here to drink something, aren’t you? Even if it’s just water. And it’s my job to get your drink. So let me get it for you.”

“Ugh.” She threw her head back and smiled, both in amusement and annoyance. After a second, she looked back at him and sighed, then rested both forearms on the counter and linked her hands together. “A mojito will be fine, then, thanks.”

“Oh c’mon!” Rohan chuckled. “Aren’t you bored of mojitos already?”

Lia was about to laugh and say something when Rohan hunched down and placed his own forearms on the counter. With a smirk, he caged her arms in between his, then got way closer to her face than he needed to be. Or that he had ever been before.

And then, for the first time since she’d met him, Rohan made Lia uncomfortable.

Really uncomfortable.

Inside her chest, her heartbeat sped up.

“Let me get you something else, huh?”

“N—no, it’s just…” She shook her head. “It’s fine… I mean, I— Well, it’s my… My favorite drink, actually, so…”

He chuckled, placing his fingers around her wrist and squeezing before straightening his back up again. “You’re cute.”

She closed her eyes for just a second, letting the air she was holding out through her nose and dropping her shoulders.

Oblivious to her reactions, Rohan took a step back, smiling and pointing his index finger at her. “One mojito for my favorite customer, then!”

“I got it,” Harry said, placing a hand on Rohan’s shoulder whilst looking at her.

Lia stood up again, her jaw clenching as she swallowed.

Harry didn’t look happy.

Harry also didn’t sound happy.

At all.

“You?” Rohan turned around, laughing. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Oh c’mon. It’s Lia, man. I’ll make it.”

“Exactly.” Harry crossed his arms on his chest and tilted his chin up. “Lia prefers my mojitos, so I got it. You can go now.”

Rohan said something, and Harry looked back at him, then back at her. With pulled eyebrows, set jaw, and pursed lips. That angry, bitter expression she had put behind and forgotten about.

As they talked, Lia closed her hands into fists, then swallowed.

The thud of her heart echoed heavily in her chest, and her lungs suddenly couldn’t hold any oxygen inside them.

And then, Harry tilted her chin towards her.

“Why don’t we ask her, then?”

Lia widened her eyes.

What…

What was he doing?

“Hey Lia, don’t you think my mojitos are better than Rohan’s?”

“Aren’t they your favorites?”

She opened her mouth, and closed it again.

Blank.

Her mind went blank.

“Oh c’mon, weren’t you just chatting with him till now? Laughing with him? What’s gotten to you now? Huh? Cat got your tongue?”

“Dude, what the hell?” Rohan placed a hand on his chest, taking a step to the side and standing in front of him.

Lia looked down at the counter, then took a step back.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re taking it too far.”

“I just asked her a question. She can answer, can’t she?”

“You’re making her uncomfortable, man.”

“Oh.” Harry scoffed. “So I’m the one making her uncomfortable now?”

“Look at her. Of course she’s uncomfortable. Back off, ok?”

There was a pause as Lia blew out multiple short breaths to pull herself together. Music was still playing, people were still chatting, but everything went silent for her.

Her chest was too tight. She still couldn’t think.

She wanted Harry to make her feel better, but Harry had just made her feel worse.

Harry.

Fuck.

She took one hand up to her cheek, wiping the tears she hadn’t even noticed before.

“Lia…”

Shit.

His voice…

He was just…

“Just leave her alone, man. I got her. Why don’t you…”

A buzz rang inside her ears as their voices faded away.

She couldn’t breathe.

She needed to get out of there.

Lia turned around, grasping her bag tightly between her fingers and squeezing her way into the crowd.

She needed to get out of there.

Voices were muffled as they reached her ears. She couldn’t see, nor hear anyone.

All she could do was move forward.

Move her legs. Cross the street.

And go back to her place.

Get away from everything.

Get away from everyone.

Get away from him.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles writing

183 notes · View notes

allurilove · 5 months ago

Note

lmaooo recent henry and yan! husband cracked me up 😭😭😭 i need more of them fighting over reader /her attention PLSSSS PLSSS PLSSS

“This is my seat.”

“This has never been your seat, kid.” Your yandere husband mumbled and he already put the headphones over his ears.

Your husband wasn’t going to move from his spot. He wanted to sit next to you for the entirety of the flight, and he’ll be dammed if he had to sit with strangers. It’s a packed plane, and sadly the family couldn’t sit together.

He made sure you got the window seat per your request, and he was sat right next to you. All while Henry was forced to sit a couple rows behind you two, and he was pouting.

“It would be safer for Henry to sit next to me.” You chime in and you tried to usher your husband out of his spot. He scoffed.

“You afraid that he’ll get kidnapped or something? We’re on a plane. There’s nowhere to go.” Yandere husband makes a show of how much he wouldn’t get up, and he even starts to rip the plastic bag and pulled out the blanket.

—

Henry loves the water. He splashed around, jumping up and down, and he purposefully got his father wet. “Henry stop that.” Your husband frowned and he ran his fingers through his hair. The water droplets went down his chest, and it went down the lines of his abs. Despite how much he doesn’t get along with his son, and he still wanted to wear matching swim trunks with Henry.

Henry wanted to wear a bikini like his mom, or a one piece. Yandere husband was confused when Henry grabbed the exact same one as his mother, and instead of stopping him, he lets Henry try it on.

Henry had the biggest wedgie of all time.

So, wearing the same navy blue swim trunks with starfish on it wasn’t that bad. Henry rolled his eyes, “I’m having fun.”

“You’re annoying me.”

“Where’s mom?” Henry splashed his father again.

Yandere husband let out a groan of frustration. “She’s tanning. I’m here, play with me.”

“You don’t know how to play mermaids.” Henry deadpanned. His hands now on his hips and he glared at the older man. “And you always try to be over powered.”

Yandere husband looked offended and he pouted. “I— I don’t want to be a weak mermaid, and I’m a better swimmer than you. It’s not my fault Im faster.” He crossed his arms and he wasn’t about to back down.

“Ugh, mom!” Henry called for you, and he rushed to your side the moment his father started to argue back.

Yandere husband quickly pulled him back, his hand gripped the child’s shoulder. “Hey- you said I could spend time with your mother. You got to sleep in the same bed as her, and that’s already not fair.”

“I’m a kid-” Henry grimaced. “and you’re an old man. I have the most priority.”

“We got a room with two queen beds, just take the other one! Then you get to have the whole bed all to yourself.” Yandere husband snarled and he pinched the kids cheek. He really tried to be mad at his son, but he looked really adorable. Plus, they were matching! Practically twins at this point, and yandere husband scooped up Henry and hugged him tight.

“You’re such a little cutie~” Yandere husband cooed, and he gave his son a bunch of kisses on the cheeks.

Henry tried to fight back, and dodge the attack from his father, and he covered his face with his hands. “This… this is abuse!”

#Allurilove yandere writing #Allurilove asks #yandere husband x henry #yandere husband x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc x you

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cherrygirlfriend · 1 month ago

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bsf!rafe goes to reader's house

warnings: fluff, smut, mdni hi everyone!!! i took a few weeks off but i'm back and better (and hotter) than ever! anyway. kissesss! tbh MY therapist hates me. ur therapist hates me. im ur favorite therapist's favorite therapist.

rafe could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he pulled up in the driveway of your home, his jaw clenched as he half-heartedly parked it in front of your house; he hadn’t even thought of what he’d say to you, only thing he knew was that every part of him was screaming at him to go see you.

you could hear a car screech to a halt outside your home from the second floor, and even though you knew who it was, you made your way to the balcony of your room, seeing the blonde man making his way to your doorway in a determined stride.

the pounding of his fist against the wooden door could be heard all around the large home as you rushed down the stairs, your bare feet against the soft carpet, looking down to make sure you wouldn't trip, your mind too fuzzy to make sense of anything.

rafe stood outside your door, his clothes soaked by the rain, the blonde chewing on his lower lip as he looked at anywhere but the peephole, turning and walking away when it had been almost three minutes without anyone answering the door.

a part of you was confused why he didn't just open your door; both of you had the keys to the other's house, having secretly exchanged them when you were twelve and swore your friendship would last forever.

when he was almost at his car, you flung the door open, rushing to rafe, your bare feet prickled by the wet pavement, the boy turning to look down at you with wide eyes.

"why did you come here?" you ask, raindrops falling onto your face, making your vision blurred. rafe swallowed, looking at anywhere but you when he tried to find an answer to your question.

"you, uh, you hung up before i could say anything."

"yeah, but you could've pretended it never happened. why did you come here?"

he sighed, rubbing his jaw, his tongue poking out from in between his lips, "what do you want me to say? that i miss you?"

"well, do you?"

"jesus." he let out a noise that was between a scoff and a laugh, shaking his head. "of course."

"why? why do you miss me? after everything you put me through, what gives you the right to miss me?"

"i don't know!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up, "i don't know why i miss you, when i know that you deserve something better. but for some reason, i can't stop thinking about you. i'm miserable without you. it's like you've ruined me. you make me not want any other person, because no one can be you."

"oh yeah?" you said, cocking your head, "what about sofia?"

"i broke up with her! you wanna know why i was with her? because i was afraid. i was afraid that if i told you what i felt for you, i'd lose you. but now, it doesn't even matter because i already lost you. it's so fucking infuriating, because you know me, i'm not the type of guy to say sappy shit and make some kind of romantic love confession, but for fuck's sake, i don't even like most of the people around me, let alone love, but you? for some fucking reason you're an exception."

he placed his hands on your rain-soaked cheeks, your hair sticking to your skin as you looked up at him, small drops forming at the corners of his eyes.

"for some reason my brain, my body, my stupid ass heart are all so fucking drawn to you, and it drives me so insane that i pretend to want to be with someone else just so you'd end up pushing me away and hating my guts even though you're the only person i can put up with. every part of me has belonged to you for so fucking long, but for some reason i could never accept it. but, fuck, i have nothing to lose anymore."

and without a warning, his lips were on yours, and even though you knew you deserved better, no part of you wanted to pull away from him, allowing him to lead you inside, into your very own bedroom, the two of you peeling off your rain-soaked clothing.

his lips might've just made a trail down your stomach, but the heat it caused was everywhere; your head, your collarbones, your tits, your stomach, your pussy, your thighs, your calves, your entire body on fire in a way that you hadn't experienced before, not even with him.

rafe's focus was on your tits, his mouth on your right nipple, first pressing small kisses, then small licks, until your nipple was in his mouth, all the while his left hand was on your left nipple, rolling it around between his fingers, occasionally squeezing it in a way that made you curl your toes.

and when you felt his cock at your entrance, you were prepared for him to fuck you like he often did; roughly, fast, without much care in the world; but he didn't, and even when he had been thrusting into you for so long you couldn't even remember how long it had lasted, he kept at his pace, he kept rolling his hips at the same pace, his right thumb rubbing your clit while he pressed kisses on your neck, softly murmuring the words you'd been craving to hear for so long.

"i love you."

and no matter how many times you came, he kept at it, at that same slow, yet incredibly intense, pace, until you could no longer process what was going on.

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animeshotsh · 10 months ago

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Family meeting | Dad!Lucifer x Kid!Reader

Summary: Lucifer wants you to meet Charlie, the only problem? He needs to go to the hotel.

PT2 Of This and a full one shot of this.

Lucifer undertood, really, he knew Charlie was too worried about her Hotel to ever leave it alone. He also felt bad about asking her to just come home to meet you, after all he was not a present figure in her life.

"(Y/n) are you ready ?" Lucifer called you who went to him with a cancerberus plush on your hand and a backpack with some toys.

"Im!" You declared showing off your things, and letting out a smile. You were now dressed in the best quality clothes Lucifer could afford, he had to take a moment to snap a pic of you (again).

"Let not keep them waiting then" Lucifer said taking you and supporting you on his hip, his wings out.

"ARE WE GOING TO FLY THERE?" You screamed making the house shake, your hyped self could not be contained.

"Yes, what better way to travel?" Lucifer joked. The first time you two took a fly together Lucifer was distracted and ended up dropping you. His reaction time was fast so he was able to catch you, already making promises to never fly again with you but your laught stopped him, turns out you loved to fly and loved the adrenaline from falling. Lucifer found it strange but decided not to question it.

He later went to the internet to look for more information.

Once you two took fly everything felt at peace (and you two were in hell...). Demons and sinners could see their King, no one dared to mess with him. Some ignored him, others bowed and some even waved at you.

From the Sky, the city seemed beautiful in its own type of way. The fire from fights and the buildings falling apart...big neon adverstiments...

If you were honest you liked hell.

Lucifer felt your self become sleepy making him smile. This would usually happen, something about flying with him relaxed you. Maybe being with the king of hell and on top of that flying around the city made you feel Powerfull and protected, enough to make you dizzy. Closing your eyes you let the feel of the wind caress your skin as Lucifer's wings moved towards the Hotel.

~☆~☆~☆~

Charlie was not nervous, not at all!!

That was a lie. Charlie was so stressed over his dad coming to the hotel and with you no less. When he had called her and asked to meet up she had said she had too much work (and it was true) then after listening to how he wanted her to meet you and how you have been asking about her.

Her heart could not take it so she accepted, saying she would make the hotel the safest place for you.

"Husk, put the alcohol away, OH! And be sure to remove any broken glass" Charlie exclaimed getting the most are you for real look from Husk.

Any sharp object had been locked down, weapons hided away and they even took extra care of things that could fall over you.

"Angel, try to...keep the sex jokes as...."

"As good as a good suck in a alley corner after some Drugs?" Angel asked getting an annoyed look from Vaggie. "Fine, I get it. Im not a monster you know" he responded offended going for a drink only to get some appel juice from Husk.

"Princess rules" he simple said.

Vaggie was behind Charlie as she went on checking everything. This was worse than one Lucifer had first come, this was Lucifer and you. The New kid, the new lil relative of Charlie.

"And- and did we get Alastor to go out?" Charlie asked Vaggie knowing how him and his dad were not at good terms.

"Well..."

"Now my dear, why would you want me away?" Alastor asked appearing besides her. "Its because your dad its coming today? Dont worry the hotel wont suffer any type of damage" he promised bowing "or maybe a bit"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

The sound of the door being opened alerted everyone. Charlie was sweating as she saw her dad entering with a small kid on his arms. Puffy sheep skin and cat hears and tail could be seen but their face was pressed against Lucifer's chest.

"Charlie!! Its so good to see you again" Lucifer exclaimed getting closer. "Sorry, (Y/N) felt asleep when coming here" he explained looking down with a lovely father gaze at the kid.

"Oh...thats...thats fine!! We have made everything kids safe for the time (Y/N) is here" Charlie responded still stressed, however now seeing you in the flesh and not only by photos her dad would send her, her heart softened at your sleepy form.

"Well, not everything..." Lucifer let out a groul seeing the Radio Demon who stood with his usual smile.

"Greetings your majesty, I never expected to be seeing you again so soon, maybe grow a few inches instead of getting kids from the streets on your free time"

"Hahaha, oh at least kids like me" Lucifer responded going towards Alastor.

"Hahaha only because you are their size"

"Hahaha, or because I dont have that broken record voice"

"Hahaha, fuck you"

The small beef between them was enough to wake you up, looking up you first saw Lucifer's face. A very angry look then the look of another Demon, a redish one that looked like a deer.

"...are these your ears or hair?" You asked half sleep getting everyones attention.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Oh ignore him, we are here to meet with by daugther!!" Lucifer quickly turned around making you face Charlie. He carefully let you down on the ground and saw how you went to her.

Charlie went to your eye level, her heart beating fast. "Hello! Im Charlie, and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!!" She cringed at her introduction, laughts from Angel and Husk could be hear at the back.

"Im (Y/N)! Are you my older sister?" You asked moving your head to the side taking her appearence, no doubt she was Lucifer's child, she had a different aura, something cheerful and good, something your insticts told you to reach for.

Charlie's mouth went dry, her eyes having now tears as she remember the story her father told her about you, about how you ended in hell. How unfair it was and how Heaven would not listen.

"Y-yes Im" she responded trying to content her tears then almost getting knocked off when you hugged her. Your soft hair rubbing against her cheeck.

"I always wanted a sister"

Vaggie had to look away to keep her emotions in check. She undertood the malice from heaven and was thankul you had ended in Lucifer's way. Her heart broke a bit seeing your small form hugging her gilfriend.

Heaven its damed she tought to herself.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"And this is Angel Dust!" Charlie presented you the spider Demon who was looking down as he was thinking about someone else.

"Hello Kiddo" he ruffled your hair getting a laught from you.

"You have four arms?" You asked looking at Angel who showed them then picked you up

"You bet!! And do you know what form arms can do?"

Everyone was holding their breaths now.

"Lots of ticklets!!" He finally responded tickling you. Your laught and smile resonated in the hotel. Your cat hears moving from side to side as Angel tickled you with a small smile of his own.

~☆~☆~☆~

You pulled Angel around the hotel, telling different tales you have been reading from Lucifer's private collection. Angel just nodded at you, he took note of how your eyes would light up when you were talking about a favorite character or a special part of a story.

It melted his heart.

"I want juice" You suddendly said stopping and making Angel almost fall over you. Luckly he was able to catch his balance.

Juice? Angel thought then smirked looking at a very sober and pissed Husk.

"Here, this one makes the best drinks and im sure he has some juices for you" Angel said taking you towars Husk who was giving Angel a very do not dare look.

"Uhhh, he seems scary" you said softly looking at Husk while Angel seated you carefully.

"Scary? Pff he is just sober" Angel said getting a confused look from you.

"I mean-"

"What would you like kid?" Husk asked keeping his voice with no emotion. He had hear you said he looked scary and honestly, that was funny. By the fact that you had touched Alastor's hair and ears earlier and you got the radio Demon to almost break his cool.

Yeah not scared over the radio Demon but scared of him? You were something.

He passed you a juice with appels. You were quick to forget your fear as you sipped the drink looking at Husk. "I liken your wings"

Husk looked a bit suprised but soon relaxed giving you a easy smile.

"I like your horns...what are you?" He finally asked getting an annoyed look from Angel.

"Well...im not sure?" You responded now feeling shy.

"You are a sinner my Dear!" The voice of Alastor echoed as one of his shadows picked you up keeping you from touching his hair again.

"And who are you?" You asked back macking Alastor glitch, static forming around him but then going away.

"Im Alastor, the Radio Demon! I have a show, maybe you ever listen to it or you prefer these boxes..."

"You mean tvs?" Alastor nodded "I used to watch a bit during mornings but...my father hated when we did it he would scream at me and-" your voice broke making everyone look towards you Lucifer almost going for the Demon's neck.

"Oh you poor thing" Alastor said deep down (very deep) feeling bad. Memories of his own life coming to haunt him. "Then here!" He made a move and a old fashined radio appear "this radio hosts only my shows, and no one will be angry at you because you listen to it" He said smiling at you, his shadow still holding you and playing with your horns as Alastor watched Lucifer for a reaction.

"Uh...thank you Mister" You finally said getting a lick from the shadow itself.

"No problems Dear and if you ever need a New dad you know for who to look" He smirked at Lucifer.

"But Lucifer its my dad..." you responded, radio in your tiny hands "...could you be my uncle?" You asked innocently ignoring who you were talking to, one of the most powerfull Overlords in the circle.

Alastor moved his head his shadow getting you closer to him, he took a moment to examine your soul. So pure and so...so unlike him.

Alastor could be chained to someone, but right now the only one who could hold a leash on him was you.

"Of course Dear" he finally responded taking you from his shadow and to his arms.

"And can I play with your hair?"

"Hahaha, absolutly not"

Lucifer was being hold in the back by Charlie and Vaggie sending daggers to the Demon.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader #charlie x reader #angel dust x reader

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serendipitous-girl · 2 months ago

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𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

⊱✿⊰ summary: rumors spread fast at Hogwarts, Harry should know this by now.

. ⊱✿⊰ warnings: very suggestive, you sit on Harry's lap and he gets a boner, kissing, uhh everybody thinks you guys had aex but you didn't, typical teenage hormones, you guys are friends who have crushes on each other, post-confessions??, mcgonny might be ooc sryyy bad jokes

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is way more suggestive than i usually write but yeah. don't ask why i came up with this..i just did and i am kinda embarrassed but im already here

harry was sure he was going to explode. he had you, his very best friend, sitting on his lap and kissing his neck. he had not been prepared to know what to do when the prettiest girl he had ever seen was also into him.

he didn't know how to respond or how to reciprocate that he really, really, wanted what was happening. the best he could do was hold your hips, squeezing them as you sucked on a particularly senstive spot. he couldn't help the way heat started to pool in his stomach, blood rushing down to his-

"harry," you giggled, snapping him out of his embarrassing train of thoughts, "didn't know you were that excited."

"shut up, [name]," he grumbled, feeling his face warm exponentially. he pulled your closer, pressing his lips to yours, smirking into the kiss when the sweet little gasp you made reached his ears. harry was sure he would never get enough of the taste of your lips, sweet and soft like the chapstick you always loved to wear.

if he was anywhere near his right mind he might consider the fact, you and him were making out in the middle of the common room. but it was late at night, everybody was surely snoozing and harry couldn't control himself. he wanted-no he needed to feel more of you.

a groan got strangled in his throat as you wiggled your body, rubbing your body against his and sending electronic volts all throughout him. he should really tell you to stop...but fuck if it didn't feel good. (hey, the chosen one needs some fun in his life too!)

he leaned in to kiss you again, only to be met by your loud screech and you flinging yourself off of his lap like he had suddenly caught a highly contagious disease. a quick look at his pants would expose his highly embarrassing situation so he quickly grabbed a throw pillow and shoved it on his lap.

"professor!" you said, and he quickly snapped his head towards where professor mcgonagall was staring horrifed at you both.

"both of you! bed! now! acting so indecently in such a public place? i expected better than you, potter." she chided, pointing a finger towards the stairs. obediently you and harry hurried up there, harry being quick to hopefully hide his.. condition.

"practically have sexual intercourse!" she muttered, shaking her head. you and harry practically ran up the suddenly very long staira, hurrying to your respective dorms in hopes you could hide from the embarrassment. turning you gave harry a quick wave before shutting the girls dorm door. at the very least everybody should be asleep so nobody would be aware of this incident.

❀ ❀ ❀

the whispers started almost immediately after you stepped into the great hall. young and old students bored their eyes into you as you marched to your usual seat with harry, hermione, ron and the rest of your makeshift friend group.

ron immediately snickers, and hermione swats him with an eyeroll. your face was already warm with embarrassment, even more so now that your friends were aware of the whole...thing.

"i cannot believe you had sex with harry and didn't tell me!" hermione hissed, looking at you with a slightly betrayed look. she was your best friend, well beside harry (and harry was...more now.) but she was your girl best friend. which made it easier to talk to her about certain things.

"we didn't?" you said, clearly confused...you thought the rumors would at least be accurate if they were to be spread. but that was too much to ask for a bunch of teenagers hungry for drama. you turned to harry and added, "why do they think we had sex?"

harry blushed, probably remembering what happened the night before. then he said, "i'm pretty sure someone was awake last night and heard professor mention that we were 'practically having sex'"

he mumbled the last bit and you giggled, amused at his shyness about this whole topic. although you weren't faring much better, the thought of doing that with harry was enough to make your body implode.

"but are you guys like dating now..?" ron asked, paying half attention to you guys and half to the food in front of him. it was delicious so you couldn't really blame him.

you glanced at harry and he glanced at you, a small smile peeking out as you nodded slightly. his goregous green eyes lit up with excitement, the silent confirmation all he needed to know the truth. harry fucking potter was your boyfriend now.

"yeah, she's my girlfriend now." he said, before he turned around. you followed his gaze and saw draco malfoy staring daggers at him, his pale face red with utter fury. he looked like a swollen tomato.

you smirked, gaining some confidence and leaning towards harry. you pressed your lips to his, hands pressed into his chest. you only felt egged on by the hoots and hollers of the other students.

"well that certainly didn't help the rumors." harry said, fixing his glasses with a flustered look on his face. you giggled and hugged him.

"we'll let them believe what they want to believe. who knows, maybe they'll learn about the other times i've seen you naked." you giggled, laughing even more at harry's horrifed gasp.

"hey! you said you wouldn't bring that up!" harry whined, blushing even more as ron and hermione laughed along with you.

rumors were bad, but with your family and your friends..and your new boyfriend. it wasn't so bad.

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 months ago

Note

Can you please make more Remy LeBeau content? I love that little Cajun man so much! Please and Thank you!

Remy LeBeau x male reader

Headcanons

I’ve had this plot idea for a while, so im gonna try to shake it out my system. I know very little about Cajun culture, European here, so take it with a grain of salt. Sorry for the lack of posting, classes have already been beating me up and I literally just started.

You were your average Cajun kid when you met Remy, back when he still ran with the thief’s guild and before he was adopted by Jean-Luc.

You were a bit of a stereotype when it came to New Orleans Cajun kids. You liked to cause trouble, you liked to party, you liked to hunt frogs at night and spearfish Gar when there were no frogs. And damn did you like messing with the gators. All your messing around did make you lose your pinky on your right hand, but it didn’t stop you.

You were no mutant, but you might as well have been with all the stuff you got into. You always claimed it was just your Cajun roots that kept you immortal.

That was how you met Remy, through all your troublemaking. Youd just shoved one of your friends bullies into the swamp near your neighborhood, and immediately legged it, knowing his brothers would feed you to the gators if they got the chance.

That’s how you end up running right into Remy, sending you both skittering across the ground. Before he could say anything though, you just grad his wrist with your four fingered hand and drag him along, cackling as the bullies’ brothers try and catch you.

The two of you end up in a completely different neighborhood, hiding under somebodies porch as you try not to snicker as the older boys run right past, cursing up a storm about the “gator bait” getting away. And yes, that was what people called you in your neighborhood, because of your hand.

Remy had expected you to immediately fear him or become disgusted at the sight of his eyes. But instead, you just told him they were cool as fuck and you wished your eyes were like that.

After hiding for a while, the two of you split up to go about your lives. But you end up bumping into each other quite a lot, since you both just like to wander. That’s how you two end up becoming friends, even as hes part of the thieves guild.

You end up dragging him to your house too where he meets your mother. Your dad wasn’t around anymore, he drowned when you were a baby, but your mom said you had his fire and lack of self-preservation.

To Remys shock, your mom didn’t mind his eyes either, just accepting him in with a kind but tired smile. He later learns your mom works two or three jobs depending on the season to keep you guys fed, which is why you have so much time to run around.

You two keep growing up together, even if there at times is distance for different reasons. You keep causing trouble, but get better at hiding it, you become real good at figuring out the area, the waters, the people and animals, so on and so forth.

This helps you get your first job as a guide for tourists. You don’t really like it, but they tip you pretty well. You use that money to take Remy out for sno-balls, or rather, its you going in to get them, so you guys can eat them on your backyard porch.

You both gained a lot of scars over the years from the different lives you lived. Youd never asked Remy about the guild, and he never really asked too much about the different scars on your arms and legs he was sure came from a knife and not fishing wire.

It was also on that porch you guys shared your first kiss. It was clumsy, uncomfortable, your lips stained blue as his were green, from the thick sugary syrups used on the sno-balls. But it was still the best kiss either of you could have imagined.

You two never got to explore too deeply what your relationship meant. one week Remy was more distant than usual, before he suddenly showed up at your place, looking worse to wear, telling you he needed to get out of New Orleans.

You weren’t gonna question him, so you packed him into your truck and just started driving. The entire time he clung to your hand, looking at you so intensely, like hed never see you again. But you tried to keep the mood light, joking as usual and playing your favorite music.

The goodbye was one of the hardest things in your lives. You even told Remy you’d leave him with, ready to leave it all behind to stay by his side, wherever he would go. But Remy knew you had a life here, you had your mom, a good job, other friends, he couldn’t ask that of you.

So, in the end, Remy simply kissed you goodbye, and said he hoped you two would meet again. And disappeared into the night, like something out of a dream.

A couple of hours passed before you decided to drive back home. You smoked through an entire pack of cigarettes, so tempted to also empty the bottle of alcohol you hid under the seat in your truck. But you also knew you needed to return to your mom.

So with one final longing glance in the direction Remy disappeared, you turned back around and drove back home, New Orleans feeling less vibrant and lively than usual.

It would be years before you two meet again, and even then, it had been an accident.

You had left New Orleans behind after Remy left, your mom passed away, and nothing really kept you there without either of them. It took a while before you finally settled down in New York. It wasn’t the same as where you grew up, but it was good enough for now. And if nothing worked, you could just go back to Louisiana and live in a small shed, where you’d spend your days catching fish.

What brought you together, was that your neighbors kid developed their mutation. Something they couldn’t hide, their eyes so different they couldn’t even use contacts as an excuse.

If their parents had been kind, hadn’t been so openly ex-mutant, you might not have done anything. But you’d heard rumors of Charles Xavier, and how his school helped Mutants like that.

So, you packed your neighbors kid into your truck, the same you’d driven Remy in, with what they needed to bring, and drove them there. Like the ride with Remy, you tried to keep the mood light, hoping to just keep it all from falling apart.

It took some time to get to the school, through whatever security they had, and to the front door. Part of you feared it was the wrong place, until the guy who’d spoken to you over the security comm stepped out. That visor made it pretty clear he wasn’t just your average joe.

Normally you’d have left it at that, leaving the kid with people who knew what they were talking about and doing. But they were too scared to be alone, and after some scowling from a guy that looked like a hairy homeless guy, you were allowed in.

Your thick accent seemed to gain some positive or funny reactions, that same hairy guy from before grumbling “another Cajun”. But you were mainly focused on getting the kid settled.

Of course, until you heard a familiar voice, laying his usual flirts on thick with somebody. Remy was still as handsome as when you last saw him, though a little older, but so were you. The kid was introduced to him, and the two already seemed to bond over their eyes being their main visual of their mutation.

“They reminded me of you, maybe that’s why I felt so protective” you just throw out there, hands in your pockets as you shrugged, your voice immediately catching Remy’s attention, who seemed as shocked to see you as you were him.

It was clear you two knew each other, and that emotional look in your eyes had the others shuffling off to keep showing the kid around, as you two were left alone.

You two go out back to sit on the porch of the mansion. It wasn’t the same as in New Orleans, but it still had your heart racing. It was awkward for a moment, you two sharing what you’d been up too since you last saw each other.

With you, Remy didn’t need to put on the plays like usual, he could just be Remy LeBeau and nobody else, and holding your hand with only four fingers in his own laid to rest some of the pain that had been present for years.

You two didn’t immediately start dating or anything. It was more returning to what was before, without all the stealing and trouble you two used to get into. At least, not to the same degree. But it built at a comfortable pace.

You became an honorary visitor of the mansion, since the kid you brought there still felt quite attached, but also for Remy. You were also able to worm your way into the hearts of the other x-men, some quicker than others, but you did it anyways.

Remy spent a lot of time at your place too, and he even helped you move when you moved just a bit closer to the x-men.

Neither of you could really tell when it went from deep pining to dating. One moment you guys just finally started kissing. The cuddling, sharing clothes and many other things that came with a relationship was something you already did, so the kissing was truly the last part missing.

You do end up having to learn better self-defense, being close to the x-men like that. But for Remy you’d do anything, even doing stretches that have your legs screaming since you aren’t used to bend like that.

302 notes · View notes

sunboki · 1 year ago

Text

KOREA'S MOST WANTED (DEAD OR ALIVE) : SUNBOKI

🎥 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader ( with hints of other attraction ((mainly 3racha cause im a whore)) no poly )

TROPE. non-idol au, criminal! au, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut

WORD COUNT. 6.8k & 33 minute read

WARNINGS. smut, blood, guns/weapons, shoot-out, murder, mentions of drugs and poison, descriptive violence, suggestiveness, manipulation, death(not major characters), cursing

PLAYLIST

AUG'S NOTES. a weird spin to a not-quite mafia au but i love the lore.. enjoy. if you decide to read, feedback is always appreciated!!

SYNOPSIS. Eight notoriously wanted criminals work solo. They always have. Except when their dark work and concealed identities are put at risk, they find themselves with no other choice but to work together—and what better place to do so than the back fields of a house in the middle of nowhere? The location was ideal, until you open the doors of your grandparents barn and accidentally meet Korea’s most wanted.

or alternatively

In which stumbling in the wrong place at the wrong time leaves you face to face with some of the most-wanted criminals in all of South Korea.

CRIMINAL #0001 — BAHNG, CHRISTOPHER.

CRIMINAL RECORD

Christopher has been convicted of illegal weapon trafficking on eighteen counts of federal offenses. He is notoriously dangerous. Please proceed with caution.

⭑ REWARD

⎯ CRIMINAL FILES (additional cases)

The only thing illuminating your walk to the barn is your phone light and the hardly helpful moon peeking between heavy clouds.

You’ve done this a billion times, but tonight there’s just something ..unsettling. You can’t put your finger on it.

Shaking the thought from mind, you fiddle with the small lock hitched onto wide, dark red barn doors, untangling rusted chains like routine. That is, until you hear a sound. An unusual sound, an unnerving sound.

By that time you’d already pushed open the doors, and the weight of what sat in front of you—the weight of what was responsible for the sound—made you feel faint.

“Who.. Who are you people?”

Every October you visit your grandparents (or whenever your schedule isn’t jam-packed, but most often in October) when the leaves are deep orange and red, dappling gravel driveways and leaving the once abundant trees bare of their spring greenery.

The weather, though overcast in the autumn season, never stays gray for too long if you wake up early enough. Your grandpa taught you that, how to witness the early morning view before being covered by clouds.

On this occasion, however, you certainly didn’t plan on waking up early, especially not while rooming in your comfortable old bedroom.

Your grandparents house, despite being in the middle of nowhere, was so homey, so familiar. You’d be sure to soak up as much of this easiness as you could before returning back to life, savor the moments the best you could.

“Have you heard?” Your grandmother utters, fingers expertly dicing fruits, gaze glued to the TV.

“Grandma, I just got here, so no I haven’t heard anything,” You laugh, dragging your luggage through the hallway while the drone of the latest news feature serves as background noise. Probably another celebrity split-up, you assume.

Surely, considering the stubborn woman’s frantic waving once you come back into the living room, beckoning you to watch with her.

“Look! They’re wrecking havoc everywhere recently. Folks are calling them ‘Korea’s most wanted.’” Shaking her head repeatedly, she points at the screen displaying a churned building left to nothing but ash.

You hum absentmindedly, listening to the reporter talk.

“Using the title the media has given, this building, once a printing firm, has been dissolved into ashes overnight. The attack is said to have been the doing of ‘The Arsonist’, a member of one of the most wanted people on the radar…”

“If you run into one of them,” Having completely forgotten about the other presence in the room, you flinch. “Call your Grandma, I’ll swat ‘em over the head with my shovel.”

Gesturing with an imaginary shovel in hand, you can’t help but laugh at her silliness, quickly shaking the lingering thought away.

Korea’s most wanted here? Here’s probably the last place they’d show up, too busy massacring the big cities to care about this old house.

Resorting to scurrying onto a kitchen stool, you fill in the nosy old lady on what life has been like, how work has been treating you, and all the other nosy questions your grandmother thinks up slicing apples.

By the time you look out the window, the sky is almost fully dark, until a sudden flash of headlights tells the household grandpa’s back from work, hopping from his rickety blue pickup truck to greet you.

There’s a smile gracing his wrinkled features, regarding you like you were still eight years old. He’s a man of few words, but when he speaks, everyone listens. Similarly, when he tells you he loves you—something he barely does—the moment, whatever it may be, is special.

Settling in for the night, you help wash dishes and insist the stoic woman takes a seat before she breaks her back leaning over the sink, which she rolls her eyes and ignores no less.

Not like you expected anything else, she’d wash these dishes till the end of time knowing her.

“Y/n, dear, would you mind making sure the barn lamp is shut off? I’m worried it’ll catch fire if I forget.”

Speaking of the end of time, you hadn’t stepped foot in the barn in what felt to be decades, too occupied with the house and town to remember that ramshackle building outside.

Of course you said yes, deciding this was a prime opportunity to not forget in the process of slipping on a sweater to help battle the cold, approaching the barely visible building.

You think you hear someone talking but choose to ignore it, pretending it was the wind or something along those lines. It’s autumn and you’re plenty far away from suburban areas, so most likely an animal lie responsible.

That was, until you pry open the barn doors.

Immediately, a stranger with cat-like features has a serrated dagger held to your throat.

Closing your eyes instinctively, you wait to feel the cold metal breaking skin, hesitantly cracking open an eye to meet the attacker’s chilling stare boring into the side of your face.

He takes a few seconds to exchanges glances with another in the dimly lit space then back to your stock-still frame. Briefly, you feel your phone get pulled from your pocket but don’t budge, worried one wrong movement would automatically have the cold metal slitting your throat.

“Walk. Make the slightest move and nobody finds your body, understood?”

Shakily, you nod, feebly inching forward before getting shoved onto the container your grandpa kept extra tools in, splinters piercing the back of your thighs.

Wonderingly, your eyes flicker to each stranger surrounding you. Counting eight in total, some taller, some shorter, you gulp, outnumbered by a large margin you’re sure would be nearly impossible trying to escape from.

Without exchanging a word, one of the shorter, more muscular men steps forward, seeming to inspect you. His rough grip finds your chin, jerking your head from side to side then up to meet his honeyed brown eyes. They’re surprisingly kind compared to his demeanor.

“She’s pretty. Might earn us a good penny if you want, Bahng. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” Cocking his brows, you swiftly rip your head out of his hand, wrinkling your nose with disgust.

A frothing dread fills your gut, and you think for a moment letting that man with the dagger kill you off would’ve been a better doom.

“Hands off, Bin. If we wanted to get a price we need her to be in good condition.” A voice from behind this so-called “Bin” responds, and you feel the overwhelming urge to hurl.

They’re talking about selling you, like you’re not even human. A pretty porcelain object available at their disposal.

Good condition? You feel sick. You can’t see the man who replied, but you doubt it’d make your gut feel any more uncomfortable.

“Aw c’mon guys,” Another voice you finally spot to your right interjects, sporting chubbier cheeks and appearing quite out of place in this group. “You’re scaring her, go easy.”

Bin scoffs. “Should she be comfortable? We’re gonna kill her anyway, Jisung. Right, Bahng?”

God. Who is this Bahng guy that’s apparently in charge and why does “Bin” want you dead so badly? Didn’t he just call you pretty, or were you blacking out?

“..Right, Bahng?”

Bin falters, backing up as the face belonging to “Bahng” ushers him to the side.

Bahng, at least in the scarce lighting, is scarily handsome. Dyed hair nearly an auburn shade, a strong jaw, and calculating, dusky brown eyes that appear equally as kind as Bin’s.

You’ve learned to not trust the deceit.

Suddenly, a thought strikes.

Any minute now your grandparents will realize how long you’ve been gone and start to worry.

Your heart drops.

No. Don’t come here, stay in the house. No no no no.

Automatically, words stumble out of your mouth.

“Please- kill me, sell me, I don’t care. My grandparents- they’re gonna come here, I can’t have them here. If they find me here I... Please.” Chest rising and falling unevenly, you continuously glance at the door.

Waiting, waiting.

“Please spare them. I don’t want them to get hurt.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t make any expression apparent on that handsome face of his. Observing.

You’re a spectacle, an interesting one at that.

“And if I spare you, what do I get in return, hm?”

You’re caught off guard.

In return? What does he mean in return?

Think. Think. What the hell could someone like him want? He has enough money, you’re sure.

Fine. Make it broad.

“Anything. Anything, I promise.” Pleading, you anxiously shuffling atop the box, swearing to have heard the sound of moving outside. Somewhere behind the two of you someone chokes a laugh. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Poking his tongue into his cheek thoughtfully, he eventually signals to the others before you’re being escorted through the back door by a not-so gentle Bin and a very much apologetic Jisung, sparing a glance back to the home you’d only seen for one day.

And if what Bin said about killing you was true, you wonder if you’ll ever see it again.

.. .

Ducking into one of the two cars parked directly behind the barn, you’re assigned the passenger seat, accompanied by Bahng who’s driving, Jisung, and a long-haired boy sitting beside him in the backseat.

They’re all strikingly beautiful opposed to the blood you’re sure has stained their hands, especially the one next to Jisung with features resembling that of a prince. Everything about him seems too elegant to do any harm. You know that’s a lie.

Mapping out your surroundings, you shuffle in the leather seat, waiting until all three men get situated to slam the door ajar and run. Second instinct, no thoughts, just survival.

You run, run and run as fast as you can while the thump of shoes echo behind you. Far away, you have to get away. Get away get away get aw— a force slams into you from behind and you go toppling down.

Gasping as the air mercilessly ripped from your lungs returns, your vision adjusts, squirming thanks to the identity keeping you still. Bahng has you trapped below him, breath labored, effortlessly intimidating.

“Let— go of me!” You yell, voice betraying the utter desperation overtaking every fiber of your being.

He holds you down, meeting your eyes without fail as you struggle and shout. Shouting and screaming so loud into the darkness in fact, that the man finally covers your mouth with a hand as you tremble, watery gaze fixated on his. Burning, venomous hatred.

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option, sweetness. So you either walk back to the car or I go through things the hard way. What will it be?”

He thumbs the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead, hand finally pulling off your mouth.

Hypocrite.

“Fuck you.” You spit, and the man’s brows lift, lips pulled into an amused smile as he wipes his cheek.

“Hard way it is.”

Instantaneously, you’re hauled over his shoulder, not straining a bit despite the incessant kicking and pounding of your fists against his shoulder.

And just to prove how much he wholeheartedly deserved that fuck you, he made sure to lock the vehicle twice right in front of your face, receiving an equally as distasteful glare through the windshield in return.

The car ride was quiet, only interrupted by him asking if the air was too cold which you responded to with the middle finger. Jisung giggled.

Wee hours of morning peer through thick clouds, the road briefly illuminated by your headlights, corn stalks for miles lining either side. A barely palpable trace of life noticeable in a church’s steeple in the distance—once stark white, now stained and evidently aged.

Looking in the mirror, you locate the other vehicle tailing, assumed to be carrying the additional boys. Considering where your lone source of communication may be hidden (a.k.a your phone), you strain trying to spot it in your peripheral.

No use. Just you and this shit-hole of a situation.

Either way, what would you even say? “Please help me I’ve been kidnapped by eight of Korea’s most wanted criminals”? Yeah, they’ll definitely believe that.

There’s a hum from the prince-like man.

“This is the perfect place for a murder,” He speaks so nonchalantly, as if he referred to the weather and not killing someone.

Chills spread along your arms.

Jisung chuckles. “You’re right, no traces at all. Either way, even if someone did find them they’d likely already be rotten.”

You’re nauseous.

“Say, do you know how long it takes for a body to rot out here?” He asks, and your dizziness keeps you from realizing he’s referring to you, stomach threatening to spill all of its contents any second now.

And they expect you to know that?

Your silence leads to Jisung earning a smack from his backseat companion, scolding him hushedly.

Bahng stays quiet, one hand holding the wheel and the other splayed on the center console. Occasionally though you’ll see his eyes flit elsewhere, or maybe it’s your imagination.

Car eventually falling mute with a few passengers sleeping, you get close to doing the same before the harsh jerk of the car stirs everyone wide awake, clutching onto their seats.

You’d swerved into a small expanse of corn, wheels crushing the crops beneath them. Instantly the three reach under their seats, instinctively grabbing out pistols and pushing open the doors slowly, bodies crouched low.

Preparing to hide to the best of your ability, a hand on your arm keeps your movement at bay, discovered to belong to Bahng.

“Just keep in mind what Jisung said, by the time anyone finds you you’ll be rotted, pretty thing.” He sends you a sickeningly sweet smile, cocking the hammer of his gun and disappearing out the door where you hear someone shout: “I fucking knew we were being followed!” Prior to the loud ricochet of bullets being fired.

You duck down in the passenger seat, attempting to be as small and forgettable as possible out of sight. That is until a gunshot strikes the side of the car, narrowly bypassing where you’re curled up on the floorboard.

An involuntary scream escapes you, and your palm clamps over your mouth, shuddering and shaking like a leaf.

It’s a natural reaction, shrinking away, too horrified to act. So when your door is violently swung open, you prepare for the worst before recognizing Bin’s face, who legitimately rips you from the seat and drags you away.

Stopping beside a minimal clearing, you observe he isn’t carrying a weapon of any kind, a factor that makes your hopes slightly plummet. Granted, it’s not that you don’t think he’d be capable of defending himself (and you), but his fists against a gun didn’t sound too promising.

Swiftly instructed to not move, he races off, effectively tackling a man to the ground and leaving a pool of blood seeping where he lay.

Except, Bin abruptly evades your vision, leaving you to notice the prince-like boy in his stead, waving his arms and yelling something you strain to recognize.

“Behind you!” He had been shouting.

Your soul fills with dread.

In an instant you brace for impact, ears picking up the whirring of an object against the wind before the crack of a bat makes contact with your attackers head. The man goes down like a sack of bricks.

Bin, holding a nail embedded baseball bat propped on his shoulder, appeared just on time.

He had a streak of blood smeared across his cheek which you guessed belonged to someone else, and his knuckles lay bruised and torn despite the massive shit-eating grin slapped on his face.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks, voice hoarse and rough despite never looking more alive. It’s terrifying.

Shaken, you give yourself a once over, hurriedly shaking your head. He barks a laugh.

Gunshots eventually dying off, the nine of you regroup, some suffering minor injuries and others standing untouched.

Among them, the dagger-wielding criminal is one of the untouched. You’re not surprised.

Jisung is cussing wildly, leg ripped up pretty bad while leant against said dagger-wielding criminal, sending his counterpart a sour glare.

“Those motherfuckin’ assholes need ‘ta learn some fuckin’ manners..” Jisung spews curses, lips pulled up in a sneer as the others help him into the bullet-embedded car.

Reversing out of the densely packed foliage, no one dares say a word the entire rest of the drive, preoccupied with going back to their interrupted sleep or blankly gazing into the night.

The destination, appearing to be a company building by its exterior (and the lack of daylight), easily averages the size of an extreme warehouse. You curve into an enormous parking garage, every other space occupied by some multimillion dollar sports car.

Upon walking inside though, you’re left in the main entrance with Jisung while the remainder slip into a separate room.

His leg is bandaged thanks to ��Jeongin”, whom, after briefly seeing them in brighter lighting, you guess is the youngest-looking one. Light hair and a smile you’re certain breaks all law-breaking guidelines.

Arrangement of chairs mimicking that of a doctor’s office, you guess the decorum is used to disguise what actually goes on here.

Clearing your throat, you debate on speaking about the question burning a hole through your skull.

“Why do you want me to live?”

Managing to haul himself backwards on a chair, Jisung shrugs.

“Why not? It’d be fun having someone other than those boneheads around.”

Typical Jisung reaction, you assume. This is the same dude bringing up murder like it’s a daily occurrence after all.

“Plus, we’re normally workin’ solo. Some circumstances forced us to work together.” He absentmindedly waved, and you bite the urge to ask about these so-called “circumstances”.

With Jisung, you can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or serious. You have a feeling asking him about it though would only lead to a response along the lines of: “Hey, it adds to the fun, right?” as if murder was a leisurely hobby.

You can’t help but feel baffled with how casually he talks about the additional men. Friends, as if they’re friends. Not like they would be, Jisung said it himself, “circumstances” pulled them together.

However, the danger they’d pose working as a team would be unreal. You didn’t even want to consider the possibility.

Goosebumps crawl upon your forearms.

"Y’know, I used to protect people like you." Han Jisung, whom you now recognized as The Arsonist, tilted his head to the side when he said that.

Strikingly beautiful, just like the others. Soft, round cheeks. Dark, soulful eyes and pursed, puffy lips.

You recall your grandmother telling you some of the prettiest flowers carry the most poison. Now it makes sense.

Blinking, you choose your words rather carefully.

This man, the one who upon first glance looks like he couldn’t harm a fly, burned down a printing firm yesterday. The same man alongside seven other notorious criminals discussing your fate.

Korea’s most wanted.

“Why’d you stop? Protecting people, I mean.” Coming out mumbled, you watch him click his tongue and change posture, not phased whatsoever.

It was a genuine question, considering whatever job he had before —if it came down to protecting— seemed to be something linked to the law. Unusual, for a criminal or his level.

“I got bored,” He yawned, lower lip jutting out.

Talk about a juxtaposition to his psychotic tendencies.

Bored. Han Jisung, The Arsonist, got bored of being a good guy.

It gave you a whole new perspective to insane.

“..You ask a bunch of questions, huh. I guess that makes sense since you might die- no! Not die- well, I’m not sure but- you’ll be fine!”

Wow Jisung. You seriously suck at convincing.

Oh how you wish your grandma would appear with her shovel right about now. Scratch that, you wish she would’ve swatted them over the head much earlier than now.

“Alright, but where will we keep her while Bahng decides on the cover up?” The seven go quiet, and if it wasn’t for the whirring of a fan overhead you would’ve guessed they were telepathically communicating, few sparing hasty glances at each other, waiting for someone to speak up.

Changbin was the one who asked, but he didn’t continue, nor even meet Bahng’s eyes despite his normal, boisterous behavior.

If there was one person they all had a running respect (and fear) of, it would be Bahng. He’d brought up the idea of working together, and he’d be the one leading in result.

Freckle Boy (the name The Hitman had came up with before learning Felix’s’ name) opens his mouth.

“I can—“

“She’ll stay with me.” Bahng interjects, and no one lifts a finger.

Changbin sees the blond’s pinched expression through his peripheral.

“But I have an extra—“

“You heard me, Felix. She stays with me,” He sternly repeats, and the younger deflates, mumbling something to himself after Hyunjin sends him a reassuring nod.

The atmosphere eased up slightly opposed to how suffocating it had been earlier, enough to where the men occupying their individual chairs took deep breaths of air they hadn’t know they’d been holding.

The door opens and they disperse in different directions while Bahng lags behind, speaking to Jeongin about something hushed.

You, on the other hand, are greeted with a rather sympathetic smile from the blond, telling you whatever they talked about wasn’t good.

From your right, Bin clears his throat, effectively giving you an unprecedented heart-attack.

“For the record, we weren’t planning to sell you.”

A grin grows on your face, taking this sweeter opportunity to pick some fun. You’re stuck here anyway, right?

“We weren’t? I think you were.”

He huffs, crossing muscular arms over his chest stubbornly. Behind him, a neighboring coffee-haired man snickers, earning Bin’s slap on the shoulder and a quiet “Yah.. Seungmin..” That completely sabotage any chance of taking him seriously.

“..I wasn’t.”

Mhm, definitely. Like the tips of his ears weren’t blood red.

The whiplash you’re getting from being treated you like a rag doll earlier becomes quite ironic.

Wasting time incessantly teasing the man, it’s not until he’s lead off by Bahng that you quiet down, awkwardly shifting your weight to either heel.

“..So?” You interrupt the silence, only given a jerk of Bahng’s head as a signal to follow. Talk about vague.

Overflowing with endless questions, he finally stops and turns to you, brows furrowed.

Attractive. My god he’s attractive.

“Would you just tell me where we’re-“You’re staying in my room for the time being.”

To say you felt shocked barely brushed the surface of your internal wasp nest, endlessly buzzing and swarming. His room? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“I mean,” He notes, looking amused now. “Unless you plan on staying in the other rooms with cameras and giving security a show then—“

“Fine.”

Sending you a smug grin, it’s hard not feeling bewildered as he rounds a corner, revealing one, the fact that he has literal guards standing on either side of the double doors, and two, that his “room” is the short story of a penthouse.

Wow.

.. .

Turning off the ignition, Changbin stuffs the keys in his pocket upon slipping inside, scrunching his nose at the sight before him.

“Fuck dude, you’re a tank.” The man groans, eyeing Chris who’s currently doing handstand push-ups on wooden parallettes.

When Chris is nowhere to be found, he’s here, hidden away in this partially abandoned gymnastics studio on the outskirts of Incheon. Small, though with all materials intact.

Occasionally teenagers would come roaming around, having heard of hauntings and gruesome murders they want to stick their noses in. It’s plausible, sure, the murder part at least.

Changbin didn’t believe in hauntings, because no horrific spirit ever dared deter him from enjoying his job, over and over. He didn’t have remorse, he didn’t feel.

Life was easier that way, without emotion driving your decisions.

In fact, he can’t recall the last time being a hitman scared him. Call it crazy, but if you think about it in terms of “eliminating those that shouldn’t be there”, he’s doing the world a favor.

He wouldn’t tell Bahng that for many reasons.

“And your mouth is still as bad as usual.” The older says through gritted teeth, slowly lowering his legs, coated in a sheen of sweat that greasily muss strands of hair.

He barks a laugh. “‘Can’t fix it.”

“That’s for sure,” Chris responds, grabbing the towel The Hitman held out with a thankful pat on the back.

Arranging the equipment back into its designated places, Changbin leans against the doorframe, brows lifted curiously.

“She’s sleeping, if you’re wondering.”

Telepathically, the man answers his unspoken question, referring to you who he imagines is prettily slumped in Chris’ bed.

Prettily. Did he say prettily?

Forget it.

Unknown to both your name and whereabouts, you begrudgingly pull the comforter closer over your head, successfully blocking the sunlight for a few more minutes of sleep. Your entire body is sore, and a numbing buzz has settled in your head, drowning out any cognitive ability to think.

Well, the extra time is amazing until your bladder decides to sabotage you.

Blindly blundering off the mattress, you idly navigate around, blinking a foggy haze from your vision.

Step, step, and then thump! You slam right into something—someone.

Finally granted a clear view, you swear your brain short-circuited.

It’s Bahng, staring down at you with a towel wrapped around his neck while water droplets cling to his skin—to his chest—that you notice is quite bare at the moment.

“Christ— Jesus—“ Slapping a hand over your eyes, you take multiple strides backwards, feet stumbling prior to hands grasping your wrists.

Easing you up right, he kindly leads your sleep-consumed form into the bathroom, big hands momentarily maneuvering your hips to the side on his way out.

Effectively stalling his movements, you silently drag him back closer to you, thumbs reaching up to smoothing his deep eye-bags.

He freezes, words he planned to say cut off.

His eyelids flutter shut in contentment, and in those tender seconds, you stand there, palms delicately cupping his cheeks, relaxing the hard lines of his face whilst steam gives the mirror a bleary cast.

Any other situation and you would’ve admitted yourself into a psych ward, but the alarm clock on his nightstand reading 7:18AM told you whatever you did next was all a lucid dream.

“You don’t sleep much.. do you?” Softly mumbling, he hums against your touch, own hand holding yours against his face.

Bahng cracks a barely there smile.

“Hard sleeping when the world’s after you,” He comments, remark laced with humorless hilarity. You can’t say you disagree.

Although, most good things—all good things—end far too quickly. Because when Changbin bursts through the door, voice choked in his throat, you hesitate your movements.

“.. Just uh, wanted to say the car’s waiting- I mean, the car’s ready for you. Yeah. Bye.” Awkwardly shuffling, he made a direct beeline for the door.

Never in your life did you expect a Hitman to be so awkward. And not just a Hitman, thee Hitman, Bin. Who, although you’d never say it to his face, definitely stuttered.

Unfortunately forced to separate, you’re handed one of his jackets once you managed to convince Bahng to let you come along.

Taking the elevator to the parking garage, an assistant who (you assume) routinely fetches the keys to an otherworldly expensive Lamborghini bows low, greeting either of you with a mandatory please-don’t-hurt-me smile.

You don’t ask where you’re headed, knowing the answer would only lead to more questions instead.

Bahng’s like that, you’ve discovered. Unpredictable to everyone but himself. Private.

Alternatively, compared to what you had imagined (something like a shed or a slaughter-house), he pulled into the gravel driveway of an old home, wooden docks on the roof sticking in strange directions, evidently battered from years of storm turmoil.

Sporting a confused expression yourself, he steps from the scissor doors, ushering you to follow suit.

A bit out of place, you decided. It’s not every day you witness a Lamborghini parked in front of a house like this.

“We’re visiting my grandmother, I visit every week.” He announces, and you could’ve seriously bet money on how uncharacteristic that move was.

This man, the man who ran disappeared at ungodly hours of night with unknown intentions, the man who killed with no remorse, was visiting his grandmother.

First Bin and now Bahng. What a wild card.

Living up to the title, Bahng couldn’t have been more opposing to his usual demeanor, shrugging off his coat and shoes at the doorway and fixing Barley tea for the short woman residing in her rocking chair.

Struggling to unzip his jacket that’s massive size engulfs your frame, you curiously explore, noting the sheer normality.

No weapons, no apparent knowledge of Bahng’s illegal activity patterning the household.

In this house, it’s just a grandmother and her grandson. Not Bahng, but Chris.

The name sounds strange on your tongue.

She wholeheartedly welcomed you in, scolding him for his prominent scars and holding hands that had unforgivable violence wedged between fingernails.

Somehow, watching him felt like betrayal. And although you doubt his grandmother would love him any less despite the gruesome reality, to know so much occurred behind the scenes made things, well, uncomfortable.

You be sure to introduce yourself, spending a good hour and a half entertaining the wrinkled woman before bidding your farewells and returning to familiar stifling tension on the drive home.

Your piling conscious suggests you say something, but you second guess yourself, ultimately garnering the courage after many failed attempts of making small talk once you both returned back to his room.

He’s wearing glasses now, and you swear you’ve never seen someone so unbearably beautiful in your life. Hell, him merely breathing has any comprehensible phrase disappearing instantaneously.

“Have you told anyone about what you do?” You start, causing him to lean over from his place on the side of the mattress, fiddling with something on the nightstand.

You crane to hear his response.

“Sometimes it’s best to lie to keep both parties happy.”

…That’s a no.

“Then, Chris, would you rather be happy living a lie or sad knowing someone’s honest truth?”

Chris.

Though his real name, the words still sound foreign, especially aloud.

He seems to have felt the same, head snapping your direction.

Grinning.

“And what do you know about lying, sweetness?”

“It’s not what I know, it’s what you want to know.” You scoot closer to him, mimicking his cocky smile. “Here’s an example, would you be happy not knowing I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, or sad hearing that I didn’t plan to tell you?”

A low chuckle.

“Did you learn the manipulation part from Minho?”

“Is it working?”

Eyes flickering back and forth from his lips to his eyes, you find yourself lingering centimeters apart, both intoxicated on each bated breath.

“A little bit,” He whispers, unwavering stare flickering to your parted lips before he pulls the glasses off his face and tilts his head to capture your lips.

You hastily climb onto the bed, fingers tangled in his tousled curls that peer from straight hair.

New, but not. As if you’ve kissed him all your life.

Working down your neck, his warm grip eases your legs apart, transitioning from kneading the flesh of your inner thighs to your ass.

“Oh— fuck.” You sigh out, delicious pressure applied right where you needed him most, stirring a deep wave of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body.

The Gunsman has you wrapped around his finger. A man whose power owns guards that stand in front of his seemingly normal door, a man whose power leaves you helplessly entangled in his every move, neck accessorized in his love bites.

Its wrong. Everything is hopelessly wrong.

You can’t get enough.

.. .

Index dragging across the fabric of sheets, your attention bursts alive, body jarring in a hold, someone else’s hold.

Bahng’s hold.

His head is tucked into your neck, arms hugging your bare back against his equally bare body. Bahng feels like comfort, home.

You never thought you’d be referring to a criminal when you said that.

Adjusting, you manage to roll over, admiring his ever kissable lips puckered in a pout, bed-hair forming strange shapes in the side of his pillow before mesmerizing brown eyes begin fluttering open.

Quickly rolling back around, you attempt at pretending to be asleep to no avail, because Bahng buries his face closer to the nape of your neck, sighing a lengthy groan.

Hands exploring you absentmindedly, he ensures to squeeze your chest at least once, otherwise keeping a tender touch settled on your tummy.

“G’morning…” He grumbles hoarsely, barely awake prior to his phone buzzing on the nightstand and his hushed “fuck” earning a giggle from you.

Caller ID: Hwang Hyunjin, the screen reads.

Without even a proper warning, he’s simultaneously thrown into a shark tank the moment the call’s accepted.

So long for the morning afterglow.

“It’s ready,” The Physic utters, and the soft fizzing of chemicals in the background do nothing to cease his foaming pit of guilt.

Grateful you couldn’t see the tight-lipped expression he burns the wall with, he grimaces, sparing you a longing glance.

So peaceful, so beautiful.

This world truly is cruel.

Rising to his feet, he throws on a white button-up, adorned by one of the many black trench coats lining his closet. Discreet, convenient.

Reminding you to stay in bed till he gets back, he finds his footsteps faltering on the way down to the lab.

Bahng, Christopher Bahng, The Gunsman, is nervous.

You’ve really done something to him.

Although, before he can make a move Felix pries the door ajar, and from how he furiously chews his bottom lip immediately answers Chris’ question.

The final part of their cover-up? Getting you back.

Because everyone, including himself, knew he’d fall in love. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t, wouldn’t dare put you through that.

Wafting fumes invade his nostrils entering (essentially) Hyunjin’s lair, multiple cloths layered in a clear box.

“Chloroform, I messed with it a bit. It’s not concentrated enough to be lethal. It’ll just put her out for a little bit.” He pats the top of the box, tugging medical gloves off ringed fingers.

From across the room, Chris can feel eyes on him.

“And how do you know if it won’t kill her?” The person asks, Changbin asks, critiquing gaze fixated on Chris despite regarding Hyunjin.

“Because I tested it? Since when did you care?” Moodily, The Physic cross his arms.

“Since now.”

“Why? Weren’t you the one who wanted to sell her?”

Chris can smell the uprising tension from a mile away.

“Because I’m allowed to care about someone! Am I not, your fucking highness?” Changbin shouts, but hidden by Hyunjin’s irked facade, Chris notices the slight tug of his lips, the peeking amusement.

Turns out Chris wasn’t the only one falling.

What a twist of events.

Interrupting their face-off, he hoists the moderately heavy box up, curtly nodding to Hyunjin.

Maneuvering around the warehouse back toward your room, he fastens a mask onto his face, spreading a few separate cloths into a smaller container.

Felix and Hyunjin’s doing, Chloroform cloths.

There were a few recommendations. Minho suggested knocking you out and going about, Seungmin with the grand idea of blackmailing you into leaving, and Jisung who wanted to keep you here.

Chloroform it was.

Returning to his bedroom, he finds himself understanding Changbin’s anger the longer he watches you, drifted back asleep, angel-like.

Fuck.

This hurts.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he delicately caresses the skin of your cheek, squinting to marvel, to study. The way your eyebrows furrow, exhaling a big breath. Infatuating.

“Can I take you to my favorite place?” He inquires, and you dazedly roll around, small frown gracing oh so tempting lips, swollen from the night before.

“Your favorite place..?”

Even your voice is infatuating. Dreamy.

Chris hums his reply.

Lifting yourself up, you agree, letting him take care of you, brush your teeth for you, undress you. Things oddly mundane for a person like him to want to do, but oddly sweet all the same.

Not sexual, but intimate. Dearly, dearly intimate.

The drive winds along backroads, slowing to take a right down a barren, rocky road situated between countless trees. In the distance you make out the faint glow of light, a clearing.

Upon breaching the forest, your expectations are instantly blown away.

Sundown, evidence of how long you’d slept (and how long Chris had kept you up), gloriously paints the sky dazzling hues.

No picture could encompass this view.

Putting the car into park, you perch on the hood, legs aimlessly swinging, breeze idly passing by.

Admire.

“I asked Jisung, but now I wanna hear it from you.”

He stays quiet.

“Why did you want me to live?” You mischievously pique, fingers drumming.

Bahng approaches nearer, turning to stand between your legs where you sit.

“I like you,” He nonchalantly responds, and the overwhelming need to push him further, dance over that thin line becomes irresistible.

“Only ‘like’ me?”

Licking his lips, he unexpectedly tilts your head to meet him. Tender, gentle.

Your heart hurts. Because unlike previously, this kiss feels regretful, feels sad.

Your arms, once clutching onto that trademark trenchcoat, wrap around his neck, his finding purchase upon your hips.

Yet, you could tell it wasn’t greed driving him. Your earlier ravenous desire, your lust, was gone.

Instead, he was carving you into his memories, starting with his lips. He’d already done so with his hands, with his body the night before.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, and before you could ask any questions he forces your attention back to his eyes, swimming with an emotion you didn’t know Chris could exhibit.

Hurt.

Inexplicable hurt overwhelm that stare. Creases his always-taut brows.

“Just trust me, please.”

Please.

“Chris,” You hesitate.

There’s been that gnawing sensation ever since getting roped into this circus. Because this was only temporary, undoubtedly headed to an inexplicable conclusion.

You wonder if perhaps this is your end, your end with Bahng, with Chris.

Someone you’ve fallen in love with. So, so fucking hard.

And from the way he’s looking at you, it looks like he has too.

But you trust him. You trust him more than you had ever trusted anyone before, and so you nod.

“Chris, I love..”

Your volume dissolves upon the cloth being held to your face, eyes rolling back into your head as you fall limp into his arms, fingertips still touching his skin.

“..Love ….you.”

He kisses you once more, slower this time, cradling you in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, I love you.”

Speaking softly to avoid his pain betraying him, Bahng carefully situates you into the passenger seat, ignoring the drone of the engine from how rapidly the speedometer climbs. Numb to anything, everything.

The Aventador’s screen alights with a call.

“What,” He rasps, gleaming traffic lights casting red and green shadows across the car’s black interior.

“Is she...?” Felix asks, and Chris eases slightly. Subtle shuffling in the background reveals the others presence, awaiting the bottom line.

“Yeah.”

The freckled boy hums in response, dejection apparent.

Nevertheless, not a peep sounds, unusual for the usually rowdy crowd. Chris can tell some of them walk away, some staying.

Corn stalks ghosting past signify his location.

He hangs up.

He’ll apologize later.

.. .

Waking up inside your grandparents house feels like a fever dream, like your body isn’t your own and when you open your eyes you’ll still be snuggled into Chris’s arms.

But you aren’t, and you’re also violently kicked out of that fantastical daydream when your grandmother shows up, all smiles, no “I’m so relieved to see you’re safe” or “where did you go?” apparent on any of her features.

“Why, you never told me you had a boyfriend!” She smacks your arm and you flinch back, wearing an expression only comprehensible as puzzlement.

Perhaps Chris payed them? Bought their silence and hid from the law in return?

But that’s not your grandparents. They wouldn’t keep their mouths shut about something like this.

So what the hell did he do?

“The handsome young man who drove you here from the airport!” Waddling over to point an accusing finger at the doorway, your head frantically snaps in every direction.

Your suitcases are zipped up, and no evidence of you ever even arriving here shows around the room.

That is until you notice your phone has miraculously returned on your nightstand.

Immediately swiping to scroll through messages, your thumb stops, lingering over a message from an unknown number.

Pausing, you click.

Don’t come looking for me, but if you need me, text this number.

You would’ve found the text eerily creepy if you didn’t have an idea of who sent it.

You do.

Because there’s no one else that says ‘don’t come looking for me’ and ‘if you need me’ in the same sentence other than him.

Bahng.

FIC TAGLIST. @lizzetmv @skzhoes @fylithia @sunshineshouyo @stayconnecteed @starlost-andfound @seo--changbin @lynlyndoll @browniesandsunshine @stay278 @surefornext @pororolifeblog @httpsjuno @d7n3

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