#even tho they could just listen to me and then reassure me once and then never think about it again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dkfile · 1 year

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gold rush

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

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

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

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

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

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

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

You scowl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

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

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

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

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

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

Memories of what once was linger.

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

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

You feel him before you hear him.

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

“I thought they told you.”

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

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

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s hot,” he argues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I believe in you,” he declares.

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

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

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

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

Mingyu hums hopefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ditching what?”

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

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

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

“Are you calling me stupid?”

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

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

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

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

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

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

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

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

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

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

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

You pout. “I doubt it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

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

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Why?”

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

Should you be worried?

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

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

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

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

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

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

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

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

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

“It is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you know him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums. “No promises.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

Are you sure this is okay?

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

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

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

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

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

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

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

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“You’re uncomfortable.”

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant.”

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

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

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu—”

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

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

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

He nods. “Better late than never.”

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

It’s cold.

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

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

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sure.”

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

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

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

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

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

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

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

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

“What are you, five?”

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

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

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

“Wait, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

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

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

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

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

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

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

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

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

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

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

Prick.

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

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

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

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

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

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

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

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

Everything is normal.

(But…)

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

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

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

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

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

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

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

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

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

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

“I hate you.”

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

“You said you liked that apron!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything will be fine.

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

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

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

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

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

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

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

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

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

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

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

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

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

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

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, what did you do now?”

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

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

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

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

“What?”

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

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

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

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

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

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

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

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

“Y/N could go with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think you might strangle them.

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

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

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

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

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

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

You sigh. “Hao—”

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

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

Silence. You rub your temples.

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

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

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

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

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

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

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

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

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

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

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

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

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

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

“Something’s wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two sit in the shade, watching.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You lied to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s exhausting.

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

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

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

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

Who is he to get in the way of that?

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

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

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

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

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

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

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

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

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

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

“You listen to me, because—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Closure really would be nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen, I—”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was lying to you.”

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

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

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

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minghao nods in agreement.

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you say.

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

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

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

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

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

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

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

“Thank you,” he says.

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

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

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

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

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

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

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

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

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

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

“I wanted to.”

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

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

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

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

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

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

And he would win, you think.

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

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

He smiles. “No reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

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

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Then who was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

“Next, please!”

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

“Mingyu—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

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

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

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

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

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

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

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

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

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

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

“Hiding.”

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

“You love me.”

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

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

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

“I think so, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

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

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

“But—”

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

“…What?”

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

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

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

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

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

Four.

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

Three.

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

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

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

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

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

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

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

(Other things don’t).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

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

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

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

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

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

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

“Well… no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Why are you asking?��

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

You frown. “Say what—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry?”

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

His lips part. “What do you—?”

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

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He used to pray for this.

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

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

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

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu,” you whine.

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

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

You sigh. “You promise?”

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

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

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

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

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sharkorok · 1 year

Text

heeseung w/ an inexperienced s/o

cw/genre: this is fluff!!! fluff!!, headcanon format, cursing, fboi au, campus au ig…(?), like one dirty joke or whatnot teeheehoohoo, informal writing, that should be it (I think)

requested: X

a/n: this grown man has me so delulu so take this 😋

•-•-•-•

-u are well known for being notoriously bad at expressing affection or being in relationships

-you can’t do casual relationships this man once said “hey baby” and you were like “so I think we should lowk end things cuz why u calling me bby…kinda weird dawg…”

-UR JUST SO AWKWARDDDD ITS EMBARRASSING (I’ll write ur character development soon dw)

-anyways so you go to a party and you see heeseung who is notorious for being the craziest charmer ever like he could see an acorn on the ground and seduce it

-he strikes up conversation with you to see what the fuss is all about, he saw a person once talk about how ur so hot w a cold heart but he immediately realized you’re just awkward skssksksks

-he realizes he literally fell in love with you the second he tried to flirt and you were just …? while laughing awkwardly

-so after a month of you flitting around his charming gestures, looking down shyly or avoiding eye contact when he tries to rizz u up, he gets the courage to just straight up ask, “do you like me?”

-and when you explain that u don’t rlly know and u don’t really get into relationships he’s like OKKK LETS TRY THEN!! because he’s so madly in lov w you cuz ur so cute to him

-ok so boom dating!

-he purposely pushes your buttons to see just how much you can squirm, watching you stammer when he has you pressed against a wall gives him a power trip he didn’t think anyone could be this adorable

-and also u as a person…he’s so in love (dreamily)

-no one understands your relationship like, “how does y/n survive heeseung they can’t even say the word baby without cringing”

-ur not innocent or anything ur just new to affection and stuff so it freaks u out a little!!

-he always asks about boundaries before hand or makes sure you’re comfortable when you two are hanging out. the first time you two were cuddling he would ask every now and then if you were alright

-“you just make me nervous, hee” “don’t be nervous baby, it’s just me.”

-you didn’t realize how nice it felt to be loved within your comfort zone, and how nice it was to have someone hold your hand when it was pushed a little

-he’s gonna tease u tho sorry “loser virgin s/o and popular fboi boyfriend what wattpad story are we coming from”

-defends you to death if anyone criticizes the way you two date, he’s happy with you and if anyone tries to say otherwise he’s all up for arguing with them in a parking lot (￣▽￣)

-he loves you so so much and he dgaf about how slow he has to take it!!

-he takes you on lots of different dates to see what you like and what you don’t like, slowly initiates PDA to see if you’re okay w it or what freaks you out, he’s okay w taking the lead

-got him proud when you explain yourself tho, it means he’s doing a good job as your boyfriend if you’re comfortable explaining your boundaries and understanding them!! (in the least patronizing way possible)

-one time you two were making out and you put your hands on his chest, looking up at him and shaking your head, “I don’t think I want to continue yet.”

-and like a good boyfriend he is he reassured you he dgaf and that you two can just cuddle on the couch for the rest of the night or he could sit five feet away from you and not speak!!! whatever you say he listens bae

-never pushes you for affection, it pisses him off when people say the relationship is one sided, he doesn’t get insecure about whether or not you love him dw

-you say “I love you” every now and again later in your relationship to reassure him just in case tho, which is always super special to him and makes him fly over the moon *bawls eyes out*

-I did not mean for this to be this long ok anyways he’s yours and he knows it and your his and he knows that too <3

#enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fluff #lee heeseung imagines

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endless-weightless · 18 days

Text

Ford Pines x GN!reader headcanons!

I'm surprised it took me this long to get into Gravity Falls. Anyways this has both SFW and NSFW so beware. There's also a brief mention of being AFAB as a possibility but other than that it's completely gender neutral (I'm 99% sure, I didn't proofread too well lol).

SFW

Right off the bat, I’m saying he’s autistic because so am I and I said so.

If you’re someone who needs reassurance or is generally anxious/paranoid about anything he’ll go into long (often scientific) explanations to ease your mind and also throw in some fun facts.

Both a listener and a yapper. He loves nothing more than the sound of your voice but also loves being able to spout all sorts of things about his research and interests while you stare at him lovingly.

Can’t sleep unless you’re next to him. You don’t even need to be cuddling, your presence is just the one thing he needs to fall asleep.

That being said, he will NEVER pass up an opportunity to cuddle. Watching a movie? Cuddling. Working at his desk in the lab? Cuddling on his lap. Cooking something in the kitchen? He’s got his arms wrapped around you as he presses loving kisses into your temple.

He rarely swears, but when he does it always makes you do a double-take (and maybe giggle because it sounds so odd coming from him).

Probably tried weed once or twice in the '70s and was somewhat part of the psychedelic rock scene. Stan has some old photos of him during that time somewhere but Ford is absolutely mortified by the idea of you seeing him in bell-bottom jeans.

It doesn’t matter how long you two have been together, every time he sees you he feels the same as he did the day you two met. Ford will never stop becoming flustered at the sight of you.

Post-Weirdmaggedon he became very anxious at the thought of you being out alone or not being near him. He feels like he needs to be on guard at all times so that he can protect you. He eventually calms down after some reassurance from you and a fuck ton of therapy.

While he lacks some emotional intelligence he’s actually very attentive and knows exactly what you need when you’re upfront about your feelings. As long as you’re not vague and communicate, he knows what to do to help you.

Adding onto that, I think he briefly studied psychology in college so he’d have a pretty good understanding of any mental health issues you might have.

Said “No more Mr Nice Guy” one time and hasn’t heard the end of it from anyone.

NSFW

Has to stop himself from cumming too quickly when you tell him how good he’s making you feel. Stroking his ego (and other things) is the best way to get him horny.

Will always ask you for consent no matter what it is. You could be mid-fuck and he’d still ask if he could put his hands on your hips.

This is just my personal headcanon but I believe while he didn’t really have too much experience before he got stuck on the other side of the portal (probably hooked up with Fiddleford once or twice tho), I fully believe that after a few years of dimension-hopping, he would’ve had a few one-night stands (mans gotta blow off some steam). So when he gets the chance to fuck you, a real human from his dimension, he’s more than ecstatic, especially since he’s picked up more than a few tricks over the past thirty years.

Knows how to use all twelve of his fingers.

Since Ford was sucked into the portal in the early ’80s and spent thirty years in there, he’s super confused when you mention shaving down there or being embarrassed about your body hair (if you do either) since the last time he was around everyone preferred going all natural.

This one’s less sexy but I’m putting it here anyways. He avoided taking off his shirt for ages since he didn’t want you to see all the scars he’d gotten over the years or any of the tattoos related to the things he did in the portal, especially the ones related to Bill. Surprisingly not as insecure about his “Flirty Gal” tramp stamp.

Doesn’t understand that he’s ridiculously hot.

You jokingly said “Yes sir” one time and he got hard so quickly.

Although he does rather enjoy you taking the lead.

Loves experimenting with cock warming and edging. Literally. He’ll time the both of you and have everything written down somewhere and draw a graph with extra info like if you’re someone with a menstrual cycle and how that affects the results.

#gravity falls #x reader #fanfiction #stanford pines #ford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #smut #headcanons

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

Here’s ya girl who has gone completely feral over astarion. He’s the babiest baby. Okay, here’s the prompt. My characterisation could be a bit (or a lot lol) off bc I haven’t played the game Y E T so feel free to change the things that seem OOC.

Established relationship, but the beginnings of it, on a mission to find a way for astarion to be in the sun again. Reader has given astarion time to work on his sexual trauma so they haven’t been having sex for some time. Reader is 100% ok w that. But they have a big argument over something (not related to sex) and astarion doesn’t know how to resolve the situation other than reverting back to his seductive artifice and using sex as a way to ensure his safety (in this case, emotional safety). Reader figures it out because they (or she) are not dumb. They reassure astarion and he lets himself be vulnerable but also, it turns out that astarion wants that sexual intimacy. But reader decides this will be all about astarion and making him feel good and loved. Body worship, astarion’s praise kink, just everything focused on astarion’s pleasure in a way he has never experienced and that makes him completely unravel once he comes. Not a subby reader, tho. You know me, I don’t do subby.

If this is too long of a prompt, just the sexy part will be ok. Thank you so much, i have such astarion brainrot DDDD:

I Want to Live

word count: 1700

gn!reader x Astarion | Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic | 18+ only

"I don't think we should use the tadpoles for anything, Astarion." You put your hands on your hips, glaring at the sulky Elf in front of you.

This tense conversation between the two of you had gone on far longer than you'd have liked. Astarion seemed insistent on using whatever advantage the Illithids had unintentionally given your party. Despite not yet knowing the implications of doing so.

Astarion's silver hair glinted in the firelight that warmed your back, his eyes shone like droplets of blood. "You might as well leave me alone, spoilsport." He waved an imperious hand in your direction, sneering at you in the way he knew would hurt you most. "Since you insist on being boring and unimaginative."

You ground your teeth. "I'm trying to keep us safe."

"And a fine job you're doing, my sweet." His lilting voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you ask Arabella how her parents are doing?" He paused, then feigned surprise. "Oh wait..."

Your eyes widened as a jolt of genuine pain lanced through your heart at his callous words. Astarion was aiming to do damage and, like always, he knew how to push your buttons.

Magic sparked at the end of your fingertips as you fought to control your rage. It was the lack of verbal response that alerted Astarion to the fact he might have pushed a little too far with you. His face almost looked regretful for a moment, or perhaps it was a trick of the firelight casting shadows across his features. You didn't gain much insight because of the tears blurring your vision as you quickly turned away and strode as far away from the vampire spawn as you could.

Shadowheart, who always seemed to overhear everything, cast a worried glance your direction before leveling a glare on Astarion who still watched after you with a blank look.

You sat yourself upon your bedroll before the campfire and listened to Volo squeakily tune his lute. Wyll and Gale were over by their tents chatting and Lae'zel sat on a boulder by the river sharpening her sword.

You had thought Astarion would understand and perhaps even agree with you, and the rest of the camp for that matter, that the parasites should not be utilized to gain control of other beings. It was convenient and downright useful, yes...but not worth an unknown cost.

You had thought...since that night when the two of you had become intimate...that he'd maybe come to care for you. But that jab about Arabella's parents, who you'd failed to save, only confirmed that the vampire did not have your best interests at heart.

Sighing, you moved your bedroll away from its usual place beside Astarion's and arranged it next to where Karlach slept. You could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching you move about but you didn't much care at the moment.

Karlach gave you a curious and concerned look as she came over and got comfortable for the night. "Are you alright? I could hear you and Astarion going at it...and not in the fun way."

You grunted and moved your body to the side so you could scrape out a rock that had been digging into your back. "It's fine. He's just an ass." You said these words loud enough for him to hear.

Karlach shrugged and nodded as if this were common knowledge. She gave you a jolting pat on the back before getting comfortable in her own bedroll.

As the breathing patterns of your companions slowly deepened in slumber, you could not find any rest. You tossed and turned as best you could in such primitive sleeping arrangements. You missed your bed back in Baldur's Gate above the taproom of the Shadowcat Claw, the familiar bustle of voices and a mug of ale in your belly lulling you to sleep. Out in this wilderness, with the thought of your argument with Astarion tugging at your thoughts...you had to get up.

As quietly as you could, you slid out of your bedroll and got to your feet. A quick observation of your companions told you they were all in a deep sleep. All except Lae'zel who sat on the boulder still, keeping silent watch. She nodded at you curtly as you passed and didn't ask any questions, for which you were grateful.

You crept through the foliage down to the place in the forest by the river where you and Astarion had had your midnight tryst. You could still feel his moonlight hair running through your fingers, his fangs on your neck as you arched it just for him. The trust...you thought you had at least earned a little bit of his trust.

"I thought I'd find you here." His voice was velvet, it shivered straight through your defenses to your heart.

"I wanted to be alone, Astarion." You tried to keep your own voice cool and collected, but you ached to hold him in your arms again.

Astarion had followed you from the campsite into the woods. He'd been fully aware of your restlessness, of course he had. He entered your line of sight now, looking very much like a cat stalking its prey. His ruby eyes were dark and trained on your face. "Come now, you're far too obvious for all this bluster. Do you not want to feel me again?" He gave you a crooked smile, showing his teeth. "A second taste, perhaps?"

You felt the hollowness of his words and saw the carefully arranged expression he wore like a mask. Beneath the facade you could make out the telltale twitch of a facial muscle, the tenseness of his eyes, indicating anxiety.

You sighed. "I thought we were passed these games."

"Games?" Astarion's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Games are all part of the fun, my dear. So good at getting the blood pumping."

You folded your arms. "I want an apology."

This tripped him up. For a moment the facade slipped, and he seemed genuinely taken aback. "Apologize?" Then he was back to his usual bluster. "Me? Apologize for what?"

"For having a go at me today. Bringing up Arabella's parents when you know how upset I am about it." Astarion made a noise as if to speak but you cut across him. "That was cruel, Astarion, and I deserve better from you."

"I didn't..." Astarion sighs heavily, his eyes glancing down to the ground then back at your face. "I apologize." The words seemed to pain him in some way. "I wanted to get a rise out of you, that's all. Now let's forget about that and have some fun."

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, saying nothing, simply watching his face lit in the silver moonlight. His unconvincing grin slowly slipped off his face, a troubled frown replacing it. The two of you looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, you spoke.

"You're testing how much I care for you, aren't you?" Your voice was soft, almost inaudible over the rippling stream.

Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback, he seemed to consider taking shelter once more behind his mask of pompous indifference. But then his shoulder's slumped slightly, the fists at his sides loosened. That was all the answer you needed.

You stepped forward and placed your hands around his, tugging him closer. He did not resist, his footfalls light as ever as he drew near. Close enough to feel his breath warm your lips.

"I care about you, Astarion." Your voice was still soft amidst the rustling leaves and sparkling water. "I discourage you from using the tadpole's powers because I couldn't bear to see your will overtaken by yet another monster."

Astarion was silent for a long time, his scarlet eyes turned silver as a moonbeam fell across his pallid face. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. "What if it's too late for me? To be anything other than a monster? My only choice is which one." He laughs forcefully, bitterness twisting his mouth.

"I won't let that happen." You encircled him tenderly in a hug, pulling him to rest flush against your body. "We're in this...together."

"Together." The word was echoed back to you, his voice framing the syllables as if it were a foreign tongue.

You turned your face into him and kissed his neck softly, feeling his body tense in your arms and then slowly relax. You kept your lips against his skin, over where Cazador had sunk his fangs all those centuries ago.

Astarion's hands slowly slid up your hips to rest against your lower back as he held you close. Your lips caressed his neck, throat and trailed up to his jaw until you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you." You murmured.

You felt him tense again, not pushing you away, but his hands tightened on your back. "I..." Astarion hesitated. "I'm not quite ready to say those words back to you, my dear."

"I know." You felt no anger, no hurt. You accepted him however he wished to come to you, grateful for this rare moment of vulnerability beneath the stars.

You pushed him back gently until his back made contact with the base of a large sycamore tree. A huff of air left his lungs, quickly claimed by your mouth as you kissed him hungrily this time. Your hands made quick work of his clothing and Astarion became eager to help the process along.

"Vixen." He murmured and you laughed against his lips, your tongues teasing each other.

"You're beautiful, Astarion." You held his face in your hands and kissed his mouth lightly, not allowing him to turn away even as the compliment made his eyes search yours for hints of disingenuity. "I want nothing from you in return." You said firmly, reading his emotional turmoil through your shared Illithid connection. "This is just for you." You kissed his mouth, his cheek, his forehead. "To keep."

Astarion's head fell back to rest against the tree trunk as you continued lavishing affection upon him. He moaned your name softly to the night sky as you slowly sunk to your knees before him, the dirt and rocks digging unheeded against your knees. His fingers twisted in your hair and guided you to where he wanted you most.

"Good, my love." You praised him, your words causing his body to shake with increasing pleasure. "Show me."

The night was long and full of bliss. A genuine exchange of pleasure, without the previous facades and plays at affection. You felt the change as surely as he did, and when the others awoke in the morning it was to find your bedroll pulled back right next to where Astarion lay curled against you.

"You owe me five gold, Shadowheart." Gale mumbled.

#baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #gale bg3 #shadowheart #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x tav #karlach #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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exoticbvnni · 4 months

Text

I’m not the one you should be mad at | J.Y.

Jeong Yunho x fem!reader

Summary:your ex boyfriend fooled you once again,however Yunho will take care of it

Warnings:break up,angst,fingering,prise kink,unprotected sex (don’t do it guys!),smut

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You stepped into Yunho’s apartment,slamming the door before throwing your jacket on his couch:you were on the edge of tears.

You felt so stupid for coming back to your ex again,no matter how badly he had treated you while dating,and no matter how many times he had simply used you even after breaking up.

“Already back? I thought you would’ve spent the rest of the night at his place” Yunho stepped in the living room; as you could tell by his wet hair,the clean black shirt and the new gym trousers he was wearing, he had just taken a shower.

“I’m done with him!” you exclaimed,mad,walking to the kitchen in order to pour yourself a glass of water.

You tried to fight back the urge to cry,however tears started streaming down your face as soon as you opened the fridge. What a crybaby, you thought,but you deserved it for being such an idiot.

“You said the same thing last week,and the week before,and the one before…” Yunho spoke,resting his back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m serious this time!” you exclaimed,walking towards him. The height difference showing as soon as only a few inches distanced the two of you.

The brunette giggled,shaking his head:

“I’ve already heard that. I don’t believe you”

“I said that I’m serious now! Look at me!” you pointed at your tears.

Yunho stared at you,his eyes were cold:

“Whatever… -the brunette mumbled,walking past you to go to his room-the fridge is empty,if you wanna sleep over order dinner for yourself. I’ve already ordered pizza for me” he explained,disappearing.

“Fuck you and your damn pizza! -you exclaimed,sitting on the couch-thank you for being an asshole today…” you then whispered to yourself,sobbing hard.

You sat there crying for thirty minutes,eyes lost wandering from an undefined point of the floor to another, and a hand holding onto you phone as if you were thinking about what to have for dinner when your mind was just empty.

Why did you believe to your ex again? Why you didn’t expect him to call you only for sex and not to give your relationship a second chance? He didn’t care about you anymore,you had turned into his little toy,so why would you bother to listen to him? He had been playing with you for six months now,yet you would always come back to him.

Why were you so stupid? Still so in love? And why was Yunho so cold? Why wasn’t he comforting you like he had always done? Why wasn’t he hugging you? Wiping your tears away? Why wasn’t he reassuring you? Was he mad at you? Was he just mad in general?

You grabbed a pillow, throwing it to the ground as you yelled, angry. You needed to let it go…to make sure that Yunho was listening to you, so he could come and give you the comfort you were seeking. It didn’t happen,tho.

“Don’t yell,my neighbour will complain” he spoke coldly,appearing on the entrance of the living room. He rested a shoulder against the door frame and slid his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“What’s your fucking problem?” you growled,getting up from the couch just to walk towards the boy.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded

“Why are you acting like a prick?” fire was burning in your eyes,but Yunho didn’t react.

“Like a prick? I’m not the one you should be mad at” he shrugged his shoulders, ready to walk away when you grabbed his forearm:

“Tell me what’s your fucking problem!” you screamed again,tears still rolling down your cheeks

“What’s your problem if anything! -he yelled back,recomposing himself immediately after- you’re just frustrated because I’m not running to save you. That’s why you’re throwing a tantrum” he shrugged your hand off,but you held on.

“I’ve been fucking played and you’re making it worse!”

“Yes! You’ve been fucking played,congrats on waking up after six months y/n! What am I supposed to do,uh? Wipe your tears,tell you that it’s not your fault and that everything will get better just to get laid in my fucking bed? That shit is over!

I tried Y/n, I tried so hard to stay by your side when you needed it, I tried so hard to become something more than your post-break-up fuck buddy. I accepted to have sex with you,gaslighting myself into believing that maybe,maybe if I held on and took care of your wounds you would’ve seen me in a different light; but it didn’t happen. All you cared about was that fucking idiot. I won’t be here wiping your tears again after you brought this on yourself, running to him anytime he was horny and needy. I’m tired -he pushed you away- get home. I changed my mind,I won’t allow you to sleep here tonight. I need to be alone”

“You need to be alone?! Fucking narcissistic, I’m devastated and all you can think about is yourself?!“ you were getting more and more mad

“Narcissistic?! You are a narcissistic! Have you ever thought about how I could feel? Have you ever thought about how much energy I put into this just to get nothing in return?”

“You can’t expect people to fall in love with you just because you help them,how sick is that logic?!” your hands were wandering in the air, there was no control in your movements as you were blinded by pain and anger

“I did not expect you to fall in love with me..but to get at least a thank you,hell if I did;but no,no,you couldn’t say thank you,you couldn’t percieve me as an actual person,you were so busy thinking about that idiot that all I was seen as was just a damn rebound!” Yunho walked closer,making you step back,hitting the couch.

“I never considered you a rebound” you justified yourself,holding onto the backrest of the sofa.

“Your actions said otherwise -he bit back,staring into your soul- and I’m over”

From his eyes,you could see how painful it had been for him,how hurt,and angry,he was right now.

Maybe he was right:maybe you did act like he was a rebound,the one you wanted to run to only when you needed someone to put the pieces of your heart together;but you had never been aware of it.

“I don’t want you to be over” you spoke,holding onto the cloth of his shirt.

You were stuck between the couch and his body,with his warm breath caressing your cold skin.

“Why? -the brunette paused- Cuz you want an unconditional emotional support? Or -he pushed his lower abdomen against yours- or because you need me to make you moan out loud?”.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as the two of you stared into each other’s eyes for an eternity of seconds.

“Answer me” Yunho mumbled

You didn’t say a word

“Answer me!” he repeated himself

Still nothing.

“I hate you” he then mumbled, almost broken

“Me too” you replied,smashing your lips against his.

He was right:you did need him…but,after all,he needed you as well.

A moan of yours filled the air as soon as Yunho’s strong hands rested on your hips,moving your body from the couch to the wall,pushing your back against the cold surface as his lips sucked yours; his tongue twirling in your pretty mouth.

You grabbed the cloth of his shirt,stripping him out of it by lifting it up from the back.

Without breaking the kiss,your hands wander along his torso,feeling his muscles tensing at every movement.

Again,Yunho grabbed you by your hips,this time just to lead you to his bedroom and push you on his bad.

“I don’t wanna see you ever again after tonight” he whispered,kissing your neck;his hand was already wandering in between your thighs.

You didn’t answer, you just dragged him closer,stroking your lower abdomen against his as he moaned in your neck,biting his favourite spot:the skin upon your right collarbone.

Yunho’s hand went up your torso,getting rid of your top to leave you in your white bra and white skirt:

“My favourite colour” he commented,starting to suck your shoulder immediately after.

Again,the hand on your torso went up,squeezing your breast,stroking the cloth of your lingerie while he couldn’t stop grinding his crotch against your panties.

“Stop teasing” you panted,unbuckling his belt. You weren’t sure of what you were doing since your head was thrown back and your mind was foggy.

Yunho smirked and laughed, moving your hand away to get undressed on his own:

“Sometimes I wonder if your ex had ever gotten you so worked up in such a short time” he bit his lips,freeing your body from his grip for a second just to take off his gym trousers.

“Yunho…” you mewled,holding onto the sheets as you were already missing his touch.

“He didn’t,did he? Or you wouldn’t have fucked with me so often when he used to call you for that” he spoke again,going back to suck on your neck,which was now covered in purple marks.

“Yunho…Yunho…” you repeated his name as a mantra while he unbuttoned the strap of your bra to let it fall down the bad.

“What do you want darling? Speak up” he groaned,kissing your chest,right between your breast,before twirling his tongue around your nipple and then lick your tummy.

“Your fingers…please” you slid your hand down your body,under your skirt,realising how wet you already were.

Yunho was right:for how much you loved your ex,he had never gotten you so worked up. You had always had to do that on your own,focused on the idea to please him instead of creating a mutual relationship.

“I know angel, I know you love it” he whispered,going more and more down on you,until his lips started kissing your inner thigh, close to your wetness.

“Yunho…” you cried again, head still thrown back.

The boy stroked his knuckles against the cloth of your panties,moving it aside before sliding a finger inside you.

You moaned out loud,holding onto his shoulders to release the tension pleasure had rose in your body.

“Fuck” you whined,music to Yunho’s ear.

The boy lifted his head,admiring your red,flushed cheeks and your slightly open mouth. He knew you were feeling good,but he also knew that you wanted more:he knew you,he knew how eager you were for his fingers; that was why he decided to slid in another one,making you moan louder.

“Fuck,fuck!” you cried again,coming undone on Yunho’s hand.

The brunette smirked,licking his fingers,kissing your lips.

“Good girl -he moved to the angle of your mouth,leaving another kiss also in that spot- do you think you can hold on a little longer?” he asked,sure that you would’ve said yes,as always. However,this time,you got so high that you could barely talk.

“Y/n?” Yunho called you,worried as he gently stroked you cheek,waiting for you to stop panting and open your eyes:

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” he asked,worried,but you shook your head.

“Are you sure?” he asked again,you nodded

“You didn’t-you didn’t come yet” you whispered

“I won’t keep on if, today, you can’t handle it” he moved a few strands of sweaty hair away from your face;you shook your head again,kissing him.

“Don’t stop,please” you whispered,stroking your hips against his.

Immediately, the light in Yunho’s eyes changed as the boy started sucking your skin one more time,making you moan,going down and down until his tongue met your intimacy.

“Yes,please,I need you!” you mumbled,bucking yourself against him

“Stay still angel,I can’t make you feel good if you move” he groaned,blocking your body against the bed with his huge hands.

You bit your lips,enjoying his teasing until,finally,you felt his fingers lift your skirt to then grab your legs.

Yunho smirked,looking down at you before pecking your lips and move, for the second time,your panties aside.

“Gonna make you feel so good” he groaned into the crook of your neck,getting inside of you.

“Fuck,Yunho” you mewled,almost in pain:no matter how many times you had taken him,you still needed time to adjust to his size.

Once he had understood that you were finally okay,he started moving his hips,slowly,scared to cross the line as you had almost passed away a few minutes before;however,your moans and half eaten up prayers to move faster, made him go feral.

The room was filled with grunts:Yunho couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were anytime he had sex with you;you always came so undone for him and only him. It was his biggest turn on:your pretty o shaped lips,the sweaty hair spread all over his bed,your moans, and those eyes shut in pleasure. It was heaven for him:it was heaven for him knowing that you were feeling so good.

“Fuck,I’m about to come” he suddenly muttered as his movements got sloppier.

He looked at you one last time,knowing,thanks to your contracted expression,that you were close as well.

A few last moans filled the air,then your release came,followed by Yunho’s.

The brunette panted,resting his forehead on your shoulder before laying down next to you.

Again,it took you a while before coming down from your highness,and Yunho noticed,that was why he started caressing you slowly,kissing your forehead and talking sweetly:

“It’s okay angel,just stay with me,can you hear my voice?” he asked,you nodded,sliding your body closer to his to be welcomed in his warm embrace.

“Are you okay? Was I too rough? Or did I teased you too much today?” he demanded,caressing your hair

“It’s okay -you mumbled,tired- you were perfect -you paused- I’m sorry…”

“Sorry? For what? For not carrying it out like you always do?” Yunho asked,confused

“No…for making you feel like a rebound. You were right,I did that,but I wasn’t aware of it. I was…”

“You were in love. But,please,next time don’t let your feelings fool you again” Yunho kissed your temple.

You shook your head,wrapping your arms around his waist:

“I won’t. You were right when you said that I kept coming back to you just to be comforted. I needed it so bad,I…I needed you so bad -you lifted your head- and I still do. But not because of sex,or because I need an emotional support,only because…-you gulped- only because you’ve become my safe place -you admitted, wiping a tear away- I don’t think I’ve realised it before you told me. I don’t understand why I could be fooled so easily. Now that I think about it,my ex never really cared about me. I was always the one giving everything to him in every aspect of out relationship,from support to sex. Even there he acted like a selfish prick,yet I kept going back to him” you were now crying in Yunho’s chest.

The boy slid on his right side,keeping you close,caressing your back to comfort you,to let you know that he was there.

“Now that you’ve realised it, you broke the cycle. It’s a good thing,next time you won’t believe him;but, please,and this time I am not referring only to myself,remember that only because someone took too much from us without giving anything in return,it doesn’t mean that we’re supposed to do the same with those who are close to us” the brunette pointed out,sweetly, caressing your cheek.

“You are right -you sat,looking down at him- I’m sorry Yunho,for everything. I promise that from now on I’ll treat you right…if you still want me around” you crossed your legs.

Yunho mirrored you,sitting. He then dragged you into a long hug:

“Of course I want you around. I love you,y/n” he kissed your temple

“I love you too,Yunho. Thank you for everything” you kissed him back,hugging him tightly. You would have never hurt him again.

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bonny-kookoo · 9 months

Text

Jungkook/platonic!OT7

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Part 4: Skies]

In which you realize that you're no longer alone.

Main tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Werewolf!Bangtan, strangers/enemies to lovers, romantic Jungkook x reader, Platonic bangtan x reader, eventual smut, mentions of past emotional/psychological manipulation, hurt and comfort, fluff!, some Angst, mostly fluff tho

Length: 5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: hi I really like this fic and I refuse to let it end up in the basement

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

You've become rather stubborn and even after consulting a specialist- you just refuse to take any of the meds despite Jungkook's clear advice to take them for now. And while he can understand you, somewhat, there are simply consequences to that choice you made.

"I'll leave your groceries in front of your door then." He says with a sigh, and you feel yourself sit straighter now at the other end of the call. "It's probably not a good idea for me to actually come inside if you're off your meds-" he begins, and you panic.

"I can just take them right now!" You hurry out, not wanting to be alone. "I can take them now, and you.. come back later? I don't know.." You mumble, and Jungkook fights a little with himself as he walks into the hallway of your apartment building to enter the elevator, finger of the hand that's holding the plastic bag pressing the right button. "I don't want to be alone.." You say, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair in front of your door.

"Listen, I know, trust me I get it." He says. "But I'm not sure what the effect of me might be on you right now." He admits. "You might feel like you want me close right now, but once I'm there that could instantly change. Those mood swings can be wild, I'm telling you!" He laughs, attempting to change your mind.

"...how do you know?" You wonder quietly, though you're not sure if you want to know the answer to that. Of course he's probably been with other wolves in the past. Pretty ones who know themselves well and are proud and all that. Maybe he's seeing someone right now. You wouldn't be surprised- he's pretty handsome and a nice guy too.. one would be stupid to pass up on an opportunity to date him. Do wolves even date? Or do they just kind of.. live in a pack?

What do wolf-relationships look like? And why do you even think about that with him? He's clearly just your friend, nothing more than that.

"My mom is an omega." Jungkook cuts through your thoughts. "And trust me, she kicks me out randomly whenever I visit unannounced just because she can't stand my alpha-smell!" He laughs, but you're quiet. Of course his parents are wolves too. Yours were one's too- but you'll never have that at all. You'll never have that kind of family that Jungkook has. And even if he was interested in you, what would his parents even think of you?

A girl that was hidden away because her own stepmother was ashamed of what she was. Who'd want that?

"Hey." Jungkook speaks through the phone, before he knocks on your door. "Let's.. maybe you can take a peak and decide if you can handle it?" He offers as a compromise, and you get up to answer the door, unsure what he's talking about since you don't feel anything at all the moment you crack the door open to look at him dressed in a leather jacket.

And then it hits you, and you know exactly what he meant- though not in the way he explained it.

You're basically salivating at the thought of having him close- and it's not at all in any sexual sense whatsoever. Just the sight of him makes you feel like you're starving, like you're gonna pass out if he's not holding you up any second now, and he visibly seems to understand as he gently pushes the door a bit further open. "You can kick me out any time." He reassures you. "Won't be mad at all, promise." Jungkook makes sure you know, and you nod, stepping back reluctantly to let him inside.

You feel like a creep. He could literally have a girlfriend and you're here acting like he's your long lost army husband coming home from war!

"I bought all that you said you needed, and some extra things, just in case." He explains as he sets the bag down in the kitchen, before he turns, probably some of his senses tingling or something as you simply nod at him, avoiding eye contact. He doesn't really elaborate on what 'just in case' means- but you're also not in the mood for any of it, body not feeling like your own at the moment. "You know, it's okay to give in." He chuckles. Considering you've not kicked him out yet, and going after your scent alone, he knows exactly what you're struggling with.

"No.. I- I don't want to overstep some boundary, you know.." You shrug to yourself. "I know.. I know I wouldn't want my boyfriend to like, cuddle with some stranger girl in her apartment and all that.." You begin, before you cringe. "Oh god I don't know why I brought that up I'm sorry-"

"It's completely fine, really." He laughs. "And understandable. Omegas tend to be pretty physical most of the time- nothing wrong with that." Jungkook explains. "And- I also don't have a girlfriend right now, so no worries there either." The wolf tells you, making you nod a bit awkwardly.

You feel nauseous even though you've actually taken at least the minimum of your medication before he came, just out of panic. It's like you're going to cry and sob and throw a tamper tantrum if he's not getting close in the next few minutes. This is stupid. How long will it take for your dumb pills to take effect and make you normal again?

What even is normal at this point?

Jungkook moves to shed his jacket, a wave of his scent hitting you so much it makes you have to adjust your position a little as to not sway and fall over, and if he noticed he chooses not to comment on it, simply leading you towards something he's already spotted.

Your couch is covered in blankets and pillows and sweaters even. You're nesting, and you probably have no idea you're even doing it.

"I have to cook though-" you weakly argue, absolutely his slave however as he sits down in the blanket mess with you, helping you to lean closer to him- and the moment you catch his scent so strong, you're a goner, all shame thrown out the window as you pretty much push him onto his back to lay on him, arms and legs around him to keep him close and immobile- but all he does is laugh a little under his breath and grab a stray blanket thrown over the back of the couch to put it over your back. He moves a bit to adjust the things underneath his head and back a bit, but he soon settles, hand on your back running up and down in a soothing motion.

It's not all that bad actually, at least not when he's around like this.

You can feel how heightened your senses are like this- from your hearing to your sense of smell and even taste, somehow the tips of your fingers feel more sensitive to touch just as much. "...will I ever get used to it?" You worry, and Jungkook nods.

"I'm sure of it." He agrees optimistically. "And I'll be there every step of the way." Jungkook promises, making you cling just a little closer to him.

And as you fall asleep, he can't help but think just how good you feel in his arms like this, safe and protected-

and most of all warm, as your scent lulls him to sleep as well.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

When you wake up a few hours later, it seems like you're getting a taste of what Jungkook's wolf behaviour can actually look like if he's not awake enough to really control himself like he does whenever he’s typically around you these days.

Because the moment you attempt to get up, a growl leaves him, rumbling from deep within his chest- a warning for you to stay put, as he instead moves around a bit with his arms around you, and at this point, it's his body that almost entirely covers yours, as if to hide you away beneath him. There's no sexual intentions, that much is clear- and it also, surprisingly, doesn't scare you.

Like a voice is there, deep down in the back of your brain, telling you that this isn't something to be panicking about.

But you really need to go use the bathroom, bladder screaming for you to get up and relieve yourself- so you slip out under his arms, before you rush to enter the small room, closing the door behind you. It’s odd how.. Good you feel with him in your home, like there’s nothing to worry about at all as long as he’s here. Even the thought of your potential future to come doesn’t appear as scary as it usually does.

He’d told you you’ll be part of his pack if you end up failing your evaluation. So you’ll be fine, right?

Will Namjoon even accept you? He appeared to be very friendly, so he might. But there’s always a potential that having a female in the group could prove to be too difficult to handle. Would Jungkook stay with you in that case? Or at least help you find another pack that wants you?

You’re drying your hands after washing them when you hear something fall in the living room, opening the bathroom door to take a look- when Jungkook exhales in relief at the sight of you, visibly distressed. “Something wrong?” You wonder, and he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair to sort himself.

“No- no no, just.. Some stupid instinct stuff, don’t worry about it.” He laughs off, though you can see how he fidgets around still, so you walk a little closer, unsure.

“I.. Uhm, can I help you?” You ask, and he looks up at that, a bit confused. “I mean, you look a little.. I don’t know. I feel like I should do something to help you..” You mumble, and at that, his expression softens.

“It’s called nurturing instinct.” He explains. “Common with wolves of your subgender. But uh.. Mostly towards, you know.. Young wolves or..” He fidgets around a bit again, before he plays with his lip piercing. “..or.. towards mates.” He shrugs, as if he doesn’t care- but he does a horrible job at masking his emotions.

“Oh.” You simply answer, a bit surprised. “Does one like.. Choose a mate? Or is it some sort of..” Jungkook laughs a little, walking towards the mess of blankets on the couch with you, where you instantly hide your legs beneath the soft fabrics, Jungkook doing the same before his hands reach out to help you adjust the blankets.

“It’s not some magical soulmate thing.” He chuckles. “People believe it is, but it’s not.” He shrugs. “It’s just a combination of.. Emotional connection and some instincts sprinkled in. Really not that different from regular relationships.” He explains to you, and you nod.

“So because I like you, I want to.. Take care of you?” You wonder, and he nods, before his head snaps towards you, as if he just realized what you said. “What?”

“Nothing!” He barks out almost, looking away. “Just uh.. I like you too. So, that’s why I got.. Kind of clingy earlier when we were asleep.” He mumbles.

“Oh. It didn’t actually bother me at all.” You make sure to tell him. “Just.. I needed to pee, so that’s why I kind of ran off like that.” You giggle, visibly making him relax again.

“I was about to apologize the hell out of that situation.” He laughs. “I- it’s something my pack is a bit worried about. I’m not just a standard alpha after all, and neither are you just an omega. So they wonder if I could become a bit too much for you to handle, considering your situation.” He admits.

“Your pack cares too.” You shrug, and he nods. “I appreciate that. I.. don’t know why I’m so calm now, I think it’s probably some sort of instinct stuff since you’re here-” You say, before you get comfortable under all the blankets again. “-but I feel.. A lot more calm about all of this.”

“Yeah that might just be.. Well, me.” He laughs, watching you get comfortable next to him. “I tend to have that effect on people. Even my own pack.” Jungkook explains, settling down as well now.

There’s a bit of silence between the two of you, a moment Jungkook uses to watch you for a little bit, especially the way you seem to look at his hands with a bit of longing almost. “We should.. Practice for my evaluation.” You mumble, but he just chuckles.

“We got time.” He softly disagrees. “Right now I want to.. Figure out what kind of ‘liking’ you were talking about earlier.” He teases, leaning his head on the backrest of the couch while you whine in complaint, squirming a bit. “Come on, you can tell me! I wanna know.” Jungkook presses, and you huff.

“...it’s probably just.. Your smell or something.” You deny, but he grins impishly.

“Just told you though, it doesn’t work like that.” He laughs. “If you’re not sure yet I get it- but I’d like to know if there’s.. At least some sort of connection that you feel towards me. So I know where I’m at.” The wolf shrugs. “Or rather what I can aim at.”

“Aim?” You wonder.

“In terms of, if it’s okay for me to.. Approach you romantically.” He admits.

“Would you.. Want that?” You ask, and he nods.

“But only if you’re okay with it too.” Jungkook makes sure to let you know. “Right now, I’m not head over heels or anything like that. Just.. Interested. You seem like the kind of girl I’d be happy with.” He admits. “But if you don’t have any interest in me like that, that’s cool too. I’ll simply be your friend then.” He explains to you, and you nod.

“I.. I like you.. Like that. But I don’t want something like.. Right now.” You admit.

“Alright, fair.” He nods. “Wasn’t going to jump you right here and now anyways. Just wanted to know where you’d like to go with me.” He shrugs.

“Is it okay if we like.. Take it slow?” You ask, and he nods.

“Absolutely.” the wolf agrees, and at that, you calm down, visibly so- making him relax as well as he settles down with you, holding you close beneath the numerous blankets on the couch.

Falling asleep with you just a little longer, because you’ve got time, after all.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

“What’s this all about?” You ask, as the employee closes the door to the room, leaving you alone with a wolf you’re not familiar with.

Jungkook has told you he’d like to ask his pack to help prepare you for both your upcoming evaluation, and for what’s to come in general- and you agreed to let them help you, which brought you into todays situation. Min Yoongi has tagged along with Jungkook to a training center specializing in instinct control and helps young wolves practice around in a safe environment. It also offers some specific physical therapy for elderly that struggle with shifting- and you feel oddly taken care of here, everything looking very inviting, bright and clean.

“Jungkook will be watching from the outside.” Yoongi tells you, nodding towards what appears to be a mirror- but is actually a one-way window.

“Why isn’t he here?” You worry a little, sitting down in the middle of the room like the instructor had explained to you earlier. You’re wearing simple clothing- just a top, comfortable leggings, socks, no shoes. You had to take off all jewellery and accessories outside, just like the wolf sitting in front of you with a good amount of distance.

There’s no furniture inside here. The walls and the floor are padded. Insulated. Scratch-resistant, as the employee had told you with pride.

“Because this won’t be pleasant.” Yoongi says with honesty.

“What’s.. Gonna happen to me?” You ask timidly. You actualy appreciate how honest and upfront Yoongi is- he seems very rough and nonchalant, but you like that he’s not masking his words or emotions.

It’s comforting.

“It’s different for everyone.” He explains. “The only thing you need to keep in mind is that nothing is going to happen to you.” The wolf offers. “You won’t be harmed. You can’t die here. You’re safe.” He tells you, when a short tune plays, signalling an announcement.

“We’ll begin the training now. Please try and stay relaxed.” The instructor says, and you look at Yoongi uneasy, a very faint sound being emitted from a corner before it stops again.

It’s quiet between the two of you. You’re not sure what you’re training for, right now.

Suddenly, you feel weird. Your muscles ache, as if you’ve sat in an odd position all day, bones stiff as you shiver a little. You’re not cold, but your fingers still tingle as if you’ve been holding ice all day- lips becoming dry. “You can move freely, by the way.” Yoongi offers, voice a lot gentler now. “Everyone deals with this differently.”

“Deals with what differently?” You ask, adjusting your legs a little before you arch your back, unable to get rid of that odd unease you have in your limbs.

“Shifting.”

Your eyes snap towards him, and he even cracks a smile for a second, before he adjusts his own position a bit. “You won’t be actually shifting right now, don’t worry.” He reassures you. “But you will feel like it. Or at least, it’ll feel similar.” He offers.

You’re standing up now. Pacing. You can’t stand still.

Whatever it is, it’s making you feel like your clothes are itchy, burning in every spot they touch your skin. You’re trembling too, as if you’re freezing- but you don’t feel cold at all, if anything, it’s the opposite. You run your hands through your hair. For some reason it bothers you, makes you want to pull it out from your scalp.

Tears knock at the backs of your eyes. Why do you feel like crying?

“Why- why do you not.. React at all?” You ask, trying to distract yourself. Yoongi shrugs.

“I’ve been shifting for years. I’m used to it.” He offers. “It’s not like I don’t feel it. I just handle it better.”

You take a deep breath, remembering what he’d told you. You’re fine, you’ll be okay, nothing is going to happen to you.

“Jungkook is probably just as fidgety as you right now.” The alpha chuckles.

“Why?” You wonder, walking around aimlessly before your entire situation gets worse. You don’t know this, but on the other side of the room’s one-way window, you’re very much constantly watched by both Jungkook, and trained staff to make sure you’re alright. Your vitals are being measured.

You’re safe, just like Yoongi said.

Though Jungkook still feels oddly uneasy watching you like that, the way you begin to cry from the sheer discomfort you feel, instincts so clear now as you walk towards a corner to rest your back against it, curling up on yourself with your backside against the wall. He wants to comfort you, help you feel better, but he knows it’s better like this. They won’t put you through the full course today- just a taste, to ease you into things.

You’re doing great already. He feels oddly proud almost.

Yoongi watches you from his spot, looking almost completely unfazed by it all. What he does do however is slowly approach you as you whimper to yourself, curled up into a ball as you try and fight this all on your own. Jungkook watches as the wolf in the room with you sits right in front of you, gaining your attention.

“You’re not alone.” He tells you, making you watch him while your head feels ready to burst open like a balloon. “and it would be the smartest decision to realize that now.”

“...why.” You ask, barely heard.

“Because the help you need is right in front of you.” He says, and it takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying. So, as you slowly open up a bit more, you let yourself just exist.

Jungkook is right. The only way to face this properly, is to accept it all first and foremost.

And so you let your instincts do their thing, as Yoongi seems to instantly catch onto it, opening his arms to accept you clinging to him. It’s normal omega behavior- the company and affection of packmates ease a lot of pain and anxieties, and you feel it right now, too, as you let him hold you.

It doesn’t magically make this experience easy- but it makes it definitely more manageable.

The second the training is over, you feel immediate relief- something hissing in the corners of the room, and it’s as if you can finally breathe fresh air again, throbbing head finally easing up. You basically melt into a puddle of tired muscle and he’s quick to hold you, surprisingly comforting as he watches the door open to let in Jungkook.

“Hey.” He softly tells you, and you reach out to him- though you stay close go Yoongi as well, somewhat surprised how Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind at all. Maybe because they’re friends? Maybe that’s why there’s no obvious jealousy.? “you did great.” He praises, and you lean back from Yoongi to compose yourself again, wiping your cheeks in embarrassment.

“..that was.. odd.” You mumble, and Jungkook helps you stand up again, both wolves leading you out the room to have one last checkup before you leave again. “so that’s.. somewhat what shifting will feel like?” You ask a nurse, who laughs.

“a little. It’s not quite the same- but the simulation is the best we have to prepare you for it.” She explains, while she checks your vitals. “and considering that you have a pack, you’ll do just fine. The first time is always scary.” She smiles, looking at Jungkook who happily nods, while Yoongi has his back turned towards you.

Back home, by yourself, you let the entire day run through you once more. From the feelings in the room, to the way Yoongi soothed you, up towards Jungkook driving you back home- things are so much different than what you thought wolves would live like. This feels a lot more intertwined and connected than your own family life ever did- why would your mother keep that from you?

Maybe you’ll call her, in the future. To ask her why she took care of you even if she knew what you were. To question why she would even involve herself with a child like you were if she hated wolves so much.

But not today.

And not tomorrow, either.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

This is embarrassing.

You can’t sleep. You keep waking up, windows open or windows closed, you feel watched, chased, never safe. And the worst is when you actually do end up asleep, you dream of Jungkook, and the pack, and then you wake up and realize you’ve barely slept half an hour even.

Your eyes sting whenever you close them. You feel drained, and it’s not even three in the morning.

Are they still awake too? Probably not. They all have their routines down, their a pack, a family, something you can only really fantasize about. What if you’ll disrupt that peace and quiet they have established for themselves? Sure, Jungkook didn’t seem to mind you clinging to Yoongi yesterday, but what about the rest of his fanily- surely this will just end in disaster.

You sit up in bed. You can’t sleep.

You turn on a documentary on your phone to watch, but it really doesn’t help much to force you into slumber- if anything, the screen just starts to give you a headache, so you stop the video after not even twenty minutes in. This is stupid. You never had issues sleeping- so why now?

You’re only taking half the dosage of your medication that you used to get. And this dose will be cut in half by the end of the month as well, to slowly prepare you for the time when you’ll be off of them entirely.

You already have pamphlets and little books about the changes to come- from your first instincts pushing through, to other.. intimate things, such as how your periods will change, and what to expect from your first heat. It’s a lot to take in, really, and while doing your research these days, you realized just how complex the world of a werewolf really is. From specialized hotels that care for lone wolves during their heats, to other programs helping single packless wolves stay healthy in mind and soul. Weekly social activities, phone counseling, personal health care just for wolves without a pack make you feel oddly comforted.

You’re not alone. That’s the slogan almost all these companies use on their ads.

Maybe you should make an appointment soon. Just to have things figured out- and so that Jungkook doesn’t feel like his pack has to take you in. Sure, You like him, and it’s clear that he likes you too, but is that enough? Can wolves from different packs even be together?

There’s so much you still need to learn. Just thinking about it makes your head spin.

Your phone vibrates with a message. You tap on it, to see the sender- Jungkook- still online.

‘Hey, just wanted to check in if you’re alright.’ Is written, and you reply.

‘Yeah, why do you ask?’ You respond with, and he instantly starts to type on the other end.

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ He sends you. ‘neither could Yoongi, and then I saw you were online half an hour ago’ he continues. ‘so I figured you must be still up’

‘I can’t sleep.’ You admit, and at that, your phone vibrates with an incoming call from him.

“Why didn’t you say so?” He yawns, and you’re a bit confused. “Yoongi said you’ve been up since around one or two AM.” He chuckles.

“How does he know?” You wonder astonished, when the lower voice answers.

“I was working, and saw you online multiple times.” He chuckles. “It’s not rocket science.”

“Oh.” You mumble, realizing that it was actually pretty reasonable. He was probably texting with someone and checked up on you as well- but that doesn’t explain why Jungkook seems to know as well. “But wait, why can’t Jungkook sleep?” You ask.

“Because we’ve bonded more than you did with Yoongi.” He replies. “it’s like.. an instinct you could say. I could sense something off.” He tells you, and you just take it in. All of this is so complex and difficult to understand sometimes.

“Its most likely the stress from yesterday.” Yoongi reassures. “either that, or your instincts are pushing through. You’re an omega- they don’t do well on their own.” He bluntly states, while you hear some clicking from a computer mouse. “did you not tell her she could sleep here as well?”

“What, no I did!” Jungkook defends himself. “I think? Wait, I did tell you, right?” He asks you now, and you think for a second.

“uhm.. I don’t think so?” You answer. “but even so, I wouldn’t want to intrude-“

“Jungkook are you a whelp?” yoongi is heard scolding.

“I forgot!” He defends himself. “hey- okay so, you can really sleep here as well, it’s no bother, believe me.” Jungkook tells you now. “Namjoon was actually wondering why you aren’t here yet. His cousin is an omega too, so he knows how to handle a lot of stuff.” He explains.

“Wouldn’t it be.. awkward?” You ask, hesitating.

“Tripping in public is awkward, yet millions of people do it everyday.” Yoongi answers stoically. “if you want to stay here, stay here. If you don’t, don’t. We wouldn’t be offering it if we wouldn’t be okay with you.” Yoongi explains, and oddly enough, it helps you feel better.

“..is there anything specific I should take along with me?” You start, when Jungkook cuts you off.

“I’ll help you pack your stuff-“ he starts, when something clattering is heard. “what?”

“Jungkook you dog, it’s four in the morning!” Yoongi whines. “You’re going to wake up the whole pack!” He complains, when a door is heard opening. “see? Now Jimin is awake and that means the entire woods know about it!”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!” the new voice argues, before he laughs. “I’m just curious, you’re acting like spies in here.”

“did you- Jimin, you left the door open!” Yoongi complains. “and the stupid kid left his phone here too..” he sighs, while you can’t help but laugh.

“Well, at least she’s having fun.” Jimin giggles along.

“For now. Wait until she finds out Jungkook snores in his sleep.” Yoongi teases.

“Hey, it’s not that bad!” Jungkook complains, making them laugh as their voices fade into the background, the wolf having taken back his phone after having grabbed the car keys. “I’m gonna come over now, and we can either nap first and pack later, or pack first and nap later.” He tells you.

“Its.. thank you.” You tell him.

“No problem.” He answers easily.

“you’re not alone.”

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #werewolf jungkook

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seokari · 4 months

Text

He doesn't know what his true feeling are.

Note𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅: Remember that english is NOT my first language so please, excuse my spelling mistakes ♡.

Warnings₊‧: None, just fluff and I think there's no angst, or maybe just a little bit, so, please enjoy.

Accepting his feeling was a no go for megumi, and there's the problem, he knows he isn't good at expressing himself, but he doesn't even wants to try.

And, another problem is that you don't know this, so, he trying to be nonchalant to you made you think he hates you.

When you hang out with your friends, there was Megumi talking peacefully to the rest of them but ignoring you completely, even tho you tried making a conversation.

On mission, he just said you don't need to go do the work because you are going to be a bother for him. (You ended up saving his dumb, egocentric ass)

On training, he says he doesn't want a vs with you because you are too weak for him. (He's trying to sound interesting plus he is really afraid of hurting you by accident).

One time you fell asleep on his shoulder, and he pushed you until you were sleeping seated, he didn't wanted you to think he has a sweet spot for you, but he does.

He knows that, even tho he is an asshole to you, he has your attention. Or well, he had, once you had enough of his demeanor, you started ignoring him, acting nonchalant, being more friendly, touchy, even flirty with Yuuji, and, he (Megs) didn't like, not even a bit.

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

You two could be joking during a mission while Nobara did something else, but Megumi's hot gaze was set on you two.

He tried convincing himself that he hated your laugh, but he didn't, he hated that you were laughing at other man's comment, not his.

Until he had enough, "Could you two shut up already, we are trying to concentrate" His brows furrowed.

"I didn't said nun" Nobara spoke.

"Ok, geez, I don't know why you hate me so much" You said.

"I d-dont ha-" He was interrupted

"Hey look here, I think I found it" Nobara pointed

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

Yuuji noticed Megs behavior, his suddenly annoyed face when you were near him (Yuuji), so Yuuji started getting away from you (not that much, just being less touchy and stuff), you noticed this and thought he hated you too now.

But he reassured it was nothing.

Yuuji decided to have a conversation with Megumi about his demeanor towards you, Megumi really denied it at first, but after listening to Yuuji's yapping for what seemed like an eternity, he started believing it.

You were a little bit far away from them talking and messing around with Nobara, Megumis soft look has being around your during all the convo with Yuuji.

He started thinking "stupid" things meanwhile, like how is you skin so porcelanic, how soft your hair looks, that dumb smile you have when Nobara said something that seem funny made you look cute, and your hands looked so tiny, how are they compared to his?. He couldn't deny it anymore, he felt, hard, he felt really hard.

He turned his head towards yuuji that is still yapping. "Im an idiot right? Is the first time I feel like this"

"Yeah. I mean kinda-" He kept quiet when he saw Megs serious face.

"Omfg" He got back on his feet. "im having a walk, and then im talking to her"

"Yeah, you should, she told me she thinks you hate her, like, extremely, like you despise her"

"Just shut up you are making it worse, what if she decides i was just being an ass and she doesn't wants to talk to me"

"I think that is what is going to happen"

"Ok, now in definitely not going to talk to her"

"I meannn" Megumi looked at him "I could be wrong"

"Kill yourself" Megumi took his things and started walking towards you.

" If that makes you happy megs" Yuuji took his things too and started walking toward nobara, you and Megumi need privacy.

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

Hiii, I dont know how to continue this, cuz I think it pretty obvious what is going to happen.

Confession -> is mutual -> Megumi being a complete tsundere at first -> Getting used to be around you -> Clingiest boy ever -> Happy ending.

Hope yall like it₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #jujutsu kaisen #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro

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stvrlightgirl · 2 months

Text

Who stopped the rain?

summary: You’re scared of storms, but Astarion is here to help you take your mind off them.

pairing: Astarion x gn!reader

wc: 771

a/n: idk it just came out of my mind from nowhere, but it’s so cute tho!

Also, every time I read it I hear the narrator’s voice in my head. Am I crazy? Lmao

Enjoy!

The night was quiet at first, save for the occasional crackling of the campfire, its embers slowly dying as the rest of the group slumbered around you. You had settled in early, exhaustion pulling you into the comfort of your bedroll after a day filled with endless walking and battle. Astarion had taken his place beside you, as he often did, ever the guardian in the dark. His presence, both unsettling and strangely reassuring, was the last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you.

But it wasn’t to last.

The first low rumble of thunder stirred you from your dreams. You shifted beneath your blankets, eyes fluttering open just as another bolt of lightning split the sky. The flash illuminated the inside of the tent, casting fleeting, eerie shadows along the canvas walls. Your heart lurched in your chest, the sudden crash of thunder that followed rattling your bones.

Memories you’d rather forget surfaced—of storms that brought more than just rain, of nights spent alone, frightened and powerless. A shiver ran down your spine, and you instinctively curled tighter into yourself, seeking solace in the small space of your bedroll. But the unease wouldn’t leave. It clung to you like a cold, wet cloak, each crack of thunder pulling you further from the remnants of sleep.

And then, as if he could sense your distress, you felt Astarion stir beside you.

“Awake already, darling?” His voice was soft, a whisper that seemed to cut through the din outside. You could feel his gaze on you, even in the darkness. Concern, though subtle, laced his tone.

You turned toward him, though it was difficult to make out his features in the dim light. “The storm,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “it woke me.”

Another flash of lightning lit the tent, briefly revealing the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes softened as they met yours. He was silent for a moment, listening to the rain as it began to patter against the earth outside, the occasional rumble of thunder rolling in the distance. Then, without a word, he shifted closer, his cool hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face.

He couldn’t bare to see you shivering with fear.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” he said softly, his touch lingering against your cheek, a comforting weight in the dark. “It’s just a storm. It will pass.”

You wanted to believe him, to let his words soothe the irrational fear gripping your heart. But the storm outside was fierce, and it reminded you too much of things best left buried. You swallowed, trying to push down the panic that threatened to rise.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Astarion’s fingers traced a gentle path down your cheek to your jaw, then to your chin, tilting your face up slightly so he could see you better. “Breathe, my dear,” he whispered. “Focus on me, not the storm.”

You did as he asked, drawing in a shaky breath, then another, letting your eyes lock onto his. Astarion’s presence was a balm, his steady, unflinching gaze grounding you in the present. He was right here, beside you, and for once, it felt like enough.

“You’re safe,” he continued, his voice low and melodic, like a lullaby meant for your ears alone. “I’ll keep you safe.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard. Astarion, who often hid behind wit and sarcasm, was offering you genuine comfort, his mask lowered in this intimate, quiet moment. It was enough to ease the tension in your chest, the fear receding like the tide.

You let out a slow breath, nodding as you relaxed into his touch. The blanket he kept around you and the heat of his body was enough for you to feel safe again. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your gratitude.

Astarion smiled softly, a rare, unguarded expression. He leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips cool against your skin. “Sleep now, darling.” he murmured against your temple. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

With his words wrapped around you like a protective cloak, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift back into the safety of sleep. Outside, the storm raged on, but you couldn’t hear it anymore, too focused on his touch, you found peace in his arms, as always.

And for the first time, you felt as if you could face all your problems without fear, knowing he was there to protect you from anything.

Even from something he had no control over.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always welcome!

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x gn!reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction

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feelingsshmeelings · 4 months

Text

Recently watched inside out 2 and I'm not even gonna lie, I left that theater with tears in my eyes and the FATTEST crush on Anxiety. I can't help it okay I love me some crinkly girl failure creature 😔

Anxiety x Reader: relationship headcanons

INCLUDES: GN! Reader, Fellow Emotion! Reader, fluff, some down bad behavior on Anxiety's part, very light angst, she/they pronouns for Anxiety

📋 It probably takes a while for her to settle into the relationship. Not to say that she dislikes being with you (of course not!!), but she's anxious. Like that's literally their whole thing. They have a hard time believing that you're actually... yknow, WITH THEM. Like, WILLINGLY.

📋 Eventually though, once you've given her plenty of reassurance, she'll start easing into the relationship

📋 Literally such a planner!! You can bet they've got a whole notebook dedicated to your relationship. Possible date ideas, things you like, things you dislike, important couple milestones to look forward to, etc. She's managing both of your calenders while ALSO crafting a detailed step-by-step plan of the next few years of your future together

📋 Anxiety is definitely the type to ramble— not just about they're job of looking after Riley but also about pretty much everything else. This one's a yapper, what can I say

📋 It's probably an insecurity of hers (she fears sometimes that her constant chatting may come off as annoying), but if you take the time to actually listen to what she has to say? Ask questions?? Offer your own insight???

📋 One word: marriage

📋 It's pretty much canon that she's prone to nervous breakdowns and insomnia. You should like... help her with that 👀. Guide her towards her massage chair when she needs it (or even better: offer a massage yourself). Cuddle with them in their bed, or yours. Talk them through their thoughts. Whatever works for the both of you

📋 I see Anxiety as being on the spectrum (ngl I feel like most of the emotions got that tism in them). That being said, physical touch is... well, they're not ADVERSE to it exactly, but it's probably not something they partake in often. Like it's not something she'll initiate, if that makes sense?? She's just very conscious of everyone else's personal space and would hate to overstep any boundaries

📋 THAT BEING SAID... Please hold her hand every now and then. Maybe just slide your hand into theirs while the two of you are standing side-by-side at the control panel, or give hers a small squeeze whenever she starts spiraling. She finds it grounding

📋 (they're bright red the whole time, constantly asking if you're really okay with it or if her palms are clammy or if your comfortable in the position or if—)

📋 PETNAMESSS!!!! Her go-to for you is "sweetie", or "love" if they're feeling particularly bold

📋 Will literally melt into a puddle at whatever nickname you choose to give them tho. Like you could give them the cheesiest petname on the planet and they'd still go all squiggly mouthed and flapping their hands

📋 Likes to take initiative in most things, INCLUDING your relationship, so don't be surprised if she's the one taking charge while putting together dates or while you two are at work in Riley's mind. Sometimes they can be a bit overbearing, but just have a sit down with her, let her know how you feel, and she'll gladly step down and let you get shit done

📋 COM👏MU👏NI👏CA👏TION!! VERY IMPORTANT TO HER!!!! Like I said before, they overthink a lot, so it definitely helps if you're honest and open about how you feel

📋 Working inside the mind of a teenage girl can be pretty stressful, so being able to wind down with you at the end of the day is definitely something Anxiety looks forward to

📋 Being able to ramble with you and get their thoughts off their chest is something they love, yes, but they also enjoy the moments of quiet you two share. You could be sitting at the same table, maybe you're reading a book or drawing, meanwhile she's jotting down a new workout regimen for the upcoming hockey season. Or maybe you're having a shared cup of cocoa while admiring the view from headquarters. Or maybe you're playing with their hair while they lay their head on your lap...

📋 She enjoys being able to simply exist with you. No thoughts about the future, no worries about what's yet to come. Just you and them in your own peaceful little bubble 🧡

I LOVE HER SO MUCH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW AJSJSKAKAKA!! Definitely planning on writing more for her soon! The other emotions too (feel free to send in an ask guysss I want ideas so bad 👀👉👈)

#being so self indulgent rn guys you dont even know #i love her #my skrunkly #all those haters who said her design was bad can go eat a textbook #POV: ur opinion is WRONG 😤#inside out 2 #inside out anxiety #inside out headcanons #headcanons

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astars-things · 4 months

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Jack on a roadie but Y/N falls off the jungle gym at preschool and breaks her arm. He feels terrible when he gets the voicemail 2 hours later after press all the way in California. Thankfully Mama El was already with Y/N and she had a cast and she even got to pick the color. But jack didn’t know that and immidately facetimes his mom. Even tho she assures him that she’s fine and he talks to his daughter. He beats himself up for months for not being able to be there. But when he comes home the next day (that’s when the roadie was planned to end anyway) he insists on keeping her home from school and cuddling all day.

I was sitting in the locker room, the hum of post-game chatter filling the space around me, when my phone buzzed. The voicemail notification blinked insistently, but it wasn’t until I was back at the hotel that I had a chance to listen. The game against the Sharks in California had been intense, and I was exhausted.

“Hey Jack, Um, just wanted to let you know that Y/N had a little accident at preschool today. She fell off the jungle gym and broke her arm. She’s okay now, we’re at the hospital, and she’s got a cast. She even got to pick the color—purple, of course. Call me when you get this.”

My heart sank. Two hours had passed since Mom left that message. Two hours of Y/N being in pain, scared, and I wasn’t there. My hands shook as I fumbled to FaceTime my mom, Ellen. She answered quickly, her familiar face filling the screen with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Jack, she’s okay. Really, she’s doing great.”

“Can I see her?” My voice cracked, a mix of relief and guilt washing over me.

Ellen turned the phone, and there she was. My little girl, Y/N, lying on the couch with her tiny arm encased in a bright purple cast. Her big eyes lit up when she saw me on the screen.

“Daddy!” she squealed, wiggling her fingers at me. “Look at my cast! It’s purple!”

I forced a smile, my chest tightening. “Wow, that’s awesome, sweetheart. You’re so brave.”

She beamed, showing off her cast, completely unfazed by the ordeal she’d been through. Ellen took the phone back, her eyes softening with understanding.

“Jack, she’s really okay. The doctors said she’ll heal up just fine. Kids are resilient.”

“I know, Mom,” I replied, but the words felt hollow. “I just wish I’d been there.”

Ellen’s smile faded, replaced by a look of sympathy. “You can’t be everywhere at once. She’s safe, she’s happy, and she knows you love her. That’s what matters.”

We talked for a few more minutes, but I couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt. I hung up, staring at the darkened screen. How could I have missed something so important? The roadie had been planned to end the next day, but it felt like a lifetime away.

That night, I barely slept. The next morning, I was on the first flight back home. As soon as I walked through the door, Y/N came running to me, her purple cast held high like a trophy.

“Daddy, look!”

I scooped her up, holding her close. “I see it, sweetheart. It’s the best cast I’ve ever seen.”

For the next few hours, I didn’t let her out of my sight. I called the preschool to let them know she wouldn’t be coming in, and we spent the day cuddled up on the couch, watching her favorite movies.

Every time she laughed or told me about how brave she was at the hospital, the weight of guilt lifted just a little. But it didn’t go away entirely. I kept replaying Ellen’s voicemail in my head, imagining Y/N’s fear and pain, and hating that I hadn’t been there to comfort her.

#send in requests #imagines #thanks anon!#luke hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x daughter!reader

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

Note

you said extra nasty ? i want Neteyam to choke me then slap me (not that hard tho) and spit in my mouth simultaneously 🤤

Ughhhhh. Getting sweet boy Neteyam worked up enough to be brutal with you is hard- but once he’s there? BABY. He’s there.

Lotsa Smut below the cut

Like. It would take days of teasing to make him snap.

Listen we all know I’m a soft submissive Neteyam lover, but I think when he’s dominant it’s in a very body worship kind of way. Like he’s making you come over and over and ravaging your body until you can’t breathe.

So getting him to just jack-hammer you and like take out all of his aggression on you? It’s a delicate formula and it doesn’t happen often.

It’s a multitude of things. It’s the tiny tweng you don for the day, and the way it sits on your swaying hips. It’s you kissing him long and hard as he leaves with the war party- and finally. It’s a hard tug on his tail while he’s chatting with his father and the other Omiticayan generals.

It has him seeing red.

You’re being such a fucking BRAT. Acting out horribly for attention.

And so he gives you all of his attention. Just not in the way you’d expect-

He’s mean. Vicious instead of praising. He fucks you you’re a crying blubbering mess. Drenched in come and sweat and tears.

“Oh yawne” Neteyam croons meanly. He has you pinned to the ground, your thighs spread painfully wide as his hips snap into you. He’s fucking you without remorse- it’s maddening “you need to shut up. You’re being too loud”

How can you be quiet when he’s pounding you like this?

Every breath comes out in a wheezing gasp- knocked out of your chest by the force of his thrusts. Your poor pussy is swollen and over used- so hyper sensitive from the orgasms that he’s wrong out of you that it feels like you’re on fire in your core.

You can’t stop crying. Can’t stop pushing him away. Can’t stop pulling him in for more.

You try to tell him- but all that comes out is a blubbery mess, your voice high and snotty “Can-can’t. Can’t. Can’t”

The huff he lets out is annoyed, he’s so beyond over your shit.

First you want to make him lose it?

Now you can’t even have enough decorum to be quiet- don’t you know the entirety of high camp can mostly likely hear you?

They can hear your pathetic wailing. Your moans. Your slutty cries. You’ll be dubbed the village whore if you don’t shut up.

So he makes you.

Neteyam’s hands have always been gorgeous to you. They’re so strong, all lean and sinew. Capable of murder- but also of incomprehensible tenderness. He’s used them to slit the throats of Sky People, but also to gently braid Tuk’s hair.

They are no less stunning as he reaches up to wrap them around your throat. First one, and then both. Your thin delicate neck completely encased by his big hands as he continues to fuck you.

He chokes the sounds down before they can come.

Your mouth is open- in a silent scream as your golden eyes fearfully search his. He’s never done this to you. It thrills you as much as it scares you.

Neteyam just gives you a reassuring look, before he firmly squeezes at your pulse point.

Your pussy flutters and creams around him and you go limp. The pleasure other worldly. You belong to him, in that moment, and for the rest of time.

“You’re something else” Neteyam laughs at you. Watching your glazed over expression as he chokes you.

You’re too blissed out to speak. Not that you could anyway, with his strong hands around your throat.

You mouth one word.

Yours.

You’re so filthy. You bring out the fucking worst in him and he doesn’t understand why he likes it so much.

When your mouth opens and your pretty pink tongue sticks out- pleadingly- he knows what you want.

Neteyam spits without aim. The globs of his saliva don’t land right in your waiting, open mouth, but all over your face. Mixing with your own tears and slobber.

You’re a complete mess…well. Not completely. Not as much as you can be-

When he lets go of your throat and pulls out of your bartered cunt you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s over, time to cuddle. You need the after care desperately-

Instead Neteyam walks on his knees until he’s crouching by your head. He’s working his hard cock furiously in his fist and there’s a look of determination in his eyes.

You’re as pretty as a picture. Your hair everywhere, long limbs akimbo. Your chest is heaving and you’re still fucking crying. Maybe next time you won’t push him to his limit.

When your face scrunches, brows bones raising cutely and nose all bunched up, he can feel his balls going taught- and then that little tongue peeks out again. Pleading for his release.

He paints your face white white his sticky viscus cum, and watches you shiver at being soiled. You’re limp on the floor of your shared tent- used and shaking.

You asked for this. He has to remind himself. You needed this.

He’s coming down from his high and starting to feel really fucking guilty at the state he’s left you in when he notices your thin tail wagging behind you.

You peer up at him, face covered him his cum and eyes exhausted and glassy…you manage to give him a devious smile.

Eywa, you’re such a brat.

Aaaaaand I’m out. Dom Neteyam isn’t really my cup of tea but I hope I did him justice lol

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #aged up neteyam #smutty requests

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futurewriter2000 · 8 months

Text

Second Chance

A/N: I don't know how this can end in a happy ending but... I'll try. I didn't even know how to start writing this request but I think I did fairly well and even better than I expected. I think I can do it better though but for now, I'll give you this. Short-ish and sweet. I tried to put everything into one fic.

REQUEST #14 (wattpad) @fredsdeath: HI!! I love all ur books especially the fred weasley book and uhm i was wondering if you could do my request abt how y/n pretends to have amnesia and not remember fred bc fred was her ex and broke her heart in their past relationship like happy emding or not its fine and this is just a suggestion its still okay if you dont do it tho :D

They say that the first few months always feel like a true honeymoon and then the reality hits but it wasn't like that with you and Fred. It was different because the two of you were friends first before anything and that changed everything. You knew who he was, the good and the bad, as well as he did. The two of you had this undestructable bond, nothing in the world could break. It felt real, it felt true, it felt like a once in a life-time love and you believed that.

You did... until you didn't anymore.

There were moments of Fred acting ditant. Sometimes when you looked into his eyes, he wasn't there and when he smiled, it felt forced. You felt like you were too much for him so you took a step back as well, thinking that space was all that he needed. You were different than him however, you didn't want space, you needed reassurence that he is still the Fred that will hold your hands and kiss them randomly when the two of you are laughing or just sitting together. You believed that the Fred that walked down the hall, nagging you jokingly until you retorded a sarcastic comment back, pretending to be furious with him until he nagged you until you laughed- was still somehow there. You believed that the Fred who made your stomach cramp either from laughter or butterflies will appear soon. It's just a hard transitioning moment, now that the new headmistress is on. He's coming back... he's still Fred.

He wasn't though.

"What do you mean?" your eyes twitched and you couldn't figure out whether you were angry or sad. You kept looking at the ground, not knowing when your hands ripped themselves from his.

"It's not you, I swear, it's just-"

"It's you." you looked at him, your lip trembling but you refused to cry in front of him.

"It is..." he bit his lower lip. "I just don't think that this is it." he said and you refused to look at him. He forced a smile and swayed on his feet. "We can still be friends." he said, touching your shoulder playfully as if all of a sudden you will place a smile on your face, bright and jolly but you turned your head away, wiped the crocodile tear that fell from your eyes and looked at him.

"Who is she?" you said with a sharp cold tone.

"There isn't-"

"You never lied to me, Fred. Don't start now." you glared.

He looked at you and pursed his lips together. He looked away and you let out a laugh from disbelief.

"I had a feeling but I always refused to listen to it. You know why?" you paused. "Because my trust for you was bigger than my insecurities but you just made me believe I was going crazy for such a long time until you grew balls to tell me."

"I just kissed her once-"

"Oh-" you literally heard your heart break inside your chest.

"She KISSED ME-" he mumbled. "I swear, I didn't kiss her first, she just sort of leaned in and I pulled away and I didn't want to say anything, I swear because I thought it was nothing but she just sort of... I don't know... I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"So you want to slag around."

"NO!" he started to get frustrated, shaking his head. "I just- I'm lost right now. I don't know what I want."

"You want her."

"No-" he shook his head. "I don't know... maybe... I don't know."

"Fuck you." you said, slapping him hard on his cheek that it turned red immediatelly. "You just wasted fucking 8 months of my life." and with that you turned around.

----

It's been a long year now since then and you knew her name... not that you truly wanted it but you heard of a short fling between Fred and Angelina Jonson. She was another good friend of his and you wished you figured it out sooner but you haven't.

You've cried. You did. More than just one crocodile tear. You've made a mess from your room and your roommates didn't really mind. They've been patient and graceful with you. They've also been a good distraction from your emotions and you were glad you weren't when Fred made his great parting with fireworks in Hogwarts that year.

You've put yourself together since then. You did and you've heard he's been with that woman, another woman, a few other women and you didn't want to hear none of it. Your friends kept telling you about it, despite you didn't want to. You heard about his shop and all of other things.

Now... well, now you've had your own appartment, which was quite hard with the economy but you wanted your place since you were an early teen. And to think of it, getting an appartment was easier than getting a job that pays well on your education. But it did. You've worked in a small bussiness, grammar checking documents that came in and out. Something close to an accounting. It wasn't what you wanted but it was something.

You haven't seen Fred in a year and a half. He was still on your mind though. He was. It was as if he put a chip into you that keeps rewinding time back to when the two of you were in love.

What you hated more was that you did move on but somehow he was still following you everywhere you went. You didn't see him anywhere and you knew that was a good sign but you were always on the lookout. Close to his shop, you felt anxious and you thought it over what would happen if he came out now and see you. You didn't know. You didn't know anything. Your brain turned off like nothing.

But that never happened and so you were okay with moving on.

---

So how did you end up here?

How did he end up here?

The last thing you told him was that he should have fun with your replacement and he did... for a short time. It really infuriated him that you told him that but Angelina really wasn't the one either. He pushed it as far as he could but something didn't click with her. He didn't feel joy with her, he felt obligated to be with her but he grew tired of being with someone.

He told you he forgets people easily but why did seeing you hurt so much. It was like a sting into his heart- quick but short. He couldn't mumble a word when you stood there and there was no shine in your eyes, no glow on you as he remembered you. There was a smile but not as joyful.

You stood there... still beautiful.

He hated that. He hated that you were still beautiful- more than him... since always.

He turned his head away, not wanting to look at you anymore. He was furious- so darn furious. Why didn't anybody tell him about you?

"There she is!" Remus came over with his hands on your shoulders, gently and formally.

You smiled brightly at him because you adored him as a professor. He was the only professor who made a course feel important and interesting.

"She was my best student and she now works in a small company for accounting- a shame to waste your talents there."

Sirius, he stood up tall and mighty, almost king-like and you felt infatuated by his kingly presence. His eyes were cold blue but his look was warm and safe.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Azkaban or something?" you joked and he laughed.

"Been there, didn't like it much." he retorded back and a few of the group laugh. "She's been working for me too for a bit. Remus recommended her- just for a short time and she turned out to be trustworthy. I bet she went to Hogwarts with you."

Ginny ran to you into a hug immediately and smiled up to you... well not up anymore. She seemed taller than you by a few centimeters. The two of you always had a great friendship, despite Fred. She adored you and you adored her.

"I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed and you laughed, hugging her tightly.

"Me neither. This man put me through hell."

"I did not." Sirius gasped.

"Don't leave him alone in this house for long ever again."

"We have so much to catch up!"

And you did. With the whole group. You did work with Sirius through Remus. You've never really met him personally, always through some Howlers, letters, some other secret forms of communication and he was always so arrogant through it. He had grumpy and sassy remarks and at first you were professional about it but through time you've had enough and returned the energy. It has mostly been with the documents you've been grammarly correcting. They had been reciepts from big, luxiourious wizard families and you could see in some of those reciepts which were on the bad side, which on the good and which were fleeding and unreliable.

You didn't know about the other participants except Remus, Tonks and Sirius. Soon you figured Moody was one as well when he trampled into your office, asking questions and now you've met others.

You've never been much of a leap of faith person but you've always had a strong urge to stand for fairness and justice. You've fired up when you had to, not knowing until you went to bed that night. Remus saw that in you and he knew that all you needed was a little push.

You've always been reliable and when you promised something, you didn't back out, even if you were extremely anxious. He knew you could never back out from this. A bit manipulating but well, that was the push.

You've looked at Moody with your mouth on the ground.

"Turn into Harry?" you looked at all the others, especially at Remus.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." said Harry.

"No, it's not that." you laughed. "Couldn't we just turn Harry into some random Muggle and transport him?"

The others thought about it as it could be.

"No!" Moody shouted. "Would you think they'd just let some random Muggle with a stick in his boot let into the Ministry?" he growled at you, approaching you. "No- now dress up lil priss." and he shoved clothes at you.

You looked after him than walked to Harry. "Are you comfortable with this? Us... turning into you?"

He gave you a comforting smile. "Not really but a plan is a plan. My comfort is not really in question." he offered you a smile and you returned it, though you felt a bit sad for the boy, espeicially when others made awful comments about them.

What you didn't notice was the little peeps Fred was giving you when you undressed, easily unclasping your bra under your Harry shirt and throwing it in the corner.

George apperead in front of him as Harry, giving him a grin meanwhile Fred just put his glassess on and pretended not to look.

"You're with me little priss." one of the Harry's told you and winked at you.

As you walked behind fake Harry, you passed what you thought was Fred and he called out your name. "Hey, (Y/n)."

You turned around. "What?"

"Stay safe."

You looked at him and nodded, turning back to the fake Harry, feeling your heart beating fast. Not because of Fred... this was pure fear.

---

Fred just turned back into himself, laughing with his father about the trip when Ginny told him about George. He was running into the living room, finding his best friend bloody on the couch.

"Shit, George." he came to his side.

"I'm howy." George whispered.

"What George?" Fred leaned in worriedly.

"I said..." George took a breath. "I'm holy now Fred."

Fred rolled his eyes and laughed from all the relief. "Only you can crack a joke about a blown up ear."

He looked up, smiling joyfully when the others smiled back, hugging him and George. It wasn't until two were missing. He looked around again. "Where are Tonks and (y/n)?" he asked but the others looked around and nobody was around.

"Remus is waiting for them, I'll go out and check." said Arthur but just as he was about to head out the door, Remus came rushing the door with you in his arms. His shirt was soaked in your blood, Tonks' hands as well.

"MOVE!" shouted Remus as Arthur cleared the table so that Remus could place you there gently.

"It came out of nowhere- I don't know who is was but she was blown off our broom and fell hard on the woods. She hit her head pretty hard." Tonks spoke quickly, like your life depended on it.

Ginny and Molly were right by your side, Remus as well. Fred just watched with his eyes wide open. Everything was gone, all the anger, all of it, out of his system. There was no room for anger, only regret and sadness.

"(y/n)- come on little priss, you have to wake up." Remus slapped your cheeks gently.

It was so sudden. You laid there calmly and like you were awaken from the dead, you jumped up and took a deep breath in.

"Where am I?!" you looked around, feeling your head pounding but everything was extremely bloody.

You heard voices around you but none of them were clear.

"You're safe-" you looked around but you recognised that voice anywhere.

"Professor Lupin? Where's Madam Pince my head is-" you were just about to say something when you started choking on your own blood.

Fred fell on the floor, just by George when he saw the sight.

Arthur saw the terror in Fred's eyes and shouted at the other. "GET HIM OUT OF HERE! ALL OF YOU OUT!"

---

Fred had a whole review of your life together back in Hogwarts. Everything turned back- everything. The small things, the big things and he realised that not once did the two of you had a bad memory together. Not one but until he broke things off.

He was pacing up and down outside the living room. Ginny kept trying to calm him down but he was not consolable. Not until you were completely alright. Not until he comes back and you're breathing and smiling at him.

Finally Arthur came to Fred, only to Fred because he knew of their past together. His expression was grim but it wasn't something Fred could read at the moment. He had you in perfect image. Since always.

"How is she?!" he quickly asked and everybody stood up and listened as well.

"She's living and breathing." he said, putting his hand on Fred's shoulder. "Remus is great at taking care of people, so she's resting with George... however... she kept recalling back a few years..." he looked up worriedly. "She kept asking for Dumbledore and... McGonagall..." he continued. "Remus says it could be shock or some short amnesia."

"What does that mean, dad?" Fred asked but his father only looked away. "Dad!"

"I don't know really... only time will tell when she wakes up."

Fred burst through the door and found his two favorite people laying on the couch. It was odd sight becuase you were there moving your lips and looking at your roommate, fist bumping him.

"Samesiess." George shouted weakley. "I've always wanted a girl roommate."

"Ew." you said, laughing.

"Not like that- Merlin." George said. "If moving my eyes wouldn't hurt I'd roll my eyes right now."

"If I could have the strenght to move my hands I'd show you the middle finger."you replied and could hear him laugh, caughing.

Fred smiled from relief and walked confidently into the room. "Hey, you two are on bed rest, stop talking and laughing." he said, sitting at George's side first. He looked at you and you looked at him.

"George?" you said worriedly. "I didn't know you had a sibling?"

"I have eight of them... or seven... six... I really don't know..."

"I didn't know you had one that looks exactly like you." you furrowed your eyebrows and it was only for a joke. You've always wanted to play a joke but something in Fred's eyes.

Something in his eyes made him come towards you and look at you with the same look he did all those years. The same eyes that you prayed for such a long time ago.

"You don't remember me?" he asked.

And you haven't got any clue why you turned your head and mumbled no. You turned it away from him because you felt something hurt inside of you so much by having him looking at you so close. Your heart was tearing up inside of you all over again and you wished, you prayed, you said you never met him because that was what you truly wanted. You wanted that he never existed in your brain because it just... hurts so much.

"Please leave me alone." you said and kept shutting your eyes.

Fred backed away, terror in his eyes, his heart, rage? Perhaps shock- something was in his chest, burning up his throat. He didn't hear the pain in your throat or the tears that fell from your eyes when you turned away. He couldn't function properly.

"Fred..." he heard George but he just stormed outside.

It was as if something was spinning in his head. It was so horrible.

Ginny came after him, calling out his name, asking what is wrong.

"WHAT'S WRONG?!" he turned around, a big forced smile of disbelief, almost wicked-like. "I ALMOST LOST TWO PEOPLE THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO ME! BESIDES THAT ONE LOST AN EAR, THE OTHER LOST A BLOODY MEMORY OF ME- OF OUR WHOLE RELATIONSHIP!!!"

Ginny stood there. Usually she would shout something back but she just let him yell.

"Ginny- she-" he started to break down, falling onto his knees and pulling his long legs into a hug.

Ginny walked to his side and hugged him around the shoulders. "It could be temporary... she's just in a shock."

"She remembers George."

"How do you know? She just talked to him like she woud with another person."

"She wouldn't talk to me like this..."

"She would." Ginny added and Fred looked at her, letting a laugh.

"Yeah... she would... she was unpredicatable like that." he said.

"Why did the two of you even break up?"

"I don't know really." Fred mumbled. "But I don't know if I can live through her not remembering us... you know?" he looked at Ginny, then laid his head on her shoulder. "We used to have so much fun... when we were together. She was so snarky and confident..."

"She's always so happy and has such a good heart." Ginny added.

"Yeah... she was perfect and... I really didn't know we would work so well together but I don't know... I thought she would be a fling and I wasn't ready to commit- she just... she deserved so much better than me, I always knew that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... look at her and look at me." he lookd at Ginny.

"Fred, she looked at you as if you were the whole world for her, not because of your looks or it was because of your looks, I doubt that though but she didn't want anybody else. She wanted you." Ginny said and Fred looked at her.

"I don't know Ginny."

"You do know, Fred. You were the one who thought you didn't deserve her and with the way you were acting after the two of you broke up, just told me how much she hurt you." she continued without any filter. "And it wasn't that she hurt you... it was that you were furious that you fucked up a good thing."

Fred looked at his sister with a confused look. She didn't use that kind of language. "I don't know when you grew up so much, Ginny." he said and laid his head back on her shoulder. "But... if she forgot about us... and me... I don't know- she was the only person who really knew me and it was hard for her to trust me in the first place. When she did, it felt like I met the right person to feel safe with..."

"Like I said... we can hope that she does remember."

---

You and George were laying in the darkness, both resting. You were glad the whole thing was over, even though you almost couldn't have made it out alive.

"Do you really not remember Fred?" asked George.

There was silence but you looked to the darkness beside you where George was speaking from. "I wish I didn't." you said.

"Why did you tell him then you didn't?" he asked calmly.

You turned your head back to the dark ceiling. "I just... I actually don't know... it was a joke at first..."

"I gathered that but he just saw two of people he cared about almost die in front of his eyes so I believe him for not catching it."

"Then he just looked at me with those eyes... like that he cares and I just... I don't know I wanted to make sure if he does or not so I just said no."

There was a small laugh from the other side. "Did you get your answer?"

"Kind of." you shrugged.

"(y/N)." he said in a serious tone. "He bloody loved you. You didn't know how he was when you weren't around. First he was furious, then he was frustrated when you didn't catch our fireworks, then he was melancholic for a while and all of a sudden he got an urge to go after every girl that walked into the shop- age appropriate to be clear." he stopped for a moment. "He cared, he really did- he didn't know how much he had lost until months later. Angelina couldn't compare to you. He wasn't as ambitious and happy as he was with you. He was absent and lost..."

There was a loud silence after that and you felt as if you have to say something in return. "I didn't know you could preform such long speeches."

You heard shuffling on the other side and suddenly something soft landed on your stomach. "Owww!"

"Shut up, we're both poor right now." he said and you laughed , throwing the pillow back.

---

George was awake and walking. He was just getting suited for the wedding when Fred was tying his bowtie. He walked into the living room and saw your space empty. He looked around and tried to find any traces of your disappearance.

It wasn't until he heard a grunt from the bathroom and you walked out, pinning something into your hair. "Hey Ginny this bandage is so unnecessary-" you looked up and he was staring at you as you stared back. His hands were at the untied bowtie and yours were stucking a flower somewhere where your bandage was loose around your head.

"You remember Ginny?" he asked and you kept looking at him.

You let your hands fall down to your side and you took a few steps forward. "I do." you said and grabbed his tie and started to throw it around into a bowtie.

"Do you remember me?" he asked softly as he looked down at you but you kept your eyes on his bowtie.

You were silent for a while and started to twist it around to stay on its place. "I can do it better." you said and untied it again.

He smiled at that. "A perfectionist, you remember that." he said and he could see a smile on your lips. "Please, (y/n)..." he said and placed his hands on top of yours.

You finally looked up and found his eyes in such pain. You didn't think eyes so joyful could look that tormented. "I remember you Fred." you smiled softly, then looked back at the bowtie. "Just like I remember how to tie a perfect bowtie." you smiled and fixed it on his collar.

He breathed out a long breath of relief. He saw your hands leave his bowtie and he immedately started to fix your bandage and hair flower. "You're beautiful today." he said as he continued to tuck in the last peaces of the bandage before going to the flower. "You're beautiful every day."

You continued to look up, his slick and gentle hands touching your scalp and spreading warmth, even the memories you forgot existed. "I'm sorry." you said and he raised an eyebrow. "I always knew who you were..." you said and his hands dropped, still holding the flower that was supposed to go into your hair.

"You did?"

"I did." you said. "You were so close and you were just- and it really hurt- you really hurt me." you said, looking into his eyes, knowing yours were filling themselves with tears. "It was the first time I saw you so close after such a long time and everything came back- and it hurt so much I wished to forget you." you said, avoiding his gaze.

He didn't say anything. To be honest, he wasn't furious or in shock. "You could have done worse, really..." he gave an awkward smile and you laughed. He put his hand back up to your head and started placing it into your hair.

You only observed and as you did so, his hand fell to your cheek and brushed it with his thumb. The two of you were looking at each other, felt like a whole century since the two of you were looking at each other like this... and it felt like yesterday.

Time truly is an illusion, isn't it.

"Please, give me a second chance." he said, leaning his forehead onto yours.

"Fred..." you sighed.

"I know it's a lot to ask but please- I promise, I won't run away again like I did last time." he said, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. "We're special. I know you know... I know we are... please..."

You smiled, closing your eyes and feeling all this warmth, safety and love over your body.

Hope.

There's nothing wrong with having hope.

There's nothing wrong with second chances.

You looked up at him. "Second chance then."

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