#looks permanently pissed off because she usually is

[argonianfeather]

also been playing a necromancer build as moonlights hairless khajiit meemaw, Tomb-Taker.

[gyuswhore]

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

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

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

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

or;

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

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

PLAYLIST: right here!

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

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he piss you off?” Mingyu asks.

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

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

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

“Hey, it’s good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look to your brother and then to Mingyu. 

“We broke up.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”

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

“Never knew you read.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And believe you instead?” 

Oh, you wish.

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

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

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

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

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

“How far are you with that one?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don’t. 

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

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

“Did you drive like this?” 

“Uh, no, I walked.”

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

“Wanted to see you.”

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

“Had to talk about the book.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You chose to stay here,” Mingyu replies. 

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

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

“It’s not about that.” 

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

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

“Better?”

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

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

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

“Easy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You hate living in peace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, your card—” Seokmin starts. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What’re you doing here?” 

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

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

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

You inhale sharply. “Did you drink?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh yeah, I’ll go now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

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

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

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

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

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

You really needed a new car. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had forgotten your book. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he uncomfortable with you? 

Was he avoiding you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s next week, isn’t it?” 

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

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

“Uh,” he starts, “Is Seokmin home?” 

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

“Yeah, I know. Just confirming.” 

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

“Mingyu, are you okay—”

“I need to talk to you.” 

“O-okay.” 

It’s silent. Painfully so. 

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

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

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

“Mingyu—“

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

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

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

He pauses. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you can’t. You can’t do it. 

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

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

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

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

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

You were fourteen the first time Mingyu broke your heart. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What’re you doing?”

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

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

“It’s not that!” you groan.

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

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

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

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

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

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

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

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

“No, you're avoiding each other.”

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

“Stop dodging the question!” he spits. 

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

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

“Seokmin!” you scream. 

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

“No, it’s not,” you grit. 

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

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

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

“I don’t want to go.”

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

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

“I’m giving you twenty minutes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Congratulations.

You’ve worked hard on this. 

This looks great.

How’ve you been?

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

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

“Seok told me you were here too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soft. Legible. New.

You take a step back. 

And another

Then another. 

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

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

THE BEGINNING

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

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

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

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

You needed to leave. 

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

“Let’s go home.”

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

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

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

“Let me drop you off home.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, no, I was awake.”

“Why haven’t you changed yet?” 

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

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

“Nayeon’s” 

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise me you mean it,” you say. 

“What?”

“Promise me you mean it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip on your own fingers tighten as Mingyu talks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Mingyu,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great.”

“Great?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you bring it with you?” 

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

“What the fuck?” you breathe out. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“What?”

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

“I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We could do that right now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” you reply.

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

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

He grins, “I’d do it for you.”

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

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

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

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? There’s more?” he scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you breathe out lightly. 

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

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

He’s silent. 

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

No response. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love ya’” he giggles. 

“Hm.”

“What, hm? Say it back.”

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

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

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

“Hey!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And I love you.”

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

[chrrychills]

hope ur doing well ! can you make headcanons on how sbg characters would react to their conventionally attractive s/o getting hit on either at school or when theyre hanging out ?

i bet you think about me .

main six « s/o getting hit on!

ashlyn banner:

•she's already annoyed that someone is coming up to you both– especially because it's someone she doesn't know. we all know she isn't a fan of social interaction so her mood changes a bit.

•her annoyance spikes once the person starts obviously flirting with you. you two weren't holding hands or anything (due to ashlyn's adversity towards physical touch) but enough people knew you two were together.

•she'll let you handle it yourself, she knows you don't need her to protect you. she's ready to step in as soon as you look the tiniest bit uncomfortable, though.

•if it goes on for too long, she's glaring daggers at the person and dragging you away.

•she's not really jealous, but she is annoyed. she'll be grumbling and complaining quietly for a good five minutes after.

•starts to walk a little closer to you after– she'll let your hands brush and she'll hold your pinkie if you see the person who was hitting on you again.

aiden clark:

•he's a little confused at first since people don't normally just approach you two, but as soon as he picks up on the person's flirty undertone he's jealous.

•unsurprisingly, he hides it well. but you can tell from the way his hand grips yours tighter and his eyes narrow just ever so slightly.

•aiden is so petty it hurts. the entire time the person is making a poor attempt at flirting with you, he's leaning down, whispering stupid jokes and smiling triumphantly when you laugh.

•after the person eventually leaves from awkwardness, he's a lot more affectionate. he was already affectionate before, but it's increased tenfold now. he'll calm down if (or when) you ask him to, of course.

•he knows you're pretty, so he isn't surprised you get hit on. doesn't mean he likes it, though.

•he's jealous at first but he gets over it in less that fifteen minutes because he trusts you, and because he knows you're not gonna leave him for the first guy who looks your way.

ben clark:

•literally so chill. you're pretty, he gets it.

•he's a little weirded out, just because you two are holding hands and are very obviously together?

•he's not the jealous type at all– he's super secure in your relationship and knows you wouldn't do anything to hurt him.

•if you show any signs of being uncomfortable, though, his mood does a complete 180. he's immediately pissed off.

•he wouldn't do anything unless he absolutely had to, though. he's glaring daggers at the person hitting on you and gripping your hand tighter than usual.

•once they leave, ben's immediate reaction is to check up on you. he's making sure you're okay, that you weren't too uncomfortable, and any other slightly irrational worries that pop up in his head.

•ben doesn't get jealous, but he's protective over you and hates seeing you upset or uncomfortable.

tyler hernandez:

•he's constantly surrounded by people, wether it be the baseball team or a group of taylor's friends. he isn't too concerned when someone randomly approaches the two of you.

•as soon as they start flirting with you, he's annoyed. his arm is around your waist, you're wearing his jacket, what about any of that screams single?

•he's ready to chew the guy out and pull you away, but he doesn't because he knows you'll scold him for being rude. instead, he lets you handle the situation because he knows you can.

•the longer the guy sticks around, the more grumbly he is. eventually, he gets sick and tired and just walks away, tugging you behind him and leaving the kid dumbstruck and confused.

•once you two are alone, he's so clingy. his hands will have permanent purchase on your waist for a good hour, and he'll get upset if your hand isn't combing through his hair the entire time.

•honestly, tyler's a pretty jealous guy. not because he's insecure or because he doesn't trust you, but because he hates watching someone flirt with you. you're dating him, not some random kid who just thinks you're pretty.

taylor hernandez:

•you both get hit on pretty frequently, honestly. you're both gorgeous and friendly-looking.

•half of the time, you both have to break the news to a guy that you two like girls. they're usually understanding and just go about their days.

•taylor isn't a jealous girl. she knows you're pretty, and vise versa. but she will get upset if you're uncomfortable, or if someone's going too far.

•she's a sweetheart, so she won't be super firm or rude with anyone, but she articulates herself well enough that they understand to leave you alone.

•when the flirting does get to her, which isn't often, she'll get clingier. she'll constantly want to be touching you in some way– holding your hand, her arm around your waist. just something that communicates that you two are together.

•sometimes, just to mess with whoever is flirting with you, she'll start agreeing with whatever they're saying. she's nodding enthusiastically, smiling and agreeing while slipping her hand into yours.

logan fields:

•he gets super awkward, especially because people don't usually acknowledge him when they come up to hit on you.

•he doesn't want to get in the middle of anything, so he'll let you handle it.

•confrontation isn't really his thing, but he'll 100% snap at someone who's making you uncomfortable or going too far.

•watched them like a hawk while they're leaving, just to be sure they aren't gonna try anything.

•as soon as they're gone, his top priority is to make sure you're okay, and that they didn't creep you out or dampen your mood too much.

•he gets a little clingier for the rest of the day, but goes back to normal after a day or so.

•his solution to literally everything is napping. he loves sleeping. so best believe he's dragging you back to his place after school's over to conk out for the next couple hours. strangely, it works every time.

lacey's notes: wow hi guys sorry for my mini hiatus.

this request was so fun to write! from now on, i'm gonna start declining really specific requests. while i do appreciate everything you all send in, writing specific requests feels a little repetitive and makes it hard to put my own spin on things. if you're not sure on an ask, send it in anyway!

not edited. shhhhh.

[soundwave-is-far-superior]

For your consideration: Shock with a Human S/O who is on all accounts accept one a perfectly rational and normal person... how ever, the second StarScream enters the picture they are going so far out of the way to annoy the piss out of him. Just the most annoying sibling-esque torture their squishy human body can thrust upon the unfortunate mech and Shock just has to kinda sit there and either endure it or intervene... which inevitably has Star boasting or the human complaining in one manner or another. Or both.

A/N : Hello and thank you for requesting this! I don't know whether I should make this a story, headcanon or something else, but I'll make the hcs first and maybe the story? :D Anyways, enjoy and I hope this is what you want! </3

Can you not be more annoying? [Shockwave x human!S/O ft. Starscream HCs]

Warning!! : nothing. Just pure fluff and crack with Screamer being Screamer, Shockwave being Shockwave, and you being you. Except a little bit too sassy for your own good. Mentions of affair (?).

- It was another normal day with you and Shockwave. As usual, you're standing on the other table, watching your beloved scientist do his work and other stuffs you're too bored to even ask what is it.

- Shockwave is very busy, yes, so most of the time, it'll be either you try to talk to him and he answers as best as he can, or just pure silence and you'll be bored to death. But the former happens almost everyday.

- Almost, not like every single day. Sometimes, you wouldn't talk to Shockwave at all, even if he's free and not doing anything.

- He gets concerned over this so quickly. I mean, why is his Conjunx won't talk to him? Isn't he's free now? Why is she so silent in all of a sudden? Why did she asks Soundwave to groundbridge her to the Nemesis?

- All of logical scenarios and possibilities running through his processor in miles. Every scenarios are worst than the last, and he's starting to worry even more. One dare to say, paranoid. Is she... having an affair? No, no, no. She wouldn't. After all, you love him, right?

- Right?

- Because he doesn't want to have the illoical and negative thoughts consuming him, he comm-links Soundwave to open groundbridge for him to Nemesis.

- "Soundwave, I require a groundbridge to Nemesis."

- Just with that, a groundbridge opened, and Shockwave doesn't hesitate to enter it in an almost too hurried movement. Once on Nemesis, he speaks to the TIC with his usual monotone voice.

- "Have you seen [Y/N]? She was not telling me where is she going."

- The TIC then paused for a moment, and shows a camera recording of [Y/N] getting carried by Steve and there's also Starscream.

- "She- went with- Steve- and-" Soundwave uses cut off recordings to form a sentence and he points towards your direction, "Starscream." he states, using Megatron's voice clip.

- And oh boy how Shockwave is even more worried. Why on Cybertron did you choose to be with Steve and Starscream? Where are you going? What are you doing?

- Wasting no time, he immediately thanks the TIC properly and head towards your direction. On the way there, he's thinking so hardly on what to say if you are indeed on an affair. Is he so bad as a lover that you betray him?

- Getting inside the room, he finds you sit on a table with Steve and Starscream standing near you.

- His assumptions and thoughts quickly replaced with dumbfounded look and mentally facepalm.

- There you are, talking at Starscream about this and that which makes the said mech groans in annoyance and tries to counter your sassy remarks.

- And Steve just watches in both amusement and slight sweatdrop. Steve be like : 😅

- "Why are your eyebrows like that? You speak about yourself so high, but how can you do that with how weird your eyebrows are?"

- "First, they are not 'eyebrows'. They are called optic-ridge or optical ridge. Second, they are not weird! I've been built like this and-"

- "You mean, you're born with permanent high-heels and weird eyebrows? Poor you! I sometimes wonder how you can even walk with such stilletos on your feet."

- "Oh Primus-"

- Honestly, Shockwave is happy and very relieved that you don't have an affair, but he's slightly annoyed that you chose to annoy Starscream rather than to entertain your own Conjunx Endura.

- So, he's just standing there, and after some time, he speaks up.

- "[Y/N]. I have been looking for you. Why did you leave without telling me?"

- He asks in his usual monotone and emotionless voice, but you knew better. You're sure that he's annoyed and jealous because you spend time more with other mechs that aren't him.

- "I'm just having a nice talk with Screamer here. Nothing else." As you nonchalantly say that and lean towards the wall, Starscream can't help but groans in annoyance and speaks,

- "If insulting and annoying me is what you called 'nice talk', then I'm very disagree with it! Seriously, Shockwave, your human is so insufferable! Take her away from me!"

- Well, Screamer doesn't even need to order the scientist, he already scooped your smaller frame on his servo as he nods and leaves with Steve and Starscream leaving as well after he does.

- Once inside your shared habsuite Shockwave rarely uses, he tries to scold you, which you just brush it and walk away so nonchalantly.

- He sighs, knowing full well there's no use in trying to speak to you. You'll just act nonchalant.

- After that incident, you kept on bothering Starscream. The SIC always boasts about it and complain, all the while you're still asking sassy stuffs and still giving him sassy remarks.

- "For the sake of Primus, these are not-"

- "Not what? Not my problem?"

- "Oh Primus- why are you still here?!"

- "Should've ask that to yourself."

- "You weakling-"

- And Shockwave very much just watches the two of you. The other one is complaining and boasting, and the other one is also complaining and boasting about it.

- Starscream has tried multiple times on countering your sassy remarks, but he never succeed. In fact, you somehow managed to reply all of his counter words, and it left even Shockwave himself surprised.

- "How about yourself? Why are you so weak and have a very short lifespan? Don't you organics are parasites?"

- "How about yourself? Why are you too coward and too bold for a Decepticon? Us humans aren't like you, even though our lifespan is short and we're so weak, we're useful."

- "[Y/N], sweetspark-"

- May or may not be interested in your ramblings with Starscream, but Shockwave can add his own thoughts and sassy remarks, although not as mentally painful as yours, but it's clear he learnt a lot from you.

- Starscream is very unfortunate though, having now one more addition of someone who will throw sassy remarks and questions at him. He prays that Steve can help him, but the said Vehicon is also learning from you.

- What a life for you, Screamer.

- And what a cute, sassy nature of you, [Y/N]. Even if Shockwave only listens to your sassy remarks all day long, he doesn't mind. When it comes to you, his organic Conjunx Endura, he'll do anything.

❄️

🍫

Do not copy my story! Tag if inspired! Transformers and all its related characters are trademark of Hasbro. All rights reserved.

@sereneisstillhere

@andauserene

[ball-of-butter]

youre like the only account i look at on here for red queen content (specifically maven) so please go full psychological analysis on maven please. i love your posts they itch my brain perfectly

omygosh anon 🤭 tyyyy tyyyy

theres so much to say about maven and its kinda crazy considering he doesn’t get that much actual page time. so keep in mind that many people could have different interpretations of his character, since he is quite elusive. and i may or may notttt be biassed idk.

the first thing i believe: he's a character that, for all his supposed motivations, had no ambition or dream of his own. he was a complete vessel of his mother’s spite, so he makes for a pretty interesting paradox. mare was haunted by a ‘false’ maven that didn't exist (debatable). cal was haunted by an ‘erased’ maven that used to exist. what is maven haunted by? everything and everyone? he’s a ghost himself, he’s the one who usually did the haunting, but even when you get his POV in the books, there’s a tragedy in the negative space you find. there are clear holes in his psyche that he also subconsciously attempts to fill (his memories always fight to bubble to the surface, but they invoke feelings he can’t feel anymore) and never can. despite how pissed off he is at everyone and everything, he so very clearly yearns for love and approval, to the point where he is absolutely delusional about it. there he was, shocked that mare would reject him after he imprisoned and betrayed her and the scarlet guard. here’s him outraged that anabel lerolan would side with cal after he plotted her son’s murder.

elara basically sculpted a monster, and i don’t think that can be debated since its pretty clearly stated in text. even maven knew what she took from him and the extent of the abuse— but he didn't care because she gave him the love he craved. she couldn’t fill it all, if maven’s obsession with mare was anything to go by. i do think elara genuinely loved and adored him, but i don’t know if i would use the word ‘enabler’ for her because it seems too soft a word. maven is elara. elara dies and maven can’t survive on his own for long without her. he was her iron fist in a way, but neither had much interest in norta as a country like most scheming for the throne usually do– which i find so interesting. it wasn’t political, only personal.

now then there lies the debate of choice— some maven fans are completely comfortable heaping all of the blame onto elara and calling it a day. but i think even elara was failed in a similar way maven was. red queen is cool because it shows how evil is encouraged and nurtured in oppressive societies, how certain individuals even in privileged positions will be abused and neglected, how vices are taught to be hidden rather than treated and how violence is perpetuated as the surest, most permanent decree. every character is affected by this system in some way, and i could talk about it for years but i’ll save you the time. my point is that this would apply to maven, but that doesn’t make him void of choice. it’s sort of predictable that he would make the terrible choices he did in the series considering he never had the chance to escape what predestined narrative was already planned for him, but no one was physically forcing him to burn his initial into mare. no one was physically forcing him to try slaughter a whole race of people. no one physically forced him to blow up naercey, or taunt cal after forcing him to murder his dad, or psychologically torture mare when he kept her as prisoner. yes, there’s nuance but maven is also much too comfortable with being a terrible person, because thats what ultimately earns him love, respect and approval.

i don’t think maven could’ve been saved, not because 'the damage was too bad,' but because he had no desire to be saved, and no one but cal had wanted to put in the effort to save him. i always find it interesting how cal secretly resented mare for killing maven, even though it was such a longtime coming, and he would never voice it because considering all maven had done to her, she had more than the right. but i don’t want to yap so much about maven’s relationship with cal because i’ll be here forever. nor do i want to talk too much about his relationship with mare. i'll only say that when i was talking about his death scene i did mention how much of an impact both of them had on each other, how maven was so scary to mare because he was a viable twisted path that represented the worst of her. i think mare could’ve been (my biassed interpretation) a path for him too, but he was so far gone by the second book and especially after elara’s death that he never considered it (would’ve been too late for him then anyway). i have some thoughts on the chances of maven rehabilitating if he had the tools and will to. some thoughts. they won’t go here though.

lastly i just want to link this post which had super interesting additions by @lucy-the-cat that delves into maven from a psychological perspective. its sooooo well written and i still think about it to this day.

last thing i wanna do is glaze a bit so im just gonna 😭 its refreshing to see this sort of villain be portrayed as an mmc who isn’t attractively suave and super misunderstood and depressed and supremely intelligent for what he does– maven is intelligent and sad, but he's presented as a floundering, insecure, delusional brat that the fmc understands entirely. something so refreshing in how he can only either be hated, and at best, pitied.

[mee3pp]

Can’t stop thinking about the usually burly, in intimidatable man Simon Riley who is usually the biggest man in the room until you show up. All 6’6 and 220 Ibs of you appears in the break room standing next to price.

“Boy this is Lieutenant Gull, our semi permanent Battle and bomb specialist” Price announces as he gestures up at you. “Didn’t know we were recruitin’ fuckin giants” Soap chuckles as he shakes your hand and introduces himself. “Dig the Mowhawk Mate” You chuckle as Soap sizes up your black mullet. “Yer mullet ain’t to bad aswell” He hums.

Gaz is the next to introduce himself with a small handshake and an agreeable sizing up of you. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Gaz” He smiles and you nod at him. Of course the last man to introduce himself to you is Ghost because well frankly he’s fucking intimidated by you. Not that he’d utter a word to anyone about it though. “Ghost” Is all he says he doesn’t even shake your hand. You both proceed to size each other up, you look down at him which pisses him off even more but it also sparks something deep inside of him.

He’s used to being the biggest and scariest in the room, now he’s just the scariest. You didn’t come off scary especially with that stupidly endearing grin when you walked in and your hand running through your mullet and of course that stupid moustache that’s somehow perfectly paired with just enough facial hair. He can explain it but there’s just something so welcoming but also so intimidating about you, maybe it’s all the knowledge you have? Or maybe it’s the sheer size of you. Ghost is wondering how you even found uniform big enough for your massive frame.

Something about you is just so familiar but he can’t place it. He’s sure he’s seen those same hard grey eyes, that black hair and that mocking grin.

“Yer a beer fan?” Soap asks as you all wait in line at the bar. “Yeah, my favourite drink” you nod your Australian accent ringing through the small corner of the bar once you all walk to the usual table the boys sit at. “So tell us about yerself man” Soap chuckles as you are met with four pairs of hardened eyes. “What do ya wanna know” You chuckle sipping your beer. “I dunno, where are ya from?” Soap asks “Northern territory Australia” You nod. Somthing about that seems even more similar to the big brooding man sitting across from you. “Any family?” Gaz chimes in and you nod. “Ya actually my older sisters in the SAS as well” You nod which draws supprised looks from the four men. “Eh? What’s her name” Gaz asks. “Julia Roberts, she’s a captain” You say and Price smirks as he knows your sister.

So that’s where he knows that pair of hard grey eyes from. Fucking Roberts, the woman he hates and loves like a sister. The woman who is the only person with big enough balls to willingly piss off Ghost and throw snarky comments at him.

The broody man scowls, his blonde eyebrows furrowed. “Should’ve known” he huffs “you’ve both got the same ‘fuck you’re grin”. This makes you and the rest of the team laugh. “Ya know now that I think of it, she has mentioned you. Well not by name but I should’ve guess it was you she meant when she said the grumpy ass one with a permanent scowl” You throw back with a grin and a glint in your eyes.

“Mhm sounds like Jules” Ghost huffs, as he lifts his mask to sip his bourbon. It’s now a few pints later, you all were only supposed to have one then that turned to two now three. You all pile out of the pub and back to the barracks where you all drunkenly find your rooms.

Much to Ghosts dismay you both are in the same area two doors down from each other. “How do ya know m’ sister?” You slur looking down at Ghost, the smirk on your lips suggests that you think he’s got something going on with her. “I’ve worked with her a few times that’s all” he shrugs.

Finally after what feels like forever of you interrogating him you finish and he leaves. Once he closes his door Ghost lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding because truth is he’s fucking scared of you. He doesn’t know why, you aren’t scary you’re a big softy but he can’t help but be intimidated.

[vypridae]

do you have anymore carmilla x velvette headcanons? i’m loving those two

IM SOO GLAD THEYRE LOVED NOW BUT OUHG I HAVE SHARED SO MANY HCS ALREADY ANON IDK IF ILL BE ABLE TO THINK OF ANY ... those posts are here and here but ill try to give some more!!

velvette's personal model for every outfit she makes is carmilla

she'll sometimes call carmilla and tell her hey like . i need a model for this new line aaaand... ur pretty ... so it works

carmilla, in turn, has velvette help her perfect weapons and the steels and parts she makes

velvette has a permanent scar on her side because they were "fighting" (carmilla was showing off an angelic weapon she was producing) and accidentally got stabbed

(carmilla is still trying to make it up to her. velvette is more than pleased, even if carmilla made up for it already, just because she keeps getting stuff)

there have been times velvette has needed to stay up / in her office late to try to brainstorm ideas for new lines she's announced because she announced them prematurely and needs to solidify the ideas, so she's called carmilla and sat with her on voice call for hours on end

carmilla tries to ask velvette how the line is going and velvette already fell asleep

(she leaves the call on so when velvette wakes up she can see carmilla's face in the morning)

velvette probably has several really complex coffee orders or something and carmilla has memorized every single one of them

i feel like velvette is a bit of a picky eater too, not to an extreme extent but its enough where carmilla can list off what velvette will not eat on two hands

velvette has so much fun essentially playing dressup with carmilla btw. she knows trendy stuff and she likes having carmilla dress in NOT just black and white when they go out

which, they dont go out often, but when they do they both make it so special

carmilla gets reservations at really nice places that she knows velvette will like, and velvette makes sure they both look absolutely amazing (and posts like 19357984175 pictures of her and carmilla out on dates)

theyll go out and do a bunch of stuff that caters to both of their tastes

velvette sometimes calls carmilla when vox and val are pissing her off just to talk shit about them to her and carmilla just listens because velvette sounds so cute when shes angry

she usually ends up being the one to calm her down too

[seajelllies]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝟑 ♡︎ I kind of want to touch them masterlist ✎ roll call 1 ✎ roll call 2

Sweetheart?

Your face scrunches up at the tone in his voice, and when your vision clears you're faced with a borderline pissed off expression from a guy who liked like Yuji, if he actually stuck to going to the gym rather than watching movies all day in Megumi's dorm.

"You make it a habit to sleep in strangers rooms?" He raised a brow at you, and you were starting to wonder if that scowl was permanently etched into his face.

You pause- god you forgot that you totally fell asleep. The last thing you remember was the words in your textbook slowly jumbling up into a mess. You suppose it was because you finally consumed something that wasn't the same cup of noodles you've been eating in the corner of your room like a rat.

Damn, did you really just fall asleep just because you more nutrients than usual? How embarrassing. At least Yuji wasn't here, because you're almost 100% positive he would've taken pictures of you drooling all over your textbook.

Just the thought makes your eye twitch.

"In my defense, Yuji isn't a stranger." You finally reply, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. He scoffs in reply, and you're starting to really dislike the sarcastic tone in his voice.

Your eyes meet again, and for a second neither of you reply nor break the contact, and you really start to take in his face. He really did look a lot like Yuji, and he mentioned once that he had an older brother back in high school- but if you were honest? He could pass for a twin, if he wasn't slightly more built and had a less chiseled face.

And what the hell was up with the marks on his face? Were they face tattoos- were they even real? It's not like you haven't seen people who've done it before, but they were mostly western celebrities and not a random college guy in the middle of Tokyo.

"You have a staring problem or what?" He could have easily looked away, but for some reason your lack of immediate fear was a little... confusing, and he refused to be the one to break the eye contact first.

"Are they real?"

He paused in confusion, opening his mouth to ask what before he saw the way your eyes were no longer looking him directly in the eye, and instead glancing around his face.

"Hah?"

"I said, are they real?" You make an awkward gesture- pointing would've been a bit too forward- so you wave your hands in the direction of your own face. "The uha... tattoos?"

"What, you think I just woke up this morning and decided to slap sharpie on my face to look cool?" He said in a derisive scoff.

"If you were going for cool, I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news." The words kind of slipped out before you had the chance to think it in your head first, and you slowly bring your hand to cover your mouth. Oops.

But to your surprise, his tone isn't as hostile as you expected it to be.

"I wouldn't expect you to know what's cool, sweetheart." The way he called you by the nickname again was drawn out, almost like a purr at the end- probably not on purpose, but the bass in his tone made it sound so alluring you almost forget he was indirectly insulting you.

"M'not your sweetheart." Your try to hide your frown behind your hand, but your eyebrows gave it away.

"Right," His tone was bored, lacking any sort of interest. He examined you up and down before continuing. "And who's are you then? Yuji's? You don't seem his typ-"

"WHAT? No!" You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence. "Yuji is like a brother to me! Friends! Why does everyone keep assuming we are anything more?" You mumble the last part to yourself in an exasperated sigh.

"'Worst she can say is no' they say." He snorts mockingly at your defensive response.

"Speaking of Yuji," You quickly gather your things, shoving them into your bag. "Tell him next time he wants me to tutor him, at least make sure he doesn't need to leave halfway through."

"The fuck I look like to you, a messenger?" He replied in a clipped tone.

You ignore it though, grabbing your shoes and jacket. He was annoying, sure, but you were less mad at him and more at yourself for managing to fall asleep when you still had so much to review. You suppose you can somewhat thank Yuji, for giving you at least an hour of sleep before you pull an all-nighter.

"Yuji said he was gonna walk you back, you know." He calls out with a shrug, but he doesn't stop you.

"I can manage on my own."

You don't bother saying goodbye, because really, you don't even know the guy and you're not sure you want to. You simply slip away before he can manage to say something.

Sukuna sits there in the silence for a moment, and he realizes that might have been the first full conversation he's had with someone that wasn't Yuji or Uraume where the other person wasn't on the verge of tears.

Interesting.

𝑻𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔!

︾ Yippee chapter 3 done and I haven't lost my braincells (҂ ꒦ິヮ꒦ິ) Anyways chapter 4 is the start of chaos, more tension, RAHHH (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭

︾ I'm also trying very hard to balance Sukuna's attitude but I can't tell if I'm doing any good at that (ㅍ_ㅍ) I don't want him to be just an asshole the whole time but I also don't want him to instantly become smitten because back and forth banter is fun and silly and this might turn into a slow burn im so sorry 🧍‍♀️

︾ I also really enjoy writing the random bits of Nobara & Megumi banter at the start of the group chats lol I promise u they're all friends, they just fight like siblings ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)

𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍! the taglist

@sweetteez @stressed-cryptid @moxiiscool @ashfrommyfire

[aestheticaltcow]

Phoenix's Crush

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x Reader

Your Hangman's girlfriend. Phoenix can't get you out of her head.

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

“Stop moving Nat. I’m almost done.” Natasha chuckled at your instruction and tried to relax as you straddled her lower abdomen as you finished doing her eye makeup. “Why are we doing this again?” Natasha laughed, unsure of where to put her hands- granted, it’d been like that for over an hour at that point. “Because you said you haven’t done your makeup in like 15 years, and I was bored. You’re humoring me, Nat.”

Natasha felt her stomach twist. You were Hangman’s girlfriend. You and Jake had been long-distance for the past few years due to his deployment schedule but since the success of last year’s uranium mission, The Daggar Squad found themselves a more permanent home in North Island. You moved to San Diego and in with Jake a few weeks ago, and everyone loved you- but Natasha had more… complicated… feelings. 

Natasha had been romantically and sexually interested in women before and had her share of relationships. But you were different in a way that intrigued her. 

You were down-to-earth and funny. You laughed at Natasha’s jokes and took a genuine interest in her. The other Daggar significant others clearly weren’t into what Natasha was, and they hadn’t made an effort to get to know her, at least not beyond writing her off as no threat to their romantic endeavors. 

“The eyebrows got a little 2017 Instagram-y on me, but I think you look absolutely gorgeous—or should I say even more gorgeous than usual?” you smiled as you shifted off Natasha’s hips and onto the couch beside her before reaching over to grab your phone from the coffee table. 

The two of you were taking selfies when your phone rang, flashing Jake’s contact picture across your screen. It was of the two of you from a Navy Ball a few years ago. Jake was in his dress whites while you wore a long emerald green silky dress that complimented your skin tone perfectly. Jake had a hand protectively grasping your hip. Your hands were on his chest while you kissed his cheek lovingly. Natasha swallowed; she wished she’d been in Jake's shoes at that moment. You excused yourself and took Jake’s call in the kitchen.

~

“Take Hayley. Y/N was all fuckin’ over me after-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Bagman. No one wants to hear you objectify your girlfriend.” Natasha spat, interrupting Jake’s explanation of you and his most recent date night. Natasha got up suddenly, making her chair loose balance and fall back.

Coyote’s eyes widened at the outburst, and watched Natasha pick up her lunch tray and storm out of the cafeteria. She pushed past Rooster and Bob. Bob watched her throw her lunch tray out and head toward the rec room. He shot Rooster a confused look before the two men joined Hangman and Coyote at their lunch table. 

“What was that about?” Rooster asked as he set his lunch tray down. He moved to pick up Natasha’s fallen chair before sitting in the one next to it. Hangman shrugged, “I was tellin’ Coyote about this hot tub boat I took Y/N out on, and Phoenix got pissed. The woman needs to get some.” he laughed at the end of his explanation. Rooster and Coyote exchanged a similar look of annoyance before everyone at the table returned to their lunches. 

Bob poked at his food. After flying with her, he knew Phoenix like the back of his hand. She wouldn’t have stormed out like that because Hangman was being a prick—there was something deeper there. He was going to figure it out.

[dangermousie]

This is such a !!!! scene on so many levels. Here is 17, changing, and even with only inner robe on, he looks pristine and perfect, just the way his reputation paints - a wonderful young master heir blah blah.

And then the camera pans down and you get horror. And the thing is, I love it for so many reasons - this is a vanishingly rare costume cdrama narrative where scars don’t fade - usually people spit blood and look pristine and it’s an aesthetics I dig, but this isn’t it, this is very much torture and suffering is not pretty in the least. There is nothing appealing about 17′s bare torso. It’s honestly pretty damn hard to look at. And I am genuinely impressed at the drama for going there. But also, it’s so in keeping with the thrust of the narrative for ALL the characters - traumas do not magically heal and go away; you learn to live with them and heal the best you can, but the marks remain for good and you are forever changed. It’s pretty clever of the drama because we saw all this mess in ep 2 but he’s been dressed to the neck ever since and I honestly just assumed it all got healed; no it normally wouldn’t but I am used to drama logic. And then it just smashes you in the face. Nope, still there!

Crazy fiancee bursts in with another attempt to woo or w/e and then sees this...

It takes a pretty impressive kind of discipline to get this reaction and then turn to fully face the other person, exposing all the horror while knowing the revulsion you are going to get as a reaction and, in fact, counting on it to help break the engagement. If Jing wasn’t such a nice person, he’d be honestly terrifying.

She runs off, of course, and it strikes me again no wonder the hugeness of his reaction to XY blushing around him shirtless (when he looked even worse) and how it restored his feeling as a man when this is the reaction he gets from his fiancee and probably 99% of any woman around. Looking like this and still being seen as desirable - yeah, that’s got to be huge.

As I said. Good lord, he could be quite terrifying if he chose. But also, it’s all so symbolic of how he looks like the perfect Tushan heir and that idealized image but he really is not - because he’s hurt by his past but also because nobody can be this bloodless perfection. XY likes him with all his trauma, physical and otherwise, just as he likes her the same - they see each other’s real self. But here, even if fiancee wasn’t evil, it is like the infatuation of that musician outside that tea house - based on idealized image, not reality.

Pssst, fiancee’s notion of a better man? Jing’s torturer brother. Her main complaint is “dude, the torture you inflicted on your brother makes him look gross!!!!”

I love how their delusions are what’s blinding them, just as both believe he’s back for revenge because that’s the only reason they’d be back.

Sweetheart, you are a murderous psycho but I am forced to point out that a man who could torture his own half-brother who he grew up with and who did him no harm, do it for years and so severely the man is permanently terribly scarred and with a busted leg, for literally nothing the man had ever done to him but because he was pissed at his mom and had an inferiority complex, is not a good choice of partner? One day he’s gonna get pissed at you!

I hope you both get to experience cousin’s maggot box at length but also, if there ever was a fitting match in this drama!

[fr4nkie0stein]

Loona x reader???

I just did general dating headcanons, I hope that's alright ♡

Loona dating headcanons (gender neutral)

Content warning(s): none that I'm aware of

Dating Loona is basically like having permanent scary dog privileges 

No one wants to do or say anything that might upset you or otherwise accidentally piss her off because most people are smart enough to realize not to make her mad 

The two of you as a couple also follows along the lines of the "I hate everyone but you" trope 

Loona will snap at anyone who so much as looks at her wrong, but with you? 

Literally a huge, overgrown puppy 

If you're ever mad at her or have a fight she's a lot more rude than usual while simultaneously pouting that you're avoiding her 

Doesn't always apologize first, but when she does you can tell she really means it 

Likes when you pet her, even if she refuses to admit it </3

Will let you braid/style her hair to your hearts content as long as you ask first 

Same thing with her makeup 

Just don't make her look like a clown, intentionally or otherwise, because it's likely you won't be allowed to touch her face with any sort of makeup product ever again 

She isn't the big or little spoon because she doesn't really like to cuddle or sleep real close (unless either one of you is upset) 

Actually, you might not want to share a bed with her at all because she a) hogs the covers, b) flails around a lot in her sleep, and c) snores really, really loud

The only time those things won't happen is if you've fallen asleep on her accidentally

Loona will refuse to move even an inch, afraid she might wake you up

When she's certain you're definitely asleep, she'll be surprisingly gentle as she picks you up and carries you to bed 

Really over protective when it comes to you 

She knows just how awful hell can be, and she doesn't want you to get hurt 

She also gets jealous really easily, which stems from her abandonment issues 

If you spend so much time with someone else, you might realize how much happier you are with them and end up leaving her 

Of course that would never happen, but she can't help worrying all the same 

Shares her earbuds with you when you're listening to music together 

Also shares her clothes, her makeup, her magazines... anything, really 

You're the only person who has that privilege, by the way, so don't take it lightly 

♡ Send in more requests here ♡

[circlebuttons]

Ultimatum

pairing: addict/soft!rafe x reader

summary: A year ago you gave Rafe an ultimatum and he decided to choose you, but after walking in on his argument with Sarah you discover that you’ve been put second.

a/n: i made rafe a lot softer than usual.. oops. I just see him as being completely whipped for this girl and so he’s naturally apologetic and softer towards her.

warnings: drug use & maybe some manipulation

…..

Rafe had gone missing in action and after facetime after facetime, phone call after phone call, and text after text you decided to show up at Tammyhill unannounced to get answers.

To say you were pissed was an understatement. The two of you had set these types of boundaries surrounding communication and if it had been you who ghosted he would've already lit half of the island on fire, because there's no reason good enough on this entire island to not be able to shoot a quick text that's says something as brief as "Sorry, i'll call you later."

On the drive over there you begin to convince yourself that you should give him the benefit of the doubt. If anyone on this island could go toe toe with Rafe Cameron it was you and lord knows it was too late to start a war zone in the Cameron's family room, but as soon as you parked and prepared to compose yourself your headlights reflected off of that obnoxious red bike and back at you.

The only thing you hate more then that bike is that it increases the chances of him being home. At this point everyone better hope that he's reenacting titanic somewhere on his father's boat because why else would his bike be home and he's not.

You grab your stuff and walk up to heavy front doors that stand solid, but before you can even walk past the glass doors the sound of arguing becomes audible. You stand there listening, but all you can hear is muffled cursing and as soon as you hear "Go to hell Rafe!" spat out in a certain tone you can tell it's Sarah and Rafe going at it again.

You rolled your eyes and beat on the door, hoping to knock louder than they could argue "What'd you do call Topper?" you could hear Rafe scoff as he opened the door.

"No I-" Sarah went to argue, stopping only once she saw you step through the door.

"What the hell is going on in here?" You ask them both as they focus their attention on you as you take in Sarah's appearance, she's standing on the other side of the room facing you, her hair is messy and shes breathing hard. She has a permanent scowl on her face and raises and eyebrow to Rafe to answer.

You look towards him and you can't help but notice his lack of affection, no "hey", no hug, and not even a kiss for his girlfriend of a year.

Neither one of them speak, and it immediately feels like there's a secret hanging in the air that everyone knows but you. It confirms your suspicions when Sarah throws her head back and huffs out, "Tell her Rafe." The way she points her gaze and bites on the inside of her cheek, creates goosebumps on your skin. The anticipation is killing you.

"Tell me what?" You ask, turning towards Rafe and it makes your stomach drop when he can't even look at you. He's facing you, with his head down and his eyes glued to ground. Rafe doesn't even hold his head down slightly when he walks and now he can't even look you in your eyes?

"Can you just let me talk to her alone?" He bites out at Sarah as she rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"If I do are you going to tell her the truth?" She asks gesturing towards you. Your eyes meet hers and she holds your gaze with apologetic eyes.

"Sarah, Fuck off!" He yells, throwing his hands up and facing her. Rafes outburst startles you as you look between the two siblings. Your heart has finally settled in your ass and all you can do is watch as they go back and forth.

"Tell her right now or I will" Sarah's demeanor becomes eerily serious as a chill blows across your neck. Rafe stands unmoving in the middle of the room with both you and Sarah on each side. He looks up at you and just as quickly drops his gaze, holding his head in both of his hands.

"He's been doing coke again and this time he fucking took it out on Wheezie," Sarah's voice wavers as she speaks.

A small gasp leaves your lips. It just didn't feel real, almost an entire year of sobriety, gone. Your vision blurs and it feels like your throat's going to close as you start piecing things together. There's a reason he hasn't looked you in the eyes or even stood close to you since you walked in.

"Rafe are you high right now?" you ask him, not sure if you even want an answer.

He looks up at you with bloodshot eyes, both from crying and cocaine, but when he notices the tears in your eyes and the quiver in your lip, he closes his eyes tightly and sucks in both of his lips in a tight line. You look at him with disbelief, "God, this isn't real life" you laugh through your tears as you turn to face the opposite direction, not even being able to look at him.

"I'm so sorry" he whispers out.

"Is Wheezie okay?" you turn and ask Sarah softly.

She walks past Rafe and engulfs you in a strong hug,"She's fine, he went ballistic, screaming at her and throwing shit. She's never seen him like that" she says holding you tightly as if to say so many things all at once. "If you don't want to talk to him, I get it", she talks lowly, so that only you can hear.

"I'm fine, I got it" You tell her wiping the tears out of your eyes with your sleeves and forcing a sad smile up at her, thankful for her always being there to give you an out. When dating someone like Rafe with obsessive tendencies there's always the possibility of feeling trapped and Sarah was always there to offer you an escape or a means of well needed space.

She nods and returns the smile, hesitantly walking up the stairs, leaving Rafe and yourself to sit in silence.

"I am sorry. I truly, genuinely am so sorry " He stands shaking his head still in his hands.

Your arms cross over your chest as a way to protect yourself from him, "Say something other than sorry, this isn't something an apology can fix"

His eyes fight to stay towards the ground, "I know-"

"Look at me Rafe!" you cut him off angrily, it's so cowardly for him to act this way after destroying so much.

His eyes snap up to yours and the icy blue color is dulled and barely visible behind his dilated pupils, "Wheezie was the first to find out that I relapsed and she confronted me before I had a chance to come down. It's not an excuse, but you know i'd never try to hurt her on purpose"

You knew what he said was true, even though he was still coming down from his high. "It doesn't matter what I know, I thought I knew that you were sober." The longer you look at him sympathy is constantly being reimagined as hurt and anger. The idea of his relapse is eating up at you on the inside as you imagine all of the different scenarios and questions. "How long have you been using?" You ask him quietly.

"Less than a week I swear!" His eyes widen as he steps closer to you.

You want to reach out to him hoping that he's telling the truth and somewhat thankful that it's only been a week of lies, but then you remember that it's been a week of lies, "And I've seen you everyday this week." your face reads nothing short of hurt.

"I should've told you when it first happened" His words and his eyes tell you that he means it, but that's not good enough.

"You could've came to me even when the thought first came into your head." You tell him calmly, knowing that he won't respond well to your anger.

"I'm ashamed of how weak I am. I hate myself more than you even know." His confession breaks your heart, no one would be able to hear that the person they love the most in the world can't love themselves. "I don't know what to do now," he says with his voice breaking as he pulls you into a hug.

"Neither do I." you tell him, looking at him and offering a tight lipped smile. The reality is that you know what you have to do, you just don't want to.

He places a soft kiss on your forehead and whispers, "I love you"

The words immediately make tears well back up in your eyes, as you put a hand on his chest and create an arms length of distance, "Shut the fuck up, that's manipulative Rafe!" you cry out at him, quickly wiping your eyes after breaking the hug.

"I mean it," he matches your volume as he silently lets tear of his own fall down his face.

"Your pupils are gigantic, I don't believe shit you say" you respond coldly to him, knowing it's the only way to keep some form of an emotional guard up.

"Please don't leave" he breathes out, grabbing you by your wrist, to keep you from turning from him. He knows you're seconds from breaking.

"I gave you an ultimatum Rafe" You tell him with pleading words.

His grasp moves from your wrist to your hand, threading his fingers through yours, "And I pick you every time" he says, moving his head to hold this strong eye contact with you.

You want to argue with him about how a relapse means that this time he very obviously didn’t pick you, but the only thing you can do is fidget with his fingers and swallow back tears.

"Relapse is part of recovery, my brain chemistry is changed and i'm trying everyday to not let it eat me alive" he tells you moving to hold your hand with both of his.

"I've done all I can do, I'm not licensed to help you and I can't give you the compassion or understanding that an addict needs." It breaks you to call him an addict, but you can’t force him into sobriety the same way you can’t force him to love himself the way you do.

"I'll start going back to therapy for you" He responds strong and eagerly, but this time it’s you who breaks the eye contact.

You softly shake your head at him, "You should go for yourself."

"I will go for us" He refutes and it splits you into two. It’s not a good idea to be in a serious relationship with an addict or a person in recovery, yet all of these empty promises pull you back in.

The gesture is nice, but you fight with yourself to stutter out your final decision, "No- no more.. us"

His face instantly flashes with hurt, "What, no!" he scoffs and pulls you closer.

You create more distance between two of you again, dropping your hand from his, "The ultimatum Rafe. It's more than me or the drugs, our relationship can't thrive like this, it's unhealthy."

He begins to close the space again. You can clearly read the look on his face and tell that he’s falling apart at the seams, "I'm getting help! We can go to couples therapy too, i'll pay for-"

"I can not go back on my word because I mean it when I tell you that I can not watch you do this to yourself, I can not be the only reason you're sober, and I can fucking not bury you" You raise your voice at him through your tears and poke harshly at his chest.

His eyes soften as he reaches up to wipe the tears from your cheek as his own begin to fall again, "I'm sorry that I put you in this position"

"I am too" You whisper, turning your face into his hand.

His teary eyes lock into yours, their icy blue color resurfacing and the optimist in you swears his pupils have reduced in size slightly. He bends down to touch his forehead to yours, "I'm going to get clean, just for you, my beautiful girl. I know you want me to do it for me, but you’re my entire world, the only thing that matters.

From the way he looks at you can tell his intention is to kiss you one last time, it rips at your heartstrings. You know you shouldn’t, you should just leave, you can’t say one thing and then have your actions mean another. You fight this internal battle with yourself, until he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. You can’t help but kiss him back, matching his passion as he holds you against him,“i’ll die before i stop trying for you" he whispers against your lips.

"Goodbye Rafe" you mumble quietly into his skin, suddenly aware of how loud your heartbeat is and how restricted your lungs feel.

You try to release yourself from his hug, but he tightens his grip around your waist and holds your neck so that you can’t look away from him, "I love you" His words make your eyes shut tightly as a sob racks through your body. This is the last time you’ll allow yourself to cry over Rafe Cameron.

[madman479r]

Jaune laid on his bed, a comic of X-Ray & Vav, a cold soda beside him and the warm sunlight through the window. Today was one of the few times he had him personal time alone. Don't get him wrong, he loved his friends and team but growing up in a home of 10 people can leave a person, especially a young man, wanting some alone time.

Jaune sighed, feeling peace and tranquillity. Nothing could spoil this mo-

*BAM!*

*BANG!*

"Heyfearlessleaderyouwouldnotbelievethedayihaddidyouknowsapcanbereallystickyandhardtogetoutofhairifanyoneknocksdontletthemit!" Nora burst into the room, nearly breaking the door off its hinges and slammed the door the door just as quickly, speaking a mile a minute, not even stopping for breath as she started to move her bed in front of the door.

Jaune sat up as he tried to decipher what Nora had just said. "Nora-- wait-- slowdown, what are you doing? What did you just say?"

Before Nora could say anything, a thunderous pounding came from the door. "NORA, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!"

Jaune slowly turned to a sheepish Nora who tried to look innocent. "...If anyone knocks, don't let them in." Nora said in a high pitched voice.

Jaune gave another sigh, this one in mourning at the loss of his alone time. Jaune crawled over to Nora's bed which was blocking the door and gingerly put her ear up to the door. "Yang? It's Jaune." He said through the wood.

"VOMIT BOY! OPEN THIS DOOR!" Had Jaune's head been a few inches to the left, he would have had his head bashed in by Yang's furious whack on the door as it bent the wood slightly on Impact.

"Holy fu--" Jaune swallowed his fear and tried again. "Yang! I won't open this door if you attempt to hurt Nora. So unless you take a breath, calm down and promise you won't hurt Nora, I'm not opening this door and don't even think about breaking down this door because you and I both fear Miss Goodwitch more than I fear you." Jaune said.

A few tense seconds passed, Jaune wondering if Yang was too enraged to fear the threat of Glynda before he heard a deep inhale and exhale.

"I'm. Calm." Yang didn't sound too calm but Jaune had known Yang long enough to tell when she was willing to listen even when angry.

"And?"

"...I promise I won't permanently injury Nora." That was probably the best he was gonna get.

"Here goes nothing." Jaune muttered and moved the barricade out of the way and took a deep breath before opening the door.

Before him was a crimson eyed, flaming and seriously pissed off huntress-in-training who was glaring at him with crossed arms.

So far he hadn't had his face caved in nor been violently moved out of the way so that was a good sign.

Jaune motioned for Yang to come in which she did but Jaune made sure to at least keep himself between Yang and Nora. "Okay, can you explain to me what exactly happened." Jaune asked.

Yang glared at Nora as she spoke. "This fucking idiot got sap. In. My. HAIR!"

Jaune paused mand looked up at Yang's golden locks, not seeing anything wrong with it. "I don't see any--" Yang turned around and lifted up her hair to reveal the underside was stained and ruined with the red sticky substance.

"Oh." Jaune lamely said.

Yang turned back around and growled. "So either you ask Ozpin for a new member of your team or both Ren and Pyrrha are gonna need new partners." Yang gave her ultimatum and advanced toward Nora.

Jaune quickly got between the two again. "Wait! Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait!"

"Out of the way, Vomit boy." Yang set her eyes on Jaune now.

"I can fix it! Your hair! I can fix it!" Jaune said loudly.

Yang paused at his words before snorting. "Bullshit."

"No!" Jaune got in front of Yang again. "It's true. I've cut hair before."

"Pubic hair doesn't count." Yang scoffed.

"No, I mean I've cut my sisters' hair before. Our usual barber wasn't available anymore and they needed it done for a family photo. Ever since then I've been their hairdresser. I-i actually have my gear with me." Jaune explained.

Yang's eyes, still red with anger, looked at Jaune with scrutiny before she closed her eyes and gave another growl, this one not sounding as scary as before.

Yang walked over to the chair at the desk and dragged it back to Jaune before planting herself onto it with crossed arms.

"If I don't like it, you die before Nora." Yang left the threat hanging in the air as Jaune gulped loudly.

"S-sure. Nora, could you-" Jaune looked to find Nora had disappeared while he had distracted Yang. Jaune sighed again and went to get his scissors and such.

**Later**

Jaune nervously backed away from Yang once he had finished, waiting for Yang to decide his fate, so far Yang had kept her eyes shut, not yet seeing his completed work. "A-all done."

Yang took off the tarp that covered her and stood up. "Sorry, VB, all you did was give Nora a head sta-" Yang finally opened her eyes and saw her reflection in a nearby mirror. Her hair... wasn't ruined. If anything... it looked... Good! Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail but still kept her wild, fluffy like locks with her fringe untouched, the part of her hair that was ruined by the sap was cut off, with a 180 undercut that didn't look terrible. (Source/artist unknown)

Yang continued to examine her new hairdo and remained silent, turning to Jaune with an unreadable expression.

Jaune flinched back and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to come.

Jaune suddenly felt a hand grab his collar and nearly cried out until a pair of soft lips pressed onto his.

After a few seconds, Yang pulled away and Jaune looked at her with wide eyes.

Yang smirked and winked. "Not bad. Lover boy. Maybe I should have you be my personal barber." She laughed and exited the dorm, hips swaying as she did, feeling more confident than usual.

Jaune stood starstruck and wondering what exactly just happened. But his mind couldn't move away from how soft Yang's lips were and how they tasted of strawberries.

[problematic-camren]

"What is that on your neck?" Yoko tilts her sunglasses down to take a good look at Wednesday's suspicious bruising.

Wednesday stares at her, not blinking, while Yoko squints her eyes trying to figure out what sort of creature that has victimized her friend.

"Did a vampire bite you??"

"Of course not."

"It better not be, dude, because I'll be hurt," Yoko scoffs.

"May I ask why?" Wednesday asks, her tone monotonous as usual. "How are your emotions correlated to whatever bit my neck?"

Yoko jumps off the table and sits beside her friend on the bench. Wednesday immediately moves a foot away, but at least she doesn't walk out anymore.

"See, if it was another vampire, I would be offended, right?" Yoko explains. "Because I'm a whole ass vampire, Addams, and I've been begging you since forever to lemme taste you... So if I hear you've been offering your pale neck to some random bloodsucker I'll be terribly pissed."

Wednesday stares at her emotionlessly. But she gets her point. She, too, will be annoyed if Yoko allows herself to get staked in the heart by a stranger instead of her.

"Well, I assure you it was not a vampire," she shrugs, biting into her bacon strip.

"I'm still curious though."

"It pains my heart to say that your curiosity will never be satiated, as I am not inclined to divulge the source of this particularly pleasurable torture I have experienced."

Yoko sighs.

The door to the cafeteria loudly slams open, as a huffing Enid Sinclair looks around the large room, smiling when she sees the back of her roommate's head, unmistakable amidst a sea of Nevermore students littered around -- quite distinct as if there's a permanent stormcloud attached above her.

"There you are, Wednesday! You forgot your snood to cover your --"

"It was Enid??!" Yoko gasps.

Wednesday smirks ever so lightly as she allows Enid to wrap the black snood around her neck.

[uluthrek]

2 monopoly 2 au: driftmark edition

viserys, in his usual well meaning naïveté, proposes a family game night.

larys is the one who suggests monopoly because he loves watching the world burn (literally). he does not actually participate, though, instead acting as the bank and giving viserys financial advice so horrid the poor man ends up completely insolvent after ten minutes.

rhaenyra makes a bunch of shitty investments, somehow profits enough to not completely lose and gives larys the finger every time her event cards require her to pay even a cent. larys’ tax system, that some hundred years later will be adopted by one tyrion lannister and spectacularly blow up in his face, is not acknowledged by the realm’s delight, which kind of goes without saying.

daemon owns all brown, pink and light blue properties which end up making him a fortune. he, too, refuses to pay taxes. seated between rhaenyra and viserys, every once in a while, whenever no one is looking, he reaches across the table and steals their money. alicent is the only one who sees this and is subsequently gaslit into believing she’s going insane by him when he brings it up. rhaenyra refuses to count her money out of principle.

rhaenys is in a spectacularly bad mood and the one with her dragon in the closest proximity, which is why no one even bothers to ask her to pay when she lands on someone’s property. of course she doesn’t pay taxes.

rhaena and baela have teamed up, own all orange properties and are specifically hell bent on bankrupting aegon. they’re the only ones that rhaenys actually pays. they, too, evade taxes.

jacaerys announces insolvency after ten minutes and proposes to lucerys, who accepts. this does not better their financial situation whatsoever, considering they have inherited their mother’s financial incompetence but not her stupid luck with dice. at least they’re smart enough not to pay taxes.

alicent has two dollars to her name, is the only one who respects the tax system and is royally pissed off when she finds out that the only reason that rhaenyra has more money than her is her rampant tax evasion (“where is duty? where is sacrifice?”). after a ten minute tangent about how all she has ever done is what was expected of her and snide comments about the parentage of absolutely EVERYONE in the room with her, she is reminded by rhaenys that, considering larys’ utter leniency regarding the tax system, she could just… you know… stop paying? this causes alicent to excuse herself to the kitchen and scream for five minutes straight.

two minutes into the game, daeron is jailed and never released again.

aegon is so heavily indebted that he starts offering sexual favours in exchange for loan forgiveness. the tone in which larys says “i’ll hold you to that, sweet prince!” makes rhaena audibly retch.

helaena makes everyone’s lives hell with double hotels on all her properties. no one knows where she gets all that money from. halfway through the game, she reverts to only speaking latin. her voice has dropped several octaves. lightning strikes whenever she rolls the dice. alicent, back from her screaming break, starts quietly exorcising her under the table. everyone is relieved when she eventually declares something cryptic in what may just have been german and leaves, only to return half an hour later covered in primordial goo. she walks straight past everyone to her room and for once, the entirety of house targaryen sits in silent agreement: they will never speak of this again.

aemond fights lucerys, jacaerys, baela and rhaena tooth and nail over every single one of their properties while hurling every insult he can think of at them.

about two hours in, rhaenyra and daemon barter over pennsylvania avenue in a manner so intense it makes them both horny, and they excuse themselves to the guest room. the noises that follow permanently scar alicent and turn larys on so much he doesn’t notice aegon swiping twenty dollars from the bank, which he rolls into a joint as he disappears from the table.

rhaenys sacks both rhaenyra’s and daemon’s property and adds it to that of helaena, which she has already taken for herself twenty minutes ago, effectively making her the westerosi equivalent to jeff bezos.

aemond manages to buy the boardwalk and calls baela several slurs, none of them accurate to her gender identity, sexuality or mental wellbeing, which leads to lucerys, jacaerys and rhaena chasing him with both proverbial and literal pitchforks and torches, god knows where they found those, as he makes a break for it. criston cole, who has been lounging on alicent’s handpicked ikea loveseat, model söderhamn if you’re wondering, puts down the hurling match he’s been intently watching for the last two hours and follows them.

this turns out to be an excellent call, because only ten minutes later, a hysterically sobbing aemond is missing an eye, god knows how a very much seven year old lucerys has manged to enucleate him, and alicent, actually violently swearing for the first time in her fourtysomething years of life, drives him to the emergency room.

this leaves rhaenys and viserys at the table. “just like old times, huh?” viserys says, smiling. “cut the shit, bitch.” rhaenys retaliates as she swipes alicent’s remaining funds, then grabs the bank carton, and finally relieves viserys of his money and properties as well as his crown, declaring herself the winner.