#or a sixteen hour long nap

[blurglesmurfklaine]

a gentle caress would fix me i think

[angelicjackles]

laughs in 3:50am

[searchingforserendipity25]

conclave is a very good film made up of cardinal thomas lawrence having three horrible horrible days.

however the one thing it lacks is the consideration of how much worse they could have been if it lasted longer.

day four of conclave and the draw between tedesco and lawrence does not budge.

five days of conclave and at least one of the cardinals whose name got covered up in the trembley report backs lawrence against the wall and tries to threaten him with a kitchen knife before falling to weeping on his shoulder. day six of conclave and cardinal adeyemi and cardinal trembley nearly come to blows in the loggia. day seven of conclave and people start sneaking wine bottles into the sistine chapel.

day eight and they're passing them around covertly during the interminable voting process. day nine and three separate white collar crimes come to light because the guilty parties are sweating in their cassocks thinking lawrence has the dirt on them and they can't take the pressure anymore, they just can't.

day ten and vincent benítez is doing quiet prayer catechism hour in the garden after lunch.

day eleven and sabbadin is snorting someone's vicodin in the bathroom.

day twelve and the cardinals for warsaw and budapest are having a terrible breakup everyone is trying to pretend not to notice. day thirteen and lawrence stays in his room the whole day pretending he has a stomach ache and keeps having his nap dreams interrupted by dreams of turtles.

day fourteen and aldo bellini has brought his copy of giovanni's room to reread, half-heatedly hidden behind a bible cover.

day fifteen and vincent benítez has lead by example a number of cardinals into helping out in the kitchen at least once a week to frankly terrible culinary results and growing camaraderie.

sixteen days of conclave and lawrence has to sit down ray o'malley and actively beg him not to tell him anything else, please, no more info, no more digging into old scandals, no nothing.tedesco's tax audits may be suspiciously clean but lawrence is a man of god not a forensic attorney and he will not dig deeper.

day seventeen and lawence tracks o'malley down and asks him to look into tedesco's brother's recent real estate acquisitions.

day eighteen and the new whisper campaign to discredit lawrence keeps trying to bring up his most controversial progressive views but he keeps answering impatiently back with well-thought of biblical references as he did in the homily and accidentally causes a reprise of his canon law school lecture debates. which temporarily brings everyone together and opens the stage for a fierce ideological debate.

wherein lawrence gets accused, not entirely inaccurately, by trembley and adeyemi, united once more in offense, of being the last figurehead for the complacent liberal establishment/a judgemental prig and/or treating the college of cardinals like a group of jumped-up seminarians.

aldo bellini implies very loudly that tedesco is ugly, a fascist and too stupid to ever be invited to lecture at the sourbonne even once, and cardinal vincent benítez speaks up with great dignity and strength against american imperialism.

day nineteen and someone actively tries to murder the patriarch of venice. day twenty and it is revealed via sister agnes ex machina and cardinal benítez's disconcerting familiarity with very real and more successful murder attempts that tedesco was trying to frame bellini for it.

the proof is circumstantial and so are any accusations lawrence or anyone could make against him of corruption, but this does prompt him to go on a long speech about how the leftist agenda has thoroughly ruined not only the church but society at least and made any possible unity among men a sham.

day twenty-one and someone actually dies, unrelated to the tedesco fake-plot.

day twenty-two and they elect vincent benítez. lawrence hides in the room of tears having an anxiety attack of relief.

vincent benítez holds his hand tenderly through it and immediately accepts his resignation as dean but not before telling him his secret and having his hands held back tightly, and being told very earnestly that, short of actual unreasonable harm to other people and an extraordinary amount of bribery, he could be made by god's will in any possible variation and still have lawrence's trust. and most importantly, lawrence's papacy.

day one of innocentius xiv's papacy and lawrence finds him in the gardens feeding the turtles instead of taking the next train to a nice monastery in liège and offers himself as secretary of state. and this is why netflix should hire me.

[actual-changeling]

a continuation of this post

-

Demons do not need to sleep, and yet he does, mostly because time spent unconscious is not time spent crying, which demons also do not do, and yet.

A deep, crushing pain resides in the middle of his chest—a heartbreak not entirely unfamiliar; he never forgot the smell of burning books and the lack of his angel's presence anywhere on earth. He never forgot what it felt like to lose Aziraphale, and the reminder he received was entirely unnecessary.

If anyone were to ask, he'd deny the crying, arguing that technically not a single tear has left his eyes in the last three months, sixteen days, and seven hours—not that he is keeping count—although there is no one left to care. Except Muriel, who adjusted surprisingly quickly to living on earth and having a demonic snake curled up by the window.

Crowley sleeps and endures a never-ending series of nightmares for about two months, and while he wakes and slithers out of his chair, he decides to remain in his serpent form.

The most surprising development is perhaps how easily he bonds with Muriel. They offer up a steady arm, having switched the uniform for a sunshine-yellow pastel jumper and a simple black skirt, and to hell with it all, the warmth, the touch, the soft breaths, and the regular heartbeat pulsating next to him do not heal the wound, but they stop the bleeding; for a while, anyway.

So they go about their days, Crowley coiled around their shoulders while they read or do inventory, reorganise books, and then organise them differently as soon as they're done, never selling a single copy. They sing, too, having apparently discovered a lot of earthly pleasures during his nap, low and quiet, soothing in a way he did not expect.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, the Serpent of Eden wrapped around an angel's shoulders was a familiar sight. The serpent remains unchanged, although if you were to ask anyone regularly passing by the shop, they'd tell you it seems sadder now, somehow.

The angel has changed, however.

As time passes, Crowley waits not in a garden but in a bookshop, longing for a thunderstorm and a white wing above his head. He watches the sky, he watches the door, and he waits and waits and waits.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Being a passenger princess with Quinn?

Warning: slight daddy dom/bratty princess vibes with this one.

"Are you sure you have everything you need?" 

"Yep!" You replied confidently, climbing into your seat amongst your collection of travel essentials. 

"Are you sure?" He questioned, an eyebrow slightly raised, voice teasing. The two of you were making a day trip North just to get out of the city for the day, but even thought it was just a minor road trip, one might think you were going for a sixteen hour adventure.

You giggled, fastening your seatbelt. "Mhm! I'm ready!" You had a pillow and blanket stuffed between the dashboard and your legs, a tote full of snacks on the floorboard, your Switch, and your pink tumbler wedged into the center console's cup holder. Quinn, on the other hand, was content with a bottle of water and his phone to get him through the trip. You, on the other hand, were prepared for the both of you combined!

"Princess?"

Looking over at him, you would smile seeing him gaze at you like he was. What a blessing Quinn was putting up with you when you were being absolutely ridiculous. "I'm ready! Promise!"

There was nothing he could say, which is why he just shook his head as he laughed. "We're not stopping if you did."

"Aw! Meanie!" You whined, crossing your arms as you scrunched your nose.

"Are you pouting?" Quinn asked, starting the car, after seeing your little tantrum. "Is that part of the rules?"

Instantly, your face would go blank. He knew the rules? That wasn't fair! Now he had flipped your brat switch and you hadn't even left the parking garage... Did he know what he had done?

"You're not supposed to know the rules!"

Quinn's right hand would find your thigh, taking hold once it found its place. You loved his hands; delicate for a man but he knew how to use them, and his grip was something else entirely. 

"Do we need to go back upstairs?" His side-eye was dangerous and you would pretend you didn't see it. Your face would turn towards the window to avoid having to hide your little grin. 

"Princess? Words."

"No," you'd answer immediately, the smile betraying your words making Quinn laugh himself. 

"Good girl," he'd say with another squeeze to your leg before finally putting the car in drive. 

- - - 

About an hour into the drive, you'd make yourself comfy with your blanket and pillow as you settled in for a nap. You had left just after sunrise and the soft purr of the vehicle on the roadway was making you sleepy. 

"Naptime?" Quinn asked, seeing you move about in your seat. 

"Mhm!' You would silently ask for his hand once you were settled in. He'd oblige you, later bringing the back of your hand to his lips. 

"Nap-nap, princess."

"Nap-nap," you would yawn, drifting into peaceful sleep quite quickly, the heated seat acting like a heating pad against your back. No dreams would find you as you rested, and it would be the rattling of the rumble strips on the freeway that would violently pull you from your slumber later on. 

"What's...what's going on?" You asked, sitting up from your slightly reclined position. Quinn took his hand back to carefully guide the car to the shoulder of the road. By now, rain was streaking down the windows when you came to a stop.

"It's just a flat tire, baby. It's okay," he said softly, so to not frighten you. He'd apply the hazard lights and check his driver-side mirror before readying himself to get out. 

"You're going out to fix it?" 

"Of course, it shouldn't take but a few minutes. Stay inside, okay?"

You nodded as he leaned forward to give you a reassuring kiss. "Be careful!"

He smiled, "I will be."

After retrieving the spare tire from the back hatch, Quinn rolled it to the passenger front and worked to position the jack in the right spot. You felt so guilty watching him get soaked, but he had told you to stay inside, so all you could do now was watch and wait. After several long minutes, he'd lower the car and return to the back of the vehicle, placing the blown-out tire where the spare had been. Quickly, you'd take your blanket and drape it over his seat before he made it back inside. His hair was almost completely drenched, droplets of water hanging on to the numerous wild curls down over his eyes. His t-shirt was equally as wet, clinging to his muscles like it had been painted on. You couldn't help but stare for a moment before reaching over to pull the blanket over his cold shoulders. 

"Are you okay?" You'd whimper, seeing him this way.

"I'm fine, princess, thank you." He tried to smile, but you could tell he was miserable. Two semi-trailers passed the two of you in quick succession, having been unable to get into the passing lane due to the traffic. The shaking of your car from their high rate of speed scared you, Quinn seeing it on your face.

"We're okay," he reassured, pulling his fingers through his hair to fix it. "Just have to let this string of cars go by first." His eyes were locked on the rearview mirror, flashers still blinking.

Frantically, you'd nod, brows pulled inward. Your heart had been racing since Quinn had left to change the tire, and you were happy he was safe back inside with you. Once he merged back into the flow of freeway traffic, he'd trade the hazard lights for a turn signal. 

"See, all good," he'd say, asking for your hand this time. You'd take his with both of yours as it rested in your lap. 

"Your hand is cold."

"I'm okay, princess. No pouting."

His playfully teasing would set your mood back to content and calm, and you would take to playing with his fingers to pass the time. 

"It's still cold," you fuss. 

He slips his hand from yours to find its place between your thighs, "Better," he grins.

"Okay, good!' 

"Thank you for your blanket, princess. You didn't have to do that."

"I know! But I wanted you to be warm!"

Quinn's fingers tightened around your leg, "You're a good girl, sweetheart. I'll reward you later."

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

006 》 LEE HEESEUNG

the idea of going back to someone from your past to move on from someone new is common, but only in certain situations does it actually work. with thanksgiving only two weeks away, you don’t have time to make mistakes, nor does your situation call for anyone from your past. but hey, your twenties are for making mistakes, aren’t they?

wc 20.3k | smut minors dni! drinking, weed mentions, drunk sex, uhhh so much happens in this so good luck i guess

soft kisses pressed along your jaw, a hand in your hair, lightly scratching at your roots… a muddled groan came from deep in your chest as you peeled your eyes open, a very shirtless seonghwa laid over your chest, beckoning you awake. 

“time to get up, rich girl,” his voice was husky, groggy, you knew he’d just woken up, too. 

you groaned again, your own voice raspy and hoarse with sleep, “i’d pay you to use my name at this point.” 

his chuckle was short-lived as he pulled away from you, stealing all of your warmth. you shivered beneath the pink blanket, quickly pulling it over your shoulders, blinking rapidly to force your eyes to stay open. seonghwa lifts himself off the mattress, stretching his arms above his head once he stands up, still butt naked. the sight brings a lazy, remembering smile to your cheeks. 

“what time is it?” you ask as you look around his place, the light peering in from the windows told you it was barely dawn. 

“six thirty,” he answered as he walked across his apartment, your eyes following his toned abdomen as he made his way to the clothing rack. “i have work in thirty minutes.”

“six thirty?!” you reiterate in surprise, “we went to sleep not even two hours ago.”

seonghwa barely reacts, his voice sounding utterly disinterested, “i told you i had work early.”

you curse under your breath, hands coming up to rub at your eyes. you can’t remember the last time you were up this early. 

“i’m gonna take a shower,” he walks past the mattress again, and throws a pile of clothes on it as he walks by. “are you heading out now? or waiting until i’m out of the shower?” 

you plant your arms down at your sides over the blanket, staring at him with a crease in your brows. after barely any sleep, you opened your eyes not even five minutes ago– the nerve of that question. “does it look like i’m ready to go right now?” 

“good point,” he nodded, completely unaffected by your frustration and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you to hear the squeak of the handle and then the noise of water hitting the shower floor.

you sighed, closing your eyes again, but your adrenaline was pumping from being irritated and not being in your own home– you couldn’t bring yourself to take another five minute nap while he was gone. you took your time getting up off the mattress, you hunted for your clothes scattered across the hardwood, lifting blankets and pillows scattered around the floor to find every piece. 

you and seonghwa barely slept– countless rounds in the sheets and endless conversations between them, you didn’t want to. neither did he. you talked about everything that you could, not one topic easy to think about let alone discuss with someone you just met. you told him more about your dad, about your siblings, your friends, he made you break everything down. how your dad’s death affected you emotionally, why you waited so long to date, why mingyu was so heartbreaking for you. 

he made you dissect your relationship with ace, how it differed from your relationship with vivi. why you had pent up feelings toward your little sister, most of it having to do with jealousy that she was too young to feel the weight of your father’s death, some of it that she was simply just sixteen. 

your codependency on your twin and three best friends was a lengthy one. seonghwa supposed how you were raised had the biggest hand to play, four families with money that could do whatever they wanted, dress their five children in matching outfits and call them siblings– what he couldn’t understand was how dependent you were on each other now. why you’re together so often, share as much as you do, how there’s no underlying sexual tension with any of them. 

you managed to hold one thing close to your heart, at least. you didn’t dare bring up the shared night with yunho. you were petrified of what seonghwa would have to say. 

seonghwa shared more about his childhood, about having such a young mother, being raised with her by his grandmother, her mother. she was just a kid, too, and seonghwa knew that more than anyone else. she had to grow up too fast with absolutely zero resources, but instead of ending up just like her, he went to school, began working as soon as he was old enough– so he wouldn’t have to depend on anyone else, so if they left him too, it wouldn’t destroy everything he’d built. 

you felt closer to him now, even if that seemed impossible after your first conversation. you braced yourself mentally, you knew you’d have a lot to think about for days to come, a lot of emotion to work through, and only a portion of it had to do with seonghwa himself. 

when he came out of the bathroom again, your clothes were on and the mattress was made so perfectly it was as if you had never laid in it at all– even his clothes were in a perfectly neat pile at the foot of the bed. your hair was tied up, you were sure your makeup was a wreck, but as seonghwa looked between you and his perfectly made bed, that was the last thing on your mind. 

he sighed, but his face was somewhat appreciative, he knew about your need to keep a tidy space, you told him all about it last night. “i know in your brain you had to do that, but you really didn’t have to. thank you.”

“now you have a made bed to come home to,” you smiled proudly with your hands on your hips, coming home to a made bed was a good feeling, you wanted to take something else off his plate– or make at least one thing a little easier. cleaning up has definitely brightened your spirits.

he drops the towel and grabs his boxers from the mattress, pulling them up his legs, “look, i had a good time last night–”

your face drops. he notices. 

“–and we get along terrifyingly well, but i don’t have the time or the energy to fulfill whatever you’re looking for.” 

you gulped. what are you even supposed to say to that? on one hand, you completely understand– he cares for two kids basically by himself, has three jobs, he’s right. he didn’t have the time, he couldn’t fulfill what you needed, what you were looking for in a partner, you two came from two completely different worlds. you were silly to think it’d progress past one night– one really, really good night you’d think about for weeks to come.

on the other hand, it puts a pit in your stomach. you like him, last night was one of the best nights of your life, you’ve never connected with someone on such a deep level, and never so fast. he saw the deepest, darkest parts of you last night, pulled them from inside you like weeds and accepted them, analyzed them, gave you a starting point to work through them– and he doesn’t want to see you again? it hurts just as much as you understand why. 

you didn’t even wipe the crust from your eyes yet and a tightness forced itself in your throat that you couldn’t do anything about. you put on a fake smile, as much as it hurt, this wasn’t your decision to make. “i get it.” 

he looked at you like he pitied you, brows slightly downturned, a glimpse of a frown on his lips you spent too long kissing. you felt small beneath his gaze, you couldn’t believe you started last night feeling bad for him and now he felt bad for you. you tried to crack a joke to fill the tension in the air, “is this another rich girl always gets what she wants moment?” 

his lips curved upward, humor flying from his nose. he walked to you in two short strides, taking a moment to stare down at you, something else beneath the black ice. “no, not this time.” 

he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you into a hug, intoxicating you with his smell. every part of you wanted to cry, you felt dramatic, you wanted to wait in his shitty little apartment until he was finished work and repeat the night before all over again. you breathed him in, tucked your head into his chest and let him comfort you, the first time he’s done it, and unfortunately for you, the last. 

“thank you,” you didn’t mean the to-go boxes of food, or the water bottle he’d brought you after your first round, or the countless rounds that followed. seonghwa knew exactly what you meant. 

the drive home was cold, you made the distance in complete silence, already replaying the previous twelve hours of your life. when you made it home, only your mom was awake, sitting on the couch with a mug full of coffee and her reading glasses on, only looking up from her phone to watch you walk through the front door. 

“are you just getting home?” she asked, dropping her phone into her lap, “i didn’t even know you were gone.” 

you took one look at her, with her perfect hair and perfect makeup, silk pajamas on her body. your feet were bringing you towards her without even realizing, throat so tight you thought it might close. 

“what's wrong?” she asked as she set her coffee mug down on the table beside her, her voice worried. your bottom lip trembled as you stood before her, hair messily tied up and makeup smudged across your face. “tiny, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” 

you crawled onto the couch, putting your head in her lap like you were five years old again, and you fucking lost it. sobs ripped from your chest that you felt like you’d been keeping in for years, your knees tucked into your abdomen, arms cradling your head. she stayed quiet as her hands scratched at your scalp, she let you release. she let you process every emotion, every word that you’d spoken in the past twelve hours, every nasty thing you realized about yourself, the thought that you’d have to let go of seonghwa fully.

when your sobs got quieter, turning into weak cries that were farther and farther apart, she spoke. “what happened, my love?” 

you took a moment, thinking, processing. when’s the last time you said thank you to her? the pit in your stomach got impossibly heavier. “am i a good daughter?” 

“of course you are,” she answered without hesitation, “why do you ask?” 

you sniff, positive your snot had already made a stain in her silk pajama pants. “i don’t say thank you enough. i don’t appreciate you enough.” another sob followed. 

she patted your head again, manicured nails massaging at your roots now. “you don’t need to say things for me to feel them, tiny.” she took a breath, and then took a moment to brace herself. “i’ll never forget the day your father died, it was the worst day of my life. but i remember looking at you, ace and vivi, my babies, and vowing that i’d do whatever i could to keep you three happy. you looked at me before you went to bed that night, teary eyed and snot nosed like you are right now, and you said, ‘never leave, mommy.’” 

“when you looked at me and said those words to my face, you meant more than leaving your bedroom, you meant more than going with your father. you were asking me to be by your side forever, no matter what. granted i already said yes to that the day i got pregnant with you, but… i felt like we made a promise that day. it’s the most important promise i’ve ever made, more important than the times i’ve said i do.” 

as you listened, you hadn’t realized your sobs had slowed down again, or that your breath had gotten slower, heavier. you don’t know if your eyes were open this entire time. 

“i know you love me, i know you appreciate me, we have that promise that we made that day to remind me every day. me and you, no one else, tiny. my first baby girl.” 

──────  ꨄ︎

“ace, they’ll be here any minute! put on some clothes, get out of the kitchen!”

your mother’s voice rang through the first floor of your house like an alarm clock, her angry-but-stressed voice was going to push you over the edge. they are the same three families that your family’s been hanging out with since you were born, coming over for drinks to ‘catch up’, as your mom said it. you knew the truth, there was nothing to catch up on, they just wanted to drink and talk and be. you couldn’t complain, that meant good food and a house full of your favorite people. 

ace had just returned from the gym, he’d stripped his shirt before walking into the kitchen, eyes already on the hunt for what food he wanted to try first. you rolled your eyes at the thought, how nice it must be to be a man and only need five minutes to get ready, including a shower. 

vivi was in a dress, her blue hair curled around her shoulders. loafers and ankle socks on her feet, it was practically her uniform whenever your parents invited people over. your mother was in her best form, hair voluminous, makeup soft but sultry, a mid-length dress on her body. matt was in a polo, dress pants, loafers on his feet… it was up to ace to complete the performance, to show the others that you were that family. the others showed up dressed to the nines as well, supporting acts to your mother, although you were sure they loved it just as much. 

yeosang’s family piled in first as they usually did, followed by san’s, then yunho’s who always drifted the line of being late. you were sure his mother preferred it that way, fashionably late and all. 

seonghwa lived inside you the past few days, and as much as you wished it was physical, it was unfortunately all mental— it made you look at nights like these differently. what should be a night of celebrating each other, just by being together, was always overshadowed by flaunting. if not overshadowed, then an ulterior motive of ‘look what i have!’ 

you’d think after over two decades of friendship your parents and their friends would cease the bragging— you wished they would— but god, did they love it. they fed off of it, off of each other. only now did it put a pit in your stomach, only now did you think this isn’t what you want your future to look like. you felt like seonghwa had reached inside your head and twisted up every part of your brain. 

you didn’t put on a dress nor a skirt, your makeup wasn’t as perfectly curated as you’d typically spend an hour doing, your hair was in a single braid down the back of your head. jeans hung freely off your hips and a tee shirt hugged your torso, sneakers on your feet. your mother had blinked at you when you walked down the steps then quickly replaced her expression with a frown, saying, “that’s what you’re wearing?” 

you smiled proudly with a nod of your head. the words pretentious rich girl repeated in your head over the last few days like a mantra, the words were like claws digging deeper and deeper in your head, drawing blood every time you close your eyes. you didn’t want it, you didn’t want to be that person— you didn’t want to raise your kids in an environment where their parents showed off for fun, where they had to get dressed to impress in the comfort of their own home. 

at least tonight wasn’t catered, you thought, everyone was bringing something over instead, but you’re sure everything was store bought or delivered— god forbid anyone in these families lifted a finger, you wondered if anyone actually cooked. 

you made your rounds of hello’s, kissing the cheeks of the other mothers and side hugs to the other fathers, just for every single one to look you up and down with an eyebrow ever so slightly raised as if you wouldn’t notice. 

yeosang, san and yunho paid no mind, or at least they didn’t say anything about your change in appearance, they’ve seen you in anything and everything and nothing by now. yeosang and san were in polos, dress pants and sneakers in pristine condition, yunho in a dark pair of loose jeans, a tee and vans. you’d always paid attention to your own siblings outfits, but those three? did they always dress like that? were they told to? as you scanned the three, your head tilted to the side in thought, one of these is not like the others. 

ace finally came back downstairs with a deep blue pair of jeans and a linen button up, the top two unbuttoned with a chain laid on the exposed skin. a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, a watch on his wrist, socks on his feet… casual but stylish, as per usual, you wondered if he wanted to be in that outfit or if he’d rather be in sweats. he was quick to escape to the garage for a beer. 

you stood in the kitchen as all of your families surrounded you, back pressed to the slab of granite that was your island, your friends surrounding you. 

“wanna go hop on the game?” san asked the group, a glass of whiskey in his hands, black hair slicked back with what you were sure took an absurd amount of gel.

“i doubt we’ll get away with that yet,” yunho shook his head, a beer between his hands, “at least give it an hour.” 

“an hour?” you raise your eyebrows, elbows bent over the counter behind you, “try two, they’re gonna bring us into about sixteen different conversations first.” 

“tiny!” your mom calls over her shoulder as if she heard you, and you look at the three boys in front of you with a smirk. 

“i told you,” you shrug, then make your way over to the circle of moms, all of them in the same uniform. you plant a smile on your face before you face them, brushing your hair behind your ear, “whats up?”

“i was just telling them about that boy,” your mom smacks her lips, “what's his name? jeongin?” 

“jisung, not jeongin,” you shake your head with a laugh, “that one was all yeosang.” 

yeosang’s mom’s eyebrows went into her hairline, “he didn’t tell me he met someone!” she whips her head around in the direction of the boys and you almost feel bad for snitching. “yeosang! who is jeongin?” 

yeosang groans as his head tips back, he stalks over, falling into conversation with his mom about jeongin. your smile grows wider as you bring your attention back to the three other moms in front of you, full wine glasses in their hands. “jisung was great! he’s a– uh songwriter, composer? some kind of music major.” 

“that’s not you,” san’s mom shakes her head, perfectly curled dark hair falling around her face, “a music major? you’ll grow bored in no time, there’s no money in that.”

your eyebrows raise, but yunho’s mom cuts in with a look that shows nothing but relief, “we’re so lucky our boys are in finance.” 

“except mine,” your mom adds, a proud smile on her face, “having another lawyer in the family will be so useful.” 

“for who? vivi?” it rolls off your tongue without a second thought and all three heads turn to you, surprise on their faces.

“that’s not funny, tiny,” your mom scolds, then takes a sip of her wine, bringing her attention back to the moms. “tiny’s just dating, it’s not like the music boy would’ve ever been serious.” 

“he could’ve been,” you argue with pointed eyes, arms crossing over your chest, a pit growing in your stomach. “and what if he was? if he was standing here right now, beside me.” 

your mom blinks at you, her jaw tightening. she doesn’t get a word out before san’s mom cuts in, “what happened to the whiskey guy? mingi?” 

“min-gyu,” you correct, and her mouth falls open in remembrance with a strung out oh. you look over your shoulder, searching for someone to come save you. yunho catches your eye, and his legs move before you could mouth the word help. 

“he was great, and loaded, i’m sure,” the three of them laugh without you, “whatever happened to him?” 

“it just didn’t work out,” you shake your head simply, wanting, needing the subject to change immediately.

“why not? he was fantastic,” yunho’s mom adds, talking with her hands, wine sloshing around in her crystal glass. “he talked to us, joked with us, he owns a business. definitely well off.” 

as yunho made his way to your side, his ears perked up at the words– he already knew who the topic of discussion was. his mom continues, “i’m sure you could’ve been married within the year, your life could be so comfortable.” 

“that’s not what i’m interested in,” you shake your head, arms over your chest tightening further.

at the same time, yunho adds, “that doesn’t matter to her, mom.” 

you look up to him with a look of appreciation and surprise for sticking up for you, and he gives you the smallest smile full of warmth. he takes a step closer to you, the denim on your hips almost touching his. a chill rushes through you at the closeness, how huge he feels next to you– he’s always been that big, you tell yourself, yet the realization felt new. different. 

“that’s a shame,” san’s mom shakes her head, lips pursing, “when you get older, you’ll understand how much living a comfortable lifestyle matters.” 

comfortable– what she actually meant was more money than you know what to do with. 

when you thought about your future, money was never in the question– you supposed it was your privilege that left it from your thoughts in the first place. you always saw yourself teaching, maybe in a school of your own, with a husband who was everything you’d ever wanted. you never even considered not having enough money to do it.

“she’ll be just fine,” yunho gives a singular shake of his head, and with one statement the conversation is shut down completely. san’s mom’s smile never leaves her face, and it brings one to yours. he really did save you when you needed him to.

“yes she will,” yunho’s mom smiles at you, eyes warm and caring, she genuinely meant it. “baby tiny, our girl, how could she not be with you boys at her side?” 

your cheeks flush, heat crawling up your spine– what did she mean by that? you think back to your night with giselle and julie, everything you realized. was she in on it? was it ace, your mom and yunho’s mom? is yunho in on it, too? 

a nervous laugh escapes your lips, brain scrambling for something to say. “does anyone need another drink? more wine?” as you look around the circle, every glass is still full of wine. your laugh comes out forced as you look up to yunho, “actually, maybe we should go play the game.”

yunho nods and you all but run off to grab your friends, damn near pulling them by the collars of their shirts down to your basement. you sit at the corner with ace sitting beside you, the other boys taking their spots with controllers in hands. you immediately text giselle and julie, needing to get this off of your chest immediately. 

you: yunho situation is becoming scary  you: idk if im being paranoid or what

julie: whats going on

you: idk im tweaking i think you: save me

giselle: i have good news!!! giselle: ENA is throwing sat night giselle: does that help

you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, you hadn’t seen heeseung in months. not even a glimpse, not even on social media, save for the ENA instagram page you avoided like the plague. the whole reason you stopped going to ENA was because of him and your weird hookup relationship that wasn’t a relationship at all— it became too much, hooking up with him weekend after weekend (if he felt like it) and not getting as much as a hello when you’d see each other on campus. 

you: yes actually it kind of does  you: lol what if i texted him

julie: um  julie: WHO

giselle: girl the whole reason you stopped going was bc of him giselle: that boy is not gonna be your boyfriend on thanksgiving

you: well yeah no shit you: but…….do i care

“—that fucking sword! i’m dead, i’m dead, i’m dead— fuck, i’m really dead. please heal me, please please please please—”

you paid no mind to ace’s yells from beside you, typing away on your phone, a smile on your face with your fingernail between your teeth. 

giselle: i mean fuck it

julie: i think you should text SEONGHWA 🩷

giselle: jules :/ too soon

you: too soon indeed 💔💔💔

a giggle leaves your lips as you scroll through your phone, fingers tapping to go into your settings, to your block list. you find don’t answer easily, and unblock him with two taps to your screen. 

you: hey

you quickly lock your phone and place it on your lap, staring at the flatscreen TV in front of you as if you didn’t do anything at all– but your heart thumping against your chest beneath your tee shirt tells you exactly what you just did.

“if we place second again, we’re shutting this shit off,” san huffs from the other side of the couch, catching your attention. you watch as the game reloads, and let your head fall to the back of the couch. 

“i’m thirsty,” you mumble to no one in particular, more of a complaint than anything. yunho hops up from his spot and throws the controller down to where he was sitting, walking towards your carpeted staircase. 

“where are you going? we’re getting loaded into another game,” ace sits up a little straighter, his eyebrows twisted in confusion, a hand pointed toward the flatscreen in front of him. 

“i’m getting another drink, my beer’s empty,” he shrugs at the platform, “tiny said she was thirsty, too.” 

“ooh! can you get me a surfside from the garage?” your head lifts back up, eyes wide and hopeful. yunho shoots you a nod with a tight lipped smile. 

“i need another, too,” ace shakes his can side to side, “your hands are big enough to carry three.” 

“you should come with me,” yunho blinks at ace, all warmth in his expression gone, and ace takes a second to respond– all of you are well aware of how many cans yunho can carry in his hands. 

“okay,” ace hops up off the couch quickly, then looks to san and yeosang, “put us back in the lobby, or at least drop us somewhere safe. be right back.”

your eyebrows furrow as your twin walks across the room in front of you, then follows yunho up the stairs. you turn to san and yeosang, raising a brow, “that was weird, right?” 

san shrugs, and yeosang shakes his head. yeosang blurts, “no, not weird at all. normal actually, he needs help carrying the cans.” 

you stare at them both for a moment longer, but neither react. you pick your phone back up, texts from don’t answer on your screen– your heartbeat quickens, eyes blinking rapidly just in case you read it wrong. nope, definitely heeseung. 

don’t answer: broooo no way don’t answer: u unblocked me?? 

you purse your lips– you started this, yet somehow you regretted it already. 

you: yes lol you: heard you were throwing this weekend

don’t answer: we throw like every weekend  don’t answer: that's not an excuse 😭 don’t answer: u miss me huh

you: always so confident you: i miss your parties yeah

don’t answer: nah u miss this dick

you gasped– out loud, which had the two boys jumping in their seats and turning your way with curious eyes. san’s voice was loud and slightly concerned, “what happened?” 

“nothing,” you respond too fast, fingers already typing a response. 

you: LMFAOOOOO you wish bro you: you haven't changed at all 

don’t answer: it’s only been a few months don’t answer: what were u expecting

you: i never expect anything from you

don’t answer: good don’t answer: so are u coming this weekend

you: maybe

don’t answer: ill see u then don’t answer: i miss that cute lil pussy too

that had you slamming your locked phone screen into your lap, cheeks flushed, body buzzing. san and yeosang didn’t seem to notice, too busy with using their controllers plus ace and yunho’s, but you were grateful. they knew everything about heeseung, and neither would be the slightest bit happy about you texting him.

you: btw were going to ENA this weekend

julie: YAY!!!

giselle: GIRLS NIGHT TWO WEEKS IN A ROW AHHH <333

yunho rips open the tall white door to the garage, the noise it makes rattling in his ears. his heart is thumping against his chest– ace knows how he feels about you, ace has been his confidant for years now, but it still doesn’t make it any easier that everything is starting to feel real– now ace’s advice and blessing matters.

“what’s up with you, man? running to the stairs the second she says she’s thirsty?” ace says with a lazy smile as soon as he closes the door behind him, “if you’re trying to be nonchalant that shit is not working.”

“i’m not trying to be nonchalant, not anymore,” yunho runs his hands through his hair then covers his face with them, groaning into his palms. “there’s like, three weeks left until thanksgiving, her time is running low to find a boyfriend.”

“and?” ace raises an eyebrow as he pulls open the refrigerator door, grabbing two beers, then hands one to yunho. “just confess and the problem is solved.” 

“i can’t just confess, are you fucking crazy?” yunho raises his eyebrows, taking the beer from ace’s outstretched arm and cracking the lid. “every single man she’s seen so far she’s told that we’re all brothers to her, man. how do i get past that?” 

ace looks at yunho like he’s pathetic, and it works in making yunho feel slightly silly. ace argues, “you just slept in her bed like a week ago, god, i can’t believe i'm still giving you advice about my sister.”

“only because she was drunk, and she had just finished making out with one guy all night then talked about a different one in the car,” yunho counters, taking a much needed swig of his beer. the carbonation sitting in his stomach does nothing to help the pacing of his heart. 

ace pulls his lips together in a line, “if it was anyone other than tiny i’d tell you you’re fucked, but it’s tiny, and your relationship with her has always been different than with san or yeosang. you should’ve just been honest with her from the jump and then there wouldn’t have been other guys in the first place.” 

yunho starts to pace back and forth in the garage, vans almost silent against the cement. “she needed other guys– experience and shit.”

“gross, man,” ace’s face twists in disgust, taking a step back from yunho, “now you’re crossing the line.”

“that’s not what i meant,” yunho stops in his tracks, flailing a hand toward ace in defense, “i mean, it’s the same thing with mingyu, i told her not to date him because she needs to be her age first. i wouldn’t be any better than him if the only dating experience she has is with me.”

“you’re driving yourself crazy, bro,” ace shakes his head, “do you even hear how you sound? i’ve never seen you worked up like this over anyone.” 

“she’s not anyone, ace,” yunho deadpans, “she’s the only person i’ve wanted since i was eighteen.” 

ace’s face falls flat, “and i’ve been hearing about it for almost that long, too. you don’t think i’m tired of listening to you whine about having my sister’s attention? do something about it, man.”

yunho takes a deep breath, hands coming to his hips– well, one hand and a fist, his can wrapped inside— “okay, i will.”

“really?” ace sounds surprised, like he didn’t think that would’ve worked. “finally.”

“don’t push it or else you’ll hear me complain for another five years,” yunho breathes, on ace’s heel as they walk toward the door that brings them back inside. “oh shit, i almost forgot her drink.”

ace lets a laugh out through his nose, “whole reason we came out here in the first place.”

when they get back to the basement, ace and yunho switch spots so yunho sits beside you, ace between yeosang and san. you think nothing of it as yunho hands you the surfside, a wide smile spreading across your face as he cracks the can for you, his own beer between his knees. 

“thank you,” you say excitedly, then take a sip of your drink. “you guys took so long, did the parents pull you into conversation?” 

yunho nods, “something about getting together next month for dinner.”

ace rolls his eyes from across the couch, then puts his beer on the carpet below him before picking up the controller again. “are we playing or what?” 

“yes, please,” san responds, irritation laced in his tone, “we were waiting for you.”

“don’t blame me,” yunho shakes his head, “blame your mom, she was the one who stopped us.”

“just ready up bro,” san huffs, his controller in his hands already. yeosang assesses the room with a smile, always happy go lucky as he watches– you catch his eye, wiping the small smile off his face. you pout, and he smiles again. 

the boys play another two games, losing both before the four men pull out their phones out of boredom. you sigh, you didn’t want to look at your phone in fear that heeseung had texted you again. you lay your head back on the couch in thought, you wondered how this weekend would go. 

you haven’t seen heeseung in months, and you didn’t exactly tell him you were ghosting him– not that it seems like he cares, anyhow. it was something to do, you didn’t have anyone else lined up, and you really did miss ENA. a massive house that smelled like weed and the stench of beer, dim lights and sweat covered bodies, you could use a distraction– especially after the bomb that was seonghwa.

“do you have any plans this weekend?” yunho asks from beside you, pulling your head from the comfort of the couch as if he could hear your thoughts. 

“giselle and julie are summoning me to ENA,” you respond, and four necks snap to face you. the words spilled from your lips without thought, clearly not thinking about the clear consequences. 

“heeseung’s frat?” ace leans his head forward, eyebrows furrowed. 

“can we come?” yeosang asks immediately, his face lighting up, “and can i please ask jeongin to come?”

“if giselle is going, i wanna go,” san adds, “i’ve always liked that girl.”

“wait, if i ask jeongin to go then his friends will want to go,” yeosang gives san a look, “chan? remember him?” 

“there are plenty of hours in the night, yeo,” san shakes his head, a wicked smile on his face, “and plenty of me to go around.” 

your face shows your clear disgust, “you don’t pull, first of all. second, it was supposed to be a girl’s night. just girls, since i’m always with you.”

yeosang gasps, “you say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“don’t we have other plans this weekend?” yunho’s head turns to face the rest of them, and you can read the expressions on the other’s faces. both san and yeosang’s eyebrows furrow, lips parting just to close them right after, faces losing their expressions. ace stares at yunho with a bored look as if he didn’t say anything at all. 

“why didn’t you tell me?” you pout, “what are you guys doing?” 

yunho turns back to you, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, keeping his expression blank but his voice gives it away, “we’re… going bowling.” 

“bowling?” you raise your eyebrows, assessing the four of them, “at least come up with a better excuse. i’m going to the party on saturday, if you don’t want to come, then don’t.”

“it wasn’t an excuse,” ace steps in, leaning back into the couch to get comfortable, “we made reservations and everything, just assumed you didn’t have plans, forgot you’re busy these days.”

you scoff, “i am busy, thank you very much, include me in your plans when you make them.” 

“wait, you said it was heeseung’s frat, didn’t you?” yeosang asks, glancing at ace before he turns back to you, “isn’t he why you stopped going there in the first place?”

you shrug, “it’s a big place, i probably won’t even see him. i’ll be with giselle and jules anyway.”

“giselle and julie, us now, and possibly chan’s whole friend group,” san adds, “you’ll have plenty of people to keep you hidden.” 

fuck– you should’ve told them no. as much as it was to protect you, you opened that can of worms all by yourself, and now they’ll all be there to witness it. you just smile in response, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of them, especially not yunho– whatever was going on between the two of you was seriously freaking you out, maybe hooking up with heeseung for old time’s sake will knock it right out of your system. 

you hoped, at least. 

──────  ꨄ︎

pregaming at your house wasn’t your idea. 

not only did you have your usual group of friends, your twin and his girlfriend in your kitchen– but also chan, jisung, jeongin and jihoon, as well as giselle and julie. twelve people took up the space with music playing through the small speaker on your kitchen counter, mainly used to just display the time, now flowing a pregame playlist through the monochromatically decorated space. 

luckily you and your friends brought color back into the room, standing catty cornered to the island in the corner of your kitchen, you stood with giselle and julie in your best frat-outing outfits. in a mini skirt, tall boots, a tiny top and an oversized jacket, you might’ve felt overdressed if it wasn’t for your two friends mirroring your outfit in the best ways: a half-drunk giselle wore a mini dress, heeled boots and a coat, and a sulking julie had deep denim on her legs, heels on her feet and a top so small you weren’t sure if you considered it a shirt. 

the lack of a coat on her shoulders told you just how drunk she planned on getting tonight.

reia hung around the three of you much to julie’s dismay, you could feel the discomfort oozing off of her as she tapped her manicured fingers against her vodka filled glass every few seconds with a blank stare. in short shorts, a strapless top and tall boots, reia’s straightened black hair almost reached her hips, olive skin glowing under the warm light of your kitchen, makeup dark and sultry and delectable. she was stunning– julie sized her up from the moment she walked through the front door, immediately greeted by ace’s lips pressed to her cheek, julie let a groan rip from so deep in her chest you were grateful only the two of you could hear. 

reia knew all about ace and julie’s history, you learned tonight that neither girls were huge fans of one another, the conversation had been dominated by you and giselle from the start. 

the boys all stood around your island, the slab of granite was the perfect length for a pong table– another thing you learned tonight. ace and yunho were playing yeosang and jeongin, ace and yunho wiping the table with them, the pair had been on a streak for three games now, which wasn’t surprising in the slightest. the other four were watching in pairs on either side of the counter, shouting as the game unfolds, all of them drinking glasses of whiskey. 

for once, you didn’t have a designated driver, all twelve of you having every intention of getting drunk and letting go tonight. no responsibilities, the cost of a driver was more than worth it, even if you would have to take two separate cars to ENA. 

you barely listened as giselle and julie talked right in front of you, zeroed in on the pong game instead– your eyes followed as yunho’s fingers let go of the pong ball, sinking it in the last cup, how his face warped into the widest grin, smacking ace’s hand with his own. yunho’s shirt hung below his waistband, a more than oversized tee paired with pants just as baggy, clean white sneakers on his feet. your feet were moving before you could think twice, sauntering up to the granite, “i want to play winners.” 

it must’ve been the vodka redbull in your glass giving you all of your confidence, you’d never been one for any sport, if you could count beer pong as athletic in any way– you were usually a watcher in any setting, you’ve played enough times to count on one hand. 

no one was as surprised as they should’ve been, alcohol coating the lining of everyone’s stomachs by now, yunho and ace both gave you a quick nod. ace started lining up his cups again, “who’s your partner?” 

you assessed the room, the girls in the corner stared at you with fear in their eyes– you wouldn’t do that to them. you purse your lips before your eyes land on a mop of curly brown hair, a smile growing on your face– perhaps you could break the ice on a friendship with him. “you up for it, ji?” 

his eyes widen before he’s smiling and nodding in your direction. the two of you set up opposite yunho and ace, organizing your cups in a triangle. yunho speaks up from across the granite, voice lazy and tone laced with liquor, “we’re not going easy on you, can’t fuck up our streak.” 

you peel off your jacket, throwing it on the counter behind jihoon and san who paid no mind to you, their eyes on the table, then rub your hands together with a cocky smile you had no business wearing. you looked straight at yunho as you said, “do your worst, then.”

oh, this confidence was definitely from the vodka– you took another swig of your glass placed to the side before the boys rolled the balls to you, jisung picking both up and handing one to you. jisung looks at you, eyebrows scrunched in stress, “are you good at this?” 

you shake your head as you dip your ball into the solo cup full of water closest to you, “not at all.”

his face transforms as he dips his in a cup too, giggling as he says, “this game is going to be over so quick.” 

it’s clear you want to go first as you inch closer to the center of the granite, jisung quickly stepping back to make way. you furrow your brows, your island was definitely longer than most tables used for pong, and higher up, too. you lift your arm, and without thought you throw it– it bounces once, landing in a cup center of the boy’s triangle. 

your friends cheer, and your eyes widen, a smile stretching over your features as you clap your hands together, “no fucking way!”

the girls have moved closer now, standing around the island with the boys, smiles on their faces. you turn to jisung and he looks nervous, “don’t expect me to do that, too.” 

“i’ll carry us,” you wave a hand, “apparently i’m godly at pong.”

he snorts as he moves to the center, sizing up the table, arm bending up before he shoots. his ball hits the edge of a cup, bouncing to the floor. he looks to you with a pout, “i told you.” 

both balls are in the boys' possession now– ace goes first, landing a cup in the back corner, and you pull it off to the side. yunho shoots and does the same thing as jisung, hitting the edge of a cup at the top, and it bounces off to the side of jisung. 

you cock your head as you look at yunho, mischief in your eyes and a smirk playing on your lips, “thought you were good at this?”

“it’s one cup,” he shrugs as if your taunt didn’t bother him at all, “i’m just warming up.” 

“you’ve had like, four games to warm up,” you roll your eyes, voice vicious but teasing. he shakes you off as you move center again, shooting the ball, sinking it once more. the smile that grows on your cheeks iis more cocky than anything, but as jisung shoots, he sinks it, too.

his hand is in yours in seconds, a quick shake as you smile and cheer with the group. you shoot again, sinking the cup at the tip of the triangle. you shake your head in surprise, disbelief washing over your face– you’ve never been good at this game. maybe both jisung and vodka would be your friends tonight. 

jisung shoots, his cup bouncing off the table– your twin is quick to pick it up, dunking it in one of his cups before him and yunho shoot. ace goes first, sinking the same cup you did. you point your gaze at him, “dickrider.”

he laughs, shaggy hair laid around his face shaking with the movement. in a white tee and denim jeans, casual yet stylish– an outfit that never goes out of style, that was your twin’s entire wardrobe, even if you were sure his simple-presenting outfit cost more than yours. he turns to yunho, “come on, make mommy proud.” 

you grimace at the flirting, it wasn’t new but always worse when they’ve been drinking. yunho smiles as he shoots the ball, sinking one on your side, and his eyes immediately shoot to yours. “told you i just had to warm up.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, moving the cup and rolling the balls back to them, ignoring the heat that bubbles in your stomach. the two shoot again, ace missing and yunho making one, you fight the smile that yearns to grow. never one to be competitive in your life, you’re beginning to understand why it’s appealing– as the game grows closer, so does your excitement.

“make sure you make this one, teens,” ace taunts from across the table, “jisung needs the help.” 

an assured smile breaks through at his remark and you turn to jisung, handing him a ball, adrenaline coursing through you now. with full confidence you pat his arm, “you got it, ji.”

jisung nods, moving to the center, arm bending before he shoots it– landing one in a cup on the side. you cheer, arms straight up, then high five jisung while yelling, “i knew you could do it!”

jisung is giggling, his cheeks kissed pink as he nods, “your turn.”

you look dead at yunho, aiming for the cup right below him on the left side, a smirk growing at the corner of your lips. you shoot, sinking the one directly in front of him, and he scowls at you as if he knew you just copied what he did to you. you turn to jisung, voice hushed, “ji, we’re kind of good at this.”

jisung makes a fist with his hand and knocks it lightly twice on your head, making a surprised noise leave your chest. he giggles at your reaction as he says, “don’t jinx it, knock on wood.”

you scoff as you turn back to the table, yunho and ace roll the balls back to you. jisung shoots, misses, and you miss your shot right after. jisung whines, “look at what you did.”

“that wasn’t my fault!” you glance at the cups, lips stretching to one side, “we should’ve asked for the cups to be rearranged.” 

jisung looses a breath as ace shoots, sinking a cup at the top, and yunho follows right after– sinking the cup directly next to his. you make an annoyed face as you roll the balls back, face scrunching up, and ace sinks a cup in the back line, yunho missing his shot. 

“can we get zipper?” you ask both boys and ace nods, rearranging your cups to two vertical lines, three on one side and two on the other, in the pockets of the three cups. you nod with a satisfied look on your face, moving to the center. 

“look at you, using terminology and shit,” yeosang jokes from beside you, stood directly next to jeongin, both holding glasses of whatever they were drinking. they looked good together, all sharp lines and muscles, intimidating even– maybe the first time yeosang has ever looked intimidating in his life.

you smile in his direction, “i have played before, you know.”

“never this well,” giselle adds, and you tighten your lips in disappointment at your friend– who’s supposed to be on your side.

“rude,” you mumble as you move to the center, sinking the ball center of the line of three. you smack your lips, happy you made a cup, disappointed in which cup. “shoot for the one closest, ji.”

he nods as he shoots, sinking the one closest. you both yell out a yes! and clasp your hands together before the balls are rolled back to you. yunho stares at you in disbelief, “are you already drunk? there’s no way you’re actually this good.”

you raise your eyebrows at him, a hand coming to your hip, “i didn’t take you for a sore loser, yunho.” 

he smiles all teeth, basically asking you to crawl across the damn table, “i didn’t lose yet.” 

you make one of the cups on the line of two, jisung making the other, leaving you with one cup left. you look up to yunho, eyebrows still raised, “yeah?” 

“anything can happen, tiny,” he says with such nonchalance it almost pisses you off. you shoot and miss, a whine leaving your lips, then jisung shoots, missing as well. yunho smirks, “exactly.”

“stop flirting and shoot the damn ball,” ace huffs as he grabs the balls off the table, handing one to yunho. you blink at him before your eyes dart to giselle and julie, who wore matching faces of nasty smirks. they were not on your side tonight.

“not flirting,” both you and yunho say simultaneously, but neither of you sounded like you meant it.

with only three cups left, adrenaline thrummed under your skin. a need to prove yunho wrong was buzzing inside of you, not that you cared about the game itself, but the way he was so cocky about winning is what sat in your stomach. you wanted to win. 

ace shoots, sinking the cup in front of you, and yunho goes next, sinking the one beside it. that left one cup, and the balls being rolled back to them with frowns on yours and jisung’s faces and audible ooh’s from your friends. 

“you thought,” came from san who stood closest to you, the taunt making you land a light smack to his arm. 

“shut up, we’re gonna win,” you huff, “they’ll both miss.” 

“miss?” ace laughs, bending his arm up in preparation to shoot. “nah, i don’t miss.” he shoots, and sinks it— but before you can process anything, jisung is crouching at the same level of the cup, blowing into it. with success, the ball flies out of the cup, bouncing to the floor. 

a laugh of disbelief leaves your chest, your eyes widening as you grab jisung’s arm, “i forgot you could do that! nice.” 

you look across the table and ace looks irritated, top lip lifted as he shakes his head. your friends are still cheering out curses and sounds of disbelief that mirrored yours, the girls excitedly cheering. you giggle in your twins direction, “that’s what i thought!” 

“my turn,” yunho interrupts and your face goes blank, for just a moment you forgot he was there, too. a pout takes place on your cheeks, lips folding downward, you could kiss your win goodbye. 

your eyes meet and he pauses as he bends his arm, the movement haltering for just a second before he shoots. the ball hits the back rim of the cup, bouncing right into your hand as you catch it. 

“you’re joking,” ace mutters as he turns to yunho, scowling. “are you kidding me? you’ve made that shot three times tonight.” 

“my arm is getting tired,” he shrugs, and fixes your last cup on his side, centering it on the table. 

“bullshit,” ace huffs as he walks away, towards the bar off the side of the kitchen. he calls over his shoulder, “i’m not staying to watch you purposely break our streak, asshole.” 

your smile is permanently etched onto your face as you yell after him, the last part clearly not sinking in, “i didn’t know you had so much faith in me!” 

“i don’t,” you hear from the other room as the balls are rolled back to you. you giggle to yourself and reach for your glass, shooting back the rest of your vodka redbull before you go to shoot again. 

you sink it— you hold your breath, withholding your cheers as jisung shoots, but he sinks it, too— and the entire room erupts in cheers, jisung hugging you from the side, planting a quick kiss to your temple. you’re a smiling, giggling mess, surprised at yourself for winning, for even playing in the first place. 

when the cheers die down, after the adrenaline runs its course and you choose to not play again, you go to make another drink, jisung following you. as you pour the bottle of tito’s into your glass, you can feel something radiating off of him as he just stands there beside you.

you look up to him with slightly raised brows as you open another can of redbull, telling him to say it without actually verbalizing it. he gives you a shy smile, voice small as he says, “i think i like us as friends.” 

you stir your redbull in with your finger, matching his smile in return, “i think i like us as friends, too.” 

“so,” he bounces on his heel, shyness still radiating off of him, “since we’re friends, when did the thing with yunho start?” 

the look you gave him for his ridiculous statement was enough to make his ears burn red. you scoff, “what thing with yunho?” 

“you know,” his eyes look to the kitchen then back to you, “he just clearly let us win, and what ace said about the flirting and stuff?” 

“we weren’t flirting,” you argue, the look still on your face— eyebrows furrowed and lips bent in discontent, “and we won fair and square.”

“oh,” he drags it out, chin tipping back, his hands laid across the bar, “i understand now.” 

“i’m ordering the drunk bus!” 

both of your heads snap in the direction of giselle’s announcement from the kitchen— the drunk bus was a literal bus that seated around ten, it’d drop you and pick you up from wherever you needed, a luxury that only applied to the towns surrounding your campus. it was one fee split amongst the group, you’d never taken it before, but you’ve heard the stories from giselle and julie– whatever happens in the drunk bus, stays in the drunk bus. 

you turn back to jisung who’s smiling, “what do you ‘understand’?” you use two bent fingers on each hand to quote the word, irritation clear in your tone. 

jisung shakes his head, “forget i said anything, i’m gonna get another drink.” he made for the kitchen before you could get a word out, and you stand in your frustration for a moment. 

was this turning into something everyone could see, except for you? you did not think you were flirting with yunho across the table, nor did you think he was flirting with you. he does look good, and the way he wore his confidence like it was a part of him was way too enticing, so unlike him it was as if he was a different person entirely– shit, maybe your paranoia wasn’t paranoia? sticking up for you to his mom, racing to get you a drink the moment you said you were thirsty, it all seemed to add up. 

… would that be so bad? 

a gasp leaves your lips, an immediate shake of your head as you turn to face the bar again, your back turned to the entrance of the room. that was a terrifying thought, but if you really contemplated it— hyunjin was an asshole, mingyu was too old, jisung and chan ended up being better as friends, seonghwa was complicated. what you needed was easy, natural, logical— wouldn’t yunho be all three? you only had two more weeks after tonight. 

“fuck,” you muttered to yourself. if it was clear enough for jisung to notice, it must be clear as day— your hand came up to your hair, scratching at your scalp, were you already in a situation you didn’t agree to?

“drunk bus is a minute away,” chan pops his head through the door, a head of blonde hair a stark contrast to the dark wood door frame. you yelp, whipping around to face him, and he makes a face of confusion and surprise before he’s giggling, walking into the room. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. you good?” 

you shake your head, forcing a smile on your lips, “all good.” 

he raises a brow, “liar.” 

your smile turns genuine as you look down at your shoes, “i’ll be fine, i should chug this before we go.” 

“then come out here with the rest of us,” chan urges, grabbing your free arm and pulling you out to the kitchen again. you sip your drink as you walk, hoping none of it spills down your face as chan pulls you along. 

you down about half your drink when the drunk bus arrives, chugging the rest as everyone rushes out of the front door. you grab your purse and jacket, folding it over your arm, following ace as the last two escaping from your house. 

your body is warm as you watch everyone pile into the bus, which you supposed was more like a van with several rows of seats. the girls sat up front with chan, jihoon, jisung and yeosang on jeongin’s lap on the row behind them, leaving the back row for you, yunho, your twin and san. 

the rows seated three each, you blinked at the three girls up front, giselle in the middle of reia and julie. the smart decision would’ve been to put you up front with your friends, and have reia in the back on ace’s lap— too drunk to give a fuck, you’re the last to pile into the bus, making your way to the back. 

you face the three men, yunho on the edge of the row, ace in the center and san on his right. you pop a brow, standing hunched over in the van, “am i just going to lay across the three of you?” 

san nudges his chin forward, “you can sit up front with the driver.” 

your jaw drops, voice lowering to a hushed whisper, “i am not doing that, that’s excluding me from the fun of the drunk bus.” 

“sit on yunho’s lap,” ace says casually, pulling his phone from his pocket, “that way we can finally leave.” 

you wanted to snap at him for the attitude— instead you looked at yunho who sat back ever so slightly, spreading his thick thighs so you could perch yourself on one, looking up at you with awaiting eyes. your lips pulled to one side in contemplation, thinking back to your dilemma earlier– only one way to find out what all of this meant.

so you obeyed your twin, sitting down on one of yunho’s thighs with your legs bent over the other, facing ace and san. ace barely looks up from his phone and san is wearing a silly smile on his cheeks, then reaches forward to tap yeosang on the shoulder. 

yeosang looks back at san over jeongin’s head of black hair before his eyes slide over to you and yunho, a laugh leaves his throat, “no fucking way– you’re both that drunk already? we aren’t even there yet!”

your body was hot before you left the house, now you were approaching feverish as the entire middle row turned around. you locked eyes with jisung who raised both brows, i told you so written all over his face. 

“no,” you argue back, lip lifting in annoyance at yeosang, “shut up and kiss your boyfriend.” 

yeosang giggles again as the bus finally starts moving, ENA was a quick fifteen minute drive from your house, at least you didn’t have to be on yunho’s lap for long. it surprisingly wasn’t unpleasant or uncomfortable having a pair of strong thighs beneath you– his thighs beneath you, his cologne in your nose, heat radiating off his body onto yours. 

mentally, it was more uncomfortable than it was physically, you were sure if there wasn’t so much talk you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. 

the driver turns music on and the drunks in the first two rows immediately start singing along, voices loud and clearly intoxicated. you turn to yunho, your voice hushed, “this is so annoying.” 

“what’s annoying?” he asks, close enough for his breath to kiss your skin. only then did you realize just how close you actually were— it wasn’t just strong thighs beneath you, it was your arm against his chest, it was your face inches apart, it was his hand resting on your knee. you blame the vodka when your thighs squeeze together.

you could feel the heat in your ears as you squirm, your hands finding your lap, you didn’t even know where they were before that– “they keep saying stuff about us.” 

“i know,” yunho’s eyes leave yours, looking ahead to the front of the bus, maybe to the road outside. “definitely annoying.” 

your eyes thinned as you scanned his face for any emotion, stomach feeling sour at him calling it annoying— him saying it didn’t sit right. you scrunch your face, “i guess they have a point, though.” 

he looks back to you, eyebrows furrowed yet eyes wide, surprise and confusion washed over him. a cocky smile grows on your cheeks, “you did let us win pong.” 

he smiles all teeth, wide, understanding and sweet as his head falls back to the headrest, “you won fair and square.” 

“i thought that too,” you argue as your head tilts forward, following his movement, subconsciously wanting to stay so close. sucked into something unexplainable, you couldn’t believe the words that left your mouth, “was i imagining things or were you flirting with me across the table?” 

his smile shifts to something of a smirk, so unlike yunho it had electricity zipping through every nerve. was this the side of yunho that other girls get to see? get to know? his stories begin to make sense. “and what if i was?” 

you catch ace’s eye out of your peripherals, snapping you back into reality before you realize you’d left it. you suck in a breath as you shift backward again, sitting upright, as if a bucket of ice water was pourerd over you– right, this was yunho, one of your best friends since birth, you were shocked ace was keeping his mouth shut if he heard any of that. what would the three of them think?

you looked to your lap, “don’t fuck around, you know i’m in a fragile state right now… two weeks and all.”

“that’s the point,” you look back up and his head is still tilted back, his throat on display, he looked so much of a man you had to rip your eyes away before your body gave you away. you weren’t sure if you were imagining things, if your drunk brain was creating a conversation you weren’t really having, maybe the caffeine from the redbull rendered you schizophrenic. 

yunho couldn’t believe he just said that– a few shots and a few beers must’ve inflated his ego and encouraged his confidence more than ace ever could have. he was proud of himself, adrenaline and liquor swimming in synchronicity, a cocky smirk still sitting on his lips. 

out of all of these dates, out of the stories he’s heard, he thinks he has a handle on what works for you. just a moment ago, how your head followed him back, that confirmed it for him– he knew you through and through, you had no idea you helped him know this side of you through all your complaints and stories. 

you raise an eyebrow in question, and yunho doesn’t want to explain himself, but he does anyway. “like i said six weeks ago, your grandma fucking loves me, tiny.” 

he watches, feels it as realization settles in. how your eyes widen, your glossed lips part, your body stiffens on his lap– maybe he overshot his confidence a bit. this was still you, the girl he’s wanted for years, the same girl that has also never looked at him as anything other than a friend– the last thing he wants to do is scare you off. after staring at him in surprise for a moment, you begin blinking rapidly, mumbling a hushed, “what?” 

yunho panics internally, but he doesn’t show it. he’s happy you weren’t close enough to hear his heart beating against his chest– but like he told ace, it was time to do something about it. his voice is calm, confident as he says, “you know exactly what i mean.” 

“tiny! you get next song,” julie yells from the front, using a nickname she rarely uses for you, holding her phone that was connected to the aux cord. you yell back the title of a rap song almost immediately, one that yunho knows you know by heart, and he finds himself smiling. 

maybe he’s grateful that julie interrupted– he had started a conversation he didn’t want to have right now, not when you’re both drunk, when yunho’s filter was long gone. you’d remember this tomorrow, you’d know what he said, it’s not something that could go undiscussed– he wanted to tell you properly. but for now, feeling you squirm on his lap, rapping your heart out with slurred words at the top of your lungs, yunho welcomed that with open arms. 

when you finally arrived to ENA, there were several cars and buses parked in a line, groups of people crowded on the massive lawn that had lost its color in the november weather. you were at the front of the group with the other girls, ahead of yunho and the rest of the guys who took their time walking up. 

yeosang breaks away from jeongin to walk up to yunho who was in stride with ace, a curious look on his face, “finally doing something about your little crush, huh?” 

yunho rolls his eyes, it’s so much more than that, “it’s not a little crush, but yeah, basically.”

yeosang giggles and grabs san by the arm, the tight black shirt he wore clinging to him, “it’s finally happening!”

san looks confused, “what is? giselle wants me? did she tell you that?” 

ace groans, “yunho and tiny, dumbass. keep your voice down.” 

jisung cuts in, but yunho still feels weird about him, so he pays him no mind– “i knew there was something there.”

“keep it to yourself,” yunho huffs out, barely shooting a look to jisung. 

they finally reached the door, the girls probably deep inside now– they were greeted with a dark house, neon lights searing across the walls, the ceiling, the smell of weed and alcohol strong in the massive space. with a clean, white exterior, the interior reflected nothing of it. ENA was just as dirty and grimy as it was the last time they were here, except now there was only one of them trying to get his dick wet, so now it was noticeable. 

“it’s going to take me ages to find reia,” ace yells over the music already pounding through their bodies. he grabs yunho by the shoulder, “you think they’re getting drinks?” 

yunho gives him a nod and guides the way, a pillar in a sea full of college guys much, much smaller than him. they reach the kitchen without touching too many sweaty bodies, yunho’s head nodding along to the catchy music, eyes on alert for you, julie, giselle or reia. 

he spots the four of you crowded around the kitchen island, well, he hears giselle before he sees you, yelling hello to people he didn’t know. a man was pouring a round of shots and he spotted you, staring at him with excitement in your eyes– yunho almost sighs, he hopes this isn’t a repeat of the music festival, jealousy growing deep in his gut. he hadn’t heard you speak about mingyu since then, so he might be safe, but you’ve surprised yunho so many times in the past six weeks, he can’t be sure about anything anymore. 

reia’s the only one to catch their arrival, shooting ace a bright smile, leaving your side to make her way through the bodies in the kitchen. she pulls him by the arm back to the island, yelling, “take a shot with us!” 

yunho follows silently, watching, until a shot is placed directly in front of him. they’re passed down to yeosang and san, jeongin who stands behind yeosang, a hand on his waist. jihoon, chan and jisung were nowhere to be found, but yunho was sure they’d show up later. yunho leans into ace, “who even are these guys?”

ace shrugs his shoulders, “free shots, who gives a fuck?”

yunho lets out a laugh, looking down to his shot glass before clinking it with the group, then shooting it back. he meets your eyes as his glass meets the table– they’re glossed over, drunk, a soft, silly smile blankets your features. his heart cracks in his chest, fuck, he adores you– with your cute little outfit, standing around the island bouncing to the music, with no idea that you’re the most beautiful one in the room. 

he can’t wait for you to be his.

you shoot another shot back before yunho can even blink, the mysterious guy with dark hair and a freckle on the side of his nose smiling in your direction. yunho’s eyes dart between you and the guy, trying to pick up on any lingering tension, any want in your eyes. his jaw tightens.

“i saw you at that bar by campus!” you yell at him over the table, words slurred and loud, body leaning across the wooden slab. “you’re the one that sleeps with that bartender!”

“belle?” he looks at you as if you’re crazy, but you’re a giggling mess as you nod in response. 

julie leans in close to you, her smile wide, tone teasing, “we know all about belle, hoon.”

the guy furrows his brows, leaning in closer over the island, “how?”

“you know your friend jake?” you ask, trying so hard to keep your laughter inside. he nods, and you’re bursting trying to keep it in, “so does belle.” 

yunho is confused, on the outside of whatever joke you and julie are playing on this guy. giselle appears out of nowhere, grabbing both of you by the wrists, “they’re just kidding, hoonie, don’t mind them. see you later!” she pulls you out of the kitchen, towards the living room, yelling something about dancing and to stop making trouble. 

yunho shakes the confusion off of him as he sorts through the bottles on the island, lips scrunched as he tries to find whiskey. the hoon guy is on his right in an instant, asking him, “you looking for the good shit? i got you, bro.”

yunho follows him to a set of bottles hidden behind cutting boards on the counter– a few bottles of aged whiskey behind them. yunho raises a brow, “how’d you know?”

“you seem like a whiskey guy,” he makes a face of understanding, as if he knows yunho, “there’s beer in the fridge, too. you know those girls?” 

yunho nods as he grabs a solo cup from the stack of them beside the bottles– the tackiest cup for a glass of classy whiskey. “i came with them.” 

“giselle and julie, i know them,” his brows furrowed as he leaned against the counter, “the other one looks familiar, i think she’s been here before.”

yunho’s lips form a line, confirming, “she’s been here before.”

the guy looks like a light bulb went off in his head, “oh shit! you’re right, man, thanks, i should tell heeseung she’s here. what’s her name again?”

“thanks for the drink,” yunho waves him off, walking away before the guy could get another word in. yunho didn’t even think about heeseung being here, it was the last thing on his mind, he’s been so wrapped up in you all night– anxiety creeps up his spine. he finds ace and reia against a wall, kissing, and he feels weird about interrupting, but he has no other choice. “can we go dance?” 

those were the last words ace expected from yunho’s mouth, he broke away from his girlfriend just to let out a laugh directly in his face, “can we go what?”

“dance,” yunho repeats, the word laced with annoyance. “don’t ask questions, be a good friend and do it. please?”

“i’m down to dance,” reia shoots yunho a comforting smile and ace groans. yunho’s always liked reia. 

yunho leads them into the crowd, looking for a head of pink hair to act as a beacon, yunho’s eyes are on alert. he’s seen heeseung once or twice, but he wasn’t sure if he’d recognize him in a crowd like this, if he even looks the same. he hates this feeling– he’s wants you to be done with other guys, he wants to be the only guy you want, the only one who’s attention you crave. 

he can feel the liquor in his fingertips as the crowd gets more dense, the room quickly dampening, heat and sweat kissing the nape of his neck. he finally spots giselle, a beacon just as he thought, stood next to you who was putting your phone in some blonde guy’s phone. he curses under his breath, as if he jinxed himself– this had to be a stroke of bad luck. 

the guy wears a goofy smile that stretched ear to ear, standing like a fucking loser if you were to ask yunho. in jeans and a fitted tee, hair so bleached it looked like straw, yunho was irritated you’d even consider him. his feelings soften as he hears your laugh over the music, as he watches your head tip back, getting a glimpse of your smile. now he had to worry about every guy, not just heeseung? yunho wished he could keep you glued to his side all night, put you in his pocket or something. 

ace puts his hand on yunho’s shoulder, yunho didn’t even realize how fast he was heading towards you two, prepared to do something that’d end up in embarrassment. he hears ace over the music, “leave it, she’s hammered, she won’t remember him tomorrow.”

yunho exhales as he nods, he’s grateful for ace’s words as they cool him down immediately, the only person who can read his mind, understand him like no one else. yunho thinks he might lose his fucking mind by the end of the night if ace leaves his side even once. the two of you put a curse on him the day you were born, he thinks. 

giselle makes eye contact with yunho before you realize he’s there, and the side of her mouth lifts in a smirk. she taps you on the shoulder, and you don’t move, too engrossed in the blonde who you were still talking to. she grabs you by the shoulders to whip you around, forcing your drunk eyes on yunho. 

immediately your features warp into a wide smile as you see yunho, ace and reia. you turn your head to look at the blonde guy for a second before they land on yunho again, you loudly ask, “did you see him? he’s so cute!”

yunho shakes his head, “you’re drunk.”

“yeah, not blind,” you yell back in between giggles, “dance with me?”

yunho’s reluctant to agree, especially as he hears ace crack a chuckle behind him– he’s not much of a dancer, but he did pull ace and reia out here for this. you grab the hand that isn’t holding the solo cup of whiskey without waiting for his answer, and yunho takes a sip as you lift it above your head, doing a little twirl. he watches as your hair twirls with you, his eyes lowering to your hips, how your jacket hangs over your elbows, your shoulders on display… he couldn’t say no to you if he tried. 

so he leans in, he dances with you, letting you lead as you sway from side to side, facing him. you have a smile glued on your cheeks, a sheen of sweat laid over your skin, the side of him he keeps tucked away wants to lick it off of you– to feel the taste of you on his tongue, to hear the sounds you’d let out if he did. the thought makes his cock twitch in his pants and he tries to shake it off, tries to force his brain to go elsewhere, but then you’re closer, shoved into him from someone trying to get through the crowd. 

the smell of your hair hits his nose, your front pressed against him, your hands on his chest, he mutters a hushed fuck. it feels even more incriminating than the car ride there, with your thighs laying centimeters from his coc,  with your whole body pressed against his.  the cutest oops, sorry leaves your lips, he’d give anything to put you over his shoulder and carry you upstairs, have his way with you. 

that’s the whiskey talking, he tells himself, as he takes another swig from his cup. 

he knows it’s not. he’s never wanted something, someone, so bad in his life. 

you look up to him, eyes bright and shiny yet hooded and glazed over, he swears you look like you could eat him alive, too. if he just leaned down, he’d finally taste you, know what those glossy lips feel like against his. he finds his head tipping forward before he can fucking think—

“we found you!” he years yeosang before he sees him, his eye twitching on command, ripping his chance from under his feet– did he really want to kiss you for the first time while you’re hammered in a hazy frat house, anyway? yunho thinks he’d take anything at this point. 

“yeo!” you shriek, ripping your hands from yunho’s chest. you take a quick look around, “shit, where are giselle and julie?”

“they just went to get a drink,” yeosang responds, thumb pointing towards the kitchen as if he wasn’t basically pulling you off of yunho, “i passed them on my way here.”

you whine, “this is supposed to be a girl’s night.” you’re off in the direction of the kitchen, and yunho forces himself to stay put. 

“that looked interesting,” yeosang notes, his voice loud over the music, a smirk on his lips as he lifts his can up to his lips, jeongin right on his heel. yunho pulls his shirt from his chest, making sure it isn’t sticking against his sweaty skin, covering his hips until his cock softens completely. 

“cockblock,” yunho huffs, hopefully too quiet for yeosang to hear. 

“no way you just said cockblock with ace directly behind you,” yeosang’s jaw drops, unfortunately hearing him, and jeongin snorts from behind him. 

“your friend group is so… interesting,” jeongin comments, and his head turns to face yunho’s best friend, “ace, you’re seriously cool with yunho trying to bag your sister?” 

ace looks at jeongin like he couldn’t be more uninterested, likely annoyed he had to rip his attention from reia, “yes? what does that have to do with me?” 

jeongin shakes his head, bringing his attention back to yeosang as his hand travels up his waist, “you wanna dance, baby?”

“please,” yeosang responds happily, his head tipping back as jeongin whips him around to face him, and yunho rips his eyes to look anywhere but there. 

“back to the kitchen i go, i guess,” yunho says, facing ace and reia again, the two making yunho even more uncomfortable than jeongin and yeosang had. reia’s finger was tucked into ace’s waistband, her lips pressed to his neck as  ace’s focus turned to yunho. a chill ran through him. 

“you don’t have to follow her around,” ace responds, his hand traveling up reia’s back until his hand is in her hair. yunho forces himself to not make a face. “go find san or something, you’re not babysitting.” 

yunho nods, he knew that already– but what if you find that blonde guy again? or worse, heeseung? 

yunho would be sick to find out that he was right. 

bouncing into the kitchen with a smile etched onto your face, you were expecting to find giselle and julie easily– what you weren’t expecting was to see sunghoon again, this time accompanied by another head of black hair you knew all too well. standing with his back pressed to the kitchen counter, a solo cup in his hand, a lazy smirk playing on his lips, he hadn’t even seen you yet. he was too busy talking to a short blonde girl that stood leaned into him, her front nearly pressed to his, you couldn’t see her face from where they stood but you knew she was drop dead gorgeous. heeseung wouldn’t entertain her if she wasn’t. 

music pumped through the space, charging the air, aiding the adrenaline that pumped through your veins just from seeing his face. you took a deep breath as you ripped your attention away from them, you couldn’t explain the feeling it gave you. heeseung wasn’t shit, he proved time and time again that he wasn’t shit, yet seeing a man who’s been inside you on numerous occasions talking it up with a random girl you didn’t know would never feel good. it’s why you ghosted him in the first place. 

you rounded the island when you didn’t see your two friends, the haze of whoever was smoking a joint in the corner clouding the room, forcing the lights to dim ever so slightly. while you read the labels of several bottles, trying to find the tito’s to pour yourself another shot, sunghoon spotted you before heeseung did. 

sunghoon nudged heeseung’s side, dropping his chin to his ear, “see? i told you she was here.”

heeseung let out a hollow chuckle as his eyes fell on you, “no fucking way she actually showed.”

you felt their eyes, even in your drunk mind you could feel the attention. you looked up, meeting the deep abyss that was heeseung’s eyes, quickly darting your attention between the two men who had their sights set on you. slithering up your spine was something between discomfort and excitement as heeseung pushed past the blonde, as if she didn’t matter, his body clad in all black made its way to you in two strides with confidence oozing off of him. 

watching him walk away from another girl for you? that felt good. 

the smirk that seemed to permanently live on his face was just as attractive as it's always been, placed on a jaw that could cut glass, two gold hoops hanging from his ears, in clothes that fit him just right. he stopped just before you, leaving a space that you’d close by the end of the night, voice dripping with sex as he says, “you really came to see me, huh?”

“i did not come to see you,” you laugh at him, at least trying to put up a fight, words slurring as you say, “‘m here with gi and jules.”

“come on, baby,” he urges, head tilting to the side, displaying a neck you’ve kissed too many times– he knew exactly what he was doing, memories flooding your mind, just as he intended. “you knew where you’d end up if you came here in that sexy little outfit.”

you roll your eyes, yet you knew he was right. you almost forgot he was here in the heat of the night, too drunk, too high off the adrenaline rush of that hoshi guy asking for your number, too confused about yunho. yunho. 

what were your intentions behind texting heeseung in the first place?

that was before tonight. before pong, before the car ride, before dancing with him minutes ago, ending up with your body pressed against his– 

“don’t you miss me?” heeseung asks, moving closer to you until his breath is hot against your ear, plump bottom lip grazing against your earlobe just right, “miss splitting you open on my cock, don’t you miss it too?” 

–but he didn’t whisper any of those words in your ear.

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. your legs cross, thighs pressing together, a squeak of a whimper passing through your lips. you whisper a hushed yes, eyelids fluttering at the nasty words, he’s always been good at dirty talk, always been good at making you fold in seconds.

“then what are we waiting for?” he asks, wasting no time, of course not. this was heeseung, who always gave you maybe thirty minutes just to get liquor flowing through both your veins before he had you bent over his mattress, every single time. 

“tiny!” your neck snaps to the voice, blinking rapidly, uncrossing your legs as if you were caught red handed. you face san who approaches with eyebrows crossed, his jaw locked as if he was pissed– as if you were doing something wrong. his tone is sharp, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“we’re talking, man,” heeseung says from behind you, not giving you a second to speak. heeseung looks down at you with a blank expression, “who is this? your boyfriend?” 

“fuck no,” you respond in an instant, but san cuts you off. 

“i wasn’t asking you, man,” san’s tone is not friendly, his shoulders back, chest puffed out. “where are giselle and julie? ace? yunho?”

“what are you, her keeper?” heeseung spits from behind you, and you wince, knowing this could get ugly quick. you open your mouth to defend san, to tell heeseung to keep his mouth shut– 

“who the fuck are you?” san gets a little louder, catching the attention of people around you. he looks at you, gaze heavy, “this is heeseung, right?” 

you give him a short nod and he laughs, but it's sarcastic, it's angry. he gives you a slight shake of his head, “you can’t be serious.”

“what do you mean?” you ask, your own eyebrows furrowing, clueless as to why he’s on you right now. you’ve told him about your history with heeseung, but you would never expect him to react like this. “like he said, we’re just talking.” 

san purses his lips, giving you a slow nod that was anything but understanding. heeseung cuts in from behind you, “is there a problem?”

as soon as you say no, san says yes. you look at him with wide, shocked eyes, silently telling him to shut the fuck up before he ruins this for you. 

you turn to heeseung, “there’s no problem, he’s just being fucking insane.” your eyes were back on san as you barked the last two words, giving him a nasty look, hoping he’d finally understand and leave. 

“are you seriously gonna do this?” san asks, you feel like you’re missing something under his gaze, by the look he’s giving you, you felt his disappointment all over you. “after everything you’ve told us about him, after tonight, you’re actually gonna fuck him?” 

“everything you’ve told them?” heeseung reiterates from behind you, now you’re sweating. panic and frustration rushes through you, blinking at heeseung who has his eyebrows raised, an uninterested look on his face as if he was preparing to walk away. 

and he would, knowing heeseung. if it was too complicated, if it wasn’t easy— he would turn around and leave you be, probably go find that blonde girl and split her open. his words linger in your head, the feeling they gave you, the heat that spread throughout your core that you couldn’t ignore, you could not let that be ripped away from you. 

you have it at your fingertips– a hookup, a fuck, someone to distract you from every feeling that’s been rushing through your body, every thought that’s tangled up in your head. you needed the release, you needed the fuck, you needed to be exorcised of your thoughts, your feelings, your confusion. 

you turn your back on san, “i have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.” 

you hear the dry laugh that leaves san from behind you, and the guilt sits in the pit of your stomach, but your frustration toward him and the need to get laid outweighs it. you’d apologize to him tomorrow. 

that same cocky smile grows on heeseung’s lips again, “been a minute since you’ve seen my room, i redecorated. wanna see?” 

you keep your back turned– you don’t want to see if san walks away, if he stays, the look on his face no matter what he does. you plaster a smile on your face, forcing the feelings away, batting your lashes as you look up to heeseung, “absolutely.” 

you keep your chin tucked as you follow heeseung up the main staircase, letting your hair fall over your face, trying to hide your identity as if your outfit wouldn’t give it away to anyone who knew you. if san was this unhappy about your choice, you couldn’t imagine what the others would say– you wouldn’t put it past them to follow you up here. 

and yet you follow him anyway. 

you shake off any feeling that wasn’t need by the time you reached the platform, following heeseung into his bedroom, which was exactly the same as before. framed posters of old movies and bands hung on his walls, his carpeted bedroom littered by clothes and bath towels, the bed in the center if his room unmade, duvet balled into a lump at the foot. 

“redecorated my ass,” you joke as heeseung sits on his bed, leaning back on his elbows, readjusting his bottom half that sat on the edge. you lock the door behind you after you step inside, getting a good look at the room that was so messy you had to focus on him and only him. 

“had to get you up here somehow,” the same smirk sat on his lips once more, the corner of his mouth bent upward, black hair hung over his temples. the black tee that clung to his abdomen was lifted ever so slightly, his waist peeking out from above his hips, golden skin peeking through. 

you walked forward after a sound of amusement leaves your lips, mouth watering at the sight, “you could’ve just said let’s go to my room.” 

“why not make it fun?” his smirk was full blown now as he sits up, hands coming to wrap around the backs of your thighs as you step between his thighs. your hands find his hair, soft locks tangled between your fingers, maybe you missed him a little. “so sexy in this cute lil’ outfit, you wear this for me?” 

“always so confident,” you huff out, knee bending to rest against his thigh, “the world doesn’t revolve around you, hee.” 

“i’m hurt,” he fakes a pout as his hand slides to the thigh bent over his leg, traveling upward until his fingers tuck under the hem of your skirt, “almost worse than when you blocked me.” 

“you’ll be alright,” you respond, your tone flat. you tug his hair backward lightly, forcing him to look up at you, “are you gonna keep wasting time playing with my skirt, or are you gonna take it off of me?” 

he looks up at you in surprise for a moment, not used to demands on your lips, but he obeys nonetheless. you let your jacket hit the floor as he tugs your skirt down your hips, “fuck, missed you.”

you don’t respond as you unzip your boots, stepping out of them and out of your skirt, crawling onto his lap. you note that they don’t feel as strong as yunho’s beneath you, not as thick, not as hard. you try to shake the thought as your hands reach for his hair again, pressing your lips to his, messy and rushed, being met with plump lips that taste like whiskey and a desperation almost as great as your own. 

you’re fast to grind against him as his tongue pushes past your lips, a groan leaving both of you at the same time, his hands reach around you to smack your ass. you hiss as he bucks his hips into you, breaking the kiss to say, “missed this cute ass.” 

you whine into him as he soothes where he hit you, fingers softly running over your skin, gripping the fat of your ass after. your hands leave his hair to travel over his chest, down his abdomen, before you lift his shirt over his head. 

“someone’s eager,” he says as you get the shirt over his head, “missed my cock that much?” 

“god, shut up,” you say before you attach your lips again, feeling over his bare skin, the ripples of his toned abdomen under his skin. eager, yes, but for him specifically? the whole ordeal was debatable. 

he reaches a hand into your hair, tugging at your roots to pull your head back, staring at you through lowered brows, “since when did you have such a foul fuckin’ mouth?” 

you whimper, eyes glazed over, hips rutting into him. a cocky smile grows, “since i started fucking people other than you.” 

he lets go of your hair just to scoop under your ass and flip you over, your back hitting the mattress, legs immediately spreading for him to slide himself between. denim hits your panties and you mewl, hands searching for his hair, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them over your head. “if you want me, you’ll learn real quick how to speak to me.”

the same smile creeps on your face again, “and if i don’t?” 

“you don’t get to cum,” his eyes are deep, just as glossed over as your own, a need in them you haven’t seen in months. heeseung wants you, yet it doesn’t feel as good as it would’ve back then. 

your chin tips back as a laugh leaves your lips, head digging into the mattress, “so, same treatment as usual?” 

his face drops– his mouth is on yours in an instant with impatience, a newfound hunger, something to prove. his hips dig into you so rough it almost hurts, you whimper into his mouth but he ignores you, hands trailing down your waist to your hips, fingers wrapping around them tight. 

“more,” you mumble against his lips, legs wrapping around his hips tighter, “give me more.” 

he smiles against you, ignoring you as his lips trail down to your jaw, sucking at the skin just below it. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingers grip your hips harder, you wouldn’t be surprised if they left a bruise. his fingers slip under your top, flipping it over your bra, his palms cupping your chest.

it still wasn’t enough. your core throbs, you needed stimulation— you put on your best sexy voice, “hee, need your mouth. please.”

“now you’re begging?” he doesn’t even look at you, “funny.”

you smack your lips, irritated. you wrap your legs tighter around heeseung’s hips, using as much force as you can to flip him over onto his back. much to your surprise it works, he seems equally as surprised as he lands on his back, eyes wide and lips parted.

“what the hell–”

“shut up and lay back,” you order as you adjust yourself on his lap, pulling your top over your head, unclasping your bra with ease, letting it fall to his floor amongst the other articles of clothing of his. his eyebrows furrow as he lays back until they straighten out a moment later, tucking his arms under his head with a smirk, thinking you’re about to get on your knees. 

you wear a wicked smile as you crawl forward instead, panties against his bare abdomen, and his arms come down from behind his head, bent upward to touch your thighs, confusion written across his face. in your best demanding voice, you say, “i said i wanted your mouth.”

his eyebrows raise, too stunned to respond as you crawl forward, thighs landing on either side of his head. you’d only done this once with mingyu, but you think you can pull it off again, you needed to cum and you were not leaving it in heeseung’s hands. 

he groans and you can hear him unzip his pants as you pull your panties to the side, his tongue lolling out just before you spread your legs and sit. it’s simultaneous, the way you moan together, as you get a semblance of relief and as heeseung tastes you. a melody of noises as your hips immediately start rocking against him, feeling his tongue slide between your folds, licking up every drop of wetness that you began building on the ride here. 

you glance over your shoulder, a laugh leaving your lips as you see heeseung pumping his cock, only halfway out of his jeans. you look down at him, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, tongue working at your folds. your voice is nasty, degrading as you speak before you can think about it, “jerking yourself off while you eat me out? pathetic.”

his eyes open in slits, his eyebrows furrowing, groaning into your core. oh, he likes it. the vibration makes a gasp leave your lips in pleasure, rutting your hips harder against him, feeling his tongue flick over your clit. your lips part again, “told me to watch my mouth, here you are getting off to it. what would everyone think if they knew you turned into a slut when someone’s a little mean to you?” 

he groans again, and your head falls back, a moan ripping from your throat. he sucks on your clit and your whole body falls back, putting your weight on your hand to hold yourself up, bucking your hips into heeseung’s mouth. he flicks over your clit again, one hand coming up to grab onto your waist as the other steadily pumps his cock. you can feel it build, for the first time with heeseung, and you’ll be damned if he doesn’t get you there. 

“yes, hee, so good, doing so good for me,” you’re moaning between the praises leaving your lips, “make me cum, wanna cum on your face.” 

he works quicker, his tongue on your core, his fist around his cock. your mouth is watering, you wanted to taste him, but tonight was about you, you wouldn’t let him have the pleasure. as your orgasm builds steadily your moans grow louder, grateful for the music downstairs to drown you out, your eyes keep falling back to heeseung’s cock. hard as a rock, red, angry, heeseung fucked himself as if his life depended on it. 

“don’t you dare fucking cum,” you spit, trying to sound demanding yet his mouth rendered you breathless, weak. you try again, not sounding any more intimidating this time, “hands off.”

he obeys anyhow, his hand letting go of his cock, fingers standing straight up before they make a fist out of frustration in your denial, cock twitching as it laid against his abdomen. you smile as he finally gets you there, eyebrows furrowing and jaw going slack as he puts you right on the cusp, “fuck yes hee, gonna cum, don’t stop.” 

his hands come up to your hips, fingers gripping at the skin as you finally crash over the edge, pulling you into his face harder yet holding you still as your hips buck against his face. your moans are loud, full of pleasure and relief as he drags your orgasm out, his tongue unrelenting from the same rhythm he began with. when you grow sensitive and overstimulation approaches you sit up, hands gripping onto his own to let go of you. 

the moment you’re off his face he’s gasping for air, a weak grip on your thighs for refuge, eyes closed and head softly pressed against his mattress. he smiles, eyes still closed, “that was so fucking hot.”

you crawl off of his chest, laying down on the mattress beside him, slipping your panties off in the process, tone lazy as you say, “take your time coming back to earth.”

he turns his head, finally opening his eyes to look at you, “who the fuck are you?” 

you shrug, clear headed and eased now that you’ve come, “i already told you my piece. are we fucking or what?” 

he’s up in an instant, tugging his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them off. “can’t believe you still have a nasty ass mouth after coming on my face.” 

“i’d say you can fuck it, but i’d much rather have you inside me,” you bite back, “preferably right now.”

he shakes his head in disbelief, talking under his breath, “like i’m a fucking dog.”

“you can bark for me another time,” you say as he slots himself between your legs, hands gripping onto your thighs.

he lines himself up at your entrance after smearing his cock between your folds, eliciting a gasp from your lips, “won’t be talking all that shit when i’m inside you.” 

“hopefully,” you begin to say, but he rips a moan from your gut as he pushes inside, stealing your words from your throat. he pushes in fully, giving you no time to adjust as he pulls out, fucking into you harshly again. 

he snickers as your noises raise in pitch, mewls and moans leaving your lips one after another. he wears a shit eating grin as he teases, “what was that? what were you trying to say?” 

you try to point your gaze at him, but quickly lose your resolve to argue as the pleasure takes over, you can feel every fucking vein as he fucks up into you, hitting that spot immediately. he’s changed too, his stroke is different, a purpose to his thrusts, something you weren’t used to, something he never gave you before. your arms are reaching for him, fingers clawing at his biceps to come closer, to touch him, to kiss him. 

“pussy so fuckin’ tight, missed it, fuck,” his voice is rough as he leans down to attach your lips, but the kiss is more teeth and spit than anything. you were whining into his mouth as his hips snapped into you, your own fucking him back, hands tangling in his hair, gripping at his roots. you felt insatiable, you needed more, you needed to feel him everywhere. 

he groans into your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips as he groans out, “pull harder.”

you do, fingers tightening at his roots with a strength you couldn’t control and he groans louder, his head dropping into your shoulder. his thrusts are merciless, the only noise in the room is skin against skin, his hips snapping into yours. your jaw hangs open, silent screams leaving you as he fucks you stupid, so unlike any version of heeseung you’ve had prior to this. you don’t know if you woke him up or if he really is different, but you’re not complaining. 

“want you deeper,” you manage, voice weak and hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

he chuckles as he pushes himself up, your eyes following his biceps as he slips out, “is it ever enough with you?” 

a smile breaks across your face before he turns you over, manhandling you onto your knees, back arched into a geometry equation. he slips back in with ease and a yelp leaves your throat, voice broken as you say, “you’re so– so deep, heeseung, oh my god.”

“keep that fuckin’ back down,” he spits as one of his hands fall onto your spine, pushing you down further. you can feel drool pooling onto his mattress, dampening the sheets beneath you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. you can hear his smile as he says, “talking all that shit earlier, look at you now, just taking it like the cockslut you are.” 

your back arches deeper at his words, noises leaving your lips that you can’t hear anymore, he was right. all you could do was take it as your hand reaches between your legs, rubbing quick circles over your clit, needing to cum again. 

he snatches your wrist, pulling it behind your back, his own fingers replacing yours. his voice is downright mean as he says, “can’t make you cum, right? teach you to watch that fucking mouth of yours.” 

the coil is tightening at a rapid pace, quicker than you thought, and you fight to lift your back as heeseung presses his front over it, effectively keeping you down. “go ahead, baby, cum around my cock, prove those words fuckin’ wrong.”

you can’t delay your orgasm as it crashes over you harder than the first, your vision whites out, ears going deaf, you didn’t know if you were making any noise or the orgasm had rendered you silent. you could barely hear heeseung as he praised, “there you go, good girl, cumming on my cock– so good, fuck.”

your free hand gripped the sheets as your orgasm lasted with heeseung relentlessly fucking into you, dragging it out further. when your hips started bucking away from him he took his fingers off your clit, releasing your hand just to grab onto your hips again, thrusting into you impossibly harder. 

your eyes had long ago closed, limp beneath him, bending however he handled you as he chased his own release, snapping into you so hard you couldn’t process any of it anymore. head somewhere else, so fucked, utterly spent, this was easily the best experience you’ve had with heeseung– a half smile crawls onto your cheeks as he finally groans out, guttural and deep, filling you up. 

it’s warm, comforting, being so full– until you realize you’re full. your eyes peel open, voice raw, “did you just come inside me?” 

heeseung blinks at you mid-pull out, “yeah?” 

“you’re such an asshole,” you mutter, mustering up the strength to lift yourself up after he pulls out fully to flip yourself over. “chivalry is so dead, men don’t even ask anymore?”

heeseung stands before you, cock spent and limp without a care in the world, “chivalry has never existed between us in the first place.”

you manage to stand on wobbly legs, walking yourself to the bathroom connected to his room, answering him through the open door, “and that’s why i stopped talking to you.”

“really?” he asks from his bed, laying down on his back, sounding genuinely curious. “i thought we had a mutual agreement going on.” 

you pee, an attempt to also flush out him, “mutual means you actually discuss it and agree on it, hee.”

he’s silent for a moment, but as you flush, he asks, “can we talk about it now?”

“fuck no,” you say through a laugh as you walk back into his bedroom, relying solely on adrenaline to keep your legs working, “you’re getting blocked again as soon as i walk out the door, but i’m proud of you for learning how to fuck.”

he pouts, “i like the old you better, she was nice.” 

you pull your skirt up your hips with a giggle, ignoring him as you search for your bra, your top. heeseung sits up on his elbows, still completely naked, watching as you zip up your boots, “are you really gonna block me when you leave?” 

you pull your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it just to search through your messages until you find his contact, blocking it immediately. you smile at him, “good to see you again.”

you close his door behind you, not giving him another glance, feeling quite literally on top of the world as the music greets your ears again, adrenaline pumping harder through your veins. you make your way down the stairs on wobbly legs, fingers gripping onto the railing, your jacket folded over your arm. 

you make your way to the kitchen in search of another drink, but find giselle and julie instead, who take one look at you before they pull you to the corner of the room. 

“you look like a fucking mess,” giselle whisper-yells, licking her thumbs before swiping them under your eyes, wiping your mascara on her dress. 

julie, who was trying to flatten your hair, is also whisper yelling as she says, “please don’t tell us you fucked him.” 

you just smile— dazed, still wrapped up in a post-orgasm bliss, you proudly mutter, “i came twice.” 

the two of them stopped their movements on your body, taking a step back to look at you, confusion written all over their faces. even if a part of them knew what you had just done, they surely held out hope it wasn’t heeseung.

julie’s jaw drops after a second, her voice high pitched, “twice?!” 

giselle lightly hits julie’s arm before she looks at you with a serious expression, “all of the boys have been looking for you.” 

you groan, head falling backwards, “can i do anything without them breathing down my neck?” 

“you’re kidding, right?” giselle puts a hand on her hip, shifting her weight to one side. “what about yunho?” 

your eyes dart back and forth between the two, completely lost, “what about yunho?” 

giselle takes a second to stare, her face unreadable before it morphs into what you saw on san maybe thirty minutes prior– disappointment. you glance at julie, who’s staring with disdain, her brows furrowed and upper lip bent. when they don’t answer, you flatten your outfit, pull your jacket back up to your elbows, letting out a short breath. 

“it’s fine,” you put on a smile, ignoring their clear disappointment, the sweat on your neck beginning to run cold. “if it’s such a big deal, then no one has to know.” 

giselle shakes her head with tight lips, turning back through the kitchen, slipping through bodies with julie on her heel. your heartbeat quickens, the guilt gets heavier, your thoughts mush in your head— now more people are mad at you, it wasn’t just san anymore, it was your girl friends who encouraged you to go out, who know your situation. what about yunho? the question lingers on your glowing, sweat kissed skin as you step forward towards the island, searching for a bottle. 

a shot or three to take the edge off, that’s what you needed. the whole reason you hooked up with heeseung was to fix the confusion you felt, to force the feelings to leave you, not to make everything worse. there was nothing between you and yunho, there was no reason for you not to hook up with heeseung. ease fills the shot glass in the form of clear liquor, you shoot it back with intention, to lay atop the pit in your stomach and cancel it out. when the first one doesn’t work immediately, you opt for two, which makes for three before your head gets fuzzy all over again. 

floating through bodies, your ears lead you to the living room again, where couches and recliners have been pushed to the walls, making room for the crowd that seemed to be awaiting your return. it welcomed you as you slipped in, making your way through to the middle as if it parted for you, you didn’t see a singular face you recognized and it comforted you. not a thought ran through your head as you let the music guide you, between bodies, moving to the beat as if you were brainless. maybe you were at this point– you wondered what seonghwa would think of you tonight, the actions you made, but the thought was fleeting as you spotted the blonde guy from earlier. 

“hoshi!” you yelled over the music to the blonde whose face was crimson, eyes just as glossed over as your own, smile matching your own, the night seemed to be treating him the same as it treated you. 

he was silent as his hand grabbed onto yours, closing the space between you, his other hand falling to your hip to move together. words weren’t needed as he turned you around, your eyes fluttering shut, feeling your soft skirt against the denim of his jeans. haze wasn’t the word to describe it, you’d left ENA entirely, you might have even left your own body. 

your eyes didn’t open again until you felt his hand grab yours– except it wasn’t his, you realized when you opened your eyes, san stood in front of you with eyebrows furrowed and a tight jaw, he was speaking a mile a minute, but your eyes that were glued to his lips couldn’t make a single word out no matter how hard you focused. his eyes glanced over your shoulder, maybe speaking to hoshi, you couldn’t tell, but you assumed when you felt your bodies come to a stop. 

his jaw tensed, you watched it flex as his gaze came back down to you, eyes pointed and angry. your eyebrows furrowed as your body swayed, not to the music, you had no sense of balance anymore. he was tugging on your wrist now, pulling you through the crowd, your eyes fell to your shoes to manually put one foot in front of the other. 

“are you mad at me?” you managed to ask, unaware of your volume, not sure if you said the words right. 

he looked back with that same look and the pit in your stomach returned with vengeance, “you’re going home.”

you pouted, letting your eyes fall on the crowd, looking anywhere but at san. like a child in time-out is what you felt like, like he was punishing you, like you’d done something wrong. what did you do that was so wrong? you couldn’t place it, you couldn’t remember. no way he’d be this angry about heeseung. you were a grown woman, fully capable of making your own decisions. 

when you made it on the outskirts of the crowd, you asked again with slurred words and eyes that were barely open, “what did i do?” 

he pulled you through the front door onto the deep brown porch, where bodies littered the space, holding cigarettes, joints, solo cups, the ground littered with trash. the cold greets you rudely as you trip over your feet, trying to avoid crushed cans on the ground as you come to an abrupt stop, grabbing onto san’s bicep for leverage, giggles leaving your mouth as you try to catch your balance. 

“you think it’s funny?” his words are sharp, cutting into your laughter, effectively silencing you immediately. it’s sobering– the cold, his anger, the situation that feels serious even if you don't know why.

he pulls his phone up to his ear without waiting for an answer, “i have her, i’m ordering an uber. if you’re coming, let’s go.” 

your eyebrows furrow again, voice coming out in a whine, “i don’t wanna leave! what about the drunk bus?”

he ignores you again, typing something out on his phone. your arms cross over your chest as your legs cross in frustration, looking around the porch, the smells enticing you, asking you to join them. your body turns back to the front door, eyes glancing over the slab of white wood, the thought crosses your mind to just walk back inside. you wanted to dance more, you wanted to drink more, you wanted to do anything except go home. 

you glance back to san, still on his phone, you were sure he wouldn’t even notice if you did. a sly smile crawls onto your cheeks as you step forward, hand on the doorknob to whip it open just as it’s pushed open for you. san’s hand on your wrist pulls you backward as ace steps through the threshold, brown hair a mess atop his head, eyebrows flat and jaw locked, too. great.

“be careful, teens,” san’s words are softer now as he places his hand on your back to push you upright again. reia, yunho and yeosang follow behind ace, stepping over the threshold onto the porch, every single one of them eyeing you down with expressions you couldn’t decipher– yet you knew not one of them was happy. 

you swallow, looking at every face that surrounds you, feeling like the problem. “what’s going on? why are we leaving?” 

“you’re fucked up,” ace responds, his words short, “and you’re pissing me off.” 

your face contorts into immediate anger, words still slurred as you try to keep your balance, “i’m pissing you off? i haven’t even seen you all night.” 

he steps forward, “yet i have everyone and their mother in my ear telling me you’re upstairs with heeseung.”

“so what?” your eyebrows furrow, “i can do whatever the fuck i want.” 

“i’m not fighting with you on the fucking porch of the frat,” ace responds, walking straight past you down the steps of the porch, fingers linked with reia who gives you an apologetic expression as she walks past. 

you follow him down the steps onto the gray lawn, voice growing louder as he gets farther away, “you’re not fighting with me at all, because i did nothing wrong.”

ace ignores you as he walks to the curb, waiting for the uber, and you can feel the anger bubbling up inside you. as you make it to the curb behind him, your voice keeps the same volume despite the closed distance, “are we seriously leaving because i hooked up with heeseung? you’re acting like i killed someone!” 

ace glances at you, his eyebrows still hung heavy over his lids, his gaze heavy and irritated. “no, we’re leaving because you got fucked up and deliberately hooked up with someone who hurt you, tiny. you’re fucking around with people’s feelings, obsessed with this boyfriend thing, it needs to stop.”

you shake your head in disbelief, voice growing even louder, “who’s feelings am i playing with? what the fuck are you talking about?” you look back to yeosang, looking for someone to help, to be on your side, but his lips twist to the side, staring at you with nothing but disappointment, too. “what the hell am i missing here?” 

ace laughs, it’s a hollow chuckle as cold as ice, “who? you spent all night fucking–”

“leave it alone,” yunho cuts in, his voice flat yet demanding, and it grabs ace’s attention immediately. 

ace turns to yunho, his eyebrows in his hairline, “no, it’s not right–”

“i said leave it alone,” yunho repeats himself, his voice dominating, you swallow down your questions, your confusion about yunho controlling the conversation now. you let out a shaky breath, stumbling over your feet again as if you moved– yet you were not moving, standing straight up on the edge of the lawn. yunho turns to you, “we can talk about everything tomorrow, you’re too drunk to understand anything.” 

you blink at him, heartbeat growing quicker, “talk about what? give me something.” 

yunho runs a hand through his hair, eyes twisting into something unreadable, confusion or frustration, something you couldn’t place. “it’s not valid and he’s wrong for it, but he’s trying to stick up for me,” he lets out a heavy breath, “they all are.”

you look around the group, everyone looking up at yunho with surprise on their faces, glancing between you and him. san cuts in, speaking under his breath, “the uber’s here, let’s go.” 

you stand still for a moment as the four of them walk towards the gray mini van, blinking at yunho who hasn’t taken his attention off of you. your voice is quieter now, asking a question you feared you knew the answer to already, “why are they sticking up for you?”

yunho looks down to his shoes, biting his lips for a moment, before he lifts his eyes back up to you. his fingers tug at his shirt, discomfort radiating off of him, “because they know that i love you, and they think that you know it, too.”

wanna go on the next date?

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags :p @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric @unicornwhisperer666 @sunnysidesins @hwashua-luv @hh0320 @moonl1ghtmuse 

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: Usual mentions of brief violence/killing. It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,824

A/N: Health stuff and non-stop interruptions have been keeping me from writing but some of it is calming down a little so I can get some writing done while I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't be as long of a wait.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(here) | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen(coming soon)

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For two days after the kiss, you and Doflamingo both acted like the incident hadn’t happened. As far as you both let on, everything was completely normal, or rather normal by your standards. Still you threw attitude and disrespect his way while he tried to kill you. Normal. Just how you both wanted it. Because pretending that the kiss never happened was better than admitting it still constantly played on your minds. Even now when you both sat across from each other at the small table in your living quarters Doflamingo’s eyes continually fell to your lips even though he kept forcing himself to look away over and over. Thanks to the dark red lenses the direction of his stare was hidden. As he sipped at his coffee he watched as you stared blankly at the same page of the newspaper, realising you hadn’t turned the page in a while. “Well, what’s got you so interested?”

At the sound of his voice you blinked and your stare sharpened on the words on the page before meeting his relaxed, grinning face. With a frown you glanced at the paper again and set it on the table, sitting back and shaking your head slightly. “Nothing, honestly I was zoned out. Wasn’t even reading.” You explained while reaching for your drink only to stop and instead push it a little further from you. “What kind of poison did you put in my breakfast today? It’s different.”

“No poison today.” Doflamingo explained with a low chuckle building in his chest. “Haven’t tampered with your food or drink for a while now. You trying to say you miss it?”

“Well it seems like it did give a nice kick, must have gotten used to it without realising.” You teased slightly only to scowl suspiciously when the Warlord’s usually broad grin had lessened. “What?”

“Something wrong?” 

“Apart from the fact I’m strangely used to you putting poison in my food?” You asked before giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t sleep great. You didn’t interfere with my bed did you?”

“Your accusation hurts.” Doflamingo returned your teasing remark with one of his own. “I promised you I’d never mess with your sleep again didn’t I?” At that you nodded. He’d promised and so far had kept to his word that your sleep had never suffered because of him or any of those in his command. Even on the mornings you were sleeping in the servants avoided waking you because of the young master’s orders.

Normally you loved the bed you’d been given and found sleep so easily when lying in it but the previous night barely anything seemed to work. You just couldn’t get comfortable long enough to properly fall over to truly restful sleep and when you did fall asleep you were awake after a couple hours and right back to tossing and turning again. You were still feeling the effects now, drained and tired but not entirely like you had when Doflamingo had been on his quest to keep you awake for as long as he could. “I’ll try and fit in a nap or two in between my busy schedule and I’ll be back to my charming, wonderful self by tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say something to reassure him but the words were out of your mouth before you could think about it. Still it was strange for him to outwardly be concerned over something as small as you not getting a good night’s sleep. Even with the grin on Doflamingo’s face you knew he wasn’t entirely convinced and you could feel his sharp stare fixed on you, searching your features. The last time he’d looked at you so strongly was the night you’d kissed and not wanting to open that particular can of worms you grabbed your mug and took a drink, looking out the window. It wasn’t long before fanfare could be heard from the city.

“Bit early for fireworks isn’t it?” You asked, your gaze going to the Coliseum in the distance where the noise seemed to be coming from. “What’s so special about today?”

“Nothing really. Diamante felt like throwing a tournament.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Something to break in and introduce the new additions to the arena.”

“You really think they’ll last long in there?” Your lips couldn’t help but curve into a cold smirk. “They weren’t exactly an impressive bunch of pirates.” Doflamingo laughed at your observation.

“Do you even find any pirates impressive?”

“Are you going to be jealous if I don’t say you?” You asked turning your head to look at him again. 

“I don’t get jealous.” Doflamingo answered with his grin spreading when disbelief shaped your features and a subtle look of amusement began to creep into you gaze. “C’mon tell me who.”

“But leaving you wondering seems so much more fun.”

“You have a cruel streak in you, you know that?” Doflamingo laughed only to stop when a single knock sounded at the door and a servant hurried in. Their face was apologetic but his stare zeroed in on the white and blue den-den mushi in their hands. The Marines were calling.

———

For Doflamingo’s call with the Marines, going through the motions of being a Warlord you had left him to talk into private. You knew you didn’t have to leave but felt it would be best. Plus it gave you a while to get some fresh air and have some space from the Warlord. The plan of acting like the kiss had never happened meant having to continue being in his presence which irritated you because of how it was bringing new problems for you. In the beginning it was irritation and dislike that made you speak openly and antagonistically with the man but now you could tell you were both speaking to each other with a little more playfulness and almost civility. You’d accepted your fate as Doflamingo’s prisoner and his eventual victim when he found out a way to kill you with no resistance when you were first brought to Dressrosa. 

Now though? Now you almost felt settled that this was your new life and that disturbed you more than anything. The kiss you wished hadn’t helped matters. It felt like another sign that your mind and body were starting to give in to being the Warlord’s soulmate. This wasn’t how it was meant to be and you had to try harder to keep things as they were. Your hand brushed against the cold metal of a door and you snapped out of your thoughts and mindless wandering to all but curse yourself. You were now outside Doflamingo’s personal office, your body moving there out of instinct or pure subconscious habit. Sighing sharply you forced yourself to step away from the door and continue down the corridors, making sure you were more aware of your actions. 

Thankfully you ran into a servant who seemed relieved to see you and began to talk to you. Normally you embraced talking to someone normal and who wasn’t a pirate but you began to grow confused when it wasn’t idle conversation they wanted to speak to you on, but instead they started to report to you the chores completed for the day and discuss minor issues with the Palace upkeep and some tasks. 

When they asked for your opinion on how best to handle the problems it took a moment for you to snap out of your confusion and shock. You offered your advice as best as you could, seeming relieved when the servant immediately smiled and thanked you, beginning to set off to act on your words. “Wait, don’t you want to double check with Doflamingo or your superior?”

“The young master’s busy.” The servant explained with a small smile, looking at you like this should be obvious. “After him, you’re the next in charge. Thank you again!”

You could only watch the servant hurry off with a smile, unable to catch your mind up fast enough to call after them and tell them that you being second in command wasn’t true. Instead you were frozen in shock and extremely confused. Feeling a headache begin to form rapidly, you shook your head and continued on your aimless walk through the palace, the servant’s casual declaration still repeating in your mind. You didn’t even think anyone was second in command, as far as you ever saw things Doflamingo’s word was law and the only time the elite officers of his ‘family’ gave orders was when they came from Doflamingo or when they told the servants what they wanted to eat for their meals but that wasn’t the same as being in charge. 

Now even more drained than you had been, you turned to make your way back to your room. You’d jokingly said you’d nap but now it was seeming like a good idea. As you approached your quarters you stopped to see Doflamingo casually strolling towards you. “Well? When do you go?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Doflamingo asked with his broad grin in place. Part of him was confused why you’d need to be sneaky and listen in to a conversation you were more than welcome to stay in the room for. He turned to walk beside you as you continued on your way back to your quarters.

“No, I just know this is normally the time of year they’d be calling you and the other Warlords in for a meeting.” You explained with a shrug.

“The time of year?” Doflamingo repeated in interest.

“If there’s no pressing issue they need you and the Warlords to deal with they usually call a meeting to have you in the Marine building for some visiting nobles or royalty to see you.” You explained as you stepped into your room and shrugged, settling down on your sofa. “A way to reassure them that the Marine’s are in power I suppose. What better way to show that than for them to see pirates of the Warlord rank?” Doflamingo chuckled and perched himself on the back of the sofa, looking down at you as you got comfortable. He’d always known the Marine’s patterns and habits and liked to play dumb but it was oddly surprising and refreshing for you to have noticed it too. “So when do you go?”

“Soon.” Doflamingo answered your repeated question. “Won’t be gone too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to fit in as much destruction as possible then while you’re gone.” You smirked, idly rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from earlier still nag at you. “Want to try and kill me before you go? You didn’t try today.”

“Aw aren’t you sweet?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down to poke the centre of your head and coax you to lie back more against the sofa. “Sadly, it’s not as enjoyable when you’re tired. Rest and I’ll double my efforts when I’m back to make up for the time away.”

“Big talk.” You grinned, the pain seeming to dissipate slightly in the brief moment Doflamingo’s fingers were against your forehead. “If I wasn’t already lying down I’d be swooning. Go on, have fun annoying Warlords and Marines. See you when you get back.”

———

As expected the Warlord meeting was a complete bore, the only entertainment for Doflamingo came from him purposely agitating those who shared the title of Warlord with him and the Marines ‘in charge’ or leading the meeting and navigating the pirates through the halls. As you had already predicted there just so happened to be visiting dignitaries also walking the corridors at the same time. It was all theatre really. Designed to look as mere coincidence the paths were crossed. On their way to the large banquet room, Doflamingo’s curiosity was piqued at the sound of some high ranked Marines deep in conversation. Normally he wouldn’t care what they had to say but the name of the island they were talking about caught his attention. The island he crossed paths with you. It felt so long ago since that night the warehouse exploded and he came across you. Feeling nostalgic he listened in on their conversation. 

“The sickness is ramping up, they’re at a complete loss what to do.” One Marine told the other.

“The numbers are rising with each day. How did this even happen?” The commander asked in annoyance.

“The virus has a long incubation period. No one realised until the first infected finally started showing signs. We should have a better idea soon now that the source of the virus has been dealt with but it’s not looking good for those already infected. Mortality rate is already severe.”

“Such a mess but I suppose there's one thing to be thankful for.”

“Sir?”

“We lost a full unit there a while ago.” The commander explained. “They would have been infected too given how long they were stationed there. Better we lost them fighting criminals than falling to a virus.” For a heavy moment Doflamingo was rooted in the spot as he absorbed the information, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t misheard the name of the island, he knew he didn’t and it was reinforced when they spoke of an entire unit being wiped out. Your unit. 

Snapping into action he began moving once more and strode passed the other Warlords as they were entering the banquet hall. He ignored the Marine officer trying to tell him to not stray too far or wander around so freely. Had it been any other day he would have cut the worm to ribbons for even suggesting he couldn’t go or do as he wished. He only kept the ‘protection’ that the Warlord title gave for mere enjoyment. Kicking open the balcony door he leapt onto the railing and wordlessly left, his strings pulling him through the air as fast as he could to return to Dressrosa.

———

It had been a full day since Doflamingo had left Dressrosa and in that time you’d felt yourself feel worse and worse. Originally you’d put it up to the lack of sleep and not eating much but now you were sure something nasty was working its way through your system. You weren’t sure just how common flus or colds were in Dressrosa or if this was the season for them but anything was possible. With such a crowded city you could have caught the flu from a civilian you passed in the street or touched something already contaminated in one of the stores. You also considered the possibility of one of the pirates you killed having been sick with something and you didn’t realise you’d caught it until now. What you did know was that even with this being the beginning of the flu it felt worse than anything you’d had before.

You’d tried going to bed early and couldn’t rest even though your body felt more exhausted than ever. Everything was tense and ached as if you’d endured punishing training and battles all at once. The pressure against your lungs made even taking a breath difficult and you trembled as your temperature rushed from one extreme to the other. Your head felt like it was being crushed in a vice and stabbed, the pain growing and throbbing against your skull. The effort it took for you to push yourself up in the bed and drag yourself over to the bedside table seemed like scaling a mountain but somehow you managed to do it. With shaking hands and unfocussed eyes you grabbed the glass of water and forced yourself to take a small, painful sip in the hopes the cold liquid would soothe the mixture of fire and shards of glass that seemed to cling to your throat but it only seemed to flare the pain. You needed something to help. Even if it was getting the room to cool down you would take it. 

Struggling against your mind and body you stubbornly rose from the bed and swayed immediately. Your vision swam and the room tilted and spun so violently that your legs buckled almost immediately. In that moment you wished you had a Devil Fruit like Doflamingo’s, something that could open the window or anything to help you now. Hellbent on feeling the cool night air on your skin, you staggered clumsily to the balcony doors and fumbled to get them open. The second they did and you managed the last couple of steps to the railing you hung your head weakly and tried to take a full breath but could only manage a small, broke rasp as anything bigger would have caused more pain and discomfort. Slowly you lifted your head and prepared to make the struggle back to your bed but the sudden motion and your vision swirling at the sight of Dressrosa’s lights in the distance overwhelmed you and too weak to stop it from happening you tumbled over the railing.

———————————————-

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[piastappies]

🖇️ THE STORY OF US

synopsis. when minho comes back to kiss after the winter break he’s not only surprised to see kitty back, but also a girl she introduced as her new roommate, who at the same time was a girl minho used to be head over heels for.

notes. minho (xo kitty) x reader. i haven’t published anything, xo kitty became my epiphany (fr)

all minho wanted after taking a sixteen hour flight from los angeles to seoul was just to take a nap as soon as he get to his dorm, well, meeting his roommates in the meantime, but sleep was all he wanted. definitely not to see kitty song covey, laying in one of the couches talking so rapidly about…

…whatever kitty could talk about. he focused himself on here for less than a second, and his gaze caught something so familiar, yet so unknown. then, when you parted your lips to answer a question asked by q, he connected all the possible dots. you were the girl he was put up in the same room with, when multiple schools were staying at the same hotel. minho seemed like a total douchebag, just like you’d assume a son of a famous actress would act, nevertheless, since the staff couldn’t really do anything particular to change the rooms, he was… a nice guy.

however, while bonding at the trip, you fell out of touch immediately after as you decided to not share each other’s contacts, so you could meet up in future life if your friendship and… quite more, was meant to be. it was his idea, you were eager to stay in touch as you grow on him in those four weeks.

your new roommate smiled at him, probably excited to see him. “i’m back!” she exclaimed melodically, grabbing your arm in between. “i think yuri pulled some strings, and this is my new roommate, she just transfered. we’ll be living in the boys building, we’re neighbours!” she added, too happy to notice the boy’s shock on his face.

“oh, my god.” he started, but covey quickly interrupted him with a roll of eyes and “i don’t care what you’re gonna say. im exhilarated to be back.” though minho was too focused on you to even listen to your american roommate.

“hi, minho.” you spoke so softly, you could see he almost died. without wasting any more time, q has suggested to let you guys talk alone as it was so obvious you two knew each other. he replied in low voice, clearly not believing his own eyes. “so good to see you again.” a smile rosed on your lips, when his arms were wrapped around your posture.

reuniting with him was unexpected as you never thought you’d see him again, and you believed the plan you set was a complete absurd. you tried reaching out, but he was a son of a star, how could you possibly achieve that? now, it just felt like a scene from a movie, where two lovers finds each other after a long time, although you weren’t really lovers – or were you?

that night you barely had any sleep, you sneaked out of your dorms, and he showed you around, while catching up on almost everything. it wasn’t a lie that something between you has stayed the same, the same butterflies in your stomach when your hands accidentaly touched, the same lovestruck looks, the same way you held hands, the only thing that wasn’t as it used to be was your ages and appearance.

you were standing at your doorstep, when he put his phone number into your phone. “thank you so much for tonight, minho.” you stood on your toes. “i think i missed you.” you whispered with a smug, before leaving a soft kiss on his blushed cheek. without letting him respond, you walked into the room.

minhoe: pls, don’t do me like that

minhoe: come back here and kiss me

a part of you really wanted to be true, but the other decided that you’d just make a fool out of yourself, so you just trail back to your room, slight regret appearing in the back of your head.

the next few weeks looked almost the same — the school were so hard you spent it on studying for most of your free time, which caused minho to think you were avoiding him, when in reality you were tutored by yuri and juliana. “minho’s been asking ‘bout you, quite a lot, you know?” han started.

“bugging our asses for half the lunch break.” juliana added, braiding your hair as the soft tunes of frank ocean played from her speaker. “told us you guys almost kissed…?” her eyebrow’s shot up, scanning your face in the mirror for any signs of embarrassment.

“i mean we did kiss a few years ago at the summer camp, but not now.” you shrugged, not hiding the blush that crept on your face. “don’t look so shocked! we were a camp couple, but he wanted to be sappy and said if the universe wants us together, it’ll let us meet each other again.”

“that’s romantic, isn’t it?” kitty rolled on the bed to face you and juliana. “i mean, you really gotta believe you’re soulmates if you risk something so valuable.” she sighed, smiling softly. “you two remind me of my sister and her boyfriend, lara and peter.”

you frowned, thinking about her words for a minute. was it so valuable or did he just want to have a moment of peace? did he even think about you during the few years you’ve been apart? well, you thought about him, but did he about you? it was your first time in a week that you’d see minho, and ever since the day one, he’s been somehow flirting with you, so you were quite nervous.

you never said you liked him out loud, not because you didn’t (maybe ‘cos first love is the one you’ll always remember), but because katherine would decide to use her matchamaking skills on you. you wanted it to come out naturally, just like back then. your relationship with minho was incredibly special to you, it was something no one could take away from you.

now, you were just trying to look decent. you were going out with him and dae, being asked out so suddenly you couldn’t refuse. you were quite sure that dae’s presence there was just to get you out of the room, and then disappear. you wore a white, flowery summer dress that yuri borrowed you a few days ago, your make up was light and the braids looked cute.

“should i be nervous?” you asked, fixing a few things on your face, before the clock has been the closest to the final minute. a knock on the door was heard from the beginning of hallway. “yeah, it shows you actually care.” yuri’s girlfriend smiled at you as you flattened the fabric of your dress.

minho was breathless, last time he’d seen you in a dress was back at camp, during the last day when you just wanted the boy to remember you as well as he could. “uh, hey.” he uttered, eyes you in shock. “you look, woah, gorgeous.”

just as you expected, dae, who showed up late, didn’t stay with you for longer than ten minutes, saying he needed to see kitty, with whom you were earlier, so it was just the two of you. minho offered you an airpod as you walked down the street to the park, his fingers wrapped around the handle. it was the first time you had been alone with him in weeks, as someone was always near, whether it was q and florian, dae and kitty, juliana and yuri or everyone separately.

“i wanted to find you sometimes, y’know?” you began, leaning onto his arms, when you finally sat down. “what? then why didn’t you? i really hoped you’d do it.” his head fell delicately on your, fingers intertwining themselves with yours.

“well, your mom’s a famous actress, i wouldn’t even be able to text you so… i just followed you on insta.” you shrugged softly, not wanting him to change his position. “and it was your idea to come up with something like this, losing you broke me in half, really. my parents even reached out to your mom.” his face lightened up with shock and confusion, nevertheless he let you continue.

“but her manager or whoever said that hundreds of people call just to say their daughters are your friends, so… i guess the call wasn’t forwarded?” minho groaned, annoyed. he’d give up everything to just have you by his side, when his mom and dad were splitting up.

“i am so sorry y/n.” a sigh left his lips. “i’ll regret that stupid decision till the end of my days, really.” he’d talk and talk, and talk if you didn’t do what you did.

when the soft tunes of lana del rey’s song was replaced by the starting notes of “there is a light that never goes out” by the smiths, you turned around to face him, and after putting your hands on his cheeks you kissed him. his lips moved so godly against yours, you almost melted into his touch. with that, your friendly hangout turned into a date — not that you didn’t think of it earlier, but now it was confirmed. it was a definite date.

when you came back, the living space was empty so… considering you had half an hour before curfew, you decided to snog a little more, while watching a movie. his arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder, a bowl of snacks resting on his thigh. beside that, you didn’t even think about kitty, and what her reaction might be if she came back. now it was just you, minho and your rosing relationship.

[auroracalisto]

stay outta trouble, yeah?

tangerine x southern!reader, 3.7k words summary: he's taken by their southern accent, much like they're taken by his british one. color him intrigued, because why not? he'll be getting them to safety as soon as he can get away from the fight--or rather, telling them to get to safety. a/n: before you read the rest... there are a few lines i took from the movie to keep part of the plot alive. and then it goes haywire... anyway. listen i was just thinking about how incredible it would be to talk to tangerine and not actually hide my personal accent. here you go, pookies. (i'm from west virginia if that helps you). i've also never been farther than türkiye, so my knowledge of what it's like to travel to japan is very limited. pardon my inaccuracies even though i only talk about it for like... .2 seconds, at most. tw: major canon divergence, talks of blood, wounds, cursing, etc.

It'd been a long few days in Tokyo. Traveling for your own enjoyment was always an incredible thing, but good lord, was it exhausting.

The flight, which was non-stop from the Washington Dulles Airport, thank goodness, was nearly sixteen hours. No connecting flights, no dealing with confusing and unfamiliar airports. But just the flight itself was enough to send your sleeping pattern to all kinds of craziness. Don't even mention the fact that you had to drive to the airport, which took several hours just to get there...

Wasn't the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last.

Travel was a luxury so many never had the opportunity to experience. When you had the chance to go to Japan, you took it. It was practically a dream vacation, despite how exhausting it truly was.

You'd come back to Tokyo after a few days in Nagoya, the second to last stop on this bullet train, maybe a quick day trip to Kyoto after, but time was of the essence. You may not have planned every little detail for this trip of a lifetime, but you had a good idea as to what you were going to do.

The bullet train would be at your stop in nearly two hours. That was plenty of time to take a nap and probably figure out what you'll do in Nagoya after finding your planned accommodations.

You found a seat in the "quiet" car, almost giddy to know that there was a car specifically for that. Being from the southern United States, the only actual train you could recall was the Amtrak Trains, but even then, you didn't know as much as you could have about them.

You kept your backpack close to you, trying to find your earbuds so you could have them before you actually sit down.

As you walked, absentmindedly, of course, you bump into a rather tall and, might I add, breathtaking man with one of those 80s' mustaches—like the guy from that one season of American Horror Story. It rather suited him, but that's not what you were thinking as the words quickly spilled from your mouth:

"I'm so sorry," you said, southern drawl instantaneous. "Wasn't watching where I was goin'."

The man looked down at you, blue eyes curiously catching yours. He smiled, and you could feel your heart melt within you. Or maybe your lungs. It seemed hard to breathe for a moment.

"No worries, love," he said, a very British accent joining his words. He scrunched his nose a bit and moved out of your way, while the man behind him muttered something under his breath. "No harm done."

You return his smile, although hesitantly. God, was he gorgeous. But that was beside the point. You moved around him, knowing you probably looked like a mess—you had only spent two nights in Tokyo, and they weren't very restful. Skincare could only do so much to make you look awake and not like you've risen from the dead just hours prior.

You choose a seat nearby where the British man and his two friends were sitting, putting your backpack on the table just in front of you. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, making sure you still had your charger in the pack, before you set up your earbuds and your music.

Your eyes flickered over to the British man, not saying anything as you opened your preferred playlist. He briefly glanced back at you and sent a rather cheeky smile before he looked back to the man in front of him.

"Fuckin' hell, mate," Lemon said as he looked at his brother. The man had made him move just so he could have an eye on the American who bumped into him. "Go and talk to ‘em, yeah? Leave me out of it."

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "Fuck off," he said. "We gotta job, yeah? Speakin' of." He stopped and looked towards the White Death's son, blinking slowly for a moment. "You gonna tell us much else or are you keepin' us in the dark?"

The Son mumbled something under his breath, tiredly looking out the window. He didn't know why he was here, other than the two brothers saying they were hired by his dad to get him to safety.

Right. Safety. What a joke.

"Right, so," Tangerine began. "Our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside. And I plan on completin' my job and keeping..."

Tangerine looked at his brother, narrowing his eyes. "Lemon."

Lemon looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"Where's the briefcase?"

"Oh, I stashed it."

Tangerine stared at him in admonishment for a bit longer than necessary. "The case, Lemon. Go get me the fucking case."

"We got his son. That was our job."

"Our job was to come back with his son and his 10 million." Tangerine groaned softly and looked out of the window, sucking in a breath. "Three words describe our situation right now. Do you know what they are?"

"Sure do," said Lemon. He held up a hand and counted them off as he spoke: "Saved his son."

"Motherfucker," Tangerine blurted. He went on his spiel about the White Death, which seemed to be quite imperative as Lemon hadn't read the email he forwarded to him. Of course he hadn't—when did he ever? Why did he bother?

"He asked for pros who wouldn't fuck up," Tangerine said. "Three words, Lemon. We are..."

"Fucked." They say the words together, and if it had been another time, perhaps just hours prior, it would have been fun. Not this time. No, this time, they knew they were in deep shit.

They needed to get that suitcase and quick.

They returned to the Son only for him to be... well, let's put it frankly, bleeding from his eye-sockets and mouth, and so very dead.

"Well, shit," Tangerine sucked in a breath as he looked at the boy who had called him a liability only moments earlier.

The two trained assassins set to work on making it look like he was merely sleeping, even going as far as giving him Momonga glasses. You never know.

Tangerine looked at Lemon, frowning deeply. "We need t' find that briefcase," he said.

"Right," Lemon returned, staring at the Son for a moment before he looked up at Tangerine, nodding. "Right. Phone's on me. See if that American you ran into saw anything. Never know, yeah?"

Tangerine narrowed his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, seeing the object of his curiosity. "Hm. Go, Lemon. You see the case, deal with whoever has it."

"All right, how do I do that? Talk to him, or, like, talk to him?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell him about the story about how Gordon met Percy and how Percy's now bleeding from his fucking eye sockets!"

Lemon scoffed and left his side, going down the opposite side of the train.

"He means kill him. Of course he does."

Tangerine took one last look to the boy before he made his way to you, just a few seats down. He saw that you were asleep—surely, if you had been awake, you would've said something, right? Right. He's assuming, anyway. He keeps walking, knowing that he's got to find this briefcase and fast or else he and Lemon may not get a chance to even think about which arm they'd rather have cut off.

About twenty minutes into your restless nap, there's a loud noise blaring in your earbuds, and you jolt awake, grabbing onto your phone. You paused it, heart pounding in your chest.

"Damn," you cursed, knowing it was only from the song and nothing more. This song was notorious for loud noises. You take out your earbuds, a soft groan escaping you. Might as well stretch your legs and use the restroom since you're awake. It didn't seem like sleep was going to come easy on this train.

A voice came over the intercom, saying something about stopping momentarily, but you didn't catch the name of the station.

You stood and stretched, looking towards where the British man had been. He's not there, and neither is his one friend, but the other is there, sleeping. He's got the strangest glasses on, but you say nothing of it.

"Bathroom," you mutter under your breath, looking over your shoulder. You see a sign and follow it, taking your phone with you just in case.

You're quick, doing your business and washing your hands all under two minutes. Must be a record—the airplane bathrooms are so much more different than this.

You go to leave and open the door, and once again, you're not paying attention. You nearly bump into the tall, handsome British man, but this time, he is paying attention.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, a soft huff escaping him. "Watch yourself, love," he said, a playful smile on his lips (like he's not currently in one of the most stressful situations he's ever been in). "You're gonna get yourself hurt, now, aren't ya?"

Wide eyed, you looked up at him. "Shit, I'm sorry," you said. "It's—hell, I can't even give you a good excuse, but I didn't mean to."

"Nah, you're alright, love, just watch yourself for me, yeah?"

He let go of your shoulders, and you almost find yourself missing the touch.

"Go back to your seat, yeah? Keep an eye out for anyone weird for me."

You blinked slowly but nodded anyway. "Yeah, sure," you said. "You—"

But before you can continue, he sees something in the corner of his eye—either that or he hears something. You're not really sure. He flashes you a soft smile before he walked past you, clearly on a mission.

You let out a soft sigh and walk back to your seat, sitting down quietly.

As you get there, the British man's friend is back, and with another man—you don't catch their conversation, but whatever it is is rather heated. You simply put your earbuds back in and let your head fall back, unable to stop your eyes from fluttering shut. There's a few noises, but the sleep is far too good to come out of. At least, for now it is.

At some point, you feel someone shaking you awake. You quickly open your eyes, seeing the British man sitting across from you. He's got a few cuts on his face—not something he had before. You sat up and check your phone, eyebrows furrowed.

"What are you—"

You'd only been asleep for another twenty minutes.

"You're cute, love," he said, grabbing your phone from you.

"Hey—"

He held up a finger to you and quickly typed in a text message to his own phone. When he heard the buzz, he handed your phone back to you.

"Where's your stop, hm?"

"Nagoya," you answered. "Why?"

"Get off sooner, yeah?"

"What?"

He gave you a cheeky smile. "Get off sooner, love," he said. "Conductor must've missed you cuz you were sleepin', but he was sayin' that everyone needs to get off before Nagoya. Somethin' about the train needed worked on."

You blinked slowly. Were you still sleeping? You felt like you were. "Why the hell would they do that for? That don't even make sense—"

"Love, do it," he said, staring you down with those pretty blue eyes. "Get off on the next stop, yeah? I'll even give you the money for another ticket or somethin' if you need it."

You shook your head. "I can get another ticket, I just—"

There was something about the man that screamed danger, but no where did it scream liar. At least if he was a liar, maybe it was for good reason. Your gut feeling had been pretty good in the past, warning you against several things that could've gone terribly. Perhaps this was the Universe screaming at you to listen to it.

"Okay. I got the money. I'll just... I'll get off at the next stop."

He smiled softly at you. "Good. I'll be seein' you then, yeah? Keep yourself outta trouble."

He stood up, giving you a soft wink, before he left you in the quiet car.

You didn't see him again for the rest of the train ride, but you did listen to him. You got off at the next train stop and bought a new ticket, wondering if the cuts on his face had anything to do with his request.

It was a pretty nice warning, as crazy as that shit was.

Waiting for the next train, which would be there only momentarily, you pull out your phone. The only thing he had typed to his number was simple: Tangerine.

Was that codename for something? The fuck did fruit have to do with anything?

Nagoya, Japan.

A beautiful city with equally beautiful architecture (you'd be sure to visit the castle and the shrine after you finished exploring the city on your own terms).

You hadn't gotten a text from the handsome British man, but it didn't really bother you much. You didn't know him—just nearly ran into him a handful of times before he told you to get off the train.

Two days after the train ride to Nagoya, you find yourself on the streets, following your phone's GPS as best as you could to get to the castle. You should have just waved down a taxi cab, but you also wanted to experience the walk. That, in itself, was just as important as the journey over. Besides, your phone said only five minutes, but it seemed like it was re-routing and doing the exact opposite of being an accurate GPS.

You curse under your breath and go to type in another address in an attempt to see if it was just the castle address that was making your GPS wonky when you heard a familiar voice—you felt a familiar hand grab onto your shoulder.

"Be careful, love," the British man said, keeping you in your spot. You looked up—you're not even about to walk into anything, this time. You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, hell," you blurted, wide eyed. "What the hell happened to you? Are you—" You pause, mouth gaped open as you look on in surprise. His friend, and that one long haired blonde guy, stand nearby. The one leaned up against the wall of a supermarket, while the other runs a hand through his blonde locks.

You looked up at him, lips parted. "Is that why you told me to get off the train?"

He gave you a pained smile. "Smart, love," he said.

There's a few people that pass by, mumbling about the sight of the rather bloodied and injured men.

"Shit," you said. "You—did you just come to Nagoya in hopes I'd still be here? What if I had been in Kyoto?"

"Guess some luck's on my side, then," he said.

"My—hell, come on, I've got a hotel room," you said. "You lot look like you've been to hell and back."

"Somethin' like that," the British man said.

"Shit," you mumbled once more, putting your hotel name back into your GPS. You had just come from there, but just in case, you didn't want to mess anything up. Especially not now. "Shit, dude, I don't even know your name—"

"Tangerine," he interrupted.

You blinked slowly as you began to walk. His friends follow behind.

"Like the fruit?" you question.

His friend snorted from behind the two of you. "Yeah, love, like the fruit."

You shrugged. "Codename?"

"Smart," Tangerine repeated, giving you a cheeky smile.

For someone who looked like he was in an immense amount of pain, he was sure cheerful.

You led them up to your hotel room, where the blonde immediately goes to the bathroom, running water in the sink and using it and a towel to try and clean some of the blood from his face.

Tangerine and the other, whom you now know as Lemon, sit on separate sides of the room—Lemon sits at the table and groans at the action, a hand on his side, while Tangerine sits on the edge of the bed.

There goes your plans to see the Nagoya Castle, but hell, this didn't seem like it would be anything you'd wanna miss out on. How often do you get three men in your hotel room like this?

Ah, fuck, scratch that—how often do you get a hot British man looking at you like that regardless of how beat up he currently looked?

You bit your lip and sit your phone on the dresser. "I, uh, my friend gave me a little kit of medicine and things before I left," you said, going to your open suitcase and pulling out a black bag. "Has like, bandaids and ibuprofen. Tums, maybe. I didn't even look to be honest."

You hand the bag to him.

Tangerine snorted softly, taking the bag from you and opening it up. You watch, seeing the scabs on his knuckles.

"Damn, what the hell happened to y'all?"

Tangerine glanced up at you, a small smile quirking on his lips. "All in due time," he said. "Don't think it's anything I wanna drag you into just yet."

You pursed your lips.

"Fuck," Tangerine mumbled. "This whole thing has been fuckin' bullocks," he said as he pulled out a couple of things from the kit.

"You can say that again," Lemon said, scoffing softly.

Tangerine tossed him a bottle of pain killers before he, himself, picked up a small bottle of antiseptic. "Be a doll and grab me a washcloth, yeah?"

You do as you're asked, moving past the blonde in the bathroom. He looked a bit worse for wear, but he seemed like he was doing far better than the other two.

You brought back the washcloth for Tangerine. "Can I help?"

"Nah, love, I'll be fine. Not the first time."

You grimaced. "Sounds painful."

"C'est la vie," Lemon said from where he sat, taking the unopened complementary water from the table and using it to take the pain killers. "You're a life saver, love."

"Hmm," you hummed, frowning softly as you looked at Tangerine.

He glanced up at you as he cleaned his knuckles. He had plenty of other places to clean, of course, but the idea of moving from his spot on the bed sounded like hell. His abdomen was screaming at him for just breathing.

"I never got your name," Tangerine softly said.

"Yeah," Lemon interjected. "Been callin' you his little American this whole time. Don't let him lie to you."

Tangerine blanched, glaring over at Lemon, before he looked up at you. "Maybe," he said. "Don't listen to him. He's a little shit-stirrer."

You smiled a bit. He's endearing if not... unconventional in his methods. Whatever that meant. You'd learn soon enough, it seemed.

You gave him your name.

He repeated it, and it was almost like heaven pouring from his lips as he spoke.

God, you'd have a hell of a time trying to explain this back home.

Tangerine snorted softly and finished cleaning up his knuckles—just on the one hand, though. He still had so much to get through.

"Must've made quite an impression if you come to Nagoya just to find me," you blurted, taking the bottle of antiseptic and the cloth from him. He didn't protest. He simply watched as you wet the other side of the cloth and took his hand in your own to clean his knuckles.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? The accent got me."

You blinked slowly, eyes flickering to his. "The accent?"

"Oh, yeah, love," he said. "Ladybug in there is an American, but you? It's like a whole other breed of American. I don't know if I can get enough of it."

Lemon scoffed and tossed the bottle of painkillers to his brother. "Stop flirting and let them clean your hand."

Tangerine rolled his eyes, watching your hands as they moved against his wounds.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"Sorry? For what?"

"For not having anything to really help you," you said. "I'm sure it woulda helped if I had a first aid kit or somethin'."

He raised an eyebrow. "Think you would've been insane for havin' a first aid kit when you're traveling all alone," he said. "Who woulda thought you'd run into little ol' me?"

"Little ol' you, hm?"

Tangerine's soft smile is unmistakable, but you make no mention of it. You let go of his hand and he examined it, letting out a soft hum. You did well enough, he supposed.

Tangerine let out a soft groan as a pain rippled through his abdomen. He laid back on the bed without another word, a hand resting on his body. This would be a hell of a pain to heal, but he was sure it would happen soon enough.

"Sorry for barging in on you like that, love," Lemon spoke up. He drew your attention away from Tangerine. "Tangerine over there kept quippin' on and on 'bout how he just had to see you again. Thought he was a broken record or some shit with how often he said it."

The handsome man in front of you didn't even object this time. He just went with it.

"Right, yeah, and what were you sayin'? Hope they have a nice hotel room that fits all us, yeah?"

"Absolutely not," he scoffed. "Don't be a prick."

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "Lemon—"

"—anyway," Lemon interjected. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as we possibly can. Don't want to outstay our welcome, and I'm sure you've got plans, hm?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"—we won't stay long, promise."

"No, I—I mean I do have plans, but you can stay as long as you need to."

Tangerine snorted softly and glanced at you from where he laid on his bed. "You're rather trusting, aren't you?"

You blinked slowly. "Well—"

"—be careful, love," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "You should really watch yourself, before you get yourself into trouble."

You parted your lips, and the words escaped you before you even thought to stop them: "Think I'm a bit too late for all that."

[sturniololuvz]

can you do one with The triplets little sister x nate get to having sex. but the thing is the triplets don’t know they have been hooking up for the last 3 months and the triplets hear muffled moans and they end up walking in on them and they snap

i absolutely love your writing girllyyy and the new theme 😍

“What the hell is this”

It was a rare quiet night at the house. The triplets were downstairs half-watching a movie, half-scrolling on their phones. Y/N had said she was “just going to take a quick nap” hours ago — and Nate had claimed he had to run home to grab something.

Unsurprisingly, both were upstairs. And for the past ten minutes, the boys had been hearing something.

“Did you hear that?” Matt asked, tilting his head.

Chris muted the TV.

There it was again — faint, rhythmic creaking. And then a muffled sound. Something high-pitched. Something that made Nick sit up straight.

“…was that—?”

Chris stood up like he was on autopilot. “No. Nope. Absolutely not.”

They marched up the stairs together. And as they got closer to Y/N’s bedroom, the sounds were clearer.

Whispers. Giggles. Moans.

Matt froze. “Is someone in there with her?”

Chris didn’t answer. He just pushed the door open.

And froze.

Because there, in the dim light of Y/N’s bedroom, was Nate. Shirtless. Hovering over their sixteen-year-old sister, who was very clearly underneath him, her legs around his waist, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, one hand gripping his back—

“WHAT THE FUCK?!*” Chris exploded, voice loud enough to rattle the walls.

Y/N screamed, scrambling to pull a blanket over herself. Nate practically fell off the bed in a panic.

“GET OFF HER!” Matt bellowed, already stepping into the room.

“What the actual hell are you doing?” Nick snapped, eyes wild.

Nate’s face was pale, hands up like he was being arrested. “Wait, wait—please don’t kill me—”

“You were hooking up with our little sister?!” Chris roared. “For how long?!”

Y/N looked up, wide-eyed and shaking. “…Three months.”

That sent them all into a second wave of yelling.

“THREE MONTHS?!”

“You’ve been sneaking around under our roof?”

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you out the damn window!”

Nate looked like he wanted to disappear. Y/N was nearly in tears, heart pounding in her chest.

But Chris noticed.

He saw her trembling. The way her hands clutched the blanket like it was armor. And as mad as he was, he took a breath and reeled himself back.

He pointed at Nate, voice lower but still deadly. “Get out. Now.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Nate glanced at Y/N, mouthing I’m sorry before stumbling out.

The door slammed behind him.

Y/N was still staring down at her hands.

The room was silent for a beat.

“…I wasn’t just messing around,” she whispered. “I love him.”

Chris exhaled slowly. “Then you should’ve told us.”

Matt’s jaw was clenched, but he nodded. “We would’ve still freaked out. But not like this.”

Nick was quieter than usual. “You’re not a kid anymore. We know that. But you’re our sister. And you should’ve trusted us.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes. “I was scared.”

Chris sat on the edge of the bed — not close, but closer. “We’re not mad that you have feelings. We’re mad you hid it. And that he didn’t respect us enough to tell us.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Chris ran a hand down his face, then softened. “We just want to protect you, Y/N. Even from people we care about.”

Matt and Nick nodded behind him.

And despite the chaos, Y/N still felt that — love, under all the yelling and slammed doors.

Because they weren’t mad just to be mad.

They were mad because they cared.

⸻

[werezmastarbucks]

LB!MFLS pt3

childhood friends f!reader x pre debut!yoongi,

part one // part two

in which your childhood friend Yoongi changes after you both hit puberty. he used to be the gentle boy who taught you how to ride a bike, play Tekken and build Legos, but lately it feels like you can't recognize him anymore. sometimes, growing up, we lose friends. only, you refuse to lose Yoongi, at least not before you find out what's gotten into him.

music: here

author's note: i swear every time i sit and tell to myself: this is going to be a one shot, and then i blink and it's been ten thousand words an hour ago

warnings: minors dating (gasp), time skips. should i write smut for this chapter later? i kinda want to

word count: 7234

What was the whole concert thing about, you wondered? Was he drunk?

This kind of searing pain was supposed to belong to adults. The kind of heartbreak seemed too heavy for you, and you thought it was unfair. The big people should suffer, at least that's what happens to them in the movies. Sixteen seems too young to lose someone in such a dramatic fashion, like that, with no explanation and no revenge.

At least Namjoon finally came round after the Solar New Year, so he could support you a little. Everything seemed fine about him; he still smiled with the dimples, and you didn't have a heart to tell him that you want him back. You really doubted what you could give him, but you surely didn't want to be in love with Yoongi anymore. Whatever that was, should be smothered, put in the ground. He said it loud and clear. He doesn't want to be friends anymore, reason irrelevant.

He also stopped following you to say something nasty. Now he finally acted simply as if you didn't exist.

From the reliable cores of each other's worlds to complete strangers in less than two years.

Namjoon was punching his cheek with his tongue, his jaws pressed together.

"Maybe it's bad time to say this", he mused, and you raised yourself from the desk. Your arms were going numb as you were trying to nap on them.

"But I am going too. In the summer".

It was a bad time.

"You have one more year of school", you reminded him, mouth dry.

"I will finish this year. I am already doing the next year's program", he nodded, without looking at you.

"Fantastic", you gulped, "I am happy for you".

He didn't take it personally. He adjusted the glasses on his face with a benevolent grin slightly curving his lips.

"Sorry about Yoongi".

"Uh-huh", you couldn't hold back the tears every time someone mentioned his name. The days were tedious and long, they were a rut that you didn't know how to escape. Like you got trapped in a loop and had no way to blink back from it.

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January holidays approached and the Lunar New Year was nigh and you had no idea what to do because parents wanted to celebrate together. For all your life, almost as long as you remembered, you celebrated everything with the Min family. They were the go-to guys. Now they had a house even, so naturally your parents wanted to see it and have the party. His older brother even came back from Busan to prepare for it. You told your mother you and Yoongi were over and that you didn't want to see him. She sighed, saying that most likely Yoongi won't celebrate the New Year at all this time around. He was in a tight spot with his parents. Apparently they were very unhappy about Seoul. That he wasn't studying for university but kept doing music and dreaming about becoming, - god forbid - a musician or a rapper. Whether they forbade him from coming or, which was more likely, he refused himself, it meant only one thing. He was going to be alone on that day. Or, like, with his girlfriend, which you were now sure he had. This was quite a stupid assumption to make, but it made sense to you. You were lost trying to figure out why he would do what he did to you.

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It didn't last long. When you are sixteen, nothing does.

He called you one day before the New Year. Which was already unnatural at this point. Him calling meant something happened. You were walking from school, your girlfriends already scattered to their houses after having said goodbye. They were anticipating the long weekend.

You were alone on the street, asphalt covered in a thin, uneven layer of ice that looked more like powder. Air was damp and chilly.

"Can you come?" he asked. His voice was a bit weak. You lost all your vigour when you heard it. You realized you didn't even know his address. Yoongi has always lived in the nearby building, until he didn't. He said you need to take the yellow tram for about ten minutes and get off at the mall.

"What's it about?"

He hummed like he was lifting something heavy.

"I got run over by a car", he paused, "I have no one else to call".

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Your breath was somewhere below the roof of your mouth as you ran up the stairs to the fourth floor. Your jacket undone, you were sweating, tongue dry like paper, panic beating in the temples.

The door was left open, and you let yourself into a small apartment. This place was so much more modest than your or his parents' place. It was horrifying. So, that was teenagehood, and this is adulthood? Tiny corridor where two pairs of his shoes were pushed towards the wall, a small clothes rack with his jacket lying on the floor. You picked it up and hung it back and then looked around. Kitchen to the left, nothing but the essentials, and behind the door slightly ajar, a bedroom. No living room or anything fancy, the old wooden floor creaked. But it was clean, like Yoongi meticulously swept everything every day. No dust.

He was sitting on the stool in the kitchen, his arms put together on his knees, without a shirt, against the bright white glow of the window. Your first thought was that he was cold; someone robbed him; he was beaten up. But then you realized he simply took the shirt off and then stopped, maybe unable to mend for himself. You threw your coat to the floor and walked to him, taking in the view of the damage. His right shoulder was reddish, trembling slightly, although Yoongi wasn't crying. The right side of his face was scratched like he scrubbed it hard on the ice. Eyebrow stopped bleeding some time ago. That was all, but his face with a pout, eyes darting to you and then dropping to his knees, like he lost.

You stood there, your hands in the air, but then realized you don't really know what he expects you to do.

"Have you... sanitized the cuts?" you asked carefully. By now he could lash out. Yoongi nodded impatiently, wincing.

"The shoulder".

"What about it".

"It hurts".

Your hand covered your mouth. He and piano. He needs both arms to play it. It didn't look like anything, honestly, and that was scarier.

"You should go to the hospital..."

"No".

"I don't know what to do", your other hand touched the top of his injured shoulder lightly, just with the tips of the fingers.

"Why don't you go to the hospital?" you repeated, numb. Yoongi's face was disfigured by pain, it was clear he was trying not to scream. You felt helpless, useless. You were the one crying, and he was the one helping, not the other way around.

"I can't pay for it, alright?"

"Your brother is here, and you should call your mom..."

He sucked the air through the teeth, and suddenly you were acutely aware of the existence of painkillers. He nodded towards the cupboards above the cooking table, and you stepped there, going through the medications he had.

"How did it happen?"

"Slippery road. The car was going on the main line, and my bike slipped and I fell right under the wheels".

Your whole stomach shuddered.

"Did they at least help you?"

"No, he drove away".

Yoongi swallowed two pills of painkiller, a nasty fear curling around you. Maybe you should have forced him to go to the hospital. He moved his left arm normally, but the right one was frozen in one position, his lean, slender muscles in the shoulder and the forearm white, it seemed even whiter than usual, on his knee.

"Can you feel it up?" he asked, his lips trembling with pain. "Feel if something is wrong? I think it was just dislocated. I put it back, but it still hurts".

Your eyes widened with horror.

"If I touch you, it will hurt".

He dropped his head to his chest, and you understood Yoongi was trying not to get angry.

"Okay".

Your hand, shaking with caution, lay on the back of his shoulder where a bruise was forming.

"You need ice here".

"Check it first".

Your fingers brushed over his skin lightly, afraid to push. The skin, covered in goosebumps, felt cold.

"Please".

"I am scared".

"Just do it, Y/N".

You wrapped your palm around it, feeling the shoulder. Yoongi gasped, then letting out a sharp moan, his left hand grabbing his knee. Tears burst out of your eyes instantly, your hand palpating the shoulder.

"I don't feel anything", you sobbed helplessly, "it's a little swollen. What if you broke it?"

"I wouldn't be able to move it", he replied, panting.

"But you can't".

"I just don't want to because it hurts".

You went to the fridge searching for ice and started preparing it for the towel you put on the table. Yoongi was slender, small, the vertebra in his neck sticking out as he tilted his head forward. Both of his shoulders shook now, you didn't know whether he was cold or crying, like you. You opened your mouth to sob without a sound, afraid he will see or hear you.

"I'm sorry", he whispered. Your nose was running, so you wiped it with your sleeve. His sides were heaving with breathing. A tiny little pink scar on his right shoulder blade where a dog bit him while he was trying to lift you up to save you. Parents had no idea until he came to them, bleeding, a nine year old hero. He got about five shots against rabies and a beating from his father. You were still puzzled by that. What had he meant Yoongi to do?

"It's not your fault", you frowned, wrapping the ice into the towel.

"I don't mean the shoulder".

He put his left arm on the table and nodded, signalling that he is ready, as you pressed the knot to the bruise. The hand then shot up, cluthing your waist, and he pressed himself into your stomach, moving his whole body towards you, towards warmth. Your free hand held his head out of instinct as the painful flutter crashed your chest, trying to get out. The kitchen swayed, walls pulsating, both your hands wrapped around him, your tears falling off your cheeks on the top of his head.

"I was being such an idiot", he mumbled, his voice muffled. You were pressing his head in, your arm cramping, like it was zipped.

"I don't know why you even answered your phone, I would've told myself to go to hell".

You used that hand to wipe your face, and he lifted his face to look at you. He hissed with pain at the rough cubes of ice, lumped together, pressing into his shoulder; showing teeth, but his eyes were for once the same eyes that you've always known. You had nothing to say.

"You sure you won't go to the hospital?" you asked in a thin voice, uneasy, afraid of the way he was looking at you.

"Yes".

"What if it- it gets inflammated, and like, you die".

"Inflamed, you mean", he corrected, in low voice, already a smile in it.

"Yes".

He shook his head lightly.

"It's just dislocated. It would've been worse if it was somethig serious".

"Don't lie to me".

"I am not", he replied gently. You wanted to step away to look at him properly, give him a serious stare, but his left hand kept you close, pressing on the small of your back. The tiny, superficial cuts on his right cheek all together were making it swell a little, he was all pink. The pain stroke you when you involuntarily pictured him fall on the ground, the crack of the shoulder under the wheel, and his face pressed into the ice. His palm moved up and down your back, trying to soothe the shudder.

You helped him put on a hoodie, right arm left under, pressed to his side, and he shivered, puffing up, his fingers cold. You made him tea as he slowly walked out of the kitchen, into the bedroom. You watched his stride to detect other injuries he failed to mention to you.

You were struggling to process things properly, finding comfort in the loud hiss of an old electric kettle. The stress made you dizzy, you were scared of this red and black bruise on his shoulder, and what it entails, scared of what is going to happen to it in a couple of days, and thinking of how you can get out of celebrating the New Year tomorrow because surely he will need help. At least there will be five full days of rest, because you didn't see how Yoongi could realistically leave the house like this.

You brought him the tea, found him in bed under the blanket, with a face way too relaxed, much happier than he was supposed to be in a situation like this. He thanked you in a small voice, refusing any food, but you recalled the sweets' magical ability to make him feel better and returned to the kitchen knowing that you will find some chocolate in his fridge. You put a piece into his mouth, pushing it through, as his lips touched your fingers softly. You were wrestling with yourself wondering if you should sit on the bed, stand next to it, or get under the blanket like you would do two years ago. If this whole thing happened two years ago, you would be way more hysterical about it. Now you were scared in general.

"What now?"

"Wanna watch a movie?"

Your brows shot up. The blush was returning to his cheeks, one already pink. His face even became more lively, he sipped the tea like he had a flu and you managed to beat the fever.

"Or talk?" he added, seeing the borderline feral expression on your face. Your lower lip started trembling again.

"Talk? About?"

He lowered his eyes to the blanket but didn't last long. Tea was putting him in a good mood. Then he thought about something - and his expressive, glistening eyes got sad again. He sniffed lightly.

"About us".

"There's no us, you said you don't want to be my friend anymore".

"I meant it differently. I am leaving soon, Y/N", he pressed, his voice determined, "And I thought I knew what to do, but apparently, I don't".

You stepped to the bed and sat on the edge of it. Hands were shaking so you clutched your own ankles as you crossed your feet on the blanket. Yoongi sighed heavily, with his whole chest and put the mug to his lips again.

"Do you need another pill?"

"Y/N, just listen for a second".

You blinked.

"I don't know when it happened. I wish I handled it better. But I couldn't. I don't know how to explain it. I am fucking obsessed with you. To the point where it makes me angry. It would've been fine if I could stay, but I am leaving, and August is closer than it seems".

Your face got so hot that you dropped it to your chest. Staring at your unmatching socks. Head still, wind inside. Throbbing with the words, loud like bells ringing.

"I've been in love with you, like, for three years, maybe more. It's getting worse and worse, I thought if I put some distance between us, it will go away, but everything I know in my life is inherently connected to you. I get up in the morning, I think of you. I brush my teeth, I think of you. I get in a bus, I think of you. And I can't be thinking of you now".

"So you decided to destroy my self-esteem as a revenge?" you muttered, not looking up. He let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole. I was a jerk, you shouldn't have even come here. You should've kicked me and left. I couldn't control it. I went the worst way about it, I thought I was protecting you, but I was just being an asshole".

God it was hard. You wiped your eyes quickly, trying to curl into a ball and roll away.

"I'm sorry".

He wasn't just being toxic, or dismissive. He was trying to clear the territory around you. Spook away any guys. Not to have you, but to know nobody else has you. Yoongi was captured in the prison of his unexpected emotion, you realized. Only a deeply confused person would do something like that. He was biting at it like an animal, growling. He was fighting it.

You noticed his mug is empty and jumped at this opportunity to change the subject.

"Do you need more?"

You stood up, got the mug, but again he didn't let go.

"You need to not run away for once", he said, looking right at you. The eyes you've known for way too long, the face every feature of which you had memorized, only to wipe it all clean and have to learn it again. His siren eyes, the slant so perfect, going up and down softly, a relaxed rainbow, ending with the craziest elegant inner corner like a movement of a calligraphy brush. You've never thought of him as 'pretty' before this year, and now it was all you could think about. The ever innocent expression on his face when he wanted to talk made you flustered, tongue limp. You kept tugging on the mug and his hand kept holding it.

"You're not stupid, or ugly, or unlovable, or spotty", he said, "I am sorry for making you feel like that. It's cretinous of me, I feel cretinous around you, because I don't know what to do, I am afraid if we touch I will grab you".

"Give me the mug", you managed to murmur through gritted teeth. You were looking into the middle spot on his face, trying to avoid the eyes.

"No. Tell me you forgive me first. Or that you hate me and I fucked everything up".

"I forgive you. Let go", you snapped quickly.

"I don't believe you".

You did it instead. Unclenching your hand against the mug, you stepped away. Your arms tembling up to the shoulders, you tucked the hair away from the face shakily, almost hysterically. Drastic. You had no idea what to do. All your being wanted to get under that blanket and press yourself against his body just to feel him hug you again. You haven't felt that in so long but now you were paralyzed.

"You shouldn't be so soft with me. Please understand that nobody should treat you like I did", he continued in a husky, unsure voice. "But I promise I didn't know how to act. I am going insane, Y/N".

"You hurt me so much".

"And it's also wrong, isn't it? Why you?"

You shrugged. You had no idea either. You always imagined Yoongi having a beautiful wife in the future in your silly childhood dreams. In your mind, he was dating some kind of a model more often than not. Now that he became so pretty all of a sudden you were sure he could find someone really cool in Seoul.

But he didn't mean this question like that, did he. This is not what he was talking about.

It's the urgency in his voice when he was trying to plant the thought in your mind: I was never your brother. You knew now he was trying to unteach you so that it's not completely perverse. But it feels only natural now.

You were together on the lake. You were together in elementary school. You were together on the playground and in the mountains. You were together now. Why not you?

"I mean, you are the most beautiful girl in Daegu. Possibly in Korea. I get that. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel awful. I don't mean to scare you. Please say something".

You circled the bed, dragging your feet. The bedroom was also small, barely enough space to fit his twin bed and a wardrobe for clothes. But he managed to fit a tiny keyboard as well, squeezed in between that and the window, and a desk above it, with his laptop. You sat on the bed, closer to him, as Yoongi followed your every move.

"You have to swear", you sat on your knees, the balance was hard to find even though it should've been easy. You simply became dizzy.

"That if your shoulder gets worse we will go to the hospital".

His nostrils flared. Yoongi sighed, open-mouthed, frustrated, but he has lost all the bite. He wouldn't snap anymore, you knew that.

"I love you. If there will be a big swelling, or inflammation, I am seriously going to call your brother, because I don't know what to do".

He half-blinked, nodded, then put the mug on the floor next to the bed, moving his body slowly because of the pain. He didn't have a bedside stand. You crawled closer. Carefully, palms sweating. Yoongi opened up the blanket but as soon as you were within his reach, his arm grabbed you, just like he promised. You crashed into him, having lost the balance, and he produced a stifled gasp of pain, catching you with his upper body. The shoulder was forgotten for now. Your mouths pressed to each other, the tip of your nose touching the hot scraped cheek, your body drained, leaning against him. The boy who helped you wash your hurt toes in the lake by holding your hand clutching the yellow flower, was now biting on your lip, his good hand gripping your neck.

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Spring felt long like a whole life. Yoongi complained that the time is passing too quickly, but for you, it slowed down on the opposite. You were taking it minute by minute, knowing you will remember these days well. You still looked at his shoulder with suspicion, noticed how Yoongi winces when he thinks you don't see him; but once the bruise went away, the pain did, too, and you were both puzzled mostly, by what exactly happened to it. Definitely something bad. You didn't believe him when he kept saying that it's just recovered. There had been a crack, and cracks are never nothing. He was stubborn about it. Wanted to keep it smaller than a dot of an incident. Wanted to think and speak of nothing except for you because he felt like the time was running out. He had all those intricate but defined plans on how he will uphold the communication with you once he leaves. But you suddenly grew exhausted of thinking about it.

You took the present. The spring in the city. The birds making it impossible to sleep past four am, waking you up with their chirping through the open window. The treetops in the morning, lush green, emerald and sunny. A new scenery out the window of his bedroom, a little heaven you knew you would get to keep no matter what happens.

You woke up in there often, with Yoongi always already awake by the time you opened your eyes. He would watch you or stare at the ceiling, as his hand played with your hair; you never knew how long he's been awake by this time, maybe for hours, watching the sun rise across the street, listening to the sounds of Daegu getting to work, the sounds of electric street lamps turning off and the birds shuffling their feathers in the crowns of trees.

You were memorizing him, not thinking about August, even though August became an invisible sore in your mind, a bruise that you kept pushing on by accident. But you were trying to live now, in every moment, because suddenly Yoongi was all new to you. The years of knowing him didn't help anymore because everything about him seemed unknown in the best way; you have never looked at each other the way you were looking at each other now. Your head slightly tilted back to look him in the eye, and the little smile tugging at the corners of his lips; the line of his arm, clutching the rail on a tram, and his growing out hair, slightly wavy, and the view of the green and yellowish streets breathing spring behind his back. Yoongi had never truly been yours before that spring; he had been your protector, maybe your babysitter, maybe your faux older brother, your friend, your playmate, your caregiver, but always with the noun after 'your'. Now, he was just another human, at last, without any notions following the possessive 'yours'.

It was easier to be selfish with other people: they weren't Yoongi. He seemed like an extension of you, someone you would find again even if you died, travelled all across the Universe and ended up in the most distant world in the afterlife. He played you his music and showed you the lyrics that piled up in the disheveled notebooks, mirroring your own piles of notebooks, full of fairytales and stories, at home. What didn't occur to you just yet, before summer, was that Yoongi was too special to remain solely yours for a long time.

You would wake up, and your mind would get startled at he fact that this is real; the warmth of his side to your back, or his hand under your pillow, early hour langour on you like a blanket. You would keep your eyes closed, seeing the blissful view of the trees enveloped in the sun on the inner sides of your eyelids, and wrap your hands around his head, thinking that there must be a feeling in between obsession and love, a combination of the two. Something like deeper love; you were pretty romantic, sensitive like an open wound, fragile like an old cloth. The feeling of his soft hair under your palms soothed you back to sleep unless Yoongi pulled you closer, his hand in between your shoulder blades and the knee pushing your legs apart, two Lego pieces.

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Then the summer came, and Yoongi graduated from school, and the shit got real. The fear of the end of the summer was so vivid now, like a picture of an atomic explosion on the horizon, but Yoongi managed to clot this panic by saying that he has a plan.

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Then August came, and he moved away from Daegu, saying only one thing: I will not let go.

Yoongi was gone for the first time in the thirteen years that you knew him.

For the first time Daegu truly became empty, the only thread leading to him through the phone on which he called every other day.

Then once a week.

Then you switched to messages. Until one day he called again and said: I'm in. I got it. I passed. I will be a musician. Namjoon is here too, I can't believe it. You asked, Namjoon? Our Namjoon? He said yes; they followed each other to Seoul only to meet at the same audition and pass, and end up in the dorm room tiny enough to bump hips every time they tried to get to the window.

And you understood something about life: people don't really belong to each other. Even though Yoongi was set on keeping you, you also knew you wanted him to succeed. Even though that was the time of the heaviest turmoil that nearly changed your brain to the point of unrecognizability, it helped you grow because you were munching on the same thought until the very winter. You really wanted Yoongi to succeed. He has given everything to you, surviving his own storms in silence and only once has he asked for your help, and you knew him intimately, and supported him better than anybody else. You knew the pressure he had to carry, and the timid but at the same time powerful dream that he had. Yoongi was always so quiet about it, but his hands were attached to the piano almost every spare second when he didn't work or study. You knew there was a thing bigger than your, frankly speaking, manufactured need for him; you were trained to want him near you, to miss him, but there were other things at the bottom of his heart as well that, if you kept stealing his attention, would break him.

The spring exams were approaching and it felt like the end of your life; the edge of the cliff which you had to jump, but you were so numb with the feeling of loss that even the fundamental, life changing events were broadcast into your brain as if through an opaque window; Yoongi used to urge you to go to a Seoul university so that you'd be in the same city at least.

You knew, hearing his voice on the weekend, when he was allowed to use the phone, that he was getting exhausted with this dream of having the both of you at the same time. The voice was cracking, he would doze off during practice, he said. They are making me dance and I don't know what I am doing anymore. I wish you were here. Sometimes I am thinking about dropping everything and going back. They keep adding people into our room and now there's already six of us, and I have no idea what I am doing. Maybe I should quit. You knew you were the red herring pulling him back home, back to his unhealthy occupation with you. Back to the familiar obscurity where there was still space for creating, but no way to greatness that he honestly speaking deserved. You kept asking him about the shoulder and he lied that it's healed and there's no pain, like nothing happened. The lie always made his voice dip too sharply on the second syllable of "okay". He also told you about the boys he was with now; how it is starting to feel like a band, and how suspiciously little producing they are letting him do. But there was a promise ringing in those words that you knew you couldn't smother. As your summer approached and the exams came, Yoongi sounded desperate to come to your graduation, speaking about sneaking out, paying for a day off, running away through the window like he did at school. He still loved you, the same feverish dingle in the way he said your name. When you had started dating, something burst the bubble of patience and you couldn't keep your hands off of each other for a very long time. Yoongi's skeleton was being pulled apart, the familiar crack tearing him in half, and you finally decided to pull the thorn and deal with consequences later.

When you told him you won't call anymore and change your number, he responded with a tired admission of thinking about the same thing. He knew about this. He knew it should happen because his own desires scared him and the pace of his living was becoming unbearable. Sleeping on the floor, training twenty hours a day, eating a bowl of rice a day, having ten classes in one day, and above all that, missing you, his mind two hundred and thirty-three kilometers away. He was failing. He said he was the last on the raiting list of trainees, and a fraction of his mind was hoping he'd get kicked out, but then he would hate you forever for that. You didn't want Yoongi to hate you; you wanted to keep the memory of him smiling at you like you were the best thing he's seen in his life, even after you had peed yourself in his room. His grown out hair, the line of his arm clutching the rail on a tram. July greenery in the open window, floating by peacefully, and the sounds of music from the street.

The world was about to know Min Yoongi and fall in love with him. You had to let go.

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You entered a Seoul university even with your average gardes, but not because Yoongi wanted it, but because the capital was bigger and more interesting to live in. Now it was your turn to rent a tiny apartment with lush trees against the window; they reminded you of spring when you lost virginity to your favourite person who could kiss you so well that your body would shiver for days after.

You found new friends. You were a little surprised how well you were adjusted to life, given your almost debilitating dependance on other people in your life.

A year later a company named Big Hit debuted a boy band that was struggling to lure people to their concerts, so you joined a fan forum and hyped them up when you had time.

Your studies went well because for once, there was no math involved, but only the subjects you were interested in. Yoongi had stopped sending happy birthday messages through his mom that year.

You met a guy and he broke your heart; the catch was that he wore cool vests and only drank IPA and was very interested in East European history. After a little fight, he attacked you, pinning you to the couch, with his knee on your back, trying to prove that you wouldn't be able to stand up to him even if you wanted. You didn't really date after that.

At the university, you got a grand prix for a movie you have directed with your groupmates, which was about anthropomorphic swans in a Mexican city, poisoning people with their belladonna tea. You heard BTS was finally gathering a relatively loud fanbase and once even went out with some like-minded people to plaster the posters of them on the lamp posts, announcing a concert in Seoul. Your mom called Yoongi a bastard and said she always knew he was a piece of shit and a fuckboy. You had no idea where this was all coming from and didn't bother to change her mind; at last, there was a significant distance between you so that she wasn't able to peck on your brains all the time.

Six months later you found an NDA agreement in your post, addressed to your name, from BIg Hit, which demanded that you delete all of Yoongi's pictures from all social media platforms you had, and don't speak about him to people outside of your immediate circle. To ensure you sign and send it back, they added a check to the contract.

A year later you saw his face on a building for the first time; it was eerie, sad, felt like some force pulled you into a parallel dimension where you were two strangers who had never actually met, and everything you knew about him might have been a coma dream, or a made up illusion. You were walking to your workplace with a cup of coffee in your hand, and the ad was plastered neatly across from the windows from which you looked out when you got a little bored; inconvenient. It was there for a good three weeks, and every time as you looked into his eyes you wondered whether he remembered you.

If you would see him again, or your lack of ambition put an insurmountable divide between you, a chasm you wouldn't be able to hop over anymore. You would understand it if he changed to the unrecognizability, and was happy that at least you had that spring, the birds waking you up, little bed in Daegu, the smell of iodine tincture for his bruise, his lips on your cheek. Back when he needed you. The world might have claimed him now but for thirteen years before that, he was yours, and nothing could change the fact that Suga from BTS once sacrificed himseld to the dogs to save your life and then cried getting shots in his butt. He might have changed drastically, dyed his hair silver, started wearing silk jackets, throwing gang signs, rode expensive cars, but there was once a timline in which he couldn't go on a day without hearing your voice.

Let him be, you thought. Seoul taught you to live your life and have your little wins as well. Good grades at university. Interest in a profession, new hobbies. Social media presence. New friends. Occasional kisses in karaoke with pretty guys you didn't know. A favourite coffeeshop nearby the university where you went to do your projects or speak with your best friend. The old photo albums were hidden away in a wardrobe in Daegu, lying under the piles of your mother's old brown dresses and kerchiefs, the darkness keeping your childhood pictures vivid and safe.

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A year later you graduated and took the summer off to cool down, just walking through Seoul, feeling happier than ever because you finally had your own money to buy pizza.

BTS won a Daesang; you stopped following the band too closely because it became a chore that left a nasty taste in your mouth. It was like standing in a crowd of people where everybody started moving suddenly, without warning you, and this stirring left you confused, bruised and lost. They were getting big and not hearing about them was impossible anyway; on the internet, at the school where you worked, in classes, in coffeeshops and at bars where you went with friends, someone would mention them inevitably. You felt disconnected from BTS; you didn't know who they were. You barely remembered all of their names. Who were they? You were glad he made it and then your work was done; you didn't owe it to yourself anymore.

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A call came in the afternoon, you pressed the green button on your phone without looking, consumed by your work. Yoongi's voice made the world around wobble, like you suddenly was hit over the head. Hello? What do you say? Is this really you? Why didn't you reply to my letter?

"What letter?" you got scared. Yoongi sounded shy on the other side.

"I sent you a letter back in winter. On paper".

"I didn't get any letters".

Your mind raced in panic. The mailbox only ever received the bills and postcards from friends. No handwritten letters, you would've remembered something like that. Yoongi went silent for a while. This silence was filled with suspicion, a hint of anger, or despair.

"I see. I sent it in December".

"What did it say?"

"I don't remember anymore", he lied. You both kept quiet.

"Are you still in Seoul?" he asked. You nodded, forgetting he can't see you, but he caught it anyway.

"You ready to move?"

You were taken aback.

"Where?"

"You're not married, are you?"

His questions all sounded more and more delirious.

"Why would I be married?" you moaned, a chucke tearing out through your throat. He laughed back. Then mentioned the plan. Don't you remember? What plan? You had no idea. It's like he was thinking he was talking to someone else. The thread of connection was severed. What fucking plan? The plan he had when he was leaving Daegu. He never disclosed the detailes, and you assumed the plan was simply to call on the weekends. You already forgot all about it. No, he said, the plan was to always come back to each other. However much time it takes. Figuring out the adult stuff, once he crawled over that mountain and stood on it, the plan was to find you again. Because you were always the only one person for him, that he was ready to love, ever since that day on the lake. No matter what he did or how he behaved, or what he dreamed about, the plan has always been to marry you.

"You never filled me in on that", you responded breathlessly.

"I must have forgotten", he chuckled. "Anyway. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I have work", your hand dropped the pen, falling back on the chair. The sunspot blinded you right in the eye.

"Can you escape through the window?"

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You pushed the grocery bag across the table and placed a mug, then poured tea in it. Your other hand lying on the small of your back for support. The entrance door beeped and clicked, and you understood you're cooked. You didn't get any calls or texts warning that Yoongi'd come home. It was 2:18 PM, way too early for him to be here. You walked over to the entrance hall, deciding to attack first, and then maybe he will get flustered and won't notice the groceries.

"What happened?" you asked, standing in the hallway, brows furrowed to give yourself a serious expression.

"Nothing", he stepped on the heel of his shoe to get the foot out, the kicked his sneakers towards the wall. Shook his head, getting rid of the raindrops from his bangs. Yoongi took off his jacket and hung it, then added,

"Han got sick, I think someone has finally poisoned his food, so he went to the hospital. So I have two hours to spare".

His hands reached you, one wrapping around the neck gently, the other placed on your belly. You walked back into the kitchen together, and his eyes narrowed:

"Did you go to the store alone?"

"I really wanted shrimps".

A sigh.

"You should've just ordered".

"I wanted to walk".

"It's raining!"

You pulled him away to make him stop; once he started fussing, it was impossible to shut him up for at least twenty minutes. How it's oh so bad for you to carry any weight, and how it's slippery and what if you feel nauseous, and why can't you wait for the evening so that you can go together. Your hand pulled him deeper into the house, to the living room, where the travel bags were still waiting to be unpacked. Have been there for the last two days; you felt too lazy and Yoongi was too tired in the evening.

"Look what I brought back from home".

You attempted to bow down, but the belly wouldn't let you. He squatted instead, guided by your finger, and dug inside.

"What, this?"

"No, the yellow paw".

He snickered as his hand pulled out the rabbit from under three pairs of jeans. It looked so positively thrashed by life that even the fur lost the glow of the color. But it still had both eyes, furry paws and the small, knot-like tail that hung from its butt, held only by one thread.

"The rabbit you stole from me?" he said.

"I didn't steal it, you gave it to me", you protested, lowering yourself on the couch. Yoongi's smile turned stubborn.

"Nah it was extorted from me. Nice of you to return it finally".

"I forgot all about it for years. I'm not returning it to you, you know".

He grimaced sweetly, getting to his knees, his eyes still on the rabbit in his hand. It used to seem big enough so that you could hug it with both arms, pressing the toy to your chest. Now, in his big hand, it was obvious the poor animal has always been small. Yoongi's chin stuck to your knee, the top of his head glistening with rain still, like he walked way longer than just from the car to the door.

"I will readjust the tail".

Your hand get into his hair, ruffling it, and he closed his eyes for a second, out of instinct.

"You hungry?"

"A little. Don't get up, I'll cook the shrimps".

The baby kicked.

[veryace-ficrecs]

TimKon Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

pain is cold water by sleepdeprivedphilosopher - Rated T

“Kon is getting an apartment,” Tim says and his fingers are digging into his lifeline. “He needs a roommate.” He doesn’t, but Tim prays he won’t mind. “Where?” Dick demands then winces at his tone. “San Francisco,” Tim answers. Tim was never meant to be a permanent part of the Batfamily. He took on the role of Robin because Batman needs a Robin, but Batman has a Robin and even more people in his corner now and he doesn’t need Tim. or Tim is used to putting his wants up on a shelf in favor of what the people around him need, but maybe it’s time for him to take them down, dust them off, and see what’s inside.

Top Shelf Goods by JpegDotJpeg - Rated T

“You know,” Conner started after licking his thumb and trying to rub off the near illegible numbers scrawled onto his inner wrist. “If my sixteen year old self heard me say this he’d have a conniption, but I’m getting really tired of people trying to hookup with me.”

“Well, I’d offer to pretend to be your girlfriend, but I actually am trying to get laid tonight,” Cassie explained, then drained the rest of her glass.

“Don’t worry, Kon,” Tim said, without putting an ounce of forethought into it. “I’ll scare them off for you.”

Or, Tim pretends to be Conner's boyfriend, just to help him avoid unwanted attention. Because that's what friends do. Pretend to be romantically involved even though they are definitely not interested in each other in that way and it would totally never happen. Definitely.

Fetching by Salmon_Pink - Rated E

Krypto likes to take care of Kon as much as Kon likes to take care of Krypto. When Kon is hungry, Krypto fetches him food. When Kon is sleepy, Krypto fetches him blankets. And when Kon is horny, Krypto fetches him Tim. Which leaves Kon the not-so-fun job of awkwardly explaining to Red Robin why he's been dragged to Smallville in the middle of the night by a well-meaning superdog.

The Dating Habits Of Batfish by Calamityjim - Not Rated

Tim and Conner spend some time together.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter - Rated T

“You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?” A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again. Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?” Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

And I'll Tell You No Lies by caecily - Rated G

In a universe where you can't lie to your soulmate, it doesn't take long for Robin to run into trouble with Superboy.

time flies by by Laroyena - Rated T

Jon Kent is Superboy. Tim's gut instinct tells him that's wrong. (Timkon fix-it where reboot!Tim misses Kon like a phantom limb. And then he gets him back.)

there when the light comes in by shipyrds - Rated E

“Well, that was fun,” Tim said, his hands shoved into his pockets. “It was a nice plan, but you know us. We can just drive back to San Francisco and I’ll get a flight.” Kon looked at his posture, the quintessentially Tim tilt of his head. “No, dude, are you kidding me? You’re gonna deny me this rite of passage? Get back in the car. It’s gonna be epic.” Tim had smiled, a big bright thing that lasted all the way until they got back on the highway and Kon tried to fight him for the aux cord because like hell was he going to listen to the same Marina and the Diamonds EP for 57 hours. — tim and kon go on an epic cross-country road trip and have some realizations!

Obligatory Nap Time by egg_thief - Rated G

“I know what you’re doing,” Tim says with a sigh, wrapping his arms loosely around Kon’s waist as he feels himself relaxing against his will. “It won’t work.” Kon hums. “You sure? Your heart rate is slowing. And your breathing is evening out.” Tim curses under his breath. “I’m not gonna fall asleep though.” “Sure you aren’t,” Kon murmurs, still softly petting at Tim’s hair. Or: Tim hasn’t been sleeping lately. Kon’s determined to at least get him to take a nap

apple cider blues by merils - Rated T

A farmer's market rolls around in beautiful autumnal Smallville. Kon asks Tim to be his pretend boyfriend for the day, in order to stave off some old ladies who, upon finding out that he's gay, have been trying to set him up with their bisexual grandson. And surely the matchmaking grannies are the only reason Kon wants Tim to be his date at the farmer's market. It's too bad, because Tim would really love it if this was a real date, but... it's not like he'd ever say no to Kon, not when Kon asks him with those big ol' Kent family puppy-dog eyes. So here he is. Pining. At a farmer's market. (...Someone should probably tell Kon that this date is fake.)

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship by LilliputianDuckling - Rated G

Kon-El is a clone of Superman, grown in a lab with implanted memories of whatever a bunch of scientists decided was important information.

Seeing Robin today, there seems to be a gap in his education.

Superboy discovers he likes boys

there you were by mindshelter - Rated T

“You know, the cool thing about me,” Tim says, voice gone quiet and petal-soft, “is that even when I didn’t care whether I lived or not, I was pretty goddamn hard to kill.” Kon sighs, eyes glued to his feet. His hand is still encircled around Tim’s arm, trailing up to the bend of his elbow. “Also, who has the worse track record with dying, between the two of us?” Well, Kon thinks, that’s—that’s rude. “For fuck’s sake.” Kon throws his head back and groans, but it’s nullified by the upward twitch of his mouth. “That was terrible.” And definitely meant to lighten the mood. Tim is playing him like a harp, and he knows it; he grins back, wriggling free to knock Kon on the shoulder.   or; in the wake of a suck-ass year, kon and tim gravitate back together.

His Tiny Person by awhitehead17 - Rated G

"Kryptonian's have something called soulmates and every single Kryptonian has one. We know who our soulmates are because mini versions of them manifest to us. To begin with you won't recognise them, or even know their name, until you actually meet them in person. You will meet, you are destined to, but whether you get along or not is another story." When Kon finds a tiny person hanging around him he's extremely confused but comes to adore him anyway. However its still a complete shock when Kon learns that he's known his soulmate for years and has just never realised it.

[cameronspecial]

I Will Slap You, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Mean Y/N, Mentions of Sex and Birth

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Pregnancy doesn't look so great on Y/N and Rafe, but good thing it's almost over.

Masterlist

Rafe isn’t going to lie. Pregnant Y/N is a scary Y/N. She’s a lot more moody and demanding than his usual angel is. Any little thing can make her snap and he has been walking on eggshells for almost nine months. His family would say that Rafe is just as unbearable. If they thought he was doting on Y/N before, then her being pregnant showed an even more overbearing side. Rafe helps rearrange the pillows on the couch and places about ten blankets over top of Y/N, who is getting ready for a nap. “Are you warm enough? Are there enough pillows?” he frets over her, rearranging one of the blankets that is slipping off. Sarah chuckles, “I think she has enough, Rafe. She could survive in the North Pole with how many blankets you have her buried under.” “I would never let her be in that situation,” he barks. How could Sarah think that he would let anything happen to Y/N? “Would you two shut up? Cranky woman trying to nap here,” Y/N complains, turning on her side to sleep. At least she doesn’t blame her pregnancy for her mood. Rafe rushes to her side, “I’m so sorry, Angel. Sarah and I will go in the kitchen.” Rafe kisses his wife’s head and forces his sister into the other room. 

The siblings talk in whispered voices after being scolded again by the pregnant woman. It’s been about an hour and Rafe has started to get his angel’s snack ready. A piercing yell causes both Camerons to dash to the living room. “Angel, are you alright? What’s happening? Do you need a massage?” he cries out, rushing to her side. Sarah follows in worry for her sister-in-law. They find Y/N hunched over with her hand on her stomach. She glares at them, “No, you dingus. I’m going into labour.” 

Rafe’s face flushes and he turns to his sister. “Get the go bag, please. It’s in the nursery. I’ll get her in the car.” Sarah nods and runs off to do as asked, while Rafe picks Y/N up bridal style and brings her to his truck. Every bounce of Rafe’s rushed manner intensifies the pain shooting through her body. “Slow down. You aren’t trying to win a race. We also have to time the contractions, dumbass,” she critiques between her screams. Rafe starts an internal timer in his mind at her scream, “Right, thank you for reminding me. You are so smart, Angel.” He places her in the car and she glowers at him with another yell. “I don’t care how smart you think I am. Get me to the damn hospital before I do it myself,” she growls. Rafe is quick to get to the driver’s side, texting Sarah to meet him at the hospital. 

———

Y/N and Rafe got to the hospital a little earlier than medically required and the staff were almost not going to let them into a room, but Y/N’s angry demeanour and Rafe’s money-slipping hands caused the staff to change their mind. It’s been about sixteen hours and the couple is absolutely exhausted. Finally, it’s time for Y/N to push. She had insisted on giving birth in Goddess pose and Rafe isn’t one to argue about it. “You are doing so great, Angel. I am so proud of you,” Rafe praises, smoothing her sweaty hair down. Y/N has had enough of his pampering. She’s been here for so long and that’s all she’s been listening to. “I will slap you, Rafe. Stop talking or I will have them throw you out. You don’t know how much this hurts, so I only want to hear my own voice from now on,” she snarls at him. Rafe immediately stops, instead resolving to silently encourage her. 

Rafe’s focus is between her legs, waiting for the moment his child enters the world when he feels her hand cross his face. One hand rubs his cheek, “What was that for?” “For getting me pregnant and not being the one to give birth,” she explains, squeezing his hand harder. He pouts at her words, “I am so sorry that I can’t be the one going through this, Angel. It kills me to know you are hurting and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I am never having sex with you again. I never want to go through this again.”

“And I fully support that, Angel. We can always adopt or foster if we want to have more kids.”

———

An hour later, Asher Wesley Cameron rests on his mother’s chest, sleeping in her warmth. “He’s perfect,” Y/N whispers and kisses his head. Rafe admires the new mother, “Because he is a mixture of both of us.” He takes a second before asking his next question. “Did you really mean what you said about having sex?” Y/N giggles at the worry in his voice, “Only a little bit. We definitely won’t be having sex until the doctor gives the go-ahead but after that… How else are we supposed to make this little guy a sibling?” “I thought you said you didn’t want to give birth to another baby,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at her. She shrugs, “It hurt like hell, but it was worth it. I would do it one more time even if they are only half as perfect as Asher. I do want to foster though. There are so many children that need a safe home.” Rafe’s lips find her forehead. “Whatever you want. I will follow your lead, Angel.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[nicoleeblossom]

Multiple Characters x Reader...

main masterlist📌 | Multiple x Reader Part 2

*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!

*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.

Works by @miniwheat77

Sizes. 141+Alejandro x Reader: Who has the biggest dick?

By Nature, She’s Naughty: Y/n was a wild one

Works by @mistydeyes

Hunk-o-mania Pt.1: The boys thought wrong, now they’re performing

Playboy Bunny Pheonix Edition Pt.2: The boys are very pleased with the solution

Opposite Occupations Pt.1: They realize that all the long hours are worth it

Take A Walk In My Shoes Pt.2: A day in your life

Almost Military Wives GC Pt.3: What goes on when the boys are deployed

Works by @sprout-fics

Afterburn: Just 6 dudes taking care of their girl

Poly 141 x Reader: It takes weeks, month for you all to put the place in order, and by the end of it all, you’re exhausted

Works by @loveindefinitely

Need To Listen To Me: that was a flaw. A genuine character fault, and Price was cementing that fact in this very room

Lust for Life: You’re suddenly all too desperate to get back at your father and experiment a thing or two

Works by @the-californicationist

They Help You Practice: You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

The Window, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7:

Works by @charliemwrites

From SpecGru With Love

Men at Work

Works by @tojisun

Nosy Neighbours

Sugar, Spice, Everything on Ice

Keeping Him Quiet

141 + König First Word Reactions by @starstruckmiraclekitty: Reactions to their babies’ first words

Be Gentle Man Pt.1 and Be Gentle Man Pt.2 by @rileyslibrary: Etiquette training

Breeding Team by @sirenmoth: AU where reader is an omega who took suppressants

Strip Poker Pt.1 by @catsnkooks: Soap’s CO brought out some cards

Cachorrita Pt.1 and Cachorrita Pt.2 Los Vaqueros x Reader by @lxstfathier: Caught in the middle of narco violence, you are taken in

Civillian Asset by @cuckoo-on-a-string: There’s blood under your nails and a threat to your life

Sparrow by @diejager: Their tense shoulders slouched, finally knowing where you went

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star by @vellichor-of-the-solivagant: Now, he made music out of you

Home is Where You Are by @1-ker0sene-1: "Taking good care of our boys John…You always do…Making sure you all come home to me again”

Cook!reader x 141 and The Assistant by @bookbrokelibrarian:

Lift Me Off My Feet by @lovifie:

Cherry Bomb by @swordsandholly

FFS Riley Collection by @dozeydaisy

Dad!141 x Mama!Reader by @baduzzxy

Mafia!141 AU, Ext. by @ghouljams

Suite 141 by @mangowafflesss

Contractors!141 by @kyletogaz

Down the Hatch by @syoddeye

Frozen Hearts Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7 by @lushrve

Can’t Stop Thinking About Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Pt.8, Pt.9, Pt.10 by @a-b-riddle

Free Use by @bzurk

Really Good Neighbours by @dragonnarrative-writes

Whole Other Notebook by @auspicioustidings

Retired!141 x Rancher!Reader by @purple-moonbeam

Lifeline by @indigosunsetao3

Ranking by @gardenthatneversleeps

You’re Only Sixteen by @siddyyyyyyyy

On The Run by @devil-in-hiding

Hair Series by @kyletogaz

Secret Baby by @gloomwitchwrites

The Office AU by @flowerfreya

Loop by @eevee-of-eternity

Restaurant Au! 141 by @disgustingtwitches

Blue-Collar!141 x Reader by @xo-codbby

Naps to Lovers by @i-love-you-just-the-same

Y/N Being Feral for Her Future Husband by @feralgoblinqueen

Mafia!141 by @cordeliawhohung

Neglected Reader by @simonbrain

Lavender Marriage Pt.1 and Pt.2 AU by @beloveds-embrace

Services/Goods of Equivalent Value by @auspicioustidings

Mafia!141 by @vnards

Mermaid Reader, Part 2, Part 3 by @homeofthelonelywriter

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Dad's Babygirl -Pedri González

Inspired by the video of Pedri being incredibly sweet to that babygirl at the LaLiga ceremony!

Note: Apparently Pedri doesn't have a solo picture with the throphy☠️🥴*Sighs in defeat*, but here's one with my in-laws🤭😌

Summary: You and your babygirl are supporting your favorite '8' at his first LaLiga ceremony.

You met Pedri when you both were sixteen, at seventeen you entered in a romantic relationship, have been together for three years and eleven months ago had a little blessing, a little unexpected blessing but a very welcomed one. Your little babygirl, Mía. Mía González.

She was the eyes of everyone in the family, yours and Pedri's. Both of you managed to make it work, at the beggining it was hard but you as a strong couple and as a good team with the help of your parents, eventually got the rhythm of the things and adapted to your new lifestyle.

You never thought about having a baby at a young age but now you can't imagine your live without your little princess.

"Gonna be good?" Pedri asked you once more, his hand on your thigh carressing it softly with his thumb as he drived towards Camp Nou, he wasn't playing because of a discomfort in his right thigh but he was going to be in the LaLiga winning celebration.

"Yes, mi amor. Don't worry, we'll be also with Fer and your parents" You put your hand on top of his smiling. Your promise ring noticeable as Pedri couldn't help but smile.

"Cualquier cosa me dices, ¿Sí? No quiero que estés incómoda o estresada y mucho menos con la señorita que ha estado muy revoltosa el dia de hoy" (You tell me if anything happens, yeah? I don't want you to be uncomfortable or stressed and mostly with the señorita that has been very moody today) He looked quickly behind where your baby was sleeping in her baby seat.

"She's sleeping, hopefully that little nap extends the whole match" Pedri laughs knowing she had already half an hour asleep and her naps usually last for about a whole hour. You laughed "Only one can hope" You say to him and he laughed a little more

Indeed, Mía had been moody today from screaming around the house, not wanting to eat her lunch, resulting in you forcing a bit of her meal into her mouth, kicking and throwing her toys at the wall. You were delighted when she pulled her arms up to you and fell asleep in your chest.

"However, it's not the first time we have been to a game, Pepi"

"Hostias, eso lo sé" (Yeah, well I know that) He smiled "But I always worry for my girls. I just don't want anything bad to happen. Not to her and definitely not to you." You smile leaning over to kiss his cheek

"Mi campeón" You whispered as he grabbed your hand and pulled it up to his lips "We'll be fine, don't worry, this is your night" You smiled pulling his hand to your lips as well. When he was done parking, he got out as you grabbed yours and Mía things, you felt both of yours and Mía's doors open and smiled at your man and babydad.

"Look who's awake" Pedri said grabbing from you the ear plugs to put them to Mía softly.

She was softly babbling, still sleepy

"Hi bonita" Pedri said getting her softly out of her seat and grabbing her into his arms, Mía let herself fall into his shoulder wrapping her little arms around him. He grabbed your hand as you started walking inside the stadium "Sure you don't wanna sit with me?"

"We'll be fine" You smile watching Rosy come down to you, she wrapped you in a big and warm hug softly swinging you both side to side

"Oye mamá, te ves muy guapa" You blush giggling

"Thank you, Rosy. You are looking really good too" She smiled before moving towards her son and her granddaughter while Fernando, Pedri's dad came over to hug you.

When you turned around Rosy was with the babygirl as Pedri came up to you to greet his dad and turn his attention to you

"Sure-?" You laugh nodding

"We'll be fine, amor. Don't worry" He nodded smiling lightly, he wrapped you in his arms quickly giving you a few seconds long kiss

"Te quiero"

"Y yo a ti, lindo" He pecked your lips once more before returning his attention to the baby giving her a few cheek kisses as well and one to her mom's cheek

"Me tengo que ir pero si algo pasa-" (I've gotta go but if something happens-)

"Que no pasará" (It won't) Fernando said making Pedri sigh a little blushing, he just wanted to protect you all.

"You know where I am" He finished, you nodded and watched him walk towards his place as you went to yours. Getting into your seats you greeted Fer, who had came from the bathroom and even greeted, Pedri's cousin.

Rosy passed you back Mía who was slightly fuming throwing her hands at you, she stayed calm the rest of the night. You watched the game quietly and even though Barcelona lost, you screamed and yelled when Robert did that goal in the last minute.

Pedri had gone inside the tunnel to change into his kit so he could be present of the ceremony, you were pointing to Mía where her dad was, as she excited wriggled her legs. She was soon to be one year but you hadn't make it possible to make her say dad or mom.

Even though you wanted her to say mom so badly first, that night you wanted her to say dad and put the cherry on top for Pedri's cake. You took of one of her ear plugs and talked in her ear

"Papá, Mía, over there, that's papá" You said smiling widely as she started babbling. You looked at her, she was a copy of both of you, the perfect combination.

Pedri held her and she looked like him but you held her and she also looked like you.

The things that she did got from her dad were her love for bananas and those big brown eyes, meanwhile she had your smile and hair.

"Venga, vamos abajo" Fer said, grabbing Mía's bag as Rosy lend you a hand whilst walking down the stairs. Once you were inside the pitch your eyes scanned the crowd to see your dark haired boy, when you suddenly feel hands on your waist, that made you turn around.

You saw the pretty eyes and beautiful you were so in love with, leaning into him

"Congratulations, pepi. You deserve this so much" You said looking up at him

"Gracias mi vida" He smiled kissing you softly before he returned his attention to the baby who was asking for him with her chubby hands "Wanna come with papá?" You moved her side to side, doing as if you were gonna give her to Pedri but backed away and he followed your game making Mía laugh

"Pa...pa!" Pedri and you stopped everything you were doing

"Did she...?"

"¡Papá!" She repeated herself over and over again as you and Pedri shared amazed looks, eventually people around you three heard Mía's yells and the ones who knew she hadn't said her firsts words yet, smiled excited

"Sí, bonita. Yo soy papá" Pedri said as you gave her to him, his eyes were glassy and his smile was bigger than before.

"¡Papá!" She was yelling over and over again, liking the reaction she got from us, eventually Fer, Rosy and Fernando were hugging us and hyping her up to say it once more.

And from that moment forward, she didn't left Pedri's arms, and it's not like Pedri wanted to let her go, Mía did not even let herself grab from you, there was this part where Pedri had to go and do an interview, but when Mía saw your hands extended to grab her and Pedri's arms undoing his strong hold to pass her she started fussing and grabbing herself from her dad's jersey, which she had one exactly like his but with the words "Papá" written

"C'mon, Mía. Papá needs to go"

"Don't worry, I'll handle it" Pedri winked at you, kissing your lips and turning around to make that interview

Later you were talking with Rosy when you saw Pedro and Mía still sat on the grass with the two flags of Pedri's town and birthplace on the floor, when Mía stood up and hugged her dad once more before placing a kiss on his cheek as Pedro laughed and tickled her. You zoned out from what Rosy had said and looked at the two loves of your life playing around as if nothing, as if they were at home.

"The three of you are so whipped for each other" You turned to Rosy with a smile "Mía dies for you and for Pedro, whenever she doesn't see you two around she goes crazy. Mi hijo y tú are the same with her. And with each other. I'm so glad you're part of our familia now, Y/N" She hugged you tightly

"Thank you for letting me be part of it" Both of you looked once more at Pedro and Mía "Mía loves me" You said after a few seconds of silence ", but she's definitely a daddy's girl"

"And Pedro's crazy for his babygirl" Rosy completed "Like father, like daughter" You laughed "Go with them" She pushed you lightly as you walked towards them

"Look, ahí viene mamá" You heard Pedro say as Mía looked at you surprised but then smiled, you sat in front of Pedro and Mía "Too far away, señorita" He said wanting you closer to him, you smiled and did what he asked "This is one of the best weeks and days of my life"

"You deserve each and every single one of them, Pepi. You've worked hard for what you wanted and you got it" You smiled at him pushing a bit of his hair out of his face "There are no words for me to describe how proud of you I am. You're simply amazing"

He smiled kissing your lips "And you two are what makes me wanna get better everytime" You couldn't resist and kissed him once more before leaning over and kissing your Mía, who shyly got her face inti her dad's neck, you two laughing "My best supporters, my girls" He hugged you both tightly

Until you felt how Pedri let himself fall onto the grass, taking the two of you down laughing with him watching the starry Catalan night with a smile.

"I've got everything I wanted, I'm really happy with it but I don't think I need anything else besides you two"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

[clownyboiclownyboi]

I’m on a road trip rn, so road trip headcanons!

(if there’s any spelling mistakes pls overlook them, I’ve been up for nearly forty eight hours at this point)

(also for the sake of this being coherent, let’s just imagine it’s still the characters but in an irl au. It is NOT the content creators themselves, as I only post bout the characters and will only post about the characters)

Techno is the kinda guy who wants total exclusion when it comes to road trips. He just wants to sit in the back corner seat, put on his noise canceling headphones, and admire the scenery as he listens to an audiobook. Interrupt his quiet time and you will lose your elbow privileges.

Tommy and Tubbo both will pack entire backpacks full of things to entertain themselves with and then spend the entire sixteen hour trip chatting, napping, and messing with a little straw wrapper they found. The only time either of them open their bags is to grab their chargers when their phones start to die. Neither of them ever learn from their mistakes.

Ranboo packs a ridiculous amount of electronics. His laptop? In his laptop bag. His phone? In his hoodie pocket. Headphones? Around his neck or on his head. Earbuds? Stored in a pocket of the laptop bag, just in case his headphones die. His Nintendo switch? Also in his laptop bag. His packet of Nintendo game cards? It has its own pocket in the bag that he sewed in himself. His Nintendo DS? Currently in his hands, but it also has its own pocket. His camera? Safely stored in the back with his luggage, in a heavy duty case just to make sure it isn’t damaged. His chargers? There’s at least seventeen of them, all labeled and coiled up properly with their own respective charging blocks, each stored with their devices. He also has three battery packs, which he charges days in advance.

Phil is a dad, we all know that, but he’s such a mom friend. He’s the one packing the essentials: sunscreen, first aid supplies, towels, basic hygienic products and medicines, to name a few. If you need it, he’s got it. He’s also the kinda guy to deny any and all buying treats at gas stations, though.

Quackity is the life of the party and Phil’s worst nightmare. He takes over the playlist within thirty minutes and blasts a mix of emo punk rock and mariachi music. He sneaks everyone snacks anyway, somehow managing to keep it from Phil just long enough until there’s no point trying to stop him. He pokes his head out of the window all of the time just to yell stupid shit, because life is for living and damnit, he’s gonna live.