#this came out of nowhere but it's so nice???

[phonegiveme]

RP Starter

[POV can be changed]

*You were walking through the snowy woods of Yokohama, hunting or enjoying your time as you whistle a tune to yourself. It was nice and cold, the snow was not too deep, and some woodland critters were out and about. Along your walk, you spotted a deer! The deer looked calm, sitting in the snow as it makes eye contact with you.*

*You decided, why not give it a try and pet the deer? So you slowly get closer to it, holding out your hand. You were so close to the deer until your instincts told you to jump back when suddenly a wave of multiple bullets came firing out of nowhere! You barely dodged the bullets, but the deer didn't, getting hit multiple times before falling limp in the snow.*

*A man in a dark cloak and hood then emerged from the shadows of the trees.*

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

005 》 HAN JISUNG

you needed a night out, you needed to have fun— at least that’s what yunho told you. when chan invites your group to a music festival where his curly headed roommate would also be, will it be what you need to get you back on track? or will you start from square one, again?

wc 15.5k my bad y’all its getting serious now | drinking, smoking, kissing, suggestive, music festival vibes, sadness, tiny gets fucked up. vomit but not descriptive. hanjis sexy

“have you guys ever thought about your wedding?” 

of course you thought about getting married, your wedding, every little girl does— walking down the aisle next to her father, meeting the love of her life at the altar… all of it seemed so futile after your father passed, you haven’t thought about it as a true reality since then, more of a pipedream.

you didn’t know if you were simply driving yourself insane or if you really were obsessed with mingyu, but every single waking thought you’ve had since saturday was about getting married, knowing you were nowhere near that stage of your life but for some reason… questioning it. maybe even excited for it. 

everything with mingyu has felt meant to be so far… maybe it was.

the entire table looked at you in silence– eight pupils staring into your soul, wondering where the fuck that came from. yunho was quick to shut you down. 

“i don’t even want to ask, tiny.”

“i’m serious! have you even considered what you’d want in a partner? what your wedding would look like?” you were in dreamland, sparkles in your eyes and everything as you stared up at the high ceilings of your kitchen. yeosang and san had brought over dinner, which led to the five of you seated on barstools around your kitchen island in silence, up until now. 

“sexy and rich,” yeosang didn’t even look up, mouth full as he digged deeper into his meal. 

san nodded in agreement– “my wedding will be big enough to make everyone attending jealous, small enough to make others wish they were invited.”

“you’re both shallow,” you grumble, picking at your plate, moving your food around. you glance at your twin, “ace, what about you? do you think reia’s the one?” 

ace lets out a nervous chuckle, one that sounds exactly like yours, “i– uh, maybe. possible.”

you pop a brow, sitting back in your stool, straightening your back. you weren’t the only one that picked up on it, the entire table noticed his shift in energy, the change in tone. yunho asks, “what’s going on?”

ace groans in defeat when there was never an argument to begin with, elbows hitting the granite, palms digging into his eyes. “i think reia’s going to break up with me.” 

“why?” your voice is loud, surprised. you take it down a notch, “what happened?” 

he leans back, moving his hands away from his face and you notice that he looks tired. bags under his eyes, his skin looked dull, his freckles weren’t freckling like they usually did. you blamed it on school and the stress he’d been under– you didn’t think reia had anything to do with it. last time you checked, how ace felt about reia is how you felt about mingyu. 

“she’s been saying shit like how i’m not giving her enough attention, not seeing her enough, all i care about is school and when i’m not doing homework i’m with you guys,” he huffs, his voice sounding weak now that he’s finally admitting it. 

“why doesn’t she come hangout with us?” yeosang asked, but you were sure that’s what you were all thinking. “she’s usually here all the time, and your workload for school hasn’t changed.”

“i guess she’s been feeling this way for awhile,” ace stretched his arms over his head, lifting his eyebrows, expression saying he’s had this conversation already– with her. “we don’t have enough one on one time.”

yunho leans over the counter, palm holding up his baseball cap covered head, “get an airbnb for a weekend, take her somewhere nice, just the two of you. she’s probably feeling underappreciated and overwhelmed with her own schoolwork.” 

“that’s actually a good idea,” ace marvels, a semblance of light returning to his eyes, “you’re so good with girls, bro. incredible how you’re still single.” 

yunho smiles, “incredible how i manage to fight ‘em off me.” 

yeosang rolls his eyes, “can we circle back to why teens is asking about marriage?” 

“no,” the three boys say in unison, all eyes landing on yeosang.

“okay, fine, riddle me this,” yeosang sits a little straighter, index finger pointing to the air in front of him, “tiny, whose never gone on a date before a month ago, shows up to dinner with her prehistoric boyfriend and starts talking about marriage. no one wants to ask any questions?” 

you gasp, “yeosang! he is not—”

“that’s actually a good point,” san shrugs, “we haven’t talked about him yet.”

“how old is he anyways?” yunho asks, both elbows on the table now, long fingers folded over one another on the top of his palms. 

your cheeks flush, near mumbling as you redirect your attention back to the food in front of you, hoping no one notices the warmth on your skin. you were waiting for this question, scared of this question. “thirty.” 

“tiny.” ace’s tone is firm, disappointed even if he only said your name— the underlying message is clear to you. you break your staring contest with your plate to look up to him, there are a million words on his tongue, but he says none of them. 

your face burned in embarrassment, you were scrambling for something to say, small tuts leaving your lips instead. you didn’t know how to defend it, defend him— you were still debating it yourself. they didn’t know this was currently a sensitive topic, that you’d been non stop questioning your relationship with mingyu for almost forty eight hours, worried that it won’t work out because of that very reason. 

san giggles, “we knew you had daddy issues, teens, would’ve never expected you to fuck someone old enough to be one. props to you, actually.” 

your world went silent, the insult flipping a switch within you. your train of thought skipped right past anger to hurt, tears quickly filling your eyes. you fled from the kitchen— two palms flat on the granite countertop pushed you off of your stool, legs racing through your hallway. you only heard yunho scold san with a stern drag of his name as your legs took you to up your bedroom, locking the door behind you. 

that wasn’t the conversation you intended to open by asking that question. you were once again putting your foot in your mouth, regretting sharing your thoughts, it was as if san had that statement locked and loaded–– ready to hit its target. your boys had always said whatever they thought, feelings be damned, you forgot how much it hurt to be on the receiving end. 

it felt like you were younger when they’d tease you relentlessly, only stopping when ace made them. you haven’t felt that way in a long time, their teasing now was lighthearted, and you did it right back— it’s been years since you’ve been in tears in your bedroom over something one of the boys said. 

as you laid on your back, sprawled across your mattress, you began to think, and what san said started to make more and more sense as you thought about it. daddy issues— your tears dried without you noticing. mingyu’s age, his career, his stability, the pet names, how he took care of you already, his dominating nature that ‘only came out with you… you ate up every moment— you loved it, even. 

but it was all because of one thing, and as much as you hated it, san hit it right on the money. 

“teens?” he spoke before he knocked, three rhythmic taps of his knuckles against your door. 

“go away, yunho,” you frown, turning on your side with your back facing the door even if he couldn’t see you. 

“let me in,” he urged, you could see his scowl through the wooden slab that separated you. “i’m sorry for what san said– san is sorry for what he said. please let me talk to you.”

you sighed, you knew he wouldn’t go away, he’d sit there until you opened up whether that be in one hour or six. you got up, unlocking your door, but you didn’t open it. you let him open it himself as he followed you inside your room, you plopped onto your bed lifelessly, your body a dead weight. he followed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, resting a hand on your ankles that laid one over the other. 

“he shouldn’t of said that,” yunho started, “it was fucked up. he crossed a line.” 

“he’s right,” your throat constricted, words fighting their way through. your words become quieter, a strain on your vocal chords, “i thought mingyu was perfect.”

“what did i tell you?” yunho leaned across your legs so he could see your face that was laid on the pillow. you looked down at him as he said, “you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.” 

you blinked, tears returning to you, filling up your waterline. “he does all of those things, he makes me feel that way, and now i’m supposed to be normal when i know the only reason i feel this way about him is because my dad is dead? because matt fucking sucks?”

yunho purses his lips, his body stiffening on top of your legs. “tiny, there’s eight years between you. he’s fooling around with you, it’s not right.”

“i know our age difference already!” your voice raises, “he’s done everything right, yunho. you don’t know him, you didn’t even try to get to know him when he was here, instead you sulked in your bad mood like a child. what was that even about?” 

“don’t get pissed at me because of something san said,” he sits up, his weight lifted from your legs, his eyes looking everywhere but at you as he continues. “i was just in a bad mood saturday, it wasn’t about anything.” 

“you’re lying, jeong yunho. you forget that i know you,” you sit up, too, facing him feet apart on your mattress. he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, he wasn’t expecting you to call him out.

“you’re missing the point,” he sighs, looking down at your mattress, reining in the topic at hand. “i don’t know him, but i don’t need to. eight years of life is longer than you think, he knows a lot more than you, you just started going on dates. you don’t know anything, tiny.” 

“i know enough,” you shake your head, “i know that i like him a lot and that’s enough for me.” 

“so what, you want to be married within the next two years?” he looked back up to you, his face was unreadable, but his voice was firm, truthful. he meant every word he said. “miss out on being in your twenties? miss out on dating? learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things. learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?” 

you blink, “is that why you’re single? experiencing life, dating around, fucking who you please because you can? sounds boring to me.” your words are curt, intended to sting. “i’d much rather learn and experience with someone, grow together as a unit.”

“be realistic, think like you’re twenty two, not like you’re still seventeen,” he bites, sending the sting right back to you. after a moment’s pause, he speaks, his voice soft. “i’m single because i’m waiting.”

“for what?” you ask, eyebrows knitted together, tears still dancing down your cheeks. “how do you know? …what you’re waiting for?” 

“it’s not for what, tiny— it’s for who.”

──────  ꨄ︎

“i have an idea,” chan was smiling ear to ear, you wondered if the two of you would ever pay attention to your lecture again, two weeks in a row spent talking the entire class. “me and my roommates are going to a music festival this weekend, you should come.”

your lips form a line, “chan, if this is about–”

“hear me out!” he interjects, a finger coming up between you, silencing you. you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms as he continues. “i know you’re seeing someone, but this will get jisung off my back and you can get a feel for him without making it an actual thing.”

seeing someone feels sour, you ignore it— “okay, let me hear your plan.”

“it’s a music festival, so it’s not like it’s some private, real date like going to dinner or something. you can bring your friends, i’ll be with mine, we can meet up and it can be a group thing so you have people to hangout with if you aren’t into hanji,” he raises his eyebrows with a smile as he awaited your response, “not bad, right?”

you think about it for a second– it’s not a terrible idea, and you did owe chan for your own date with him. you nod, “when is it?”

“saturday, i’ll text you the link for tickets. me and my three roommates are going, jisung jihoon and jeongin, everybody’s single,” he winks, “they’re all music people.”

“and all of their names start with J,” your eyebrows furrow, “how did you manage that?”

he shrugs, “me and jisung were roommates, jeongin and jihoon were roommates, we got an apartment together sophomore year and it just happened to be that way. i’m the only non-music major and the only one whose name doesn’t start with a J,” he brings his attention to his laptop, pulling up the website for the music festival. 

“it’s all weekend long, you probably don’t want to go all weekend so just come for one day,” he says, pulling up the lineup on the screen. you scan the list and you know several artists, it seems fun, and the idea was well thought out. it wasn’t necessarily a date, but instead a place you would just happen to be at together– you would barely have to talk to jisung if you didn’t want to. 

you didn’t have to tell mingyu, either— not that he’d have an issue if you did. being wednesday now, you haven’t seen him since sunday morning, and since monday night… there was no way he couldn’t tell something was off. where you were usually bubbly on the phone with him, over text, you’d turn monotonous without even realizing. the whole relationship began to feel stale after what san said, after your talk with yunho. you weren’t sure if any of your feelings were legitimate anymore.

chan texts you the link and you immediately send it to your groupchat, telling the boys to clear their schedules and to buy their tickets (you tell san to get one for you, too. he owes you). you were met with no pushback, all of the boys agreeing except ace— he was taking reia away for the weekend, using yunho’s idea. 

“i’m so excited,” chan beams, scrolling through the website, “it’s really cool, we’ve gone every year since we started here. tell your friends that my roommates are single.”

“i’ve never been to a music festival before, just random concerts here and there. you’ll have to show us etiquette,” you snicker when you realize exactly what he’s implying with his roommates— you didn’t think any of your three boys had gotten any in awhile. “i will definitely let them know.” 

as you walked out of class and into the brisk, october air, a certain car stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. sitting idly and illegally was a BMW pulled up beside the curb, closest to the building of your class— completely blacked out, tinted windows with a gold seventeen decal on the back window on the driver’s side… that car belonged to one person and one person only.

he stepped out of his car as soon as you walked out of the building, dressed in all black business casual attire, sunglasses on his face. you bid chan goodbye without as much as a glance, feet drifting toward mingyu so fluidly and without thought you could’ve been floating all over again. maybe he did cast a spell on you.

mingyu stepped around the vehicle to open his passenger side door, greeting you with a smile, “hey, princess.” he kissed you on the head before you slid into the seat, the smell of his cologne and fresh leather hitting your nose as he shut the door behind you. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat, putting the car into reverse. you began feeling awkward, confused, your talk with yunho came to mind again– mingyu’s presence made it too easy to forget all of your worries. 

“don’t sound too excited, i’m taking you to lunch,” he shot you a tight lipped smile as he put his car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“mingyu,” you breathed with a small shake of your head. you hadn’t even gotten all of your thoughts in order, you wanted to wait before you talked to him, you knew it was coming eventually— he did, too. 

“don’t say anything,” he kept his gaze on the road in front of him, the sun shining through his windshield, kissing his soft, golden skin. he let his hand fall to your thigh. “just… let me do this.” 

“okay,” you said, flushing as the weight of his palm hit your skin. electricity shot through you every time you were with him, every time he touched you— it had to mean something. 

or did you just want it to? 

he pulled into the parking lot of a diner, a small one near your campus. you loved diners, you used to go with your family growing up once a week— every sunday morning, stopping shortly after you turned twelve. your blood thrummed in excitement under your skin. 

you sat in a booth, a quietness consuming the two of you, you thought maybe he didn’t know what to say— you definitely didn’t. mingyu broke the silence first. 

“you want to tell me what’s going on?” 

“there’s nothing to tell, nothing going on, i mean,” you barely looked up from your menu when you knew what you wanted to order in the parking lot. how do you tell someone that the only reason you’re interested in them is because you’re wired to? 

he sighed, laying his menu down on the table. the waitress comes and takes your orders, leaving you to silence once again. 

“the only way this is going to work is if you’re honest,” his voice is more serious than it usually is. you have nothing to hold in your hands anymore— it feels like you’re back at that expensive restaurant when mingyu first brought you on an impromptu lunch date. you feel exposed.

you run a hand through your hair, “i don’t know, mingyu.” you pause, then internally said fuck it. “you said you won’t rush anything with me, but what if i’m just holding you back?” 

“how would you be holding me back?” his eyes were full of concern as he leaned forward, arms folding across the table. 

“you’re thirty, ready to get married, start a family,” you shake your head, “i’m not even close to being there yet.” 

“i met you two weeks ago,” a chuckle leaves his lips, trying to relieve the tension brought by your statement, “why is that on your mind?” 

“you shouldn’t be wasting your time, mingyu. you’re fooling around with a twenty two year old,” your own words weren’t leaving your lips— they were yunho’s. 

“fooling around?” his eyes were raised as if you insulted him. “if i was fooling around i wouldn’t have made so much of an effort. wouldn’t have cooked for you, met your family, i would’ve fucked you the day i met you and never spoken to you again.” 

the gears turn in your head, he said it so simply, you knew it was to help put you at ease— it hurt instead. he continues, “i’ve been serious about you since the day you met me for lunch. i like you.” 

“and what happens when you meet someone who’s ready?” you bite, your brain swirling with mingyu’s testimony but also the advice from your twin. “if your ex comes back to this side of the country, if you meet someone who doesn’t have a dead dad, someone actually meant for you.” 

mingyu laughs— the chuckle was not out of amusement, it was dry and venomous and knowing. “there it is.” 

“what?” you ask, shifting in the old leather booth as if you were in the hot seat. 

“they got into your head, didn’t they?” he shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his face, “i knew they didn’t like me, your friends, your brother— you would never say that on your own.” 

“nobody ‘got to me’, mingyu,” you argue, your fingers twisting on the table between you because they did get to you and you know that, but you think they might be right. “how do you know what i would say and wouldn’t say? like you said, we met two weeks ago.”

his face hits his palms as he sighs, they slide over his skin in frustration, “was it yunho?” 

“what?” your back presses against the cushion of the booth, “was what yunho?” 

the waitress brings your food to the table, halting your conversation or argument. a part of you wanted to thank her for cutting you off, you didn’t know if you wanted him to continue— not when yunho was brought into the conversation. he did, though, as soon as she walked away from the table. 

he cut into his meal– “yunho doesn’t like me.”

“he has never once said that, mingyu,” you respond, cutting into your french toast. diners were best for all day breakfast.

“he doesn’t need to,” he was smiling again, not out of happiness, you couldn’t place his emotions based on his face. his words didn’t match it. “game’s game. this whole conversation is ridiculous, can’t you see that?” 

“what are you talking about?” your eyebrows blend together, so furrowed in confusion you were sure you looked animated, “what am i not seeing?” 

“it’s besides the point,” he pays attention to his food again, his tone laced with irritation. “i like you, i’ve been trying to be consistent with showing how much i like you— how much i want to do this the right way.” 

“i understand if you think we can’t be together because of our age, because of your past, things out of your control, but i want you to know that i don’t agree. i don’t think any of that should be used to factor whether we work or not because i think we work really well.” 

“i think we get along really well, too,” you said, sounding like you were the one trying to convince him now – you snapped yourself back into reality, what you felt, what you knew, not the bubble mingyu put you in. “in the long run i… mingyu i don’t know if i’m ready for all of this.”

“all of what?” he was getting frustrated now, furrowed brows and a tight jaw, “i haven’t tried to take this even one step further. are you scared of what it could turn into?”

“yes, it feels real,” you shake your head, “it feels really real.”

“in any other situation that’d be a good thing,” he takes a hand through his hair, sitting back in the booth, “maybe you’re right. too young, i guess.”

regret washes over you like a bucket of cold water, but you don’t falter in your words, reciting them from someone else’s mouth. “eight years is a lot longer than i thought it was, you know more than i do– i just started dating.”

he nods, lips pursed, but he says nothing for a few moments. you stare at him with flushed cheeks, an uneasiness sitting at the pit of your stomach. it was fight or flight, and there’s nowhere to run– literally. 

“finish your meal and i’ll take you back to campus,” you couldn’t read his tone, but it was definitely not happy. 

like you always did with mingyu, whether you wanted to or it was installed in you, you obeyed. you spent the rest of your meal wishing you could say something else, words at the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t find the voice to say. he paid for your meal, a gentleman until the end, and drove you back to campus. 

“before you go, can i just say one thing?” he says as he turns to you, flipping his sunglasses on top of his head. you nod. 

“you don’t have to listen to them,” he says and your mouth parts to speak, but he cuts you off. “you may think they know everything about you because you grew up with them, but they don’t know how you feel. they don’t know my intentions for you, they don’t know how much i like you.”

“i know you’ve been through a lot in your life and they were there for you every step of the way, but i’d treat you so fucking well. i would never pressure you into marriage, or having kids or whatever worries have been put into your pretty little brain. i’d do whatever you wanted– if you wanted to travel, i’d take you on trips, we could explore every little school on the opposite side of the world. if you wanted to open your own damn school, i’d do that with you, i’d help you. i don’t want you to walk away with the idea that i’m not the one for you— we both know this would’ve worked if you let it.” 

jaw slack and eyes filled with tears, you stared at him. you blinked once, twice, then your lips were on his before you could even process that you had moved an inch. 

you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important. 

isn’t that what this is? isn’t this what you’ve been looking for? your brain whirled, mingyu’s tongue licking into your mouth, his huge palms holding your wet cheeks. 

learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things.

tears flowed down your skin, onto mingyu’s fingers, he just kissed you harder. 

learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?

there was only one way this could end– you needed it to end, now, or else you’d never leave his car. you pulled away from mingyu, wide eyed and so fucking confused. you hated yourself in this moment– it felt like being pulled into your living room when mingyu was in your kitchen. being pulled towards comfort and familiarity, when what your future could be was waiting for you, missing you, hoping you’d stay. 

“i’m sorry,” was all you could get out before you were pushing the car door open and racing towards your own.

──────  ꨄ︎

figuring out an outfit for a music festival was hard to begin with, you had too many factors adding onto it that made the task a thousand times worse. you could barely get yourself out of bed this morning for starters, you hopped in the shower half past eleven when you needed to leave at one. because it was late october and most music festivals were held in the summer, even pinterest wasn’t helping you with inspiration. on top of that, having three men in your bedroom without a lick of a feminine fashion sense made it borderline overstimulating, they threw ideas at you while their outside clothes laid all over your unmade bed– it tipped you over the edge. the only good part was that it’s cold outside. 

you went casual– you needed to, you’d be outside for hours and alcohol can only heat you up so much. baggy jeans, a hoodie and an oversized jacket on top, you accessorized with a baseball cap and some sneakers and you were set. a mini purse with nothing but your ID and some lip gloss sat on your shoulder, sunglasses on your face, you’d be warm, comfortable and cute. 

when you walked downstairs to the three boys sitting in your living room, you realized you were all wearing different versions of the same outfit. you copied them without even realizing– naturally, they noticed, and had plenty to say about it. you didn’t care enough to change. 

the drive to the festival wasn’t terrible, little traffic until you got closer to the venue, yunho drove with loud music playing through the speakers and the other two singing along in the backseat. when you arrived, you immediately sent a text to chan letting him know you arrived.

“i want a drink,” you said as soon as you walked through security, yunho on your left and the other two on your right. “who’s paying for it?” 

“why can’t you pay for it? you should buy us drinks,” yeosang huffed, digging his hands further into his pockets. 

“you’re in the clear,” you moved a little closer to yeosang, bumping your shoulder against his. “i didn’t bring money, the other two are responsible for ruining my relationship with mingyu, so they get to buy my drinks all night.” 

san gasps, “i am not responsible–” 

“surfside?” yunho asks, eyes already scanning the area for the nearest bar, not wanting to begin that conversation again. his figure stood over the massive crowd already formed around you, your group definitely did not get there early. 

“yes, please,” a small smile sat on your face as you followed yunho towards the nearest bar, pleased with how quickly he agreed, he bought drinks for the two of you– leaving san and yeosang to fend for themselves. 

san grumbles, “you should buy me a drink for how mean you’ve been.” 

you point your eyes at him and he shrinks under your gaze, voice growing small as he said, “i’ll buy the next round.” 

you walked through the crowd, so many different kinds of people surrounded you. a range of ages, dressed in clothes much more appropriate for a music festival than yours. the energy of the space was so bright, so welcoming, it was beckoning your mood to brighten– you wished you could let it. 

you stayed close to at least one of the three, keeping your eyes peeled under your sunglasses for a blonde boy no taller than five foot eight. he was nowhere to be found, as you assumed since the venue was so massive. you walked up to the first stage, the main stage which was one you wanted to see, a small indie band. you knew some songs, but you wouldn’t know an entire setlist– the show you really wanted to see wasn’t until later. 

being after three and you hadn’t ingested anything other than your morning (afternoon) coffee, the surfside you had taken about four sips of was already going straight to your head. you wore a disinterested look even though the stage was good, the band was putting on a great show, you’ve been miserable since wednesday. you missed mingyu, even if your time together was short– you figured that you might be perpetually stuck between if your choice was right or if you regret it completely. 

“drummer’s hot,” yeosang comes to your side, bumping his shoulder into yours again. 

you shoot him a tight lipped smile, “he’s alright.” 

“bro, cheer up,” he frowns, “if you were normal you’d be drooling over him right now.” 

you roll your eyes, “cheer me up instead of complaining, then.” 

“where’s the whiskey date guy? aren’t we supposed to be meeting up with him?” yeosang asks and you pull out your phone from your pocket, four texts from chan filling your screen. 

chan: UR HERE!!!! chan: wya

chan: hello

chan: were going to the main stage meet us there

already being at the main stage, you typed back a quick response then looked around through your shaded lenses, the blonde nowhere to be found. you nudged yunho’s side, asking him to look for chan instead, he could see a lot better than you could. as he looked out into the crowd farther than your eyes could see, chan found you first. 

“hey!” you heard to your left, a voice that belonged to the one you were searching for. you whipped your head around, a genuine smile surprising you as it filled out your cheeks, waving him over. 

“you found me! i just texted you back,” you said as he wrapped you into a short hug of greeting. 

he stepped back, looking around you, “where are your friends?” 

“here?” you said with eyebrows raised, yeosang, san and yunho coming forward to stand at your sides. “this is san, yeosang and yunho.” 

“oh,” a questioning look grew on his face, then he stepped closer to you, speaking quieter so only you could hear. “when i said bring your friends, i was not expecting a bunch of…dudes?” 

you giggled, “surprised i’m not with a group of girls?”

“for some reason, it explains a lot,” he shrugs and you raise your eyebrows, asking him to explain without verbalizing it. “you aren’t… shy in the way a lot of girls are, i guess, i don’t know, you talk about your relationship problems with me. plus, we’re in the same outfit.”

you look him up and down, realizing he is yet another person you’ve stolen fashion inspiration from. you smack a hand over your mouth, “oh god, you too?” giggles threaten to slip through your palm, before you shrug and say, “i’m one of the guys, i guess.”

“ew,” he physically cringes, “never say that again.”

three guys approached behind chan and you first spot jisung, the one you didn’t meet at chan’s apartment. he looked the same, a mop of brown curls sat atop his head, big, thin frames on his face, a hoodie and baggy jeans on his body. he looked just as cute as the day you first saw him, like a chipmunk you’d spot outside of your living room window on a spring day. 

he wasn’t sexy, he wasn’t massively muscular, he wasn’t six foot three or thirty years old— he wasn’t mingyu. no one could be.

“these are my friends,” chan pointed to each friend as he said, “jisung, jeongin and jihoon.” 

“ah, the J’s!” you introduced yourself to the three of them, your groups quickly merging to create small talk. chan stood close to you, guiding your conversation with his roommates, you talked about the festival, what bands were playing, until you settled into a layer of comfort to speak freely. the surfside was definitely helping. 

you quickly realized the three boys were more reserved, unlike chan– or they were at least not comfortable enough yet to cut through san and yeosang’s voices, who were quickly dominating the conversation with chan. 

“the next band playing is really good,” jihoon finally interrupts, looking around the group with a gaze which didn’t seem shy, instead calculated, like he was waiting for the right moment to speak. he was shorter than everyone, long, black hair laid over his shoulders, you could see the muscles beneath the black tee he wore, nearly masked by the black jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders. he gave the vibe that he had his shit together– clean, healthy, confident. “do you guys want to stay? who are you here to see?” 

“jungle is playing later,” you reply, “on stage B i believe, at eight? i want to see them the most.” 

“TV girl is playing at six,” yeosang cuts in, warm brown hair that’s gotten noticeably longer was falling over his temples now, “still woozy plays in about an hour.”

“you like still woozy?” jeongin asked yeosang, as if hearing jihoon’s voice gave him the confidence to speak up himself. the two were just about the same height, yeosang was maybe an inch taller than jeongin. his face was insane, to say the least– sharp jaw, high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes that curved up ever so slightly at the edges. he was the other one out of the four that resembled an animal in the most gorgeous way, black hair laying across his forehead that made the shadows of his face deepen further. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model, if not a fox turned human– you wondered if he had any interest in you.

“where have you been keeping them?” you say in chan’s ear, leaning closely into his side. chan chuckles, looking down at the ground, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. 

“i keep them locked in their rooms, they’re only allowed out during feeding time,” he jokes, a wide smile on his face, voice turning to a hushed whisper as he says, “stop ogling them, jisung will get jealous.” 

“then jisung should do something about it,” you retort as you bring your gaze back to the group– jisung couldn’t see who you were looking at anyways, you still had your sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose.

“let him get a few more drinks in him, he will,” chan nods nonchalantly as he looks away from you. you rolled your eyes under the shades– you didn’t care either way, but the outright admittance of jisung needing alcohol to talk to you rubbed you the wrong way. 

your group travels to another stage, watching a different group play while waiting for still woozy to start their performance. jisung trailed behind the group with jihoon, the two seemed to be a pair so far, then yeosang, san and jeongin had split off to the side. you walked between yunho and chan, three quarters of your surfside had already heated you up enough to where the bite of the air was more of a light nibble on your cheeks. 

“i need another,” you said in san’s direction, wiggling your can that had little liquid left in it. 

san frowns, “already?” 

you threw the last bit of liquid back, swallowing it quickly, and handed it to san. “yes, please.”

he grabs the can from your hands and turns to the group, wearing a look of irritation even if he doesn't care at all– he’ll let the act go on for as long as he deems necessary. drama queen. “anyone else need another?” 

chan and his roommates hadn’t gotten drinks yet, and yeosang needed a refill– leaving you alone with yunho, where you stood watching the random band playing on the stage. 

“the curly headed one is interested in you,” yunho comments without looking at you, voice flat as he brings his beer to his lips to take a sip. it should catch you off guard how quickly he noticed without you and jisung having any interactions so far, but you were done with being inside yunho’s head. 

you let out a sound of amusement instead, “and?” 

“just letting you know,” he looks down at you, “it seems you know already.” 

you shoot him a pointed look before turning back to the stage, the two of you falling into silence. your stomach grows warm, the drink you’d already chugged down had begun fulfilling its purpose– warming you up first and foremost, helping you forget how miserable you’d become second. 

“i don’t know what to say to you to make things better,” yunho admits, keeping his focus on the band. his mouth twists to one side, discomfort sitting on his features, you two hadn’t really spoken since wednesday. 

you came home the day you ended things with mingyu in tears, anger replacing every atom in your body as if you’d become a pot overflowing with boiling water– you lost it, all of your feelings were directed at both san and yunho. they were sitting on the couches in your living room, completely blindsided when you decided they alone were responsible for how your relationship with mingyu ended. both boys had fought you on it.

ace didn’t have it in him to mediate your argument, he had his own relationship issues to work through, instead he and yeosang watched the three of you yell at each other for minutes until you fully broke down. not once did either of them tell you to make up with mingyu, to reconsider their words, but instead they consoled you for the two week long relationship you were clearly grieving– it pissed you off even more.

after you had time to process the argument, you realized all you wanted was their approval– you wanted them to tell you to get back with him, you wanted them to like him as much as you did, as much as you do. for three days now you've been sitting with your anger, only giving curt responses around your house, spending most of your time in your bedroom, you considered not even coming today. 

you needed to get out– you needed a boyfriend before thanksgiving. 

“there’s nothing for you to say,” you shrug, then cross your arms over your chest. “even if i reached out to him now, i don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything other than an immature twenty two year old. it’s done.” 

he sips his beer again. “you are an immature twenty two year old.” you snap your gaze up at him, ready to bite back, but he continues. “that’s what you’re supposed to be, this is how it should be.” 

a dry laugh escapes you, one that lets him know there was nothing funny at all. “how it should be? at a music festival waiting for a guy to get the balls to speak to me?” 

he speaks through an exhale, “at least this guy is your age, tiny.”

you step to the side, giving yourself space from him, not wanting to slip into a fit of anger and ruin the day for everyone, you know you will if you continue the conversation. your mind whirls as you keep your gaze locked on the stage, not hearing one beat of the drum nor a single strum of the guitar, ears ringing as you try to calm yourself down. 

“i’m sorry,” he says as he steps closer, his voice quiet, only for your ears. “i didn’t think you’d be this hurt, i guess.”

“i came home bawling my eyes out and screamed at you,” you said, baffled, not fully believing him. you hadn’t argued over anything more serious than what you were having for dinner in years. “you didn’t think it hurt?” 

“i’ll stop meddling,” he pulls his lips together, forming a tight line. you see the group of boys returning to where you stood from behind yunho, drinks in tow, you turn to face the stage again. 

“you won’t have the chance to meddle again, i learned my lesson for good,” you say flatly, and he sighs. the sigh was both long and loud, he was truly defeated– he didn’t know how to handle you. you couldn’t comprehend why he felt the need to in the first place. 

“we should head to stage C,” chan says as soon as he returns, san right on his tail to hand you your drink. you were grateful yunho didn’t have the time to continue the conversation. you slap a smile on your face and thank him for the drink before asking chan who’s playing at stage C. 

chan smirks, “weezer.” 

“oh, brother,” you laugh, “let’s go.” 

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if you were starting to have a good time, but the time you spent watching weezer while you waited for still woozy to come on seemed to break up the dark cloud looming above you. chan stayed close, he was bleeding positive energy that you didn’t know if he was pushing onto you on purpose, or if it was just him. either way, the smile that sat on your face became more and more genuine, less forced as time went by. 

by the time you made it to still woozy’s set, you were past the level of comfortably warm and leaning towards hot. you stopped at the bar again after weezer, you were just tipsy enough to buy all eight of you a round of shots– the plan was not to get drunk, but that seemed to be the direction the day was going in, who were you to stop it? 

just before the set began, jeongin and yeosang had pulled your group by the wrists to fight through the crowd and get as close to the front as you could. you let yunho and san guide you into the mass of people, two walls of muscle and height to give you a path, the crowd didn’t bother you one bit. your smile was more than genuine now, you couldn’t wipe it off your face– this was a music festival, seeing bands you never would’ve thought of buying tickets for, a group of people gathered in one place that enjoyed the same music as you. you were already thinking of going to more. 

swaying side to side, singing a song you’d heard on repeat in yeosang’s car at the top of your lungs, you almost didn’t catch the eyes that couldn’t leave you. attached to a mop of curly brown hair, behind massive lenses, a gaze of chocolate brown accompanied by a small smile seemed entranced by you. you smiled back when you noticed, then turned your head back to the band– jisung took that as an invitation. 

walking up beside you, jisung didn’t say anything at first. his head nodded along to the song, curls bouncing across his forehead, fingers wrapped around a plastic cup. with a stomach full of vodka, you were almost excited– you wanted to encourage him, give him the confidence, tell him to say something. 

but you didn’t– and jisung still said nothing after the entire song. 

after the song ended, there was a moment of silence amongst the crowd, the inbetween waiting for the next song to play. you glanced around for your friends– yeosang and jeongin were mid conversation, yeosang’s body leaned into jeongin’s but not quite touching, his body language saying you weren’t the only one who found jeongin attractive. damn. 

yunho and jihoon stood behind everyone, the height difference between the two almost made you giggle, where san and chan stood next to them. the four weren’t speaking, but holding their drinks and watching the performance instead, all shooting you a warm look when you caught their eyes. 

you turned to jisung, “can you do me a favor?” he nodded, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “can you hold my drink while i take my jacket off, please?” 

he nodded again and you handed him your can, slightly struggling to get your jacket off over your sleeves. when you got it off, you threw it over your forearm, and jisung handed you your can back. 

“do you, uh– want me to hold your jacket?” he asked, his eyes wide and sparkling– his tone seemed unsure of his own words, but he still said them. 

“no, no, don’t worry about it,” you beamed, “thank you.”

as the next song started to play, a few strums of the guitar woke up the crowd, screams erupting around you. one of the screams had come from yeosang, who had his hands shaped in an oval around his mouth, making his yell that much louder.

you giggled and turned back to jisung who was also smiling in yeosang’s direction, “he really likes still woozy.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” he says sarcastically, his smile never dropping. “you seem to like them, too.” 

“i do, but not as much as yeo. he should be up at the barricade,” you point your chin in the direction of the front of the stage. 

“i think jeongin should go with him,” jisung shrugs, “they seem to be a pair.”

“by the end of the night someone will have to rip yeo off of him,” you joke, and jisung laughs. a soft chuckle, but you sense a wall come down, another shred of confidence popping through his reserved demeanor. you smile. 

“what about you?” jisung asks, eyes still moon-shaped, as if he was scared to ask the question. 

your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, “what about me?”

“chan said you had a boyfriend, he isn't here?” jisung’s lips form a line as if he was scared to hear the answer, your face immediately mimics his, but for an entirely different reason. you didn’t think jisung knew about mingyu, unless chan filled him in and didn’t tell you. you hadn’t filled chan in on the recent developments concerning mingyu, either. 

“i don’t have a boyfriend, i’m not seeing anyone,” you shake your head and turn to the stage. jisung felt the shift in mood, stepping forward, into your view. 

“sorry if i overstepped,” he shook his head, “chan said–”

“chan didn’t know, doesn’t know, you're fine,” you give him a weak smile, and the conversation runs flat. you took the last swig of your surfside– you needed this feeling gone, as if mingyu never happened in the first place. 

“do you want another drink?” jisung asks as soon as the can leaves your lips, “my treat.” 

you give him a singular nod, and before you could process it, jisung was leading you through the pack of people. you didn’t tell a soul where you were going, you walked right through the wall of boys as if they were waiting for you to run off with jisung. where the crowd was more condensed, jisung took a pause, making you stop in your tracks behind him. 

“gimme this,” he muttered as he grabbed your jacket and your empty can, then took your hand with his free one. “stay close to me.” 

your cheeks flushed as you nodded, the heat that was already consuming your entire being only grew in temperature. maybe he’s the type that’s only shy at first. your eyes stayed trained on your linked fingers, his hands were soft, calluses on the tips of his fingers that laid over your knuckles. 

“do you play guitar?” you asked as you made it to the outskirts of the crowd, jisung took a pause that had you flipping his hand over, inspecting the tougher skin atop his fingers. 

“uh— yes,” you glance up, his cheeks pink, the ends of his curls lying along the frames of his glasses. “i make music, i’m studying composing, songwriting, all that stuff.” 

“chan told me,” you smile as you let his fingers go, nearing the feeling of cuteness aggression the more you look at him. all you could muster was a breathy “that’s cool”.

his smile grew and he tugged on your hand again, rough fingertips laid on your knuckles once more as he pulled you towards the bar. behind it was a man who you, at first, couldn’t believe was a bartender— black hair that touched his broad shoulders, a slender figure with a muscular structure that seemed too curated for bartending to be his career. a black long sleeve shirt clung to every inch of him, baggy jeans that hung loose on his hips, an outfit you’d definitely be taking inspiration from. 

his face was nothing short of beautiful, plump lips, a white smile that sparkled when he asked what you’d be drinking. 

jisung turned to you with an eyebrow raised, a questioning look. you cleared your throat, “a surfside, please.” 

“miller, please,” jisung nodded towards him and the bartender shot you another smile before he was opening your cans. you were mesmerized as he grabbed the bar key with nimble fingers, cracking the tab with practiced movements, a speed that told you maybe this was his full time career. 

jisung paid as promised and you took your time making it back to stage C happily with small talk and a lazy stride, choosing to hang at the back of the crowd instead of fighting towards the middle where you stood before. 

jisung’s presence had enveloped your mind quicker than you thought it would, once you broke the ice it was easier to talk to him, speaking as freely as you would with someone who’d been your friend way longer than just a day. you didn’t talk of anything personal, not school, your family, your friends, your interests, your intentions, but instead small talk that came too easily, standing close while you swayed to goodie bag. 

it was comfortable— it wasn’t forced, it wasn’t staged, it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t even obvious that jisung was interested in you, there were no pickup lines, no quick-witted flirting, yet you knew and you might even like it. maybe what you need right now is simplicity. 

when your friends came out of the crowd in laughter and giddy smiles, you felt lighter, the energy around you felt brighter, the air felt clearer, you almost forgot you walked into the venue miserable. with TV girl playing shortly at another stage, there was no time to stand and talk, you and jisung quickly slipped into the crowd of your friend group mid-conversation as if you never ran off in the first place. 

“what’s your guys’ favorite song?” yeosang asked the group, bouncing on his feet as you approached the already formed crowd, jeongin at his side. 

“the whole french exit album,” you were first to answer. “birds don’t sing, louise, lover’s rock, the blonde.” 

“tiny’s a romantic,” you heard san announce, and it brings a smile to your face— whether it was sarcasm or a dig you didn’t care, maybe now you were a romantic. “i only know lover’s rock.” 

“tiny?” jisung asks, turning to you, an eyebrow raised. “that’s you?” 

“unfortunately,” you nod, “been tiny since the womb, practically.” 

“fitting,” jisung smacks his lips together and flattens his brows in contemplation then quickly to understanding— you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. 

jihoon turns to chan, “you listen to TV girl a lot, right?” 

chan nods towards him, “you should know more than lover’s rock, i play their music all the time at home. better in the dark?” he glances around to empty stares, he raises his eyebrows with expectancy and sings, “the lighter makes a spark, but i look better in the dark.” 

jisung, jihoon and jeongin all simultaneously release a dragged out “oh” in remembrance, and chan rolls his eyes. he turns to you, “they don’t remember shit. too much weed, they smoke.” 

you giggle, then tilt your head to the side, an idea coming to mind. “did anyone bring any?” 

jihoon shoots you a lazy smile, “of course i did, you smoke?” 

you shake your head, “not particularly, but i’m down to.” 

jihoon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet, several joints tucked into one of the folds. he plucks one out, wasting no time as he holds it between his fingers, your group tightens its circle around jihoon as if he was holding gold. 

yunho eyed you from the opposite side of the circle, where you were standing between chan and jisung, he was between san and jihoon. his eyes were observing, debating, a pointed look that forced you to notice it. you shrugged him off, smoking at a music festival just felt right— you didn’t want or need him to parent you, even if you had been drinking already. 

jihoon was quick to light the twisted end of the joint, the red hot flame of his black lighter was enough to color all of your faces an amber hue. you stood like kids, huddled around jihoon like he had a secret to tell, where he took three puffs of the joint to get it burning. your eyes widened as you watched his technique, how he blew on the end of the joint to keep it burning evenly, pink lips tightened to a perfect O shape– a gorgeous sight. 

the circle opens up as you begin passing, a sweet melody in your ear and a pungent smell in your nose, forcing your body into moving to the beat. jisung, beside you, sways his hips in the same motion as yours, a fit of giggles erupting from your lungs as you move in unison. too focused on jisung, you didn’t realize chan was holding the joint out to you. 

you inhaled slowly, you hadn’t smoked since the last time you were at the frats, that had been months ago. you knew the basics, you kept your hits of the joint small, especially since you had a few drinks in you, you were never really a smoker. socially, in the kitchen of a massive frat house, or on the balcony of the only person you consistently hooked up with at school, that only lasted just shy of a month.  

the burn in your lungs and the cough that fought to break through your lips felt nostalgic, you felt so light you could float up to the clouded night sky. immediately immersed into a sense of calm, like stepping into a bath of warm water, you smiled as you passed the joint to jisung. every bone in your body told you you needed that. 

your ears perked to the conversation happening around you, yeosang, san and jeongin in some sort of debate, the joint had made its way to yunho by now. you could feel everything slow down, your eyes hooding, sitting at half mast just from two hits. 

“ah,” jisung tilts his head back in delight, “that strain fucks, hoon.” you couldn’t stop the small giggle from leaving you at fucks.

jihoon smiles, confident as ever, “right?” he looks around the group before he adds, “i grew it myself.” 

san’s jaw drops as he takes the joint from yunho, “you grow it?” 

“right in my backyard,” jihoon nods, “it’s better that way.” 

you check out of the conversation, your focus back on the crowd, not a thought in your brain, yet instead paying attention to the hues of blue and pink that lay over the crowd like blankets. you could see backs of heads and nothing more, shaded eyes not quite reaching the stage, but the light show that cascaded over the mass of people was enough. 

you almost didn’t notice the presence next to you, you hadn’t even realized you moved, as jisung planted his feet directly next to yours, your neck nearly snapped up in surprise. 

“so pretty,” he says, eyes glazed over as they stared out into the crowd, his thoughts probably matched yours. 

“the lights?” you asked, flipping your sunglasses atop your head so you could see clearer.

“you mainly,” he looks down to you and you meet his eyes, not missing the pink that kissed his cheeks, “but yeah, i guess the lights, too.” 

your own cheeks flush– this was the first he was showing interest. you smile through a giggle, “that was smooth, jisung.”

“wanna get closer?” he asks you, reaching for your hand again before you had a moment to answer. 

as he pulled you along, you asked, “are you sure you don’t want to keep smoking?” 

he looks over his shoulder and it nearly takes your breath away, he’s so cute you think you’d follow him around all night, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. as if he’d go anywhere with you, as if he didn’t care about anything else, you saw his feelings in his eyes. he was into you. he smiles, “do you?”

“let’s go,” you nod your head and pull your sunglasses over your eyes again, headed behind jisung into the crowd that was packed like sardines. mumbles of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ left him as he cut through people, keeping you close to him with a firm grip on your hand, you could feel the calluses on your knuckles so much more. 

when you made it somewhat towards the middle, a pocket of space amongst the crowd, jisung finally stopped and turned to you for approval. you put your sunglasses atop your head again, tucking your hair behind your ears, your view was so much better now. 

the music was louder, the lights were clearer, now it was just you and jisung– you weren’t sure if you were at the festival anymore or if you were up in the clouds. the only thing that could make this better would be if you could actually see the stage. you wish yunho had followed you.

as if he heard your thoughts, jisung’s voice was loud when he asked, “can you see?” 

you shook your head, “the lights are so pretty, it doesn’t even matter.” 

“you're going to think i’m crazy, don’t think i'm crazy,” he prefaces, bracing himself for rejection with a shy smile, “do you want to get on my shoulders?” 

you laugh in disbelief, loudly, looking at him with wide eyes and jaw slack. he raises his eyebrows, “you’re tiny, right?”

“i am tiny but not like that,” you wave your free hand in front of you, “i don’t want to hurt you.” 

he rolls his eyes with a cocky smile, “if you could see what was under the hoodie you wouldn’t be saying that.” 

your eyes widen impossibly further, that was the last thing you expected to leave his lips. a smirk appears on your own, “oh, now you’re confident, huh?” 

“is it working?” 

“maybe.” 

“then get on,” he squats down, your jacket still folded over his forearm but he’s careful not to let it touch the ground. you suck in a breath– this could go one of two ways, especially since you both drank and smoked, either you’ll have an incredible view or everyone will watch you fall to the dirt. 

fuck it. 

you swing a denim covered leg around his neck, slightly hopping up to straddle his nape. you giggle as you do, the action was almost sobering, the amount of focus it took you to balance. as he stood up your hands flew to his curls, the only thing you could think to grab onto to steady yourself, a slew of apologies leaving your lips after you accidentally tugged. 

“jisung!” you yelled, “i didn’t know what else to grab.” 

you could hear the shake of his shoulders as he laughed beneath your thighs, “i could make a terrible joke right now, but i’m not going to.” 

it takes you a moment to catch on, but when you do, you laugh. “nothing but a man.” 

“a man that has you on his shoulders,” he bites back, “enjoy the show.” 

you finally looked up and the stage was finally clear– shrouded in blue light, the members visible, the music so loud– it was nothing short of exhilarating. the thought crosses your mind that maybe this was what yunho was talking about, being in your twenties and experiencing, you don’t know if you would have ever made it onto mingyu’s shoulders in the crowd of a TV girl concert. you guess you’ll never know, and for the first time since wednesday, the thought didn’t fill you with dread - you supposed you have vodka and weed to thank.

instead you screamed– an excited scream, for the band, for the show, for how fucking good their music is. definitely high, more than a little drunk and nearly seven feet in the air, you were positive your night couldn’t get any better. there was nothing better than this. 

“hey!” you heard from beneath you, stealing your attention fully. jisung turns to the side, which turns you to the side, your entire friend group beneath you with wide grins and red, glossed over eyes. 

“hey guys!” you yelled back, your smile reaching ear to ear, “i’m up here!”

“we see you,” yeosang is smiling, “how’s the view?”

“incredible,” you’re gleaming, “this is so fucking cool!” 

san, yeosang and yunho all watch you with soft eyes, warmth in their bodies, you could read their emotions from their faces— superpowers only granted to those who have been friends for two decades. the other three boys stared at you with something like surprise on their faces, for that you could only guess what for, and you didn’t have the brain power to think that deeply about anything right now. you caught chan and yunho locking eyes, yunho shooting chan a dry nod as if to say ‘i told you so’.

you cocked your head to the side for a moment before the thought was gone. you take a sip from your surfside, this one going down much slower than the last ones, and ask the group, “do we have any more weed?” 

“i don’t think you need any more,” san says through an amused smile, with a small shake of his head. he was done being a drama queen. “you’ll fall off the boy’s shoulders.”

“yunho’s here,” you shrug, “he’ll catch me. did you guys know yunho is actually spiderman?” a fit of giggles slips through your lips, your head falling back in laughter. it throws your balance off, making jisung take a step back, and the whole six of them lunge forward. you grab onto jisung’s curls again, stabilizing yourself, “whoa, sorry, i’m getting too comfortable up here.” 

“you should get down,” yunho says with concern as the group walks forward, making something like a crowd around you and jisung without it being obvious it’s to catch you if you fall. “you’re fucked up, teens, you’ll fall.” 

“boo,” you frown, throwing a thumbs down in yunho’s direction. “i like it up here. did you forget you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore?” 

yunho’s jaw tightens, his eyebrows flattening. he chooses not to answer, instead yeosang steps in, saying your actual name in a warning tone. 

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded, “i just wanna watch the show.” 

you bring your attention back to the stage, one hand in jisung’s hair, mindlessly twirling chocolate covered curls around your finger as the other hand brings your surfside back to your lips. you missed the way yeosang, san and yunho shared a look, how the three of them began to realize where tonight was headed, none of them looking forward to it. 

when TV girl’s set ended you were back on the ground, staying close to jisung’s side as you walked toward stage B, excitement flooding you that jungle was next. 

“i can’t wait,” you bounced next to jisung, a wide smile on your face, “do you like jungle?” 

“love jungle,” he nodded, “back on 74? banger.” 

“my favorite is i’ve been in love,” you beam, “i know every word, i think there was a three day period where all i listened to was that song.”

“three days of one song?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows and eyes that looked like the moon hung above you, full and bright, “i would lose my mind.” 

“we listen to music differently, though,” you counter, “i bet you hear a bunch of stuff i don’t. how it’s made, background stuff, lyrics, i just like it when a song sounds good.” 

he smiles, “music’s heard differently by everyone, that’s the cool thing about it. i couldn’t live without it.” 

you groan, “a world without music?” you emphasized your words dramatically, hopefully to humor the boy who knew more about music than you ever would, “that’s called hell.” 

he laughs loudly, hunching forward a bit to catch his mouth with his hand, “i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” 

“i’m serious!” you laugh too, accidentally stepping over your foot and bumping into his side, “sorry. but i am serious, i couldn’t live in a world where music didn’t exist.” 

you step into the line for the bar without even thinking or discussing that you would, you didn’t know where everyone else had gone. something about the food trucks by the main entrance. 

“have you been friends with them for a long time?” jisung asks, moving in front of you, and your eyes glaze over his figure. his clothes fit him so nicely, his hoodie perfectly oversized, jeans lying over the laces of his sneakers at just the right spot. “you seem like you’ve been friends forever.” 

“ever since i can remember, they’ve been in my life,” you nod with a smile, head tilting to the side. your eyes felt heavy. “they’re my brothers, basically.” 

“i only have one older brother,” his lips form a tight smile, “must be nice to have three.”

“four,” you correct him, stepping forward in line, “i have an actual brother, he’s my twin.”

“and you’re all friends?”

“our parents are close friends, so naturally we are, too,” you nod. wanting to change the subject, with a devilish smile you ask, “should we get shots?”

jisung lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, “can you handle shots?” 

“i fear i might need shots,” you say through a breath, you felt like you were slowing down. if you slowed down any further, the sadness would creep back in. “i’ll get this round.” 

he looks at you inquisitively, like he wanted to ask but didn’t know if he should. instead he waves you off and says, “nah, i’ll get them, if you need one so badly.”

you smile and lightly slap his bicep, “now you’re making me sound like an alcoholic, it’s just been a tough week.” 

he nods as you step forward again, one group in front of you in line. “i can understand that, this is good timing, then. the festival, and me.” 

your head snaps up to look at him like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling over your words, “no– i–”

“don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head, “let’s just have fun.” 

you take a second to close your mouth, and nod with a weak smile. he orders you tequila shots and hard liquor drinks this time– go big or go home, his words. as you sipped through a tiny straw on your way back to stage B, you realized he was right, shots and a drink drink were much needed– go big or go home, indeed. your brain was even foggier as you approached the dark stage, jungle wasn’t playing just yet, but you could see small shadows of people setting up the stage from the back of the crowd. 

“should we go up there?” you ask jisung, referring to the crowd, slurring your words ever so slightly. 

the corner of his lips lifted up into a smile, his eyes glossed over just like your own, he’s keeping up with you. “i think we should definitely go up there.”

fingers linked again, pressing through bodies in the crowd, the rest of your friends weren’t a thought in your brain. a wide smile on your face, all you could think was jisung and jungle. he was the perfect person to rip you out of whatever funk you were in. 

jisung got you both closer than you’d been the entire time you were at the festival, it was condensed but not as packed as the first twenty rows of people– you still had wiggle room. he tugged on your hand to bring you even closer to the stage, but you didn’t feel like being a sardine, you had pulled his back to keep you both in the spot you deemed perfect. he’d pulled his phone out to take a picture of the stage, most likely to send to one of his friends to let them know where you were, but you kept your phone in your purse, selfishly hoping they wouldn’t find you. you just wanted to be, here with jisung, watching the show together. 

as the lights came on, screams erupted from around you, also from you and jisung. the crowd collapsed inward, pushing you into the people in front of you– a meek yelp left your lips as people behind you pushed into you. jisung was quick to grab your wrist and pull you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your front over your shoulders, laying one wrist over another in front of you. 

you tilt your head up, fear still lingering in your eyes from almost getting crushed, “thank you.” 

he gave you a tight lipped smile and you swooned. his hoodie was so soft, so warm, his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. your back pressed to his front, your head laid back on his chest right under his chin, your fuzzy brain wouldn’t let you stop smiling. jungle opened with back on 74 and both you and jisung sang along with the rest of the crowd, swaying side to side, your heads tilted upward to watch the stage. 

you weren’t careful of how much you leaned into him, you couldn’t, that power left you a drink and a shot ago. you completely relied on jisung’s strength to keep you held up as you relinquished the little core strength you had, your fingers on one hand gripping your jacket laid on his forearm, the other holding your drink. his body was sturdy, strong, it felt good pressed against you. your lips stretched to one side, the alcohol was hitting you more than you thought it would– from how often you’d been getting laid, you’d worked up something like a routine with your body, and here jisung was. 

“you comfortable?” he asked in your ear, deep voice sending vibrations through your entire body. 

you answered with a mhm that came deep in your soul, you were more than comfortable– you wanted him. 

your mind travelled as jungle played through their setlist, three songs deep now, you began to wonder if jisung wanted you, too. you tested the waters, pressing your back into him a little harder, but he stayed solid. you rolled your head to the side, let your fingers travel up and down his cotton clad arm, humming along to the song playing. 

his hands finally moved, fingers traveling down to your waist, to your hips, moving with you. a smile grew on your lips as you kept swaying to the music, body still pressed against him– you should be embarrassed with the amount of people around you, they could be watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips were moving on jisung. the thought was fleeting, you didn’t care– jisung, wanted you, too, that’s all that mattered. 

jisung and jungle.

his head came down to reach your ear again, “you know what you’re doing, right?” 

you smiled, an innocent one that he couldn’t see, “you said let’s have fun.” 

he laughed from behind you, a quick chuckle that had your neck bending to look up at him. his smile was intoxicating if you weren’t already, his lips so pink and plump, you wondered what they tasted like. he caught your eyes, seeming like he could read your mind, but he caught your eyes as they dipped down to his mouth and back up at his own. that only meant one thing.

something unreadable crossed his face before he was leaning down, attaching his lips to yours. his speed took you by surprise, as if he mentally said fuck it, but you were even quicker to reciprocate. opening your mouth ever so slightly you deepened the kiss, warmth spreading across your body, momentarily giving you reprieve before the awkward angle and the urge to have more of him consumed you. 

your drink fell to the dirt before your hands came up to cup his cheeks, body completely turning to face him so that your front pressed to his instead. his hands came to your hips again, planted firmly against your jeans, the tips of cold pinkies slipping underneath your hoodie, the chill of his fingers making you shiver. 

it was electric– it was exactly what you needed. your favorite band playing in the background, kissing a boy you’d only met today, this is what yunho was talking about. this was being twenty two, living, experiencing, doing things for the fuck of it… you were starting to hate when he was right. 

“hey,” he said between kisses, making you pull away, catching your breath. a hand came up to wipe at your wet bottom lip as he pressed his curl covered forehead against yours, your breaths still coming out uneven. his eyes were darker, even more glazed over, you wondered how that was even possible. he smiled, that same smile that just did you in moments prior, “i like you.” 

you didn’t miss a beat as you said, “then keep kissing me,” and found his lips again. 

he took a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head back, tongue slipping through your lips. you moaned, not a care in the world for the people around you. you would’ve asked him to take you in a port a potty if you weren’t interrupted a moment after. 

“damn,” you wouldn’t have bat an eye if it didn’t come from a voice you recognized. chan was giggling as he got closer to you, “i don’t know how we even recognized you, if you got any closer you might’ve merged into one.” 

you literally jumped, cheeks flushing as if you were a child getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. chan wore the widest smirk on his red cheeks and you couldn’t help but scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. a grumble left your lips, “cockblocker.” 

following him were the rest of the boys one by one, slipping through spaces in the crowd to take their places around you as if they’d been searching for you. out of breath, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you and jisung took a step closer to one another again. you caught his eye, he wore the same look you did– horny, frustrated, disappointed. 

after your shared look you bit your lip out of annoyance, then your eyebrows shot to your hairline as you brought your empty palms out in front of you. you looked up to jisung, “where did my drink go?!”

jisung threw his head back in laughter before he pointed to the ground, your now empty cup crushed and covered in dirt. you pouted, “i dropped it?” 

“you don’t even remember?” he was still giggling, hand covering his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

“here,” chan said, pushing his cup into your hand– whiskey, neat. you stared at the cup in your hand, face immediately falling, eyebrows furrowing and not because you didn’t like whiskey. you looked back up to chan and his eyes widened, hand lurching forward to grab it from your hands. “my bad, i’m sorry, ohmygod.”

another drink replaced its spot in your hand, a surfside, freshly cracked, still cold. you looked up to yunho in front of you, the one who put it in your hands, and he gave you a warm smile. “better, right?” 

“much, thank you,” a smile replaced your frown as you took a sip, body whipping around to watch jungle again. a heavy hand rested on your shoulder, yunho standing directly behind you. 

he bent down to your ear, much like how jisung did minutes ago, his voice lowered as he said, “pretend we’re not even here.” 

you thanked him with your eyes, body moving before you could process it, skipping to your spot in front of jisung again, where he immediately laid his arms over your shoulders. you hung your head forward, looking around for your group, jeongin and yeosang were holding hands now, san and chan standing too close for that to be nothing, yunho and jihoon silently watching the band. 

you smiled to yourself– despite being annoyed by their interruption, chan damn near pulling you off of jisung, you liked this. you liked chan’s friends being with yours, a blend of people you never would’ve expected hanging out, and enjoying it on top of it all. you wouldn’t mind if you did this more. 

as the familiar tune of i’ve been in love reverberates throughout the crowd, you gasp. “jisung!” you exclaim, your smile massive as you look up at him, “they’re playing it!” 

he beams, eyes full of warmth as he looks down at you, “they knew you were here.” 

you start rapping along, head leaning back onto jisung’s chest. to your surprise, he raps along with you, the two of you going word for word with the band. you looked up to him with shock written all over your face, the two of you getting louder as realization set in, as the song continued. you couldn’t help the stupid smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face, not that you tried– not that you even wanted to try. 

as the song nears its end, you thought over yunho’s words again. pretend we’re not even here.

if they weren’t here, you never would’ve stopped kissing jisung– you already missed his lips on yours. you tilted your head up, doe eyes to doe eyes, jisung was already staring back down at you. you smiled as you glanced down to his lips, a question on your own, one you didn’t have to ask because he wanted it, too. 

warm and soft, already slick with his spit, you could focus on how he felt this time instead of your drunken need overpowering your senses. with newfound clarity, the outcome was just as damning, getting lost in jisung’s lips was just as easy as the first time. keeping a loose hold on your can, you swung your body to face him without breaking the kiss, your other arm wrapping around his shoulder. 

“you’re so hot,” he mumbles into your lips, hands traveling up to your waist, beneath your hoodie. a chill racked through you as a soft noise left your lips, too gone to answer, too lost in the way he made you feel, the temperature of his fingertips against your skin. 

“leave with us, stay over tonight,” a statement that was also a question, jisung’s voice was heavy, a depth to it told you he needed you just as bad. 

“maybe,” you kissed him again, your voice airy, not here nor there. your surroundings had left you— it was only you and jisung in that moment, that’s all you cared about. you couldn’t think about after, you couldn’t think about mere minutes from now, all you could think was how you never wanted his lips to leave yours. 

you missed how yunho watched from his peripherals, how his eyebrows flattened, how his lips formed to a thin line. he couldn’t focus on the band in front of him, he knew you loved them, which made him love them, too, yet you weren’t even paying attention. yunho was dumbfounded— with you, with himself, with his own emotions— he didn’t know what to do. 

after decades of knowing you, his bright eyed, favorite girl, he didn’t think there was this much of you left to figure out. he’s watched you grow up, he himself grew up alongside you, he’s seen you through every phase, every change, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this one. 

random hookups throughout high school, college, none of that actually mattered— you already consumed his mind day and night, but after you started dating, he picked himself apart piece by piece, hoping to realize what you didn’t see in him. 

yunho looked to his left, yeosang was kissing jeongin now. that didn’t take him by surprise. 

yunho looked to his right, san was looking at chan with a hunger yunho had never seen in his eyes before. that should've been more surprising than it was. 

in front of the two boys were you and jisung, that made yunho want to crawl out of his skin. he saw you kissing him moments prior, he even told you to do so in other words, for a moment yunho thought maybe he was a masochist. a glutton for pain, for torture, whatever this feeling was as he stared at you, eyes closed, fingers tangled in that boy’s hair. 

yunho had to let go. he’d already fucked up, he’d already let too many of his feelings slip through the reins of his self restraint, he’s already endured you screaming in his face once, he’d die before he hurt you enough to do it again. he told himself this is just another phase, another change, you’ll come out of it smarter, more experienced, different. he can’t help but be a little scared that you’ll actually succeed in finding a boyfriend. 

as your face detaches from jisung’s to take a breather, yunho can see your glazed over eyes, your expression that read all of nothing, you’d been drinking for hours now without a morsel of food in your stomach. he’s seen you drunk, hammered, hurled over a toilet for hours on end— but you looked happy, which you haven’t in days, yunho didn’t want to interrupt but he didn’t want you throwing up in the dirt, either. 

yunho was at a crossroads. as jungle wrapped up their set and you unwrapped yourself from jisung’s embrace, your face changed, the knit of your eyebrow told him something wasn’t right. he was quick on his feet, two long strides had him at your side, asking you what’s wrong. 

“i dunno,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, your free hand coming up to your face, cold palm pressed against your hot cheek. even through your mask of inebriation, he knew that look, he could read it all over you— this wasn’t about the boy, this was about mingyu. 

“let’s go home,” yunho bent down, level with your face to look into your eyes, he could see the tears before they formed. it put a knot in his stomach. 

“okay,” your voice was strained, raw. yunho felt like he’d been punched in the gut. he should've told you not to smoke, especially after drinking so much, he shouldn’t have brought you that last drink— he should’ve warned you that drinking wouldn’t fix anything. 

he looked up to jisung whose eyes were wide, eyebrows raised in confusion and concern. his voice was raised in pitch as he asked, “is she okay?”

yunho nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed to say she’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. your face hit his chest and he wished he could physically stop his heartbeat from quickening. years of loving you, spending time with you, being close to you, touching you— he always reacted the same. 

chan bounced over, worry in his voice, “hey, hey, hey,” he placed his hand on your back and it took every ounce of strength yunho had to not pull you away, but since chan is your friend, he’d allow it. chan leaned closer, “you okay?” 

you picked your head up to look at him, yunho couldn’t see your face but the look on chan’s told him enough, his eyebrows furrowed even further with worry. “did jisung—”

“no,” you sniffed, “it’s not jisung, just needa go home,” you slurred, shaking your head, “drank too much.” 

chan, who had heard the whole story from san earlier while waiting in line for the bar, looked up to yunho in understanding. for only knowing you a short time, he seemed to know a lot about you. yunho didn’t have the time to dissect the thought. 

yunho lifted his head up, yeosang and san already looking at him, at you, concern living in the crinkle between their eyebrows. yeosang stepped forward and yunho shook his head, knowing you’d be mortified in the morning if this became a bigger deal than it needed to be. 

“you ready to go home?” yunho tipped his chin upward in the direction of his two friends, keeping you tucked under his elbow in front of him. 

san and yeosang nodded silently, he watched as yeosang pecked jeongin goodbye, as san began walking away without another word to chan. for you, they’d do anything, they’d drop anything— it didn’t matter. 

“will you guys be okay getting home?” chan asked yunho, shoulders back, chin tilted up. 

“yeah, you?” yunho answered, already turning on his heel, barely giving chan time to respond. he needed you out of here, out of the crowd, he needed to get you air.

“tell her to call me when she feels better,” chan calls behind you, and san responds, but yunho barely hears him. 

the group of them shuffled through the crowd— why were they so deep in, anyways?— tucked under his left armpit, yunho was basically dragging you through the dirt. you were slumped into his side, mumbling something, feet barely carrying you. he debated putting you on his back. 

“what are you saying, tiny?” yeosang asked, just a step behind you, closer to your ear than yunho was. 

“my jacket,” you said a little louder, strain on your voice, “jisung has it.” a sob leaves your lips and yunho almost smiles, the fact that your jacket was the icing on the cake is so you. even completely done up you stayed unapologetically yourself. 

“should we call ace?” san asked from yunho’s other side, his eyebrows still knitted together. 

“what the hell is ace gonna do?” yunho replied, his tone curt, “let him have his weekend with reia, he doesn’t need to know. tiny will be fine.”

as you got to the outskirts of the crowd, yunho was bending down in front of you, his arms reaching behind him to hoist you onto his back. you were a deadweight, head slumped over his shoulder, arms limp around his neck. he carried you through the venue towards the main entrance without a word. 

you groaned when you finally reached the parking lot, followed by, “yun, i don’t feel good.” 

“ah, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, coming to a stop. “can you wait until we get home?” 

“put me down now,” you said hurriedly, fear apparent in your tone, and yunho bent down right away, standing back up when your sneakers hit the pavement. you crouched down, yeosang had caught it before yunho did— he stood behind you, your hair wrapped into a ponytail in yeosang’s fist as you emptied the contents of your stomach where yunho had just been standing. 

the four of you didn’t say another word until you were five minutes away from your house, the drive spent in silence— you’d spent it with your head halfway out the window, your sunglasses halfway down your nose, eyes shut. if it weren’t for the tears that streamed down your face every now and then, yunho would’ve assumed you were already knocked out.

“should i call him?” you asked the car, everyone already knew who, eyes still closed as you sat back in the cushioned seat. “i miss him, jisung was nothing like him. i wish he was there.”  

yunho was lucky you couldn’t see him— he physically winced at your drunken words. san eyed him from the passenger seat, but he paid his friend no mind. 

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, teens,” yeosang said calmly from the backseat, sitting close to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. yunho watched as you laid your head on him, you didn’t answer him— maybe you fell asleep. he hoped you did. 

san carried you inside your house bridal style and laid you on your unmade bed, but yeosang was the one who had dressed you for bed. it became his responsibility the few times he’s had to do it— an unspoken rule amongst you. 

after a hot shower, yunho decided to check on you once more before heading to the guest room for bed. you were sitting over the side of your bed, eyes closed, chugging water from the bottle he’d placed on your nightstand. he only peeked his head in, but you caught him. 

“yunho?” you asked weakly, your voice small. 

he cursed under his breath, but he inched forward, coming into view. he looked around, clothes were strewn about your floor, clothes hanging out of the hamper— he didn’t realize until then how upset you really were. “you okay, teens?” 

you mumbled a mhm then laid back on your sheets, head falling onto your pillows. you turned your head to look at him, eyes crescents, “why can’t i find anyone that’s good for me?”

yunho sighed and walked forward, sitting at the edge of your bed. “you will.” 

“kissing jisung didn’t make me feel any better about mingyu,” you paused, yunho didn’t know if you’d continue. your lip trembled, “he was good for me.” 

yunho pulled his lips into a line— as much as he hated hearing it, if that's how you felt, he wouldn’t argue with you anymore. “why don’t you try calling him tomorrow?”

you whined, then closed your eyes, pulling your duvet over your body, up to your neck. “i’m tired of being mad at you.” 

yunho smiles at that— “i’m sorry i made you mad at me.” 

“will you stay with me tonight?” 

yunho’s eyes shoot open, his lips parting, his mind running a mile a minute. “what?”

“please,” you opened your eyes a little wider, they were still glassy— he was scared you might cry again if he said no, not that he wanted to say no. 

he couldn’t ask why, he couldn’t ask any questions at all. as you pulled up the corner of your duvet, in his tee shirt, all he could muster was “okay.” 

that was a lot, if ur still here i love u. tell me how u feel so i don't lose my mind pls

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags: @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric

[cybershock24601]

I'm sure someone else has already thought of this but I'm so convinced that modern Illario would be one those guys that make those thirst trap cooking videos - you know the ones - and starts building a decent following of horny older women (like Zara Renata) only for his fame to be completely eclipsed by some poorly shot and poorly edited video Rook posted of Lucanis cooking going insanely viral out of nowhere.

The video is shot in Rook's kitchen and it's Lucanis from the chin down, sleeves rolled up, and in a goofy apron (because Rook only owns goofy aprons) explaining in his nice soothing voice how to cook some dish and it's got some stupid caption like "when your man is teaching you how to cook so you don't die of malnutrition😍" that was intended just for their friends to see because it's clearly a silly candid video.

Probably no one would have seen it if there weren't some sort of algorithm containment breach that likely came from Ma Harding who wants to know what Lucanis is cooking. Rook answers and then just ignores their phone because they're still getting their cooking lesson and need to pay attention. Rook also doesn't keep notifications on or use social media much because they don't even notice the short little video they posted blowing up out of nowhere where half the comments are about how good the food looks and the other half about how good Lucanis looks.

Illario notices though and absolutely loses it because how come some stupid video of his cousin cooking doing so much better then the many videos Illario puts a ton of time and effort into making?! Illario starts giving Lucanis the cold shoulder and Lucanis is just so confused about what Illario's problem is this time and corners him because he's being ridiculous and Illario just goes "You know exactly what this about" and Lucanis who really, really doesn't know replies "Illario I have no idea what you're talking about" and Illario just shows him the video and Lucanis has no idea why he is so upset until he sees just how many likes and comments on the silly little video Rook took of him the other day. Lucanis is honestly a little disturbed by just how horny the comments are while Illario is telling Lucanis that he is not going to upstage him this time, just wait Lucanis, Illario is going to prove he's the better cooking content creator and dramatically walks away.

At the very least this is explaining those weird comments Taash and Harding had been making for the past week. Lucanis texts Rook about the video after this and Rook is super surprised that so many people had seen it and wants to know if they should take it down but its the internet so it's too late for that. Rook does get super curious about what Illario meant about making his own cooking videos and tracks down his account and almost dies of cringe when they start watching them. Those videos are definitely getting sent to the group chat where everyone proceeds to start roasting Illario over them and Lucanis is left desperately hoping he gets some sudden memory loss because he really wishes he had never seen his cousin try so desperately hard to be sexy or molest food like that.

[brodorokihousuke]

i don't want this to go nowhere so here, have this picture of a nigh-unrecognizable Apollo wearing nothing but basic bitch white socks and Gavinners boxers

(and bandages i guess??? are... bandages considered clothing??)

tl;dr he was, in rp, literally dragged out of bed immediately into an awkward ish interaction and i realized i had to figure out what was on his boxers..... eventually came up with the idea that someone got these for him as a joke but they're really nice quality, so he wears them despite everything

[lacydollette]

TEAMING UP ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: exbf!dean x huntress!reader

warnings: heavy tension, mention of guns, dean being cocky, explicit language, lowkey a lil angsty, maybe fluff (?)

Dean moved carefully through the forest, keeping his steps light, always on high alert for any signs of the werewolf pack they were hunting. The brothers had tracked the attacks to this abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect hideout—isolated, hidden deep in the woods, far enough from any town that no one would hear the screams. His grip tightened on the silver knife in his hand, they were close now.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't too far behind. They had split up to cover more ground, but something about this hunt felt off. He couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't the only ones out here tonight.

That feeling was confirmed when he heard the faint rustle in the bushes ahead. Instinctively, Dean tensed, his body ready for a fight as he inched closer to the noise. He barely had time to react before something lunged at him, slamming him back against a tree with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs.

Before he could get a grip on what was happening, he felt cold steel press into his chest, and a fierce hand gripping his throat. Whoever had him pinned was strong and definitely a combat master. And as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, he recognized the face glaring up at him.

"y/n?"

His voice came out rough, startled. It had been years since he'd seen you—his ex, the one who'd walked out of his life after you’d both decided your worlds were too dangerous to pull love and feelings into the mix. The one who never left his mind, no matter how much time passed.

You blinked, shock flashing in your eyes before it hardened into something more familiar. You stepped back, releasing him, but the gun stayed firmly in your grip, aimed at him as you spoke. "What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"

Of all people to run into on this hunt, it had to be him. It was like the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on you. You hadn't seen Dean in years, not since you both decided to go separate ways. Too much baggage, too much history. You had moved on. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

He rubbed his neck, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the fact that you had nearly taken him out. "Nice to see you too, y/n. Still got that charming bedside manner, huh?"

Your eyes were cold, all business, just like you had been when you first met on a hunt years ago. You hadn't changed much—still fierce, still sharp, still... fucking beautiful. The moonlight highlighted the determination on your face, and for a second, Dean almost forgot where you two were.

"I nearly shot you," you said frustrated, trying to get rid of the thought of almost killing your ex boyfriend. Dean shrugged, his smirk fading as he let out a breath. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Your jaw clenched, and he could see the wheels turning in your head. He didn't know whether you were more annoyed that he was here or that he'd caught you off guard. Definitely both.

"This is my hunt," you snapped, eyes narrowing at him. "I've been tracking this pack for weeks.", "Yeah, well, so have we," Dean replied, meeting your glare. "Sam and I are here to take them out. Same mission, different day."

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a second, Dean thought you might shove him back against the tree again. You had always been like this—stubborn, independent, never one to back down. It was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place, even if it was also the reason you couldn't make it work. You were too much alike, both hunters, both living lives that didn't leave room for anything or anyone else.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "I don't need your help, Dean. I've got this." Dean crossed his arms, his expression serious now. "Really? You're gonna take on a whole werewolf pack by yourself?"

You glared at him, and he could tell you weren’t in the mood for his questions. But he wasn't about to let you get yourself killed, even if you wanted to do this alone. There were too many of them—he and Sam had already counted at least five, maybe more, and even someone as tough as you couldn't take on that many without backup.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "I know you don't want me here, but we're on the same hunt. Let's take these bastards out together, and then you can go back to pretending I don't exist."

You scoffed, your grip tightening on your gun while you rolled your eyes at him. You didn't need anyone else. You had always worked best alone, and you weren’t about to let anything—or anyone—get in your way. Dean's temper flared for a second, but he held it back. "Look, I'm here to finish the job. That’s it.”

You both stood there, staring each other down, the tension between you thick. It was the same as it had always been, that push and pull that had kept you together—and tore you apart in the end. Eventually you gave in, at least it would be quicker this way, right?

Dean couldn't stop himself from watching you as you approached the barn. You moved like a shadow, silent and sharp, every step calculated, your eyes scanning the area like a hawk. You were damn good—one of the best hunters he knew. But that didn't make him worry any less. The werewolf pack all of you were up against wasn't just dangerous—it was reckless, and there were too many variables that could go wrong. Dean knew that better than anyone.

You had always been independent, always insisted on doing things your way, and normally, Dean respected that. Hell, he admired it. Yet he couldn't shake the knot of worry tightening in his chest.

It felt like old times, like you were slipping back into the partnership you used to have, it was like no time had passed at all. You still got under his skin, still made his heart race in ways he didn't want to admit. And as much as he tried to focus on the hunt, on the job, he couldn't ignore the pull he still felt toward you.

There was unfinished business between you two—there always had been. And deep down, Dean knew that no matter how hard he tried to move on, some part of him would always be tied to you. You weren’t just part of his past. You were part of who he was, whether he liked it or not and he had to keep you safe.

Dean glanced over at you, his jaw tight. "Get behind me." You shot him a look, the fire in your eyes flickering to life. "I don't need you to babysit me, Dean. I've got this." He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady, but the frustration was bubbling up inside him. "I'm not babysitting you. I just don't want you to get yourself killed." You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Dean growled, stepping closer. "I know you can handle it, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna stand here and watch you get torn apart." Your eyes flared with anger. "I don't need your protection."

“y/n I just want yo-“ he started, wanting to explain himself, yet you couldn’t help the frustration growing inside you. You always hated when he got too protective. For some it may seem caring and sweet, which it definitely was, but it made you feel weak, like Dean didn’t trust you. So before he could finish his sentence, you turned on him, shoving him hard against the nearest tree. He stumbled back, surprised, but he didn't resist.

Your arm was pressed against his chest, face just inches apart. "I've been doing this a long time," you hissed, voice low and dangerous. "I don't need you swooping in like some knight in shining armor. I'm not the damsel here, Dean." His lips curved into a smirk, the familiar cocky grin he knew would rile you up even more. "Never said you were, sweetheart. But if you wanted to get rough, all you had to do was ask."

Your eyes narrowed, he was so annoyingly attractive like this. Dean could feel the heat between the two of you rising, the space between you growing smaller, charged with a tension that had been brewing for years. You were still pressed against him, body close enough that he could feel the warmth of you against his chest.

"Don't start with me, Dean," you warned, but your voice had softened, just a fraction. Dean leaned in slightly, his grin still in place. "Who's starting? I'm just trying to be helpful."

You faltered for a split second, and Dean saw it—the brief flash of confusion in your eyes, the way your breath caught in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken, not from the argument, but from the way he was looking at you. That look—the one that always tore down your walls, no matter how hard you fought to keep them up. You hated that about him. Hated how, despite everything that had happened between you, despite how far you had come on your own, he still had this hold over you.

Your grip on his shirt loosened just enough that he could feel the tension in you melting away, little by little. For a moment, you stood there, locked in place, the world around you already forgotten. Dean's eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a split second, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—they could pick up where you two left off, despite everything that had happened.

His eyes pierced yours as you tried to remind yourself of the reasons the two of you didn't work, the reasons you had left. Dean was trouble. He was chaos. But when his eyes had flicked to your lips, every rational thought disappeared. It was like all those years apart hadn't changed anything. You still wanted him, still felt that magnetic pull whenever you two were close like this.

Your breath hitched, and you leaned in, your lips barely an inch from his. The heat between you was undeniable now, thick and electric, pulling both of you closer. Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest, everything else fading into the background. It was just you and him, like it always had been. But just as you were about to cross that line, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Uh, Dean?"

You two immediately jerked apart, snapping back to reality as Sam emerged from the shadows, his face a mix of shock and confusion. His eyes darted between you two, lingering on your form, and the look on his face said it all—he hadn't expected to see you, not after all these years.

"y/n?" Sam's voice was thick with surprise, his brows raised. "What are you doing here?" You quickly pulled yourself together, straightening your stance as you brushed off the tension that had almost swallowed you whole. "Just... hunting," you said coolly, but your voice wavered just enough that you could tell Dean noticed.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the heat still coursing through him. He shot a quick glance at you, walls back up in an instant. You kept your face neutral, but inside, you were cursing yourself for almost letting it happen. You had almost kissed him. After everything, after all the time you spent trying to move on, you had almost let yourself fall back into Dean’s orbit.

Sam's eyes flicked to his brother, and Dean could see the question there, unspoken but loud. He didn't have an answer for him—not right now. All he knew was that something between you and him had shifted, and no matter how hard you both tried to deny it, you couldn't go back to pretending like nothing had happened.

Not after this.

links: dean winchester masterlist

tags: @gibson-g1rl @beausling @figthoughts @chevroletdean @titsout4jackles @deansbite @sugardean @deansbeer @supernatural-wolfie @hischrrypie @angelicjackles @littlelamy @nuemanfilms @starzify

[stollengoods]

Chapter 4

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Myung-gi x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing and deaths

Summary: People began to realize these aren’t just children games you guys are playing.

————

When you and Nam-gyu returned to the common area, you got looks here and there from some people. You tried to ignore them, to keep your face from blushing. It wasn’t too hard since your mind was focusing on what the first game would be and if you would be any good at it.

Everyone was forming into a line and as you made your way to the back a hand grabbed you. “Shit.” You mumbled under your breathe almost loosing your footing as Myung-gi yanked you in front of him in line.

A couple people behind him complained about you cutting but he ignored them. “What was that ?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he pointed to the door you and Nam-gyu just came through.

“We went and had a talk.”

He laughed as a hand ran through his hair and you crossed your arms. “What’s so funny ?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and instantly uncrossed your arms when you realized you were picking up on Nam-gyu’s mannerisms.

“I’m not stupid.” He looked angry and that kind of turned you on. You desperately wanted his attention and now you were finally getting just that.

You looked at the nails on one of your hands, “That’s debatable.”

He grunted about to make a retort but the line began moving so you turned around and walked forward making conversation with the woman in front of you. You knew if you wanted to have the upper hand in this situation you had to treat Myung-gi like he was just another person to you, a stranger almost.

She introduced herself as Player 196 and so you did the same. You were surprised how nice she was to you, typically girls that pretty bullied you in high school but you had to remind yourself you’re an adult in the real world now.

“I like how you styled your outfit.” You complimented, she smiled, her hand covering her mouth. “You’re so sweet, it’s really nothing I just tied the front of my shirt,” She rolled her eyes, “It’s something I used to do when I was younger, but thank you.”

You felt yourself smiling, finally talking to someone that wasn’t a man. They say woman are full of drama but my gohd men are no better.

The green wicket gate in front of you had to be at least 20 feet tall. You watched in awe as they opened, the area completely empty except for an electronic doll that stood 50 feet in front of you.

When everyone made it through, the gate closed with a loud thud. Player 196 walked off with Thanos who was trying his best to serenade her with one of his raps. You pursed your lips trying not to laugh and caught a glimpse of Nam-gyu going the opposite direction from them, cringing.

Myung-gi grabbed your wrist pulling you through the crowd to the front, stopping a couple of feet in front of the white line on the ground. You glared at him and yanked your hand away, rubbing your wrist.

Out of nowhere a man in his mid 40’s ran to the front, standing just before the white line. “Everybody listen !” He waved his hands around like he was trying to signal a helicopter to his location.

“Aish, what the fuck is this ?” You heard Myung-gi groan.

“This is not just a game !” He was practically yelling at the top of his lungs, “If they see you moving during ‘red light, green light’ they will shoot you !”

“You’re saying we’re going to die playing a child’s game ?” A woman in the crowd snide and everyone laughed.

The doll turned around, “And with that let the games began.” The speaker spoke.

“He’s just trying to sike us out, but we can’t be too careful… stay behind me.” Myung-gi whispered as the doll sang a tune.

You guys moved forward, you reluctantly staying behind him because even if the man was lying he still managed to freak you out.

For the first two minutes everyone did good, no one was caught moving; until you saw Player 196 shriek and jump around, as if a bug had landed on her.

After a few seconds you released the breathe you had been holding in, ‘I guess he was lying…’ You thought.

Suddenly a loud cracking sound rang out and then you watched as a bullet went through Player 196’s forehead before her body went crashing to the floor. You flinched, your shaky hands clutching onto the back of Myung-gi’s jacket.

It seemed like everyone was paralyzed in fear until the doll turned back around. The man from earlier told people to line up behind someone to avoid getting seen and we all quickly formed into lines of 10 to 15 people each.

The doll faced the crowd again and someone to your right got shot. People began freaking out and running back towards the doors. Your chest rose and deflated quickly as you heard gun shots ring out all around you.

Your eyes began to tear up, making your vision blurry. When you heard the whirring of the doll turning around you quickly wiped them away and slapped yourself as you exhaled.

“Okay… okay… I got this…”

You and Myung-gi were only 10 feet from the finish line, he reached a hand behind him and you held it. He squeezed it and you returned the favor, giving each other support.

You both managed to get to the finish line, sparing a good 30 seconds. You saw Thanos do a little dance near the tree when he crossed, like he just scored a winning touchdown.

Myung-gi’s facial expression was one of disgust and confusion as he watched Thanos celebrate, which would have made you laugh if your whole body wasn’t trembling of fear.

“What the fuck is wrong with him ?” He said more to himself than anyone else.

“I don’t k-know.” You said, hugging his side so your legs don’t give out beneath you.

His arm wrapped around you as he caressed your back. At this time you could give a shit if Myung-gi was paying any mind to him. You guys were in a life or death game and whether you like it or not, this changes everything now.

[gothicxreylover]

Hi! I'm back with a little request 😊 So it's a day when things get a little peaceful, no demons wreaking havoc and everyone can breathe more easily, y/n and their s/o (the Hashira (Tengen + his wives), Kanao, Aoi) play hide and seek because why not. This time, y/n goes into hiding and their s/o will seek them out. Interestingly, y/n is able to conceal their presence, like stilling their breath and heartbeat, staying scentless, etc. thus making them nonexistent in order to stay hidden better. Both y/n and their s/o are determined to win.

I imagine that it'd turn into a spooky prey/predator situation at some point because it's yandere. But in the end, it's all fun and games and they all enjoy every second of it. Nothing beats getting adrenaline and a little fear of getting caught in a good way like that. Like, if y/n is found, they will squeak and laugh out loud instead of getting scared. Fluffy yandere is pretty nice 😆

As always, take your time and have a nice day!

Hello! I hope you enjoy this scenario! I’m trying a new font lemme know what yall think! Anyways enjoy this is lagging very badly😭

You stood in the clearing with a grin, watching as your s/o and their group prepared to hunt you down. Little did they know, you had an advantage—your ability to completely conceal yourself. You could still your breath, quiet your heartbeat, and make yourself undetectable. This wasn’t just a game of hide-and-seek. It was a hunt.

Tengen Uzui & His Wives

The second the game started, Tengen smirked. “Alright, everyone,” he declared, “we’re not letting them win. Spread out and find them. I don’t care how good they are at hiding—this is a challenge, and the God of Festivals doesn’t lose challenges.”

Makio rolled her eyes, but there was a competitive glint there, too. “They’re not going to make it easy, you know.”

Suma, meanwhile, was already looking nervous. “What if we don’t find them? What if they’re too good? What if—”

“Suma, stop worrying!” Makio cut her off, exasperated but fond. “They’re hiding, not disappearing forever.”

Hinatsuru gave a soft laugh, already walking off with a sharp, calculated gaze. “Let’s just see who finds them first, alright?”

Tengen took a different approach. He moved with surprising grace for someone his size, scanning for clues while calling out, “You can’t hide forever, you know. You might be good, but I’m better!”

Despite his bravado, he couldn’t shake the thrill. You were nowhere to be seen, and even he had to admit he was impressed. His heartbeat quickened—not from fear, but from the excitement of the chase.

Hinatsuru, ever the strategist, noticed subtle disturbances in the area: a blade of grass bent unnaturally, a faint shift in the air. She followed these hints quietly, her soft footfalls barely disturbing the ground.

Makio was more direct, poking into hiding spots and grumbling when she came up empty-handed. Suma, meanwhile, was struggling to stay focused, muttering nervously as she searched.

When Tengen finally spotted the faintest hint of your silhouette, his grin widened. He crept closer, his movements eerily quiet, until he pounced with a triumphant, “Got you!”

Your squeak of surprise quickly turned into laughter, echoing through the clearing. His wives joined in moments later, Suma tackling you with a relieved hug while Makio teased you for hiding so well. Hinatsuru just smiled, her soft laugh adding to the joy.

Tengen ruffled your hair, his eyes gleaming. “You almost had me there. Almost. But no one hides from the God of Festivals for long.”

Kanao Tsuyuri

Kanao tilted her head slightly as she watched you run off. The rules were clear: she’d find you, no matter how long it took. Her quiet determination was almost unsettling—there was no trace of hesitation in her movements.

As she started searching, her sharp eyes took in every detail. A broken twig, a faint impression in the dirt—she cataloged everything silently, her focus unwavering. You were good at hiding, she realized, far better than she had anticipated.

The longer the game went on, the more her heart raced. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but an unfamiliar mix of emotions. You were out there, somewhere, and she needed to find you. The thought of you staying hidden too long stirred something possessive in her—she didn’t like the idea of losing sight of you, even in a game.

When she finally caught sight of you—a faint movement, just enough to give you away—she moved like a shadow, silent and swift.

“Found you,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her.

You jumped, a surprised laugh escaping as you turned to face her. “How did you—”

Kanao didn’t answer, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. She didn’t let you go immediately, lingering close as if to make sure you wouldn’t vanish again.

Aoi Kanzaki

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Aoi muttered, already scanning the area. She wasn’t as outwardly excited as the others, but the competitive spark in her eyes was unmistakable.

You’d been clever, vanishing without a trace, and Aoi found herself grudgingly impressed. Still, she wasn’t about to let you win. “You think you’re so sneaky,” she murmured, poking around hiding spots. “But I’ll find you.”

She moved with surprising stealth, her sharp eyes catching even the smallest details. The longer you stayed hidden, the more determined she became.

When she finally spotted you—thanks to a faint sound or a barely noticeable shift—her triumph was palpable. “There you are!” she exclaimed, grabbing your wrist as you squealed in surprise.

You couldn’t stop laughing, and though Aoi tried to maintain her usual stern demeanor, a smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t think you’ll win next time,” she said, her tone teasing despite the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Obanai Iguro

The game started with a calm but intense air between you and Obanai. His mismatched eyes narrowed as he watched you disappear into the trees. Kaburamaru, his ever-present companion, flicked his tongue as though sensing your trail.

“You can run and hide all you want, but I’ll find you,” Obanai murmured to himself, his voice carrying a soft, dangerous edge.

Once the countdown was over, he moved swiftly, blending into the shadows like a predator stalking prey. His footsteps were silent, his movements calculated. Obanai didn’t bother calling your name or announcing his presence—he wanted to catch you unaware.

Your ability to completely still your breath, heartbeat, and presence impressed him. He paused, crouching low to examine the forest floor. You’d left no obvious clues, but Obanai had the patience of a hunter. He scanned for subtle signs: disturbed leaves, a bent blade of grass, or a faint scent in the wind.

Every second that passed without finding you made his possessive side stir. The idea of you staying hidden for too long, away from his sight, gnawed at him. You were his, after all, and no game would change that.

Finally, Kaburamaru flicked his tongue in the direction of a dense cluster of bushes. Obanai approached silently, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the faintest movement—a tiny shift that betrayed your hiding spot.

“There you are,” he whispered, stepping into view with eerie precision.

You gasped in surprise, a laugh escaping your lips as he closed the distance between you. “How did you find me so fast?”

His lips curved into a faint smile as he crouched beside you. “You can’t hide from me, Y/N. No one can.” His tone was soft, but there was a possessive undertone that made your heart race.

Kaburamaru coiled down from his shoulder, flicking his tongue in approval as Obanai reached out to gently tug you closer. “You’re mine,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Even in a game like this, I’ll never let you out of my reach.”

Though his words carried a weighty intensity, the moment was softened by the warmth in his gaze. When you laughed again, Obanai’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he allowed himself a small chuckle. The hunt was over, and you were exactly where he wanted you—by his side.

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri practically bounced with excitement as you ran off to hide. Her braided hair swayed behind her, and her bright eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Okay, Y/N, ready or not, here I come!” she called cheerfully after the countdown ended.

Mitsuri’s approach to hide-and-seek was filled with energy and joy. She darted through the forest, her movements swift but not entirely quiet. She didn’t care about being stealthy—she was too excited to find you.

“Oh, Y/N!” she sang out, scanning the trees with a grin. “You’re so good at hiding, but I’m going to find you!”

She paused every so often, tilting her head to listen for any sound. When nothing came, she let out an exaggerated gasp. “You’re so sneaky!”

Despite her bubbly nature, Mitsuri’s sharp instincts couldn’t be underestimated. She noticed a faint shift in the leaves, a tiny disturbance that might have been from your movements. Her heart raced with excitement as she followed the faint trail.

As she got closer, her smile widened. She spotted a small gap in the bushes where you might be hiding. Trying to be quiet—though her giddy energy made it hard—she crept forward before jumping out with a delighted cry.

“Found you!”

You yelped in surprise, your laugh ringing through the forest as Mitsuri practically tackled you in a hug. “Oh, Y/N, you’re so clever! I almost didn’t find you!”

Her arms tightened around you as she nuzzled into your shoulder, her cheeks flushed from both the chase and her overwhelming affection. “You’re so amazing, you know that? I could play this game with you forever!”

Even as her excitement calmed, her grip on you remained firm. There was something in her gaze—a mix of adoration and possessiveness. She wasn’t letting you go anytime soon, even if the game was over.

“I love spending time like this with you,” she said softly, her voice brimming with emotion. “You make my heart race in the best way. Let’s play again soon, okay?”

Her smile was so radiant, it was impossible to say no. Even if she had a competitive streak and an intense desire to keep you close, her love was so warm and genuine that it filled you with joy.

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu wasn’t entirely sure why he agreed to play. Perhaps it was the way you smiled at him, or maybe he wanted to spend a quiet moment with you—even if the activity itself didn’t suit his reserved nature. Either way, he stood silently as you darted into the trees to hide.

When the countdown ended, Giyu began moving. His steps were deliberate and silent, his sharp eyes scanning the forest. He didn’t rush. Giyu had always been patient, and this was no exception.

As he searched, he appreciated your skill. You’d stilled your presence so effectively that he couldn’t hear your heartbeat or sense your breathing. A faint feeling of worry began to creep in. What if you were so good at hiding that he couldn’t find you at all?

Shaking off the thought, Giyu focused harder. He noticed a subtle detail—a small scuff mark on the bark of a tree. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. He followed the clue with quiet determination, his heart beating just a little faster with every step.

When he finally spotted the faintest glimpse of your figure through the dense foliage, he stopped, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile.

“You’re good,” he said softly, stepping into view.

You jumped slightly before laughing, your smile lighting up the space between you. “How did you find me, Giyu?”

“I had to,” he replied simply, his gaze softening. “You’re important to me.”

Though his words were understated, the way he lingered, his eyes fixed on you, spoke volumes. Giyu didn’t like the idea of you being out of his reach, even for a game. Still, seeing you so happy made the hunt worth it.

“Next time,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, “I’ll find you even faster.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi smirked as he watched you run off into the forest. “Think you can hide from me, huh?” he called after you, his tone equal parts playful and challenging. “Good luck with that!”

When the countdown ended, he cracked his knuckles, his sharp eyes scanning the area. Sanemi treated the game less like a friendly activity and more like a competition. He had to win—not just because he was competitive, but because the idea of anyone else finding you first made his blood boil.

His approach was loud at first, deliberately crunching twigs underfoot and calling out taunts. “You can’t hide forever, Y/N! I’ll find you!” But as the minutes passed and you remained undetected, his tone shifted.

The forest grew quieter as he started moving more carefully, his voice lowering to a growl. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But not good enough to outsmart me.”

Sanemi’s heightened senses kicked in, and he caught the faintest hint of movement—a disturbance in the underbrush that was almost imperceptible. His smirk returned as he moved swiftly and silently toward the source.

When he finally caught you crouched behind a fallen log, he lunged forward with lightning speed, grabbing you before you could react. “Gotcha!”

You let out a surprised yelp before dissolving into laughter. “Sanemi! You scared me!”

“Damn right I did,” he said, his grin wicked but his grip gentle. “That’s what you get for thinking you could hide from me.”

Despite his tough exterior, Sanemi’s expression softened as he looked at you. He brushed a stray leaf from your hair, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “Don’t think I’ll let anyone else catch you, even in a stupid game like this,” he muttered, his voice low.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Rengoku’s booming laugh filled the clearing as you disappeared into the forest. “What a splendid idea for a game!” he declared, clapping his hands together. “Hide as well as you can, Y/N—I’ll make sure to find you!”

When the countdown ended, he moved with boundless energy, his bright eyes scanning the area. Though Rengoku was known for his strength and intensity, there was a warmth to his search that made it clear he was enjoying every moment.

“Y/N!” he called out cheerfully, his voice carrying through the trees. “You’re quite skilled at hiding, but I’ll find you all the same!”

He noticed small details as he searched—the way the grass bent slightly in one direction, or how a few leaves seemed to have been displaced. Rengoku followed these clues with unshakable confidence, his grin widening with every step closer to your hiding spot.

When he finally found you, tucked behind a cluster of bushes, his eyes lit up with triumph. “Ah-ha! Found you, my dear Y/N!”

You burst into laughter as Rengoku reached down to pull you to your feet. “How did you find me so fast?” you asked, still giggling.

He laughed heartily, the sound warm and infectious. “Your hiding skills are exceptional, but nothing can escape my determination!”

Rengoku’s hand lingered on yours as he looked at you with unmistakable affection. “You make even the simplest games so exhilarating,” he said earnestly. “Let’s play again soon—I could chase after you forever.”

Though his words were playful, there was a depth to his tone that made your cheeks flush. Being near Rengoku always felt like standing in the sun, and his joy was so genuine that you couldn’t help but smile back.

Here’s how the hide-and-seek game unfolds with Gyomei Himejima, Muichiro Tokito, and Shinobu Kocho, with their unique approaches and personalities shining through:

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei knelt on the ground, his prayer beads in hand as you disappeared into the forest. Despite his massive frame, there was an air of serenity about him, his closed eyes giving nothing away.

“Hide well, Y/N,” he said softly, his deep voice carrying across the clearing. “But know this—I will find you.”

When the countdown ended, Gyomei rose gracefully, his towering form moving with surprising quietness. Though blind, his heightened senses allowed him to perceive the world in ways others couldn’t. He listened for subtle shifts in the air, the faintest rustle of leaves, and even the rhythm of your heartbeat—though you had expertly stilled it to make yourself undetectable.

“You’ve trained yourself well,” Gyomei murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But even the quietest soul cannot escape the truth of their existence.”

As he walked, his presence was both calming and formidable, like a mountain moving through the forest. He paused suddenly, tilting his head slightly as he sensed a faint disturbance nearby. The shift in energy was almost imperceptible, but Gyomei honed in on it with unwavering precision.

He stopped just outside your hiding spot, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re here, aren’t you, Y/N?”

When you didn’t respond, he extended a hand, his gentle movements betraying the strength behind them. “I’ve found you.”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you stepped out of hiding. “How did you know?”

Gyomei’s smile was kind, his expression serene. “The world speaks to those who listen,” he said simply, his large hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You are a part of that world, and I will always find you within it.”

Though his words were calm, there was an unspoken intensity in them—a promise that no matter where you went, Gyomei would always be there to protect you.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro barely reacted when you told him about the game, his usual distant expression in place. “Hide-and-seek? Alright,” he said with a shrug, though a faint glimmer of curiosity sparkled in his eyes.

When you disappeared into the forest, he stood still for a moment, gazing at the trees with an almost dreamy detachment. But as soon as the countdown ended, his demeanor shifted.

Muichiro moved through the forest with a fluid grace, his mind sharp despite his aloof appearance. He didn’t waste time calling out or making noise—his focus was entirely on finding you.

Your ability to conceal your presence intrigued him. Most people left traces without realizing it, but you were different. For a brief moment, Muichiro hesitated, wondering if he’d underestimated you.

Then, a faint detail caught his attention—a single leaf slightly out of place. His sharp mind pieced it together instantly, and he moved silently toward the source.

When he finally spotted you crouched behind a tree, he didn’t make a sound. Instead, he appeared suddenly beside you, his voice calm but tinged with amusement. “You’re good at this.”

You jumped slightly, laughing at how silently he had approached. “How did you get here so fast?”

Muichiro tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “I don’t waste time,” he said simply. “But you made it challenging. I liked that.”

Though his tone was calm, there was a flicker of possessiveness in his gaze. “Next time, don’t stay hidden so long,” he added, his words soft but carrying a subtle edge. “I don’t like it when you’re too far away.”

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu’s violet eyes sparkled with amusement as you explained the rules of the game. “Oh, how fun! I’ve been looking forward to this,” she said with a sweet smile. “Go ahead and hide, Y/N. I’ll be sure to find you.”

When the countdown ended, Shinobu moved through the forest with a dancer’s grace, her every step light and purposeful. She hummed softly to herself, the sound both playful and unsettling.

“Oh, Y/N~” she called out in a singsong voice. “Where could you be hiding?”

Despite her cheerful tone, Shinobu’s sharp mind was fully engaged. She noticed the smallest details—a broken twig, a faint disturbance in the dirt—and followed them like a predator stalking its prey.

“You’re quite clever,” she murmured to herself, her smile never faltering. “But I wonder…how long can you stay hidden?”

Shinobu’s voice carried through the forest, and though it sounded sweet, there was an undercurrent of something more. “You know, Y/N, I don’t mind a good challenge. In fact, I enjoy it. But if you stay hidden too long, I might start to worry.”

Finally, she spotted you, your figure barely visible behind a thick cluster of bushes. Instead of rushing forward, she circled around silently, appearing behind you with an almost eerie swiftness.

“Got you~” she whispered, her voice right next to your ear.

You yelped in surprise before bursting into laughter. “Shinobu! That was scary!”

Her smile widened, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, was it? I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She tilted her head, her gaze softening slightly. “You’re very good at this game, Y/N. But no matter how well you hide, I’ll always find you.”

Though her words were light, there was a lingering intensity to them—a reminder that Shinobu’s affection ran far deeper than her gentle demeanor suggested.

[ragnell]

Thing is, Magneto's pretty sexist, and most of his problems with Pietro stem from Pietro not really fitting into the role of "eldest/only son." Therefore, anything that takes Pietro out of the category of "only son" will make Magneto less competitive with him.

Magneto: "Huh. I thought Pietro was a man."

Vision: "How do you feel about this?"

Magneto: "... LESS disappointed somehow."

Vision: "We must accept that at face value and not interrogate it."

Magneto's actually a pretty nice grandpa, when he gets to interact with his grandkids. Luna thinks well of him and it's implied she talked to him even when she wasn't speaking to her father. Billy and Tommy were on their guard with him, but he actually didn't manipulate them when searching for Wanda. He just wanted to find Wanda. He was actually a pretty nice grandpa.

He DID state that Tommy is his favorite grandson in front of Billy, though. That was because Tommy has expressed admiration for the old supervillain, no doubt because Magneto's an old supervillain that does whatever the fuck he wants.

Because Tommy has actually expressed admiration for Magneto, he actually fits the "eldest son" role better than his uncle does. which is good because he is the eldest grandson. Billy is too independent minded, but he's nicer about it than Pietro is and gets the "second (grand)son" pass. Hell, having Wanda's powerset and Pietro's control means Billy is pretty likely to produce children with his royal alien partner, which Pietro did not manage. (Luna's big thing back in the 80s is she was born human. Now she is an Inhuman, probably hiding a mutant gene because the genetic scientists on Attilan were half-wrong about her anyway. Magneto is very fond of her and always has been, but a whole lot of trouble came from the Acolytes over this.)

Pietro is too independent and has been since back in the Brotherhood days. I'd estimate Magneto found the twins at around 10 years old and Pietro probably had the stubborn will of an 80 year old even then.

It probably irritates him even more that his son-in-law is Vision, and that Lorna keeps going back to the Summers brother that was too stupid to marry her. That will all get dumped on Pietro.

And then there's House of M, where the one time Pietro acted like a good son and heir and did as he was told he was running a con job on the old man, which pissed Magneto off so much that he killed him and now just seeing Pietro reminds him he killed him and THAT has to be dumped on Pietro...

Really, Quicksilver has nowhere to go but UP in his father's eyes at this point.

So this post, by @rei-ismyname, got me thinking of how I see Logan with regard to the Logan/Scott relationship specifically. This was intended to be a reply, but it got away from me, so I thought I'd turn it into its own post.

This is going to get long and very incoherent. And possibly not all that flattering to Logan in parts. Sorry.

I don't know if I see Logan as quite so Freudian myself, though I think it's a fascinating analysis.

I think for me, there's an element of the Scott-Logan and Jean-Logan dynamics that start off interestingly separate. Maybe it's because, initially, Jean never really seemed to return Logan's feelings. But there wasn't as much of a sense of "triangle" back in the early Claremont issues for me.

Logan was attracted to Jean, went after her, was rebuffed, and kept going. He had moments with Scott, like when he was judging Scott for not grieving her enough in the Savage Lands, when she and Hank were presumed dead. But generally that seemed to be a separate thing.

Whereas with Scott, we had the sort of maverick vs. leader dynamic. Scott is younger, more uptight, less experienced (in a military capacity, anyway), less traditionally macho, and Logan clashed with the idea of taking his orders. But pretty quickly, they did fit into a sort of bickering respect - Logan threatening Hawkeye when the latter insulted Cyclops, going to Scott during the whole demerit thing in general.

They do fall pretty quick into that "I'll follow you to hell, bitching all the way" sort of dynamic. And most of that seems to develop without Jean present (she wasn't, after all, officially part of the team at first, then she was presumed dead, then she was actually dead.)

In the 90s, things get a bit murkier, because the love triangle heats up and becomes a little more reciprocal on Jean's part. But Jean and Scott had gone through all of their real emotional turmoil in X-Factor, when Logan wasn't around, so by the 90s, they were pretty solid. Then you get things mashed together a bit.

And also during the time apart, Logan's had his own shift from stab-happy wild man to that more noble drifter cowboy meets Kurosawa type. So we get a shifted dynamic, where Logan's attraction to Jean becomes a lot more overtly romantic, in a certain courtly way. We get a lot more emphasis on the "she makes me want to be a better person" element of their dynamic here too.

Meanwhile, the 90s also give us Scott at what's probably his most emotionally and morally stable place. He's past his trainwreck stage (and Logan didn't get to see most of that), and has settled into a confident upright leader.

So we essentially end up with a kind of Lancelot, Guinevere, Arthur thing. (Honestly, I've always thought Jean made the better King Arthur, but we're talking Logan's perspective. And honestly, I've always thought that Logan has a bit of an issue with toxic masculinity and overly-rigid gender roles.)

So while there's still the sparky bickering between Logan and Scott, for the most part, it's comfortable. Any attraction Logan feels gets sublimated into respect (kind of like his dynamic with Captain America. I tend to assume most people are at least a little in love with Steve Rogers, and Logan's no exception.).

But it all sort of melds together into Logan being romantically in love with Jean, sublimated attraction-into-respect for Scott, and then ultimately idolizing their relationship on a whole. Which has the awkward effect of putting Scott on a pedestal, because he's the man Jean chose over Logan. So of course, he must be a paragon of virtue.

(The fact that Scott's trainwreck tendencies are still there pops up occasionally, but generally goes unnoticed.)

But then we get Apocalypse - and a Scott stripped bare of his illusions. But still possessed of his moral code. Mostly. He's wounded, but still pretty forthright. Then we have the situation with Emma. And Jean's death. And that's when things get a lot...sparkier. The bickering starts getting a bit more heated again.

Honestly, they're probably the slashiest they've ever been during that period between Jean's death and the Schism. And Logan seems to have a weird sense of judgmental entitlement over Scott during this time. He still respects him though, but things are starting to fray with Utopia and X-Force, and everything crashes down in the Schism, when the last of Logan's illusions about Scott shatter.

I've said before, I think that their whole dynamic would have been a lot healthier if Logan had realized that Scott, beneath the facade, is a lot more like Laura Kinney than he'd ever been like Steve Rogers.

But he didn't figure that out and now he's heartbroken, angry, and can't sublimate the fact that he kind of wants to fuck him into that whole Captain America/Paragon of Virtue veneration anymore. Nope, dude, that stirring in your loins doesn't come from the fact that you're in the presence of one of the Truly Good Men. You just want to fuck that trainwreck.

And honestly, I think Hank has a bit of the same thing. But Hank/Scott is a whole separate essay topic. I think Hank and Logan kind of fed off each other at this time. So we get things like the Cyclops-dartboard. When we both know that's not the penetration they really want to do.

What? I was talking about claws? What did you think I was talking about?

(Okay, that too.)

I think the post Schism/pre AvX dynamic is fascinating adolescent on the part of Logan (and Hank). I can't help but maybe conflate this a bit with the fact that Logan only relatively recently regained the full memories of his life, while Hank has that whole arrested development child soldier thing that most of the O5 have deep down. And they both start acting a bit like the bitter dorks in high school, watching the Homecoming King and Queen.

Which is a little bizarre considering that Scott and Emma are holding Utopia together by the skin of their teeth and intentionally trying to present it as a lightning rod for anti-mutant sentiment in order to keep the school safe. But things aren't necessarily rational there.

But then we have AvX. And everything goes from hilariously adolescent to absolutely tragic.

Because no one makes it out of that mess okay or whole. And Logan, in particular, has to go full on aggressor, because if he stops and thinks about it, he might well realize that if any one person could be the cause of this mess: it could be him. HE's the one who went to the Avengers, after all. Scott's plan with the Phoenix was batshit, but it might have been resolved differently if the Avengers hadn't gone in there all OOC heavy handed, guns blazing.

Scott, meanwhile, has lost some of his Utopia edge, and found a new easily romanticized role as suffering martyr. We start to see events that might lead to a resolution: Kitty and the O5 switching sides, a lot of realizations from a lot of people that Scott isn't the villain he's playing on television, and so on. (There's also the O5 putting a human face on the man that Logan's convinced himself he hates. And a version of Jean that's completely horrified and disgusted by him...)

And then Logan dies, and his role's taken by a dude from a side comic with no connection to any of these characters of events. And no, I'm not bitter about Old Man Logan at all.

(Sure, he was fun in his OWN comic. But there's shit going on here and he's not a part of it!!!)

Then there's the fucked up weirdness of Scott's death, his unspoken terrible acts (that eventually amounted to destroying a cloud), and so on.

Once both characters have resurrected, we get an interesting return, almost, to that post Jean's death dynamic. They're again in a foxhole, desperate. Scott's relying pretty heavily on Logan at this time, even as they rebuild the dregs of the team for their last stand.

Then Rahne leaves, dies. Logan skips the funeral to go after her murderers. And then when he returns, covered in her murderers' blood, he and an angry Scott have it out and he storms off, with the unfair accusations all over again. (This time, it's more apparently that Wolverine's lashing out because of his own wounds, but it's not very pleasant to experience.) He does make up for it a bit by coming back for their last stand. Which is, maybe, a bit romantic in its own right.

And then...Jean and the original team reappear and Jean immediately shoves her tongue down Scott's throat while Logan and Emma both look a little bitter.

And then we have Krakoa, and I know I've bitched about not seeing the foundation of the Throuple. But in a weird way, it does kind of work for me. The euphoria of their new sanctuary, the realization that death is no longer a thing, the return of lost loved ones (like Alex, who'd died recently in Rosenberg's run), and so on - it made a place, and a moment, where the sublimation can just be the truth.

Scott and Jean are Scott and Jean. They have their family again. Logan is welcomed into the family as occasional partner. Nate's "Uncle Logan". He gets to come on family vacations.

Logan still gets to be Logan, though, and do his own thing. As much of a romantic as he is, I'm not sure I buy him ever actually settling down to domesticity. But this works out fairly well.

There are still some hints of tension though. I like bringing up the "Scott in a Speedo" scene, not just for the expression of attraction - I still don't see how that works as a joke either of them would tell - but also for the actual scene.

In it, we see Scott, conflicted over the Crucible and his mixed feelings about the more...religious elements of Krakoan society, looking for something from Logan - maybe reassurance, maybe just commiseration? That the latter isn't willing or able to give him. "Go find a priest." He says.

Everyone's going to have their own interpretation, but my read on it, in the context of their complicated relationship, is that Logan's happy to enjoy the idyllic interlude that Krakoa's given them, but he doesn't want to go deeper. He doesn't want to talk about their underlying issues or be the support that Scott needs at this time. It's an emotional commitment that he's not ready to make.

In his own comic (or possibly X-Force, they blur together for me), Logan expresses dislike regarding Krakoa, feeling like it's fostering a false sense of safety and security.

I feel like that might be why Logan is the way he is in this scene. They haven't resolved their issues, and where Scott's overture might indicate that he'd like to, Logan isn't open to that now.

And I think that's the Watsonian reason that we don't see very much with these two beyond a couple of Pride issue panels of the trio having a good time together.

I don't think the Throuple really lasts that much beyond this either. We have that funny bit where Teen Nate has called in a favor to have Logan comfort his parents after his departure. We have a few Jean/Logan moments in X-Force, but they're pretty shallow, all things considered. Some light making out. A single scene of sex in a hot tub.

Beyond that, we have that bit where she's trying to help him telepathically in X Lives of Wolverine, but she'd have done that for him even if they weren't banging.

And then, nothing. Scott and Jean are doing fine in the X-Men (eventual Brood argument notwithstanding), Logan is doing fine in his own book. But the Throuple seems...done.

Oh, maybe that bit in AXE where Jean is having issues for failing her test and Logan's all "anyone who'd fail you and pass me..." bit of reassurance. But again, that's the sort of thing he'd have said even if they weren't fucking. (I also wish he were able to comfort her without making it all about HIS issues, but that's a separate essay!)

There are a few parts that annoyed the shit out of me though. In both X Lives of Wolverine and later toward the end of his own comic, Logan lists Xavier and Jean as members of his found family. Saying shit like how their broken edges come together to make a more profound whole.

Scott, who is Xavier's son, Jean's husband, and the man whose house Logan STILL LIVES IN, doesn't get a mention.

(Doylistically, I theorize that maybe Marvel wanted to downplay the Throuple implications already. But I don't know.)

Nor does Storm, Kurt, Kitty, Jubilee, or a lot of other people who'd fit into that category too, including his actual children, mind you. But this isn't an essay about them.

And then there's Fall of X/Fall of the House of X. We do know at one point, Logan was involved in a rescue mission for Scott which fell through because Xavier called Rasputin away to go help him kill a thirteen year old.

Then there's nothing but a mostly civil exchange in X-Men #1, where Logan decides to go off on his own to run with wolves after he's rescued, and then that snide comment in Uncanny.

Scott's not really mentioned Logan either, except maybe that bitter little "everyone likes HIM" as a response to Magneto's amazing accusation of "logan behavior".

So...I don't really know how I see their relationship dynamic now. I was hoping for some interaction in Raid on Graymalkin, but the closest we got was Logan saying to attack if Scott touched his temple.

(Doylistically, that may be all we get. If Marvel thinks interaction might fuel the Throuple implications, we may not get anything else for a long time, which sucks.)

Watsonianly, I think maybe it's as simple as the idyllic Krakoan interlude being over. Jean's in space and unable to smooth things over. (Also, I'm not actually sure how I think Logan will take the whole Phoenix side of Jean's personality. They'd been considered two separate entities by the time the triangle really started up...). And whatever attraction that Scott and Logan have for each other is back to being sublimated in unnecessary antagonism and bitterness.

It's a shame, really.

(I do think if the Throuple does end up rekindling, Logan shouldn't get to join back up until he actually apologizes though. Hmph.)

[angeart]

BELOVED MOOTIE hi hello i am once again filled with love and i want to squish you like a teddy bear!!!!

WAA I AM BEING SQUISHED! <333

[voidpunkpal]

catching up on docs streams, and he's talking about religion/spirituality and how it guides people's beliefs etc. he mentions how (generally) people like to be outraged by things [that dont affect them], like who other people are, and then immediately says 'if you're lgbtq you'll know what im talking about'

and i absolutely do. and its so wild to me how he just. drops that in. then starts talking about how it shouldn't matter who you are, how you can still do be incredibly religious and respect queer people, that the most important thing is that your beliefs don't hurt other people. how you should respect pronouns, that being 'indoctrinated' into being queer isn't a thing.

all whilst he's mining for diamonds using a freaking mega tunnel bore. like its any other conversation you might have

which it certainly is, for me. but a 40 something cishet man? not your standard casual conversation topic, not usually. and even though i already knew he was a supportive guy, hearing a conversation like this outside of an explicitly queer space, unprompted by a queer person. just solidifies what kind of person he is. and gives me faith that even outside of queer specific spaces, important conversations are happening, its not just us protesting and yelling into the wind, no one giving a shit. and its happening in some pretty unexpected places. which id say is pretty neat. its nice to have some hope for a change.

(all that to say, this is a docm77 stan household)

[turbent]

“This war between Zutara and kataang shippers has been going on for so long. Maybe all of you guys should calm down 🥺🥺🥺

Besides, zukka is the best ship and the solution to it all right?? 🥺🥺🥺”

Genuinely, please be quiet! And keep your BS out of the Zutara tag 😭

[khaopybara]

GMM'S MEN KISSING MEN PODIUM - BRONZE MEDAL KHAOTUNG THANAWAT

Podd Suphakorn, Tonhon Chonlatee (2020) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021) removed from the set👍 First Kanaphan, The Eclipse & Only Friends (2022, 2023) Book Kasidet, Only Friends (2023) Mond Tanutchai, Only Friends (2023)

(set only possible because of all the data gathered by @ranchthoughts who made a whole gmm kissing multiverse post)

[kiwimintlime]

Jennifer they could never make me like you!

[nombitenary]

THANK YOU ALL FOR 143 FOLLOWERS SEEMINGLY OVERNIGHT WHAT THE FUCK. WHERE DID YOU PEOPLE COME FROM. thank you all for sticking around and being so kind to myself and my lil guy! Here's a quick doodle of him celebrating. I think he deserves to be about that full of little guys <3

[disposal-blueeee]

( stereotypical mexican music starts playing

[bl-inkstone]

"when the fire takes and leave me nothing but ash, cup me in your loving palms and make me human again."

a short kaveh thoughtspost about you loving him, burnt edges and all.

i think loving kaveh, for all his brilliance and fancy, is exactly what loving an artist is like.

it's not uncommon for him to come home with tired eyes and aching, reaching limbs honed onto you. most nights, you like to tease him and compare your love to a particularly needy limpet, where not even the crashing waves of alhaitham's annoyance at his "shameless displays of affection" (punctuated by sharp, pointed remarks and long side-eyed glances) are enough to draw him from your side. he says he clings to you because he missed your warmth, and that not even the most potent of electro slimes could ever compare to the amount of energy you give with one embrace. you only laugh in return to his poetic musings with one hand raised to hide your flushed cheeks from sparkling red-wine eyes.

but what is uncommon, however, is the first night kaveh came to you, tired and aching and physically reaching as he always does, but hiding behind halfhearted eyes.

at first, you feared what you believed to be the worst: has he fallen out love? have i been lacking in some way? am i not good enough anymore?

he reached for you and held you, yes, but you could feel just from his touch alone just how distant his mind is from you. were you any weaker, you would've stayed quiet, unsure and hurting, and internalized all of these little unspoken things until the day you could not take anymore and leave behind your heart (your love, and only love) alone in the four walls of his shared home.

but you aren't.

so here you are now, with kaveh near-catatonic on the floor and your anxious, worried hands doing all you can to bring him back to you.

it's been a rough few days, weeks, months for kshahrewar's golden boy, chasing deadline after deadline and just barely maintaining his own self-imposed standard of quality, and kaveh is barely holding himself together. and try as he did to keep such unsightly matters away from you, you've noticed. you always do. and it's the sight of your worried, asking eyes and the sound of your voice flowing through him, "what's wrong, my heart? what is it? how can i help?" that finally breaks him.

he has never denied you anything (not his joy, his company, or his pleasure), and as loathe as he is for his weakness, he won't start now.

so kaveh falls to his knees, strangely disconnected from his body with frustration and fatigue raging in whatever hollow he left behind. he tilts forward when his strength leaves him (when he finally allows it to, after months of pushing more, just one more deadline—) and feels himself physically melt when you catch him in ready arms and hears the steady beat of your heart. his genius is a passionate, fiery thing, lighting the way to grander ventures and innovations that could lead sumeru's tomorrow, but just as all fires do, it burns.

but here, he thinks, in the scorched ground of your embrace that no fire could ever touch, he can rest.

kaveh hates to disturb or inconvenience you in any way — being his lover, he'd often joke with quick, unsure eyes and a crooked smile, is enough work already. but you recognize his doubts as well as you recognize your own. he can't fool you. not about this.

so, you reach down and curl yourself around him, guardian and shelter and lover all at once, and allow him refuge from the burning embers still glowing in the dredges of his beautiful, beautiful mind.

"it's alright," you kiss the reassurance into the crown of his tired head, heavy with the weight of all that he carries with his name as the light of kshahrewar. "take all the time you need, my love. the world can wait for you. rest."

dampness invades the cloth of your robes and you feel them, his gilded tears (always gilded, because everything about kaveh, even his grief, is golden) soak through the skin of your lap.

"i have so much work to do." his voice is a fragile, ruined thing.

"the world will wait, and i will help you. there is nothing you can't ask of me, kaveh."

"you already do so much," he gasps through a stuttering sob. "i will - i will not begrudge you, my heart, if you choose to..."

no. he can't say it. he doesn't want to say it. there's something to be said about the old warnings his elders had about not speaking ill fates into existence, and the fear that he almost did so makes him shake like a battered leaf, barely holding onto his branch, in the raging wind. he shakes and muffles sobs that tear at your heart, hoping you wouldn't hear and think any less of him (because you must, you must, oh, how could he ever show something so ugly to you), and you understand.

"i'm not going anywhere." the words leave you like dew falling off leaves after a storm, and they sting and soothe in the same breath the burns he's hidden for so long.

(am i good enough for you? is all i am enough for you? when my hands no longer hold my pens the same and my words escape me, and the clay has become too hard for me to shape, will you still love me then?)

"i'm here, kaveh. yours, for as long you'll have me, and you're mine, for as long as you'll allow."

forever, then. through the blur of his tears, he raises his head and presses himself, cheek and nose and crown, to your waiting hands like a devout believer laying worship to the first temple that has given him solace in years. forever, forever and ever until the sands of time erode whatever is left of us that loves away.

he drinks in the comfort of your shared silence, basks in the security that even now, at his worst and most unbecoming, you still love him enough to allow him this. his heart settles, slowly, and his mind calms into something less frenzied, less a forest fire, and into something he can recognize as himself again.

kaveh has always loved your hands, endlessly gentle and comforting as they are. he could recognize you blind, deaf, and mute, from the sheer comfort your touch brings him alone. he grasps them in his own calloused fingers and lays soft, grateful kisses to each segment, knuckle, and stretch of skin wound around it. it's these hands that have soothed his physical aches with skin-warmed salves and massages. it's these hands that have calmed his mind in the worst of his passionate genius, running careful fingers through golden strands and reminding him "that the mind can churn and charge all it wants, love, but the body has needs too." it's these hands that have cupped him, left as nothing but ash and bitter tears and dead dirt by his own fiery resolutions, and sculpted him into something human again.

i love you, he does not say because the weight of all the love he feels, both in him and from you, chokes him to silence. instead, he closes his watery eyes and presses himself closer, closer to you, and breathes.

he shakes again in your embrace, but more softly, this time. calloused fingers curl around yours in a desperate bid to keep you close, so much like the stubborn limpet you'd liken kaveh to during nights when the fires hadn't burned him yet, and you understand.

i love you too.

[i may not know much about kaveh, but he is very precious 2 me. i hope i did him some justice with this, and that you enjoyed reading it!]