#which makes the cringe so much worse
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Having a historical figure as a special interest is rather embarrassing. Yes, that's my person. Yes, they've been dead for over a hundred years and I still have emotions about them. Seeing things that they owned or that were related to them makes me happy. I have Spotify playlists for them. I can tell you so much about their life that it would be very weird for a living person. Seeing historians get them wrong can and will make me frustrated for the rest of the day. I'd love to see them portrayed in a historical drama! Oh...wait, no, not like that. Definitely not like that. Forget I asked.
And this is all emotions for a long dead person. Humiliating.
#and I somehow became an academic working on them#which makes the cringe so much worse#9 out of 10 times on any given day this is what I'm thinking about
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Lrb dear god, this reminded me of that time when Alfred-chan got sooooo mad at my post explaining why fans should respect bisexual headcanons for Maria and Malenia instead of pretending like they're canonically lesbians and that they get oppressed and erased by mxf ships with them. They kept vagueing that post for like a MONTH in their blog including in tags under reblogs of Maria fanart, passively-aggressively changed their url to character+sexuality to "spite" me and then even made a sockpuppet account to start shit with me in the comments.
They deactivated when me and Val completely obliterated their "you cultivate lesbiphobic following by telling people why they should respect all sexuality headcanons instead of acting cultish or assuming their experiences and stereotypes equal canon confirmation" garbage with actual facts and logic tho but I screenshotted everything fjthfgfj (I learned to document everything the hard way after they've changed the she/they pronouns to they/they pronouns ONLY to accuse me of misgendering, so thank you for making me wiser I guess 😎). Even more vile, as they, a white person, larped as an Arab in that sockpuppet to hold even MORE "privilege" against me in discussion gjtjfh Because for them race, gender or sexuality are just badges of honor and dishonor, they don't see these as traits of actual human beings. And Dr Eugene X, who worked with them and weaponized her race to accuse everyone who disagreed with her of racism, didn't bat an eye at such a terrible act too?? As usual, rules are not for their friends, lol
It is not even the worst thing Alfred did, and yet all of this just, just, JUST because I wrote a point on why bisexual headcanon people did nothing wrong and there is no ground to claim something is canon when it isn't. 🤦♂️ Like, they were soooo convinced that I hated lesbian headcanons and that I'd feel angry if they called Lady Maria a lesbian, when what I was angry at is this exact toxic behavior in the fandom. No matter how much you like a headcanon, don't be a bitch about it. Maria doesn't """belong""" to any gender or sexuality, she belongs to anyone who likes her and is invested in her complexity as a character!!!
Yet, apparently, common Malenia simps / Finlay shippers are no better than common Maria simps / Mariadeline shippers. Just, wild how after shit like this, many people have the guts to claim that it is "sexist redditbros" who are the biggest problem of creators in the fandom. 🤦♂️ They'd actually blush if they encountered what such self-proclaimed "feminists" do to their own (!!!) over headcanons. 🤦♂️🤦♂️🤦♂️
#also fuck anna for thinking shit like this and way worse things alfred did is not as evil and toxic as#as me snapping at her for DEFENDING alfred#wiki: I can excuse stalking harassment cultish shunning bullying fantomette lying slander weaponizing identity but-#-I draw the line at katy getting too emotional when I admit as much uwu#granted she did admit that the reason for this is because alfred didnt concern her personally#she is probably the person I'll forgive last in this situation if ever#as much as I hate alfred they clearly have no empathy and compassion and lie for medical reasons#it isn't my assumptions they often reblogged this shit#I know mental illness is not an excuse for so much harassment for variety of reasons but-#-why would someone want to change if they medically can't feel guilt for their actions?#I feel bad for them and they hopefully will get help#as for Eugene idk... they seem to be a typical brainwashed youth#such people either change with age or get strongly bitten in the ass and get reality check#granted people who still follow her did admit she goes head hunting and then plays victim#as well as they only keep in touch because they worry they'll be dragged down if they are not at her good side#rather than because they like her posts (which are so untrue to BB that she can just make OCs anyways)#choir boy is literally just mindless sheep that didnt even have dignity to make it personal#hence is the name#I am sure he is lovely in his own circle it just doesn't concern me or my friend#but anna?#she knew what she was doing and has no excuse#fandomry rambles#it is also funny how they are four cringe failures and us are four based people#best AND worst groups come in four lol#also I know you all are dying to know how I can still hold grudges year later right?#it is hard to explain#I live normally and recover and not think of it but then scar starts to hurt#like you know how physical scars can react to weather or shit? mental can too
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Despite how much I suffered making my last isat au Aris sprite redraw, I decided to do it again and once again went through hell doing it. There’s like a billion mistakes in this (such as her having the wrong arm rip) but at the end of the day I’m still happy with how it turned out :]
#keese draws#oc#oc art#eternal gales#isat#in stars and time#sorry for main tagging feel free to excecute me if you want or whatever#grips sink cringe is dead cringe is dead cringe is dead#anyways this is a very fuzzy and vague au as I don’t rly feel comfortable going off too hard with this one#this is pretty much entirely because I know I’d have to fuck around with the worldbuilding a decent amount and I don’t rly wanna do that#Isat’s worldbuilding is one of my favorite parts of isat so I don’t wanna fuck it up yknow?#I might do some other sprite redraws once I stop thinking too hard abt aris and tali#for context tali is the king aka complicated design that makes me wanna cry especially since I made it worse by changing her imagery#instead of having tears as a thing she has like. fracturing if that makes sense?#it’s supposed to be a nod to her ‘cracked’ eye in canon#she also has threads coming from her limbs instead of long hair for similar reasons#also she doesn’t have straight hair so yknow#but yeah for additional context aris and tali are half sisters and they make me go insane#in this au the idea would be that when their grandparents divorced when the two were little tali and their grandma left the island#aris wouldn’t leave until five or so years later when she was around 12#at which point the island disappeared and all that#the two have mostly completely forgotten about eachother but there still is familiarity between them#tali isn’t any less of a piece of shit than the king in this au tho#aris for a brief moment almost remembers who tali is during act 3 but she dies before she can fully grasp it#which almost hurts more to her despite not even knowing what she was trying to recall#during act 5 her inner sadness fight is against the hazy image of a very young tali 👍#just tiny 5 year old tali using the voices of the others to scream at aris that she’s been nothing but a burden to them all#and that she’s done nothing but hurt them in her selfish attempts to fix a problem that she refuses to admit she caused#and that time and time again she’s lied that she’s doing her best to protect them and that she’s failed all of them#it’s a mix of current guilt and her hazy but longstanding guilt towards tali
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I'm gonna have to work on my final project non stop for like a month straight bc I procrastinated on it too much fuck my stupid baka life
#.txt#also I have to do a movie pitch for it bitch it's an amv with intentionally one dimensional characters 😭 tf do I even say about it#at least the characters are like. knockoff jaime and tommen so its almost like im drawing asoiaf fanart#unfortunately I've come to hate them. the knockoffs I mean#I wanna change the designs a bit so they dont resemble my blorbos as much. i think im gonna give the kid darker hair#ok well discount jaime just looks like him with 2 hands and a blue cape 💀and I cant change him atp#my worst mistake was giving him like. a solid metal skirt armor thing bc its a pain in the ass to animate#at the start of the year I had the most work done out of everyone how did this happen#its bc they started nitpicking the story and I kinda lost motivation to work on it lke this shit is stupid. and cringe#by they I mean the extra screenwriting teachers we had a couple lessons with which like. this is an animation course not a writing course#I'd get it if it was like. a full time school but we have 2 3 hour classes a week we dont have time for this shit man#ig my mistake was that my idea didn't start from the story it started from the song I wanted to make a cool music video for it#its not that the story is nonsensical or anything its just a very basic fairytale esque thing nothing groundbreaking#'but you're not SAYING anything with this' I'm not trying to omg just let me make my little amv :(#does everything need a plot twist or to subvert expectations is it not enough that it looks cool#there's a couple people who are worse off than me in terms of how much they've done but also theres a couple that are nearly done#looking at them like god I wish that were me.....#and also I think I accidentally overwrote a shot I worked on for 3 hours. killing myself#maybe I can restore a previous version but its on the school computer and the school is closed for a week so im not gonna know until then
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moodboard rn uwu screams
#in terms of okay we have none#pmdd#im such a fuckup cringefail girlflop no joke#venting on tumblr so i dont piss of my fam with it!#i truly think im stuck like this fr fr on god this is hell#I keep self sabotaging and dissapointing people and i have so much potential which makes it WORSE#im 26 what am I doing w/ my life#i cant even get out of bed at a normal time bc being unconscious is preferable#i need to kick my brains ass#i hate that id rather roll over and die than fight through this but honestly if i werent shit scared of death id be so tempted to just#fall asleep and never wake up yknow#im not suicidal tho#i guess#if ur reading this sorry lmaoooo this is neither aesthetic nor is it jack horner its just cringe
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I keep thinking of that reply in my Odysseus/Agamemnon post about how I regard differently Odysseus' and Agamemnon's actions, while acknowledging that at times Agamemnon is written as a sweet man and Odysseus is always straight up shitty, and how it was taken as some sort of defense for Agamemnon and as a form of pointing out the double standard; and that wasn't at all what the post was about for me, even though I can see where they were coming from. To be honest, given I didn't imagine it would spread anywhere other than my own blog, I didn't explain myself very well (or at all).
The fact is that when I talked about Odysseus not caring about hurting someone else's child to start and end a war I was indeed comparing his actions to Agamemnon's, but my words about supporting Odysseus' wrongs and cheering him in his terrible actions, while in a joking tone, weren't entirely a joke. I do think that Odysseus does some very shitty acts, and some quite terrible ones depending on the sources. That's a fact, that he does is at the core of his characterisation and it's what makes him so much fun; but not even when he is at his most cruel does he harm his family, his own son. Agamemnon, while sweet and loving at times in some texts, at his worst is willing to sacrifice Iphigenia. When readers regard with more sympathy Odysseus over Agamemnon despite both being responsible for children dying, I don't think there's a double standard in this aspect at all considering it's never his own kid Odysseus harms. And that's the key, I think.
Odysseus and Agamemnon have very different priorities, a very different view on loyalty and duty. It could be said that Agamemnon acts out of selfishness, but it could also be read in a kinder light, saying that Agamemnon is ruled by the gods first, and by his role as head of the achaeans; Agamemnon is not entirely himself. In opposition we see Odysseus acting perhaps mainly for himself and his own family and men; yes, he is a king, but he has not the role Agamemnon has. As a consequence, Agamemnon submits his family's wellbeing to the war, to the gods, while Odysseus stops the plow before hurting Telemachus but is (depending on the source) the cause of Iphigenia's sacrifice and Astyanax's death.
Both Odysseus and Agamemnon have reasons to support their actions, and both can be sympathised with; it's fiction after all. When it comes to fiction, at the end of the day which character a reader is drawn to or sympathises with is mainly an issue of personal taste, but I suppose it also implies a certain level of one's own views or preferences on morals, what makes us find certain actions more justifiable, or tasteful (perhaps that's a more accurate word), than others. Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter, no matter how sympathetic or understandable the reason, generally sits worse on people than Odysseus doing the same with someone else's kids, because they're someone else's. This different emotional reaction they provoke has place not just metanarratively, but also inside the very story; it is narratively significant, given it determines how their arrival home plays out, how their wives react to them, and thus their futures. Ultimately it determines whether they live or die.
I think both terrible acts go in line wonderfully with each characterisation, showcasing the role they hold in their world, what they value, what they care for, what they're willing to sacrifice for themselves and the others, how much of their own they're willing to give and bend. While looking at the wider picture it could perhaps be drawn that Agamemnon is the better person out of the two, but Odysseus' selfish actions are perhaps easier to empathise with, especially from a modern viewpoint. Odysseus is treacherous and prone to betrayal, but not against his own; Agamemnon follows the rules of the gods. How fitting in that context that Odysseus doesn't die at the end of his story, that he cheats the death heroes so often are fated to, almost as if cheating the narrative itself, bending the rules of the world he is ascribed to; how fitting in the context of those texts that point towards Sisyphus being his father. But that's another topic, and I've already talked a lot.
#Don't get me wrong. Odysseus is super shitty and this is a 'pick your poison' kind of situation#But I don't really think there's a double standard when it comes to the kids situation given that Odysseus doesn't sacrifice his own kid#I really think that's what lies at the core of this. Does that make him shittier and more selfish and a worse person? Actually yeah perhaps#But we are no kings with thousands of people depending on our decision yet cringe at the idea of hurting people close to us#It feels like betrayal. And this is where the moral preference takes the role. Which do you prefer? The one that would betray their family#for the greater good or the one who'd sell the world for their family and themselves? It's interesting because#while in fiction the first option is often the most frown upon while selfish actions for the beloved are easy to sympathise with‚#in reality these are usually worse regarded. I didn't want to go there because I already wrote so much it didn't fit in the tags#but I actually think the same thing happens with Galahad/Lancelot. Heathcliff/Edgar I'd say has a somewhat similar situation going on#There are many many examples but mainly I was thinking of Galahad and Lancelot#So this is not an 'Odysseus did nothing wrong'. This is an 'Odysseus did many things very wrong but he didn't kill his son#so while both him and Agamemnon were the cause of death of kids‚ their action are not the same so there's no double standard regarding#the particular action of sacrificing Iphigenia. In fiction that kind of betrayal makes characters often unlikeable'#I guess that action 'stains' the view under which Agamemnon's actions are seen and so his character is often seen under a darker light#He is presented a bit as an antagonistic presence opposed to Achilles who is very popular so I guess that also influences this?#Anyway I've been elated by the musical causing Odysseus art and posts but I do have noticed that he is very goodified in it and that#it has influenced how he is being regarded around here (the way it happened with The Song of Achilles as well I suppose)#And I must say I like that less. He is shitty in a fun way but not in a light way. He is very shitty#Definitely not better than Agamemnon depending on the perspective you take. I can't believe I'm 'defending' Agamemnon#He is not my thing at all I'm all for selfish actions for oneself and the loved ones through manipulation‚#lies and scams and letting the world drown if needed. In fiction Lancelot's‚ Odysseus' and Heathcliff's actions are a lot more preferible#to me than Galahad's‚ Agamemnon's and Edgar's. But yeah#I ALSO didn't want to go there because again it would have take me forever and I would run out of tags (yet here I am)#but there's also a Priam/Hector/Paris comparison in how they act and how they're regarded to be drawn here#Agamemnon/Iphigenia‚ Priam/Hector/Paris‚ Odysseus/Telemachus. And that is not even including everything with Elektra/Clytemnestra/Orestes#or Oedipus and his own family for that matter#But yes. I'll better shut up already. I'm talking a lot more than I intended#I just found that discussion super enthralling and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I still can't#I talk too much#I should probably delete this later
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heehee hoohoo i woke up in the middle of the night and ordered her flowers and now i feel incredibly weird about it but it is too late to cancel
#love to be not human#worse: it’s roses. which was in large part bc I couldn’t trust anything else to be completely cat safe#but also that’s Meaningful in a way that I’m sure will be offputting#or not. famously I’m wrong about that shit all the time. hhhh#NAURRRRR THEY SUBSTITUTED A BOUQUET WITH LILIES SO NOW I GOTTA HAVE A CONVERSATION INSTEAD OF JUST PLAYING IT VERY COOL#I’m going to fucking off myself. oh my god im so cringe#this is how you know im a dude I have no idea how to act around women#dying of embarrassment dying fully fucking dead#update: turned out fine 😗 no need for the complex ritual suicide I had planned#jesus Christ dudes coming back to add tags to this instead of making new posts bc i know I’m getting annoying but i could just howl at the#fucking moon i like this girl so much and also wow. the sex. you wouldn’t believe.#is a bouquet of fucking roses clear enough that I’m courting her. do you think she gets that. bc I don’t have any FUCKING game idk how else#I am going to get it across. seeing her again this weekend. have been thinking about her all day every day. I’m cooked I’m fucking done for#it is so special and rare to be known. like…Known. I could not be happier to have her back in my life period even if we weren’t fucking
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how odd, to watch the creative writing exercises of angry men in the comments of instagram. you noticed it first in the comments of conventionally attractive women - but then it started appearing everywhere else, too.
a young man talks about what lunch he's packing his wife. there is a little story under it, with 300 likes, fabricated from nothing. "this is pointless. if you treat her like this, she will take the lunch to her office and fuck her boss and divorce him and take all his money."
you scroll. a young woman talks about what lunch she's packing for her husband. it is always uglier when the subject of the video is a woman, you've noticed. "you sit on camera and you smile and you are cheating with the neighbor and then you're going to lie about being sexually assaulted by your husband and -"
you stop reading. it has 567 likes.
where did this even become a thing? people making up stories in their head, disgusting long-winded assumptions about intention and sexual disgrace. the evil twin of fanfiction.
like - it's just a lie. it's a lie that they are telling, baldfaced and assumptive. the undercurrent is of course misogyny, but the trouble is that they're so fucking certain. that's what makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. there is this pervasive, inventive desire for them to be right. that they must be right. all women are cheating, lying, gold-digging bitches. no exceptions.
in the reverse, when women say i'd rather meet a bear in the woods than a strange man - men funnel in from the sides. they defend each other with a vibrance and capacity for empathy you wish applied to like, the other half of the population. a man could be saying i absolutely did kill her and these creatures in the comments would rise up with king shit. she made it happen. they love each other to the point of this sick strange self-gaslighting, a fervent and unhinged cognitive distortion. all men are good, wonderful people. all women are terrible, conniving, seditious, annoying.
and when did it become okay to just, like... say that kind of a thing? at one point, you find yourself typing out a witty and snappy retort. why are you spending so much time fantasizing about other people babe. but as you stare at the screen, some part of you pictures this man in public, saying these things to your face. his soapbox, high and mighty. his mirrored sunglasses and his empty life: tired and lonely.
what a sad and horrible loop he's locked in. he is terrible to women, so women don't talk to him, which he uses as an excuse to act more terribly. he blames this "failure" on women, rather than on his behavior. it cannot be that he is the problem (that the solution is to just put his ego down and accept women as equals) - he begins to invent a sculpture to replace the flesh frame of each person he sees.
it isn't just a woman posing on the beach. it is now a slut with a desperate need for each person to crave her body. it isn't just a woman yelping with surprise during something upsetting. it is a hysterical, unhelpful cretin who will probably make things worse instead of better. it isn't a person.
someone's very sweet wedding vows get moderate attention on instagram. in the comments, a man says good fucking luck you'll waste your life providing while behind your back she's absolutely fucking the best man. this will be so cringe in 2 months when she walks out on you.
you think - is that what you need to be true? is that what you need to happen, for the world to make sense to you?
#writeblr#every time i see these little creative writing projects i see red lol#girl go write a novel or do ur homework or something.#if youre gonna lie on the internet at least stop badgering women. do it in the privacy#of your poor sad reddit boards
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what if you are a beautiful person and i love you. what then. will you not accept this love? will you take away this joy of delighting in your presence? how long are you going to say you aren’t someone beautiful?
#delete later#IT'S ON MY BRAIN OKAY. LET ME BE SLIGHTLY CRINGE ON MAIN AND LOOK AWAY FOR A SEC.#someone asked me how i was so good at compliments and i thought tbh i'm not good i just say them more#everyone i think is pretty good at seeing good points in others and loving them in their own ways but uh#they're just not used to saying it out loud#which is such a shame#i asked some friends the other day their most valued parts of themselves before asking their least valued parts#and they all struggled so hard for the first and had many answers for the second#and as a friend you must know how painful that is. but as a person you don't know how to be anything else. laying on my face brb#and i really do think so much of that lays in language and what we articulate#i'm fortunate enough that i get a lot of love irl and also bc i chose the amazing hobby of writing fanfic#but even for me if you ask me to think of the good and bad parts it's far easier to articulate the bad#not because i don't try to think of and love my good parts but bc my bad is articulated far more than my good#and if that's the case for someone like me who's received and receives so much love than how much worse is it for the average person?#i think it makes me angry but really i'm just. idk. i know we all have our egos and self-centeredness in certain areas but also like.#a bit more love received provides more overflow for love to be given. i think. it's compounding interest#annika rambles in the tags#been a hot sec since i used that tag but really it's just on my mind so much and i don't know how to say it in a way that's not arrogant#i want so badly to know the right way to love someone ughhhh growing up is hard
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𝓗𝓪𝓲𝓴𝔂𝓾𝓾 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴-𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵
Feat. Nekoma & Inarizaki -> Part 2 [Aoba Johsai & Fukurodani]
Premise: You had to do something else for a week and a half, leaving the boys alone for that period. Although they told the coaches that they could survive without you, the coaches ask a girl to help them out instead. They weren’t particularly excited, which got worse the more they spent time with her
Nekoma
You arrived later than you expected, just on time for the club, So you didn’t get to see your dear team until much later
When you enter the gym, you see a…strange view
No one in the team was happy
Yaku and Kai didn’t have any expressions on them, Lev was pouting aggressively, Fukunaga had a frown, Yamamoto was mumbling words and Kenma was nowhere to be seen.
The girl that was supposed to replace you for the week was walking besides a very annoyed Kuroo, who was pushing the cart with the balls
Weird, considering that doing that was the basics for being a manager
They were so out of it that none notice the sound of your shoes, weird considering how attentive they are
“Ah Kuroo senpai, thank God you helped me! I’m so small and weak that I wasn’t able to push it over” you heard her say, making you cringe at the sentence
“Yeah, whatever” said a disinteresting Kuroo
And that’s when you confirm that something was really wrong, Kuroo was never this dismissive
“What’s happening? Everything ok?” you asked making Kuroo turn around with a relief smile on
“Oh hi, Kuroo senpai was just helping me since you know, I’m so small and weak” says fluttering her eyes at him
“It’s just pushing the cart. It has wheels on it…” You gave a disbelief look to Kuroo, who just rolls his eyes “it’s not that hard”
“Maybe for someone as big as you it wouldn’t be so difficult!”
That was it for Kuroo, who quickly move to your side giving you a hug
“Well, guess you can leave now that our manager is back. Bye”
"Kuroo-senpai!! Stooop! I can stay here too!” says stomping her feet
The whole commotion cause everyone to look at you, and you swear you heard a collective sigh full of relief
Quickly enough you felt a bunch of arms around you, a bunch of head pats and a ton of screams of your name
Which quickly was interrupted by a loud scream by the girl “KYANMA!!”
You look at the stairs where Kenma was standing shaking slightly with big eyes. The girl tried to get close to him, yelling “They are being mean, Kyanma!” but he just runs away towards you
Yes. Run. He hated her, she was so loud and desperate, Kenma literally couldn’t stand her.
“You’re back” says Kenma hiding behind you, showing more happiness that you ever have seen from him
So happy that he went to hug you tightly, he really missed you
“Anyways, now that our team is finally complete you can leave. Please go out” says Kuroo
“Agh! Fine! I’m way too good for you anyways!”
She sends you a look full of venom, but you didn’t really notice it
After all, you had a clingy Kenma hugging you tightly and the rest of the team waiting for one
Inarizaki
After your small break reached an end you finally were ready to go back to your boys
They were having a small hangout in the Miya household
They tried to be sneaky about it, not wanting to invite the girl that was replacing you
But sadly for them, she somehow knew and crash into them before you could arrive
She’s the first person you see when you enter their house with the spare key they gave you
“Who are you?” she asks with her eyebrow raising
“Ehh…I’m Yn, their manager. You helped them while i was out?” You ask back, confused at her sudden presence
“Yes…I actually think I should be the new manager! After all I play like 17 sports and definitely know more than you about sports. What do you think this is? Cheer? Not like it’s a sport, but whatever” she says with a overconfident smirk
In the meantime the guys that were already in the house starting to appear into the hall, confused at how loud her voice was being
“Anyways! Why don’t you leave? A girl like you probably doesn’t even know a thing about sports! We’re gonna play videogames while you probably just want to paint your nails or whatever!”
“Who says you’re staying?” Atsumu says, frowning
“Ha Ha, you’re so funny Atsumu! Of course I’m staying” she says nervous
“No, you’re not” Osamu adds
“I’m sure we can all hang out tog-” you try to say
“You shut it! I bet you don’t know anything about the sport!” She says to you despite you trying to help her
“Really? You barely even know what we play, you just join because you wanted to see hot guys” a voice behind you says, Suna entering the house as he passes his arm through your shoulders
The girl immediately went pale, stammering the next sentence “well…well, I mean, of course I know!”
“Sure, that's why you asked 'if we knew' the rules of basketball yesterday. Just leave, nobody wants you here anyway”
She scoffs annoyed, looking at the rest of the team as if asking for help, which she doesn’t receive. She scoffs one more time, walking towards the door and leaving as she shoots a glare towards you
“You guys are so mean” you say, receiving a chuckle
“She deserved it, if anything she just hinder our practice” Osamu adds
“Besides, nobody talks about our beautiful manager like that” Atsumu hugs you along side Suna
The rest of the team also comes to hug you, and while they were a bit rude, you knew that they only had good intentions
You love this foxes too much
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Note: a little something about my boys, also, I cringed way too much while writing this
#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu#kenma x reader#kenma x y/n#kenma imagine#kenma x you#kenma fluff#kuroo testuro#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo x y/n#kuroo x you#kuroo fluff#nekoma#atsumu imagines#atsumu scenarios#atsumu x reader#atsumu x y/n#atsumu fluff#suna headcanons#suna x reader#suna x you#suna x y/n#suna fluff#osamu x reader
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Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)
«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»
PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader
SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.
or;
in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.
GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.
PLAYLIST: right here!
WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)
Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k
masterlist
WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2
(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"
[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)
As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom.
It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin.
“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice.
You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly.
Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands.
Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers.
It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter.
“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands.
“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her.
Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?”
The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.”
To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future.
“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt.
“Sure, yeah. What is it?”
“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all”
You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway.
“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring.
“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-”
“I have class tomorrow.”
“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.”
You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now”
Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.
“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”
“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”
“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night”
With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building.
“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.
“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically.
“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down.
“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process.
Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding,
“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed.
“I’m going back to sleep.”
“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself.
He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids.
“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”
“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.
“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”
‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.”
“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.”
You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted.
The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done.
What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?
Yeah, that’s an easy conversation.
Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand.
You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way.
It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express.
You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display.
It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you.
You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night.
And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.
“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”
“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew.
“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.
“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”
You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head.
Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.
“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.”
You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe.
Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines.
You deserved to wallow in this pit.
At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath.
You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds.
Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock.
The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name.
“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond.
He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.”
Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.
You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears.
You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut.
Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call.
“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response.
“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.”
“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”
“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over.
“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows.
A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”
“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”
“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”
“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.
“You want me to put this on my face?”
“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.
“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further.
He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.
“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands.
“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.
“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.”
“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.”
It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh.
“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot.
The doorbell rings.
“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.
You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling.
“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!”
Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”
The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door.
Mingyu’s brought a girl.
Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.
Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later.
“This is my sister”
All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky.
“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”
What?
“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit.
With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.
“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge.
“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her.
“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.”
There it is.
“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence.
“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”
You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance.
Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over.
It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you.
It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister.
It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from.
That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun.
You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”.
“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder.
“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression.
“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already.
“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?”
“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!”
Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going.
“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect, “You’re better than that!”
“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away.
“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.”
“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you.
“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”
It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity.
“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.
“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.
“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you.
You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.
“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.”
“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice.
“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.”
“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.
“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination
“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice.
“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”
“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.
“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”
‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion.
“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.
“Uh, no. Is there juice?”
“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter.
You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”
Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances.
Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles.
“What? Is it bad?”
“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?”
She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.
“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.
Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?”
“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”
“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.
Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”
“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face.
Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside.
“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later.
“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her.
The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight.
The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside.
There’s no Nayeon in sight.
But there is Mingyu.
His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both.
For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears.
And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him.
“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”
There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?”
“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?”
“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”
“Yeah, remember Minji?”
“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.
“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.
“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.”
There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny.
“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.
“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest.
“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”
What the fuck.
You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up.
“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.”
The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream.
Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.”
You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral.
“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”
Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see.
“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.
“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.
“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”
There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure.
It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting.
Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality.
Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school.
You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner.
Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner.
As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.
It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose.
Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.
“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand.
Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself.
“Well? Did you?” He demands again.
“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”
“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?”
Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!”
Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland.
“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit.
There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does.
“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.
Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.”
“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”
He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.
You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.
The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form.
You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart.
“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear.
“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.
“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.
You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed.
You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite.
“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”
“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.”
He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again.
“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet.
“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”
You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you.
“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.”
Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.
“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.”
You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”
Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus.
“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”
“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.
“You know what he’s like…”
“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.
“That’s not what I meant either.”
“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.”
“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation.
“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses.
“Especially when it’s none of my business.”
“Charming.”
“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”
“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major.
“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.”
“So they need models?” You ask.
“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.”
“Are we getting paid?”
“You get to say you modeled for me.”
“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans.
You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you.
“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.
“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh.
He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?”
“Ew,” Seungcheol voices.
“I am,” You confirm.
“For what?” He sputters.
“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?”
He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question.
“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?”
“Mhm, only for the night, though.”
“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks.
“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.”
“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.”
You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.”
Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.
“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-”
He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.
“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika.
“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk.
“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.”
“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.
“Huh? Oh, I was-”
“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that.
You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table.
“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch.
Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.”
“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”
“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.”
Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers.
“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause.
“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in.
“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face.
Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”
Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face.
Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it.
“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.
“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”
“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort.
“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points.
Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!”
“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”
That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor.
Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.
You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat.
It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.
“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over.
You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite.
It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.
“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.”
“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?”
“No, but you should.”
“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”
“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes.
That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.”
“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.”
There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar.
Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance.
But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last.
The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive.
Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time.
There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.
Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all.
Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers.
You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity.
He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence.
You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week.
In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information.
There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone.
“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins.
“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.”
The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name.
“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you.
He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t.
—Kim, Mingyu.
If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes.
You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was.
“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”
You wanted to slap him.
Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here!
You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off.
Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true.
Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up.
By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him.
You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand.
There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus.
“Hey,” he says unceremoniously.
You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.”
“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually.
Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything.
“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”
Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin.
“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you.
You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?”
“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”
“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”
With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back.
Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.
“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.
“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”
“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.
“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?”
It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour.
“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”
“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”
You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?”
“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly.
“But?” You sense her apprehension.
“But, maybe you should give it a go.”
You can only blink at her with wet lashes.
“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.”
“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?”
“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.”
There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.
“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”
“No. You’re making sense.”
“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.”
“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.
Once again, you find it within yourself to nod.
Yeah. You were gonna do it.
Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared.
The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”
You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.”
“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”
You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”
“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.
You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing.
“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling.
He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is.
You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry.
You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat.
“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”
You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake.
“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.
He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.
It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human.
You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on.
It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash.
It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness.
“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.
“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch.
Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”
“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice.
“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard.
“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.
“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.
The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to.
Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.
“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.
“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else.
“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh.
The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help.
You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention.
“Huh?”
“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.
It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”
“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor.
The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her.
The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house.
The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more.
The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.
You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked.
It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down.
Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention.
“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”
“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel.
“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car.
“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further.
Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”
“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns.
There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.
It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.
“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.
“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.”
“Why didn’t you leave with her?”
“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”
“Hm. That didn’t happen.”
“It’s like I said,” you mumble.
He hums again in response, dropping the subject.
“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.
“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”
You bit your tongue. Hard.
He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed.
“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended.
“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister.
“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”
“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.”
Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.
“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.
He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.
“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat.
He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride.
“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.”
You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”
Middle school was harder than you thought.
Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip.
It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results.
You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.”
He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair.
“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done.
You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you.
“What?”
“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation.
“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?”
You look up confused. “How?”
“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.”
On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes.
“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.”
He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years.
The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night.
There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there.
You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing.
He’s probably fine.
By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu.
He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos.
“Oh, hey,” he says normally.
“Hope I’m not too late.”
“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room.
“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”
He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.”
You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.”
Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway.
“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”
“I did, do you want me to change?”
“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.”
He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you.
“You good?”
“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round.
“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”
He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”
The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour.
“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”
“Oh, cool.”
Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself.
“Let me help.”
“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.”
“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?”
“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”
Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it.
“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff.
“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.”
“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”
“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”
“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.”
You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch.
It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night.
By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car.
She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.
“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest.
“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.
That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.
“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”
“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip.
She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!”
“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks.
“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.
“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”
“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”
Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants.
“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak.
“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.
“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.”
“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.”
It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise.
The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried.
You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them.
What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room.
“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked.
“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you.
“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping.
There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it.
You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room.
“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry.
You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.
And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls.
That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.
Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots.
You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn.
“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces.
“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break.
“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”
“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time.
“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts.
“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.”
“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?”
“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.”
“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out.
“I think I need to never agree to do this again.”
“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights).
“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away.
“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.”
Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood.
“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare.
“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine.
By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.
The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today.
“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera.
“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that���s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”
He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it.
The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound.
He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket.
You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see.
You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?”
He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.”
It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least.
There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off.
By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route.
“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing.
“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.”
“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?”
“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.
“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.
He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.”
Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.
Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting.
It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends.
Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day.
The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.
It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.
You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.
Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.
Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home.
Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.
After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little.
“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!”
“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”
“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”
“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime
“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.
The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here.
“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”
“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in.
“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.”
“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”
“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm.
“Ah, I see.”
The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?”
“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”
You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.”
He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.”
“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.”
You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.”
“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection.
“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”
“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”
“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’
He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.”
“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”
He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation.
“When does your shift end?”
If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that.
“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.
“Everyday?” he asks incredulously.
“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.
You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”
He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.”
“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.
“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.”
“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”
“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.”
There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.”
“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”
The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement.
It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.
It was safe to feel.
This was horrible.
Truly.
You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention.
But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.
“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.
“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?”
“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”
“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial.
“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.”
“Seok!”
“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.
“Seokmin!”
Beep.
The bastard hung up.
“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu.
Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.
He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.
She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle.
He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.
He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy.
Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.
“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night.
“Babe?”
She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?”
“Seok just called…”
Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long.
“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word.
“Fifteen.”
Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected.
“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it.
“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”
“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.
“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?”
“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.”
Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.”
“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”
He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.”
By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms.
“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her.
“What now?” she groans.
Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.
“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.
Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.
Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!”
“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.
“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.
Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours.
“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally.
“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy.
“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up.
Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”
Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.”
Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past.
It doesn’t.
“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”
“Huh?”
“When she called just now.”
“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”
“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.” Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully.
“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice.
“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated.
“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”
“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!”
“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place.
“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!”
Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it.
“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!”
There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”
It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.
“Fine.”
Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done.
There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.
It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.
Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it.
It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can���t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project.
It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful.
Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.
In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card.
It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece.
He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.
Part 2
#mingyu#mingyu fluff#mingyu smut#mingyu fic#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#mingyu angst#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen smut#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fic#seventeen imagines#svt#svt fluff#svt angst#svt smut
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DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER .ᐟ
✩ — or in which they terribly miss you. (implied long distance relationship)
✩ — includes: wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, lyney, and cyno x gn!traveler!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 415. reblogs are very much appreciated !!
✩ — note: currently suffering from stage four misskonasiyagitis. send help. i wanted to try out writing multiple characters again so here we go, kinda 50 50 w this one tbh
it physically hurts wriothesley to be this far from you. i mean, come on. seriously? commissions in sumeru? sometimes he doesn’t know whether he should hate the fact that you’re willing to take commissions in different regions or admire it. he misses you so goddamn much—it would’ve been fine if you took commissions on fontaine! he rarely goes up to the surface but at least he would’ve caught a glimpse of you every now and then. but nope, wriothesley guesses that he just has to wait.
neuvillette was unfamiliar with the feeling of missing someone. well, that was before he got together with you, at least. but now he’s definitely familiar with it (way too familiar, in fact). he misses you dearly—he misses your spontaneous visits to his office, he misses the lingering warmth of your hand in his. he tries his best to hold his emotions back, not wanting to cause fontaine a random downpour, all because he missed his beloved.
a rare event to see alhaitham lose his composure. recently, kaveh has noticed his roommate space out more often, always blanking out randomly. kaveh wonders what caused his roommate’s current state (not that he actually cares; he was just curious). that was until alhaitham asked him a question. “what can one do when they’re craving the presence of someone who can’t be present at the moment?” oh, so that’s why.
lyney tends to connect his recent shows with things that remind him of you; it kind of makes lynette sick to see her brother in this state. rainbow roses, fontainian pastries, anything that makes lyney think of you. not only that, lyney wouldn’t shut up about you either! lynette cringes, freminet feels bad for her. “aren’t rainbow roses a bit overused at this point?” she asks lyney. he replies with a simple, “rainbow roses could never be overused, dear sister!” lynette could only pray that you return soon.
cyno tends to crack even worse jokes. is that even possible? tighnari has no clue. “did you know what the triangle said to the circle? ‘you’re pointless.’ get it?” cyno tells yet another joke. tighnari facepalms at this point—why must he be the one who endures his friend’s awful jokes in your absence? he doesn’t recall signing up for this at all! “you could’ve pretended to laugh at it. (name) would’ve done so if they were here.” cyno pouts. tighnari sighs in defeat. this is going to be another long day for him, isn’t it?
#( writings )#astronetwrk#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin imagines#wriothesley x reader#neuvillette x reader#alhaitham x reader#lyney x reader#cyno x reader#wriothesley#neuvillette#alhaitham#lyney#cyno#x reader
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Hotter Than Texas | Part I
(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.
Aka it's a road trip, strap in.
CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)
The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.
While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.
When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.
As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.
Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.
He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”
He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.
“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.
Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.
You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.
Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.
“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.
But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.
“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”
Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”
You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”
Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.
You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.
Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.
This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.
Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.
“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.
He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.
You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.
Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.
You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”
Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”
You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”
Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”
Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”
Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.
…
About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.
“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”
You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”
“How do you like it?” he asks.
“With a pinch of salt.”
Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”
Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”
You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”
“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.
Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.
Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.
Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.
He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.
You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.
Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”
Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.
But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”
Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.
Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.
Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.
Read Part 2
Tag List
I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!
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@desert-fern
@catsandbooksandstuff
@Topguncultleader
@avengers-fixation
#bradley bradshaw#rooster#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun#miles teller#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster bradshaw#top gun maverick#rooster x reader#rooster top gun#rooster x you#rooster fanfiction#rooster fic#rooster fluff#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw x female reader#top gun fanfiction
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doctor, doctor, give me the news
(buddie) (1.4k words) (8x05 spec) y'all i think i kind of went off with this one
Tommy flinches. It’s a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing that he quickly turns into a playful cringe, but for a second, it was real. It was real and Buck saw it and he doesn’t know how to unsee it.
He pulls his phone out and opens the camera so he can see it for himself, and okay, yeah, it’s not great. But also—they’re both firefighters. Buck’s seen way worse than swollen, red skin, and he’s sure Tommy has too.
“Afraid of the curse now?” he asks lightly instead of voicing the thought.
“Um, yeah, I think you’ve convinced me,” Tommy replies.
Buck squints at his own image. “What do you think it is?”
“Other than a curse?” Tommy asks.
Buck nods.
“Honestly, Evan, I have no idea. Maybe we should call in some back-up.”
“What?” Buck asks, brow furrowing. “Like some kind of curse breaker?”
Tommy snorts. “Like someone with a little more medical training,” he replies.
“Oh, yeah that—that’s probably a good idea,” Buck says. He feels himself flush even redder.
“You want me to call Hen? Or Chimney, maybe?” Tommy asks.
Buck shakes his head. “They’re taking the kids to a haunted hayride today. I’ll text Eddie.”
Tommy’s nose wrinkles a little, and Buck can’t help but wonder which part of what he just said Tommy didn’t like. He types out a quick message.
SOS. curse real. need paramedic diaz asap
Eddie’s reply is almost instantaneous and comes in three short messages.
not a paramedic
and curses aren’t real
I’m on my way
Buck looks up from his phone. “He’ll be here soon,” he says.
“That was fast,” Tommy observes.
Buck shrugs. For a second he considers sending Eddie a selfie, something to prepare him for the not-so-pleasant sight of his face, but he—
He kind of wants to see if Eddie flinches, too.
Eddie’s key turns in the lock and Tommy shoots Buck an odd look. He’d try to parse it, but he’s really starting to feel how much his face hurts and he kind of just wants Eddie to hurry up and fix it. He stands and walks past the stairs in time to see him shut the door.
“Ouch,” Eddie hisses as soon as he catches sight of whatever it is his face is doing now. It’s not a flinch. If anything, he sways forward like he might at a scene. Assessing. Ready to jump in as soon as he’s formed a plan.
“Yeah,” Buck says. “Told you I’m cursed.”
Eddie lets out a light laugh. “Mm, I think I’m supposed to be the one making the diagnosis here,” he says.
He ushers Buck to the kitchen table, sets his med kit down, and pulls out a chair for him.
“Gee,” Buck says, “A guy could get used to this kind of medical care.”
Eddie grins. “Doctor Diaz, at your service,” he says, holding out a hand for Buck to shake.
Buck huffs a soft laugh and takes it. “I’ll be a good patient, I promise,” he says.
“Don’t start lying to me now,” Eddie replies, eyes twinkling.
Across the table, Tommy chokes.
Buck drops Eddie’s hand and looks over at him. “You okay?” he asks.
“Mm,” Tommy hums. “Just uh—got some spit down the wrong pipe.”
Buck frowns but doesn’t push it any further. He looks back at Eddie and finds him rummaging through his kit with a pen light between his teeth. He makes a triumphant noise and turns to Buck.
“Alright, let’s see,” Eddie says softly.
He steps into the space between Buck’s legs, and Buck’s brain kind of just—freezes.
“Look up for me?” Eddie prompts, and when Buck doesn’t—can’t—immediately comply, Eddie presses two fingers beneath his chin and guides it up until suddenly the only thing Buck can see are Eddie’s eyes. “Thought you we’re going to be a good patient,” Eddie murmurs.
All at once, Buck’s brain unfreezes, skipping right past calm and into hyperdrive. Because—because—he’s looking at Eddie and Eddie’s thumb is skating across the skin that’s just beneath the worst of the swelling and Buck can feel it and surely Eddie’s touched his face before except—except—no, Buck’s pretty sure he hasn’t but now that he has Buck’s never going to be able to forget the way it feels because he knows it should hurt, it should, but it doesn’t and he kind of never wants Eddie to stop touching him and that’s—that’s—
“—hurt?” Eddie asks, only Buck misses 90% of the question so instead of answering he hums vaguely and watches Eddie’s face twist in sympathy.
Eddie starts dabbing something on Buck’s face, hydrocortisone maybe, or triple anti-biotic—whatever it is it feels cool and nice and as Eddie concentrates on his task he bites down on his lip and suddenly Buck can’t look at anything else, can’t look at the furrow in Eddie’s brow can’t look at the ceiling can’t—
“You think he’ll live?” Tommy asks dryly.
Buck feels like he’s been doused with cold water.
Eddie’s lips, those lips that he still can’t bring himself to look away from, twitch into a small smile. “Depends,” he says. “Has anyone figured out how to break the curse?”
It punches a laugh out of Buck’s chest, the kind that comes out in a single syllable and with a rush of air. Eddie takes a step back and finally Buck feels like his brain is returning from the stratosphere, back to its baseline level of chaos.
“So—” Buck tries, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat. “What’s uh—what’s the diagnosis.”
Eddie frowns. “Honestly? It kind of looks like spider bites.”
Tommy’s chair clatters back, and when Buck looks over he’s suddenly standing.
“Babe?” Buck asks, but it feels gummy and unfamiliar in his mouth.
“I, um—not a fan of spiders,” he squeaks.
Eddie blows out a soft breath that Buck’s pretty sure only he could recognize as laughter.
“You don’t have to stick around,” Buck says, and he swears he means stick around the loft, but—but—“I’m okay, I’ve got the second best doctor in Los Angeles looking after me.”
“Second!” Eddie exclaims, mock affronted.
“Hen,” Buck replies with a shrug.
Eddie heaves a dramatic sigh. “You’re not wrong.”
Tommy looks between them, a deep furrow in his brow. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll uh—I’ll head out.” He backs toward the door, then pauses as he gets a hand on the knob. “See you tomorrow?” he directs at Buck.
“’Course,” Buck replies, and he’s pretty sure if Tommy had asked him that this morning his reply would’ve sounded soft and sweet to his own ear, but now Buck doesn’t hear much of anything at all.
Tommy nods once, and then he’s gone.
Buck looks back at Eddie, and god, he tries. He tries so hard not to notice the long line of Eddie’s legs where he’s leaning against the table, not quite sitting on it. He tries not to think about that soft curl, the one that makes an appearance more often than not these days, the one that rests against his forehead. He wants—he doesn’t—Eddie’s not—
Buck stands abruptly, except Eddie never did take more than a step back and now they’re practically nose to nose and Buck isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. Eddie’s head tips to the side and Buck—there’s not a thing he can do to stop the freight train that is his imagination, and oh, he can see it. He can feel it.
All at once he’s sure that if Eddie Diaz were to lean in and kiss him—right now, or a year from now, or a decade—if Eddie kissed him, Buck would be ruined in every sense of the word. He’d never be able to kiss another person without seeing Eddie, feeling Eddie, tasting Eddie and—
He wouldn’t want to.
Buck takes a stumbling step back and knocks into his chair, making it clatter the same way Tommy’s had. And fuck, for a second he didn’t even—
“Buck?” Eddie asks, all concern and kindness and wide brown eyes.
“Fine!” Buck says. “I’m fine. You—you, uh—do you want—” Me? Us? Something terrifying and perfect and permanent and “—water?”
Eddie’s brows knit together. “Sure,” he says. “But sit back down. Let me get it.”
“Okay,” Buck breathes. He sinks into his chair.
Eddie grabs two glasses out of his cabinet without even pausing to think and fills them with the Brita he already knew was in Buck’s fridge and snags a coaster that he bought before placing one of the glasses in front of Buck.
“Seriously,” he says, settling into the chair closest to him and leaning forward, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Buck says, and he’s honest to god not even sure if he’s lying.
#911fic#911 fic#buddiefic#buddie fic#911#buddie#fic#911 spec#911 spoilers#abbie writes#this just like. fell out of my brain
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Hello! I'm not sure if i'm the one but can we get some more Mavuika x Creator! Reader (gender neutral) in which the creator is falling deeply in love with Mavuika and the creator is slowly getting his/hers/their memories back and awakening a little bit of power (like maybe aweking some unique element or getting better healing abilities) ?
I'm pretty sure you were the one yea. Sorry for not answering sooner I just had no motivation to write 😭
Synopsis: your time with Mavuika! (And "your" past) part 1 part 2 part 4
TW: slight angst, fluff, OOC, arguements, reader is referred to as they/them for easier use but gender is up to what you interpret as, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, slightly rushed at the end, not proofread
Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader
"Please don't walk through the halls, our Archon is busy-"
"I just have a word with her, that's all."
The receptionist sighed as you glared at her and walked off. You've had a bad week, constantly getting excruciatingly painful headaches and nightmares which make you wake up in a cold sweat. What made it worse that you couldn't really remember them when you woke up, which made it all the more frustrating. That, along with the fact that your boss was giving you more work than usual was making you snappy and irritated all the time. The even more strange thing was the fact that you were seeking out Mavuika, almost as if she was a pinicle of warmth in a snowy wasteland, so you did eventually visit her.
As you reached her office door, gloved hands gently pushed it open to see her inside. Your eyes softened, and you could feel your stress slipping away. She was sleeping though, her head on a pile of documents.
"That's.. Strange. Normally she would spend a lot of time with me, did she ignore all this work just for me?" You thought to yourself. However, instead of peaking over, you decided to sit in a sofa next to her table.
Curiosity did get the better of you though.
You skipped over to her desk and found loads of papers from different nations, which was really strange considering Mavuika was more busy dealing with Natlan's problems. You picked up a few documents and read them, cringing at the insignia of the other nations.
As you kept reading, you got more confused, and certainly more angry.
"Death threats, intimidation and war threats to Natlan, and Sumeru is asking for an alliance? What the hell is going on?!" You exclaimed, not noticing how Mavuika woke up. As you were about to read more, she snatched the papers from you, and looked at you with an expression you couldn't read.
"You weren't supposed to see that."
"Well I did, too bad. Now mind explaining what the hell is this?"
She didn't answer, and you felt your patience running thin. You didn't want to raise your voice at her, but the frustration of her not telling you was too much to handle. Still, you managed to control yourself, taking deep breaths.
"I'm not going to repeat myself, what is this?"
She paused, and for a moment, she contemplated whether she would tell you or not. Guilt was on her face, yet she finally told you.
"The other nations want you back for whatever reason, and they are threatening to add more to Natlan's plate by instituting a war. Sumeru is offering to help, but that's the only consolation I have," she breathed out. Your eyes softened, and your lips trembled. Seeing Mavuika like this was making you feel negative, especially since it was about you.
You picked up her hand and held it gently, but it was also firm. You didn't know what you could really do to help, considering that you were the one that they were after.
"Listen Mavuika, I am your creator, so I should have the right to know about all this, no? I may not be strong, but it's not like I'm completely useless," you held her hand against your forehead, both of you looking away from each other.
Feeling the need to lighten her pile of work, you let her go for a moment, going up to her desk and setting up the documents. You didn't look at her, nor did she look at you.
"I'll help," you spoke up.
"You don't need to."
"I insist."
She sighed, yet reluctantly went up to you to do the same. She knew that you wouldn't really change your mind, so there was really no point in arguing any further.
For the past couple of weeks, you were there to help Mavuika. You were always at her beck and call, skipping your work to help with hers. The only thing you did however was confiscate useless documents, sign the ones that she couldn't, and carry piles of work to warehouses.
As you were walking through the place, whistling to yourself, you realized that you had just passed the place that you were supposed to be in. Noticing your mistake, you ran to that place in exasperation, not noticing how a gust of wind helped you to run faster..
"Why do I keep forgetting this shit?.." You rubbed your temples, setting the box down. Looking at all the shelves, you deadpanned at the realization that the shelves were much higher than you anticipated.
"I should've brought a ladder.." You mumbled.
Then suddenly, without any explanation, a pillar of Geo helped you up, slowly rising to the shelves. The revelation almost made you scream, but you kept it in. You were really high up, and the fact that you didn't know what was happening made it even more terrifying. Was this Zhongli's doing? To taunt you before he came to hunt you again? You couldn't really tell, the only thought running in your head was how the hell would you get down.
The even stranger thing that happened was that a gust of wind separated the boxes and placed the one that you brought without you needing to use your hands. It might've been the Anemo Archon, but the fact that if it was, he would probably not help you with anything. He would most likely make you fall instead, taunting you like Zhongli. But it didn't really make any sense. How the hell would they even reach you all the way from Natlan?
As the pillar mounted you down, you were about to run to reach Mavuika, but your temperature rose uncomfortably high, which was very unusual. The sudden change made you collapse onto the ground, golden blood seeping out of your nose. You felt yourself getting light headed as you struggled to keep yourself awake.
"Not now god dammit!" You exclaimed in your head as your vision turned blank, losing your consciousness.
....
Where were you?
You held your head, groaning at the painful sensation. You got a clearer look at your surroundings, notifying you that you weren't in Natlan. No, this place was nothing like Natlan. It was more regal, the entire place being covered by intricate gold designs. You explored the place for a bit, still trying to figure out what happened.
You walked around, then suddenly, you saw a projection in front of you. Okay, it at least confirmed that you were in a dream. But when the projection finished appearing, you saw someone whom you didn't expect to see.
It was... Nahida?
"Greetings your grace," she bowed, and you just told her to stand back up.
"Kusanali? What are you doing here?" You raised an eyebrow. Seriously today was one of the most craziest days of your life, more than when you realized that you were in the Genshin world.
"I have been trying to speak with you, your grace. It was very hard, I admit, and I may or may not have caused those nightmares, I am really sorry about that." Oh, so that's why these horrible dreams happened, and why you couldn't remember them. You smiled awkwardly, knowing that you would forgive her anyway. After all, she was the first to actually help you in this world.
"What did you need to speak with me for?" You asked.
"It's about the other nations, I want to inform you that they are currently on the hunt for you, and want you back into the position of creator," she answered, and now there were even more questions in your head. What was the strange switch up for?
"But I must ask your grace, is this what you really dream of, your throne room?" She pointed at the giant throne at the back, and you quickly went to answer.
"No, I don't dream about anything like this," you replied back in confusion. Right, was this supposed to be normal?
When you turned around to ask Nahida a question again, she was gone. Was she hiding? No, she was completely gone, you couldn't feel her presence any where, almost as if she was forced out of your dream.
You looked around more and more, only to realize that there was a carbon copy of you on the throne.
They looked exactly like you, except more regal, and more intimidating than what you could ever be. However, you did notice that they were... Crying? Tears were definitely spilling out of her eyes, yet their expression stayed the same.
Yea this was weird.
You looked around again to see the Archons behind you. You flinched at the sight, however, they weren't looking at you, rather they were looking at what you could assume to be the previous creator. Their expression was one of pity, and in almost half a second, they attacked the creator. Yet that "you" didn't move a muscle, allowing them to get a hit. As you stared at the throne, there was golden blood seeping out, yet the creator was as hard as stone.
They had sealed the creator.
....
You woke up with a gasp, feeling sweaty and uncomfortable. Looking at your hands, you saw they were trembling. Your throat felt dry, way too dry for your liking. As you reached out for the nearest liquid next to you, your hands landed on a cup of tea, which you picked up and drank immediately. You calmed down a bit, reminiscing on what you just experienced.
"So that's what happened, I wonder why.." You mumbled. You finally payed attention to where you were, and saw that you were back in Mavuika's office. Huh, you didn't remember being here last.
Finally paying attention to what was next to you, you saw a tray on a stool, and some food on it. The tea you drank just now was probably from that tray.
Your eyes wandered, and it stumbled upon Mavuika. She was on a chair too, yet she was sleeping, her arms crossed. As multiple ideas went through your head, it finally clicked.
"Was she taking care of me?" You thought, yet you were too much in a trance to wake her up and ask her. Your cheeks were flushed, and you felt them getting warmer.
You wondered what this feeling was, the way your heart started beating faster and how you felt all giddy inside.
"Ah whatever, I'll figure it out soon," you muttered, oblivious to your own feelings.
Sorry I didn't include the abilities part too much, I was more focused on the creator and Mavuika's relationship 😓
#reader insert#genshin impact#genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere sagau#sagau x reader#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#sagau cult au#imposter sagau#sagau impostor au#sagau#mavuika x reader
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i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body
Me too! GOD. Me, too.
It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!
✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨
Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush
Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.
You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.
This guy must be really fucking interesting.
You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.
It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.
It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.
“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.
“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”
GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”
Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”
Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”
Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.
“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.
“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”
Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.
“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.
“Max,” GP sighs.
“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”
GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”
“I’m not jealous.”
And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.
Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”
You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.
“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.
GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”
You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.
“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.
“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.
Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.
“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.
The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.
“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”
“My what?”
“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.
He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.
Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.
He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?
He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.
“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.
He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.
“Right, so,”
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