#and gn friends z
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gold rush
❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift
word count | 19.2k (19,220)
genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader
though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.
★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything
★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D
In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.
It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.
seok ☀️
> can you pls pick up the phone
> i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️
> forgive me!! 😓💔🙏
> do you need me to grovel? because i will
You scowl.
When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.
There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.
But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.
You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.
Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.
(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”
“…Listen—”
You hung up).
You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.
The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.
Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.
(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).
You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.
Memories of what once was linger.
You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.
But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.
You feel him before you hear him.
That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).
“I thought they told you.”
Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”
“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”
A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”
Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”
“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”
You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.
“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”
Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”
“It’s hot,” he argues.
“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”
He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.
Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”
“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”
“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”
You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.
“I believe in you,” he declares.
“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”
You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.
“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”
Mingyu hums hopefully.
The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.
But you’ll worry about that when you need to.
Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.
“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”
Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”
“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”
“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”
Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”
People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.
It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.
At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.
When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).
Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.
“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”
“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.
“Ditching what?”
“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”
“Now, why the hell would you do that?”
“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”
“Are you calling me stupid?”
Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”
You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”
You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”
“Put that brain of yours to good use.”
“They said that to me, too.”
Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”
You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.
It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.
You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.
(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).
Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”
“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”
You pout. “I doubt it.”
“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”
Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”
You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.
And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.
(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)
A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.
A sigh.
“Okay, fine.”
“Can I ask you something?”
You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.
“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”
You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.
“What do you mean?”
“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”
Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”
At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”
There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.
“Yeah. Why?”
He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.
Should you be worried?
“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”
You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.
(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).
“Why’d you ask, anyway?”
“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”
You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”
The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.
Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.
Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.
But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.
You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.
“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”
“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”
Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”
You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.
In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.
Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.
“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”
“Fine,” you grit your teeth.
“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”
“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”
“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”
“It is.”
“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”
It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.
You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.
It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.
It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.
“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”
You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.
But you know him.
You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.
Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.
You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.
He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.
“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.
His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”
“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”
You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”
You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”
He hums. “No promises.”
A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.
“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”
To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”
You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”
He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”
You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”
You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.
(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).
For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.
After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.
When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.
Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.
“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”
Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”
Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.
Are you sure this is okay?
You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.
He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.
Really?
You shrug again. Really.
And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.
Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.
“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”
When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”
“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”
“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”
Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”
“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”
You freeze.
“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”
Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”
“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.
Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.
Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.
You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.
If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.
The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.
Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.
You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.
It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.
“Hey.”
A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.
Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.
A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.
It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.
(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).
(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).
“I’m sorry.”
You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”
“You’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”
“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”
“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.
“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”
You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.
You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.
“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.
“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”
A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”
“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”
“Why?”
You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.
You still hurt.
Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.
“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”
Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”
He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.
“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.
“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”
You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.
“Mingyu—”
“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”
You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”
He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.
He nods. “Better late than never.”
Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.
It’s cold.
The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.
On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.
It’s cold, and something’s wrong.
Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.
Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.
“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”
“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.
You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.
He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”
He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.
“Yeah, sure.”
He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.
You really should’ve brought your own scarf.
When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.
Your ire is gone in a flash.
“Um…”
Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”
“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”
You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"
“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”
“What are you, five?”
Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”
“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”
Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”
You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”
“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.
You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”
“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”
“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”
“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”
“Okay, rude.”
“It’s true—”
“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”
Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.
You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.
He must’ve found nothing because he stays.
You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”
His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”
He disappears before you can retort.
(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).
When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.
“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”
He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.
You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”
“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”
“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”
You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”
Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”
Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”
“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”
You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”
“Strawberry milk.”
“I drank it all.”
Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”
“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”
“Can’t hear you!”
There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.
You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.
Prick.
Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”
“Blocked.”
Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”
You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.
With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.
(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)
“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”
You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.
“Okay.”
Mingyu grins. “Okay.”
It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.
Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.
You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.
“Can I ask you something?”
You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”
“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”
Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”
“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”
You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”
A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.
Everything is normal.
(But…)
“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.
Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”
Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”
“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.
As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.
“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.
“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.
You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”
“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”
“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”
“He can use it for Halloween!”
“Halloween is nine months away.”
“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”
You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”
“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”
“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”
You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”
Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”
“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”
A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.
“Listen—”
“What the hell?”
“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”
“You said you liked that apron!”
Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”
You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.
“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”
“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.
Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.
He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.
This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.
You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.
“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.
It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.
(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).
Everything will be fine.
Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.
A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.
“Left hand, red.”
Chan’s complaints come immediately.
“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”
“I haven’t even moved yet.”
Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.
“Are you good?” you ask blankly.
“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”
“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.
“Fuck you, Vernon!”
You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”
Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.
Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.
“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”
Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”
You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”
“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”
“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”
Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.
Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”
“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”
Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”
“One cheese, one pepperoni.”
Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.
Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”
Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.
You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.
“Oh, what did you do now?”
“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”
Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”
“What?”
“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”
“But I’m so comfortable here.”
“And we’re hungry.”
“Why does it have to be me?”
“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”
Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.
Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”
Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”
“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”
“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”
“Y/N could go with you.”
Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.
Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”
“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.
“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”
You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”
“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.
Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”
You think you might strangle them.
“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”
He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”
You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.
But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.
Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.
The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.
The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.
In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.
You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.
“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”
He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.
This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.
(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”
You sigh. “Hao—”
“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”
“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”
Silence. You rub your temples.
When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”
“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”
“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)
You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.
It’s a song Mingyu despises.
(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).
When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.
But three years cannot erase a lifetime.
You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.
You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.
One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.
“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.
“Yeah.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“Not yet, no.”
“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”
“Something’s wrong.”
He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.
“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.
You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.
So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.
“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”
Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.
Two sit in the shade, watching.
“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.
The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”
“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”
“Yes.”
Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.
“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”
“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Hypocrite.”
Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”
“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”
“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”
“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”
“You really think they’ll work it out?”
“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”
Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.
You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.
“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”
He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.
“You lied to me.”
He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.
“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.
“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”
He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.
This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.
For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.
(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).
Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.
It’s exhausting.
The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.
But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.
That’s where you and he differ.
And he couldn’t take that from you.
Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.
Who is he to get in the way of that?
(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).
“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”
You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I fucked up,” he says.
“Yeah, you did.”
“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.
(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).
“Mingyu—”
“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”
“Mingyu.”
He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”
Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”
“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”
“You listen to me, because—”
“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”
A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”
“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”
“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.
“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”
You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.
“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”
That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.
Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.
Mingyu always liked people-watching.
He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.
“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.
The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”
“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”
“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”
“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”
“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”
“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”
“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”
You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.
It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.
You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”
Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”
It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.
Closure really would be nice.
“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”
When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.
“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”
He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”
“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”
Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”
“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.
Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.
“Listen, I—”
“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”
“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”
“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”
“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”
It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.
But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.
And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.
“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”
His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.
“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”
“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”
“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”
He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”
The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.
The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.
You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.
From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”
“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”
“I was lying to you.”
“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”
“It was a moat.”
“And yet you fucked it up.”
Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.
Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"
Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”
“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”
“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”
He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”
“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”
“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”
“What?”
“Ah. Have you two eloped?”
Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”
Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”
“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”
“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”
Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”
A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.
“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”
Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”
Minghao nods in agreement.
From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”
You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”
It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.
“Thanks,” you say.
His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”
Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.
One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”
“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.
“Twelve.”
“Five.”
Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”
“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.
Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”
It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.
(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).
Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.
Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”
You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.
“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”
With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”
He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”
You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”
“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”
You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”
“You always choose rock.”
“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”
Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.
You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I wanted to.”
“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”
He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”
You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”
“Well, still.”
“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”
“You’re ridiculous.”
He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.
And he would win, you think.
(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.
He smiles. “No reason.”
Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.
(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)
(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).
It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.
Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.
“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.
“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”
“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”
“So?”
“So, what?”
“What are you going to eat then?”
“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”
“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”
Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.
It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.
His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.
The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.
Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.
“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”
“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”
“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”
You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”
Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.
You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”
Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”
“Okay. Then who was it?”
You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”
You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”
“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”
“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”
He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”
“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”
He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”
“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”
“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”
“Of course.”
“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”
The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”
Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”
You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”
His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.
“I—”
“Next, please!”
Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”
“Mingyu—”
He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”
(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.
It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).
Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.
But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.
The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.
It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.
It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.
From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.
The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.
He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.
He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.
(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:
hao 👨🎨
> party at seungkwan’s on saturday
mingyu
> not coming
hao 👨🎨
> 😐 ok ur loss
> y/n is tho
mingyu
> … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).
Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.
About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.
“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”
“Hiding.”
“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”
“You love me.”
“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”
Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”
“I think so, yeah.”
Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”
“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”
“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”
Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.
Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”
“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”
Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”
“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”
Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”
The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”
“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”
“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”
“I don’t know!”
“Then what are you apologizing for?”
“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”
“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But—”
“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”
“…What?”
“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”
Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”
Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”
Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”
With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.
In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.
(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.
“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”
“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)
The timer begins counting down.
Five.
“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”
Four.
���I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”
Three.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”
Two.
“I don’t—”
One.
“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”
You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.
It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.
He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.
However, he’s older now, and things change with time.
You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.
(Other things don’t).
He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.
Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”
You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”
Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.
He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.
He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.
Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.
He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.
Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.
“Hey.”
Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.
Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”
You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”
“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”
“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”
“Then why’d you come?”
“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”
“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”
“Well… no.”
He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”
“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.
You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”
He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”
You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”
Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”
Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”
“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”
“You’re so cheesy.”
“Only for you.”
You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”
“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”
Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.
(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).
“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.
But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.
“You know what I never understood?” you ask.
“What?”
“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”
“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”
You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”
“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”
“Why are you asking?”
He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”
You frown. “Say what—?”
“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”
You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.
“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”
It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.
He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.
“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.
“Sorry?”
“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”
His lips part. “What do you—?”
“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”
Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.
With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”
“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”
“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”
He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.
(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).
You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.
Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.
He used to pray for this.
When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.
He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”
You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”
“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”
“I have not.”
“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”
Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”
“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”
“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”
“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”
“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.
Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”
You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”
Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”
You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”
“Mingyu,” you whine.
“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.
You sigh. “You promise?”
He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”
Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.
He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:
I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.
© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.
#fic: gold rush#seventeen#svt#mingyu#kim mingyu#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu x reader#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#kim mingyu scenarios#mingyu scenarios#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios#kim mingyu angst#mingyu angst#seventeen angst#svt angst#kim mingyu fluff#mingyu fluff#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#kim mingyu imagines#mingyu imagines#seventeen imagines#svt imagines
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The Demon Of Cancellations : A Cancel Contracts Business
The story of a demon in hell that can cancel contracts.
P1 (here) -> P2
TW : Bad english, english isn't my first language.
Pronouns used for the Reader : he/they
Male/Gn reader.
Others info : the reader do 5'7 and have a dark academia style with a trench coat.
_________
There was a well-known demon in hell. They were not an Overlord, but very powerful.
‘Why ?’ you will ask ? Because they was able to make any contract appear, and make it disappear, cancel it, just by touching it.
People call them The Demon of Cancellations.
________
I should tell you where all begin, right ?
Well, that all begin with a teenager, a 16 years old teenager.
He was a normal teenager, going to school, lying, daddy issues, mama’s boy, hating the life and his siblings, burning car and sometimes house...
A normal teenager from the Gen Z.
But, one time, he die.
His friend told him to jump from the rooftop of their school.
And, as a dumb suicidal, he jumped.
And just like that, when he opened his eyes, he was in hell.
He didn’t know what to do. He always know he will end up in hell, yeah, but he didn’t expect it that early !
So, like everyone that go in hell and don’t know what to do, he decided to do a pact with an Overlord !
Well, try will be a better word.
Why ? Because when he touch the contract, the contract disappear. The contract was cancel.
And our little demon, that wasn’t that dumb, decided to start a business which consists of canceling contracts.
And that worked !
And it’s just like that, that The Demon Of Cancellations was born.
_____________
Angel Dust wasn’t very sure about all that “Demon Of Cancellations” thing, but if they can cancel his contract with Valentino, he won’t say no.
It was Friday, at 9pm, when Angel Dust arrived at the building where the Demon Of Cancellations do their business.
The building was a normal building, well, as normal as a building can be in hell.
Angel entered the building, and went up to the third floor, where his, perhaps, savior's office was.
The Demon wasn’t what Angel expected. And the Office too.
Angel imagines a large, dark office, with a large and terrifying demon waiting for him.
Not a 5'7 teenage human-like demon. No, but seriously, the only things that differentiated them from a human were the demon horns and tail.
Angel knew that some demons kept appearances that could be more or less close to their living form. In fact, the less bad things a demon does while alive, the more similar its appearance will be to when they was alive.
But that didn't make sense ! How could a powerful demon, who could break any contract just by touching it, have done only a few bad things ?!
“Hello, Angel Dust I supposed ?” said the demon, making Angel Dust focus on the demon in front of him. “Come, take a sit, I don’t bite, I swear !” they said with a soft smile.
The Demon was wearing clothes that looked Dark Academia style, as well as a trench coat, and they had a black blindfold covering their eyes.
They didn’t look that different from a regular demon that haven’t done too much bad thing from alive.
But Angel Dust couldn't let his guard down. They were The Demon Of Cancellations after all.
Carefully, he sat down on the seat in front of the desk, looking at the face of the demon in front of him.
“So, what contract do you want me to cancel for you ?” they ask, always with a smile.
‘They look like a little like Alastor, think Angel Dust, ‘always smiling like a fucking creep.’
“With Valentino.” Said Angel Dust.
“Valentino ?”
“Yeah. A problem with that ?” ask the spider demon.
‘Maybe they can’t cancel it. Yeah, that should be that.’ Think Angel Dust, mentally repressing himself for having believed, for having hoped, to be able to end this fucking contract.
“Oh no !” said The Demon Of Cancellations. “It’s just that it’s the 5th this week that someone ask me to cancel a contract with him.” They explain. “I was thinking about putting my office closer to where he works, as most of my clients are his workers."
“If you do, I doubt you'll survive more than a day. He'll kill you when he will see you." Said Angel Dust with a little chuckle, thinking at Valentino that was swearing about “That stupid fucking demon that take all my bitches”.
Angel Dust won’t lie, it’s only after hearing that, that he decided to come see them.
And as his contract appeared, floating on the desk, he knew he had made the right choice.
The Demon Of Cancellations touch the contract, and just like that, the contract was cancelled, disappearing in the air.
Angel Dust couldn't help it, he smiled and cursed.
“Yeah ! Take that, you bitch Valentino ! I’m free !”
And he was. He could feel his soul being free after all this years.
The Demon Of Cancellations laugh at that.
“Well, you’re free now. So go do all that the devils do when they are free.” Said The Demon Of Cancellations.
“FUCK YEAH !” scream Angel Dust, running out of the office. He had to tell what just happen to Charlie and Husk !
______________
The Demon Of The Cancellations, Y/N by his real name, was happy in a way.
He was maybe a trash, a bad person from his living, but he won’t do the same in hell. He will help people to be free, well, as free as a sinner can be, even if that mean that he will die because of that.
Especially if he can get money with that ‘good’ action.
What ? He was still a demon after all. Why would he do that if it's not for money ?
_________
Possible part 2 with Husk and/or Alastor.
It’s the first time I write for Hazbin Hotel, for Angel Dust, so it’s not that good but I will try to do better.
In a timeline, it happen after the season one.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x male reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x gn reader#angel dust#Raccoon is writing#The Demons Of Cancellations#x male reader#gn reader#x gn reader#male reader#part 1#maybe part 2 soon
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Avatar | ATWOW: FIC RECOMMENDATIONS
This is for anyone else who is searching for certain avatar (wotw) fics; I’ve got you.
note: Reminder minors please remember to read authors notes and warnings, majority of them should be sfw blogs; Also remember to check out the tagged authors blogs for more of their amazing work and support them ✨
**will keep updating this **
Second: LO’AK FANFICS | Catergory: A-Z
• A •
Anything for you @naughtyforneteyam
As long as it's with you. @loakismine
Avatar the story of us @tonni30
A misunderstanding - lo'ak x reader @readerxlol
• B •
Being human + dating lo'ak @lo-aksgf
Best friends. @atokirina-writings
bounce @snoopdogsnip
boys dont cry @outsideofthegarden
burning love @p0w3rzz
• C •
childhood bestfriends to lovers @lola-bunn1
clueless @starkeysmoon
Come to you @whatisthatmae
• D •
dull | lo'ak @bonnibuckets
• E •
Empathy @mochi-yu
• F •
failure @m1kasawps
first kiss with lo'ak @livelaughloak
Five things lo'ak loves about you @tinkerbelle05
Fmokx @/loakismine
G
• H •
Happier @littlethingsinlife
Him Being insecure @sxmpforneteyam
hurt @bruisedcupids
• I •
Injured || lo'ak x reader @budgiesunset
In love with the enemy @vandnana
it's always been you @/lola-bunn1
I see you @hearts4neteyam
I see you @bibibelly
I see you lo'ak @loaksbitch
• J •
jealousy @lxvvvllyy
Just Dance @/snoopdogsnip
Just the start @sunandsstars
K
• L •
lo'ak getting jealous @/livelaughloak
lo'ak learning hiw to read @/livelaughloak
Lo'ak @marvelsage
Love at first sight @yapeachys
• M •
Me Gustas Tu @starriluvs
My First @/loakismine
• N •
nebula @tysukets
nightmare @eywascall
not funny, didn't laugh @/tysukets
• O •
Ocean breeze @/rslytherinesinner
Only one. @starriluvs
• P •
partner in crime @astr1dblogs
perfect @/sunandsstars
Q
• R •
Rivals to Lovers with Lo'ak @angelltheninth
• S •
scream @sethcertified
Sharing same music taste @/hearts4neteyam
sneaking out @/snoopdogsnip
starlight lovin' @/tysukets
sugar crash @/snoopdogsnip
• T •
teach me @/loakismine
Together again @otherperson12
the chase @/starkeysmoon
The perfect pair @mooooonnnzz
The pink promise @/vandnana
• U •
Unrequited Love @shanaurrr
V
• W •
Worthy @white-girl444
X
• Y •
you idiot. @urjanedxn
You're perfect @/shanaurr
Your killin me @slutforavatar
You were just a child.... @/atokirina-writings
Z
#- 123 - REQ (untitled)
lo'ak x female reader @price45
lo'ak x metkyina!reader @marastarz
Lo'ak x Metkayina!GN! @imagineitcreateit
lo'ak headcannons @rainymoodsworld
lo'ak x non-binary @klefansklaroline
angst to fluff @/lola-bunn1
loak x insecure reader @loveysmoke6998
lo'ak x reader @/loveysmoke6998
lo'ak x human!reader @beannmx
lo'ak x polar opposite twin @/beannmx
lo'ak x bestfriend reader @/lola-bunn1
Omatikaya, Metkayina hybrid! reader @/ilikeballs
Lo'akxFem!Metkayinareader @avatarl0v3r
Headcannon of Lo'ak @/angelltheninth
Lo’ak x Female Na’vi Reader Headcanons @woalain
Yo this list is slightly longer than others.
#avatar the way of water#avatar 2#aoteyam’s library#avatar fanfiction#loak x reader#atwow loak#avatar loak#loak sully#loak headcanons#loak imagine#loak x you#loak x y/n#lo’ak fic#lo’ak headcannons#lo’ak x reader#lo’ak x you#lo’ak sully#lo’ak avatar#lo’ak x y/n#lo’ak fluff#lo’ak#avatar recommendations#fic rec#fanfiction reccomendations
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Seatmate Sweetness
Pairing: 4nemo Boys x GN!Reader (seperate)
Featuring: Venti, Xiao, Heizou, Kazuha, Wanderer
Genre: Fluff, Crack, teasing?? is that a genre idk, school au, modern au
Summary: Seatmates who have a sweet secret crush on you ;)
Reader’s Pronouns: Not specified
Warning: this is gonna be shit cause i haven’t written i so long bye 😘 🤾♀️
Disclaimer: ⚠️ ONLY A WORK OF FICTION!
♯ Venti !
Venti as a seatmate would be….interesting to say the least
he’s that kid who’s always late even if he lives literally just across the school
he also has this tendency to sleep in class, when he finds the topic boring
which is, every topic in every subject
but when your homeroom adviser changed the seating arrangements and you were assigned to sit next to him, he started changing
he noticed that you were a very precise person. always at class on time very smart responsible the whole smart kid shebang yk
and when YOU were assigned to seat beside him, you were dreading it. great, now someone was just going to get in the way of your studies.
a few weeks go bye and venti is still the same as ever, slacking off, sleeping in class, and one day he even drooled a bit on your paper, which finally made you snap
luckily there wasn’t any teacher in class at the moment to witness you snapping
let’s just say his cheek was red for the whole day, and not in a good way.
he told his friends about it, which they said he deserved, which made him seethe even more
at night he thought about it, how you would focus in class, how your hair would cover you face when you double checking your notes
you looked adorable while doing it, he thought. now his face got even more red, now this time out of embarrassment
how could he realize he liked you after you slapped him infront of the class? was it a kink or something?
the next day, you apologize to him, which he didn’t even notice or listen to you for that matter, focused on your lips rather than what was coming out of it.
“venti? hello? are you listening?” you say waving your hand around his face
“i know how you can make it up to me y/n” venti starts, “really? what is it?” you say confused, tilting your head to the side
“we could go on a date together!” now both of your cheeks were a rosy pink
♯ Xiao
now xiao here was the silent smart type as we all know, while you were the giddy type who couldn’t seem to stay in your seat
he didn’t really mind it to be honest, you rarely talked to each other. but there was an understanding that you both respected each other’s space.
when your history teacher, mr. zhongli, assigned you together for an assignment, you didn’t really mind. xiao was smart and hot, from what you could tell he was also somewhat kind in his own peculiar way
you worked on it together for the rest of the period, and xiao couldn’t help but notice his heart beating even faster than it did before. it always beated quickly when you were around, which made him feel confuse inside.
after class, he asked his father figure mr. zhongli (wow who would’ve thought i did this)
“i don’t know sir, whenever im near them my heart beats 10 miles an hour, i don’t know if this is a good or bad feeling sir, perhaps whenever im close to them i might meet my demise? is this a sign that something bad will happen if i go near them? should i stay away from them? but i don’t want to stay away from them, their very kind and sweet, albeit sometimes loud, and sometimes i-“
zhongli cuts off xiao before he can utter another word, zhongli comes to the conclusion that his son was very down bad for you.
“it seems that you have developed romantic feelings for y/n. and might i add xiao, i do approve of this liking towards them, they are a very caring and sweet person indeed. this is merely a suggestion, but why don’t you tell them how they make you feel? the school festival is about to commence soon, that would be a good opportunity wouldn’t it?”
xiao thought about it for a minute, yes it was a good idea. but how will he ask you?
zhongli suggests to ask you by word, or if xiao is too nervous then by letter, xiao decides on the latter part.
he goes home that day, on his desk, pen in hand and staring at the paper.
he has so much to say and at the same time, nothing at all. he wants to tell you everything and nothing at the same time. is this what love feels like?
finally after what felt like hours, he’s finished his letter to you, making sure it looks presentable, because you only deserve the best.
he makes sure to wake up extra early the next morning, and make it to school before you do
he places the letter on your desk, and waits for you, anxiously replaying all the possibilities in his head
lucky for him, the outcome he was expecting most, came to fruition
♯ Heizou
heizou here is the diligent yet flirty president of your class. while you were quiet and kept mostly to yourself, choosing to draw in your sketchbook rather than converse with anyone.
it’s not like you didn’t have friends, you just didn’t like talking much.
since you sit on the front beside heizou, your often bombarded with the amount of paper he has piled on his desk because of yhe obscene homeworks the teachers assign you.
it kinda bothers you a bit when you barely have any room to put your things on your side of the desk but you don’t say anything, because every morning heizou sits at his side of the desk you can see his baggy eyes and unkempt hair which makes him 10x more attractive in your opinion. but he didn’t need to know that
during another one of his stress sessions you seem him struggling with a particular project in a subject you were quite good at.
but of course heizou didn’t have any balls to ask anyone for help, having the mindset of “because i am the president, i shan’t let anyone see any weakness.” (which was total bullshit btw)
you meekly tapped his shoulder which made his face bolt directly to you, way closer than he was intending
you offer your help, saying he clearly needed it and at this point heizou doesn’t have the energy to decline, so he listens to you explain the assignment in full detail, taking note how your eyes seems to glint in the sunlight and how your soft hands brushed his slightly calloused ones
he may or may not go to you when there’s an assignment on purpose, even if he fully understands the concept.
he thinks it’s a win win, he can spend more time with you and complete his tasks
(even if he’s just staring at you 99% of the time)
♯ Kazuha
let’s be real this boy is rarely in school
but when he is at school, he’s just sleeping most of the time
when the teachers try to corner him with a question when they catch him dozing off, he manages to answer them correctly
they ignore him after that LMAOOOOO
but when you, transfer to his school in the middle of the year and get assigned next to him, he starts to take a liking to you
you’d make notes for him in class while he sleeps, thinking he had a rough night before, which he finds really nice and so adorable
of course in return, he helps you with concepts you don’t understand or if you’re having trouble understanding japanese
he doesn’t know how he ended up in this situation but right now your in his home, speaking to his moms and having dinner with them
it’s not like he didn’t like that you were at his home, quite the opposite frankly but it turns out that his mothers find out about his little crush on you
all evening his mothers have been indirectly teasing him, even going as far as almost revealing his crush on you
after dinner was finally over, he takes you to his room (his moms gave him teasing winks that made his face all red) and showed you all the memorabilia he’s acquired from his adventures with his moms
you found them so amazing, and when you look back at him he’s stepping forward to you which makes you freeze in place, despite feeling a quick warmth on your lips
your at his house even more often after that event ;)
♯ Wanderer
absolutely HATES GOING TO SCHOOL
but is one of the top students 🤷♂️
his aunt makes him go saying that learning is an essential part at life
“auntie that’s bs i don’t-“ he gets slapped in the face
goes to school cause he didn’t wanna get spanked in the face again LMAOOAOAOA
as his deskmate he actually really really likes you, even more than a deskmate actually
but boy has no way to tell you
sometimes he sees that you have nothing to eat for lunch so he gives you his “extra” saying that he doesn’t want you to faint in class, making him take you to the nurse’s office
nahida always wonders why her nephew stays up so late to make food for 2 people, but she doesn’t push the subject further
you thought it was really sweet of him, and his cooking was amazing! why would people say that he’s mean and an arrogant bastard? (he is tho just not to you lol)
you wanna repay him with something, so you decide to make some brownies for him, not knowing he despises sweets
you stay up all night, wanting to make them as perfect as the food he gives you
you pack it in a cute lil bento with a lil thank you note sticked to it and get to bad, excited of what his reaction will be to the pastry you’ve made him
the next do you can clearly see the disinterest in his face when he sees your brownies (he thinks he’s hiding it well he’s really not) which makes you feel really bad
“do you not like them? i can make something else for you, i just wanted to return the favor since you always give me your extra lunch, i’m sorry if this isn’t what you like”
his face goes IMMEDIATELY red with embarrassment, mostly at himself because of how a dumbass he is 💀
“i didn’t mean it with i’ll intent y/n, it’s just that i’m not really fond of sweets, but i would like to try one” he responds an idea popping into his head
“really? what is it? i’ll make it for you! to make up for these ones you don’t like, just give me the recipe and-“ you get cut off by him hooking his fingers under your chin
“you”
——————
a/n: bye this is so cringe if my friends see this they will never let me live this down
if your my friend irl PLEASE RESPECTFULLY STFU 😂😂😂
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin fluff#genshin scenarios#genshin angst#genshin crack#genshin headcanons#venti x reader#xiao x reader#heizou x reader#shikanoin heizou x reader#kazuha x reader#kaedahara kazuha x reader#wanderer x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche x reader#genshin x you#genshin fanart#genshin spoilers#genshin venti#genshin xiao#genshin heizou#genshin kazuha#genshin wanderer
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Shrimpy Chronicles: Ama and the Sun
Octopolycue x Shrimpmer!Reader (Main: Azul x Reader)
Synposis:
"Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light.
And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her fathers and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin.
She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting.
Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun."
or
Your daughter notices that you yearn for the sun and the surface more than her other parents do, and learns why.
Takes place after "Mating Season", different timeline from "The Delights of being a 'Zuzu'". Neither are necessarily needed to understand the story, but are helpful for some context.
[wc} - 1,818
[cw/tags] - gn!reader, reader is referred to Ama but has they/them pronouns, mild angst, has a happy ending, in daughter's p.o.v., Jade and Floyd mentioned but not seen in story (implied poly!octotrio x reader), Azul is referred to Baba/Zuzu, reader comes from a happy family in their world, i also didn't edit lol
[notes] - I wanted to write something very simple for coming off my hiatus! I have a lot of strong thoughts about preserving something like my culture and language. I imagine that for a Yuu with a strong family bond, having to accept that they can't go home and lose not only their family, but their culture and language, is quite devestating. For people in our world that have to leave their homes to go somewhere else, sometimes they forget bits of that and want to make sure that their kids know and love where they come from out of desperation to maintain that connection. I wanted to write a little something about that, hope yall like it!
Written while listening to "Shelter" by Porter Robinson and Madeon, I recommend listening to it while reading :)
There was something about the warmth of the sun that Coral was drawn to. She wasn’t sure why, her sister, Pearl, didn’t have the same inclination, nor did her fathers. Her Baba Zuzu might’ve been an exception, but he also was perfectly fine to stay in the dark, cold depths of their home.
But Coral was like her Ama. They shared a lot of similar traits, like their shrimp merforms and the color of their skin. The strand along her bangs even matched the color of Ama’s hair, pretty stark against the rest of Coral’s teal hair. Though, her twin Pearl also had the same strand, just on her opposite side.
But still, Coral was Ama’s baby girl. Coral never said it to anyone other than Pearl, but Ama was her favorite parent. And Ama?
Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light. Sometimes, when Ama thought no one was looking, they would gaze out the window and stare at the sunlight filtering through the water, making green and blue streaks glitter during the day.
And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her papas and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin.
Coral tried to copy them once. She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting.
Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. But Coral could see the wet look in their eyes. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun.
Coral did her best to make sure they’d never be alone, always going with them to the surface. It was a bonus for Coral too, she got to see her Grandpa Divus and his doggies. Most of the time, though, it was her Goddads Ace and Deuce. They were okay too.
This time, her Ama and Zuzu were up on the surface to warm up a bit before diving back down after visiting Grandpa Divus. Though, Zuzu still stayed mostly in the water. He rested his arms and chin on the rock while Ama was laying on their back, arms spread and eyes closed as they basked in the sun.
Coral had taken to hanging on one of Zuzu’s tentacles picking at the skin with her shrimp legs, trying to mimic Ama when they were cleaning her Papa and Dada, though she was starting to fall asleep.
The warm sun always made her sleepy, and Zuzu’s scratching at her scalp wasn’t helping along with his tentacle rocking her back and forth. But the low voice of Zuzu speaking to Ama caught her attention.
“You’re going to dry out if you stay too long up here.” He was whispering, like he didn’t want to wake Coral up. So she kept her eyes closed and listened, her earfins wiggling a bit.
“Mmh.” Ama hummed in response. “It’s fine, just for a bit.”
“A bit has been for almost 30 minutes.” Zuzu sighed, harsher this time. “Please, my dear, come back in the water. Coral’s fallen asleep, we should take her back home.”
“Just a bit longer Azul…please…” Ama sounded sad, the way they sighed. Coral could make out the sound of movement. Maybe Ama turned on their stomach?
“I just need this, okay? The sun and the air.” Coral peaked an eye open up at Ama and Zuzu. She could see that Ama was indeed on their stomach, facing Zuzu as they kept speaking.
“Didn’t you used to miss the sea when you were at NRC all year? The cool water, the darkness? Floyd would talk about getting homesick, wouldn’t you?”
Zuzu sighed again, holding his cheek in his hand.
“Sometimes, yes. As much as I didn’t like my natural form then, I missed having ten limbs. Losing 6 of them was a shock. Couldn’t do quite as much as I usually could.”
Ama blinked sleepily as they yawned, the sun was lulling them to sleep too. Coral really took after them.
“I just miss my home.”
Zuzu was silent, the swaying of his tentacles in the water stopping, and the one rocking Coral slowing down.
“… Your home is under the sea. You remember that, right?”
“…”
“Angelfish?”
Ama sniffled, their eyes watering as they looked to the side, staring at the shoreline nearby.
“I know! I know it is, it’s just…”
Tears began flowing from their eyes, their lips quivering as they continued.
“It’s not that I’m not happy with you all, I am. I really am, I just—” They took a shuddering breath, rubbing the tears from their eyes. “—I had another family before. Parents, siblings, friends, that I will never see again. That my girls will never meet!”
Holding their face in their hands, Ama began tearfully rambling, making Coral’s heart feel funny.
“I had a whole culture, a language, that I can barely remember now. I love my life here, but the longer I’m here, the more I feel like I’m losing a part of myself. Can you imagine that, Azul? Can you imagine remembering the touch of your mother’s hand on your cheek, but her face faded from your mind? She will never get to meet her, you, Jade, or Floyd. She will never meet her granddaughters. She will never know that I’m safe and happy and loved.”
Ama was crying now, hiccuping as Zuzu reached up to cradle their face, pressing his forehead again theirs. He was wiping their tears away, cooing at them like he would when Coral or Pearl had a nightmare.
“And you are so loved, my dear. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, but know that when the twins and I gave our word to care for you, we meant it.” Zuzu pressed a soft kiss against their lips, giving them a small smile. “We never go back on our word, especially where you are involved.”
Sighing, Ama nodded, holding Zuzu’s hand against them as they kissed his palm.
“I know, I just hope that somehow, my family knows that. That I’m loved, and safe. And trying to keep their part of me alive.”
Zuzu chuckled softly, one of his tentacles scooping up some water to pour over Ama’s drying tail.
“Is that why you’ve been teaching them phrases in your language? Pearl was shouting something at Floyd a few days ago after he took the jellyfish she was trying to teeth on. Did you teach her curse words?”
Ama snorted, smiling at him as they reached down to splash some water onto their face, speaking a phrase in the foreign tongue that Ama spoke to them sometimes.
“No, nothing remotely like that. It means ‘I love you’ in my language. I just told her it’s a bad word, and to never say it. I figured she’d try cussing one of the twins out eventually, so I told her how to say ‘i love you’ instead.”
Zuzu tilted his head as he repeated the words, though he sounded off. Ama giggled at him, shaking their head.
“No, you gotta click your tongue! Like this.” Ama repeated it, their voice taking on a different tone and accent as they did.
Zuzu repeated it back, sounding closer to Ama’s accent, though they still giggled at him.
“I’m trying! Don’t laugh!” Zuzu huffed, though Coral could make out the tips of his mouth curl up into a smile. “Say it again, say I love you in your tongue.”
Ama smiled, their skin flushing as they repeated the words.
“Hmm, again.” Zuzu purred, smiling at the shy smile on Ama’s face. They repeated it again. And again as Zuzu kept demanding them to say it again and again, while Ama kept giggling and repeating it back.
Coral cringed at the display, feeling embarrassed as they shared a long kiss.
“Ew…Ah!”
Coral yelped as the tentacle that had been cradling her suddenly tightened around her waist and lifted her upside down. Squealing at the sudden change, Coral giggled as Zuzu brought her between them, he looked annoyed as Ama was smiling.
“I thought you were asleep, were you pretending, you little sneak?” Zuzu clicked his tongue, though based on his smirk, he was more amused than anything.
“Hehe, noooo~” Coral giggled as she was lowered down into Ama’s arms, who cradled her against their chest and fluttered kisses against their cheeks. “Ah! Ama! That tickles!”
Coral squirmed against their grasp, finally wiggling up as their little legs grabbed onto Ama’s arms to hold herself straight.
Trying to straighten her face, Coral grabbed Ama’s cheeks with her little hands and, very seriously in her opinion, asked, “Is Ama okay? You were crying about home, do you not like being in the ocean?”
Ama frowned, shaking their head as they gave Coral a smile and bumped their forehead against hers.
“No, baby, Ama loves being in the ocean. They just miss being a human with their family.”
“Ama was a human?! No way!” Coral gasped, eyes going wide. “I thought that was just for school!”
Coral frowned as she thought back to Ama’s earlier words.
“Do we have more family far away? In the land? Is that why Ama is so sad?” Coral asked, watching as Ama’s face turned sad, but quickly back to a small smile.
“Yes, baby, but it’s more complicated than that.” Ama lifted Coral into their arms, sliding down into Zuzu’s arms and tentacles as he lowered them back down into the water. “I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older, okay?”
“Besides,” Zuzu piped up, pressing a kiss into Coral’s forehead. “You’re still due for a nap, Coral, you can wait later.”
Coral pouted, mumbling complaints to herself as they all dove back into the water.
“But I wanna know noooow…it’s not fair! I’m not—” Coral yawned mid-sentence. “—mmh. Ima not tired…”
One of Zuzu’s tentacles reached over to brush her hair as Ama cradled her closer to their chest, Coral curling against them despite herself.
“Shush, go to sleep, baby.” Ama cooed as they slowly made their way back home. “I’ll be here when you wake up, and you can ask whatever you want, okay? Sleep my baby.”
Coral blinked sleepily, eyes wandering as she made out the outline of her Ama’s face as they brushed a finger against her cheek.
Coral thinks she understood what her Ama was saying. She loved Ama’s hands on her cheek. She loved her Ama’s face. She never wanted to forget her Ama’s face.
Her final thought, before finally falling asleep to the image of Ama’s smiling face, was how warm her Ama made her feel. Like her own personal sun.
comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷
#mochi fic#twst#twisted wonderland#jade leech#floyd leech#azul ashengrotto#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade/azul#floyd/azul#octotrio#octopolycule#shrimpy chronicles
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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 7
Chapter 7 - A Day With Alastor
A/N – Well, it took a while but I finally felt up to writing a bit. There’s still a lot of sadness at home right now, but I’ll try to keep writing.
Warnings – None.
Rating – T
TAG LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy @midoria-kinnie @meesachan @fusehoundshipper @velvettenoctus @crescent-z @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @rosiescannibalwife @skylerbutterfly @hamthepan @latersgaters-steven @kryptidkova @sleepyhead-number27 @cherry-4200 @harcourtholmesii @alastorandluciferspouse @holyspacething @kedelman24 @becsmarvel @vash-yuu @k-n0-x @radio-leigh @tamaki-simp @wolfdaddyalphasworld @http-dilflvr @cosmic-lavender
MALE VERSION HERE
GN / NB VERSION HERE
You woke up in Angel’s bed. The previous night, you two had laughed, danced, ordered pizza and stayed tucked away in the safe haven of his bedroom. In that time, Angel had been reminded of how much his life had improved recently, and how precious his new friends were, and you had allowed yourself to relax, once again reverting to your previous human appearance. Yet, after revealing how you had died twice in a night, the change to look human felt more like a choice rather than the repression of painful emotions; you still had no love for your Demonic appearance, but you felt it wouldn’t be so terrible if it was seen among friends, or if you wanted a break from the low thrum of energy it took to keep your human façade in place.
You groaned tiredly as you pushed yourself up, never having been a morning person, and upon looking through the slats of the shaded window, you saw that it was very early indeed.
Angel had already left, and you made a mental note to call him in the evening when you knew he would be done with work. Despite the fun respite the two of you had shared, Angel would undoubtedly have a terrible day as Valentino’s plaything.
Stretching, you got up and headed downstairs for breakfast, surprised when you didn’t see anyone at the breakfast bar. Technically, the breakfast bar was just the regular bar, but since Husk typically spent his mornings sleeping in, everyone had adopted it as the breakfast bar and so there were always boxes of cereal on it until noon.
Thinking about it, you realised that since Charlie and Vaggie weren’t there to greet you, Angel Dust had likely talked them through the previous night and reassured them that everything was going to be okay. It had undoubtedly been a tearful reunion for Charlie. Angel Dust would have laughed and played it off like it was nothing, though he would have secretly been touched that Charlie cared enough to cry over someone like him, and Vaggie would have been left to care for Charlie and steer her in the direction of her daily duties.
Absently, you reached for a box and began pouring yourself a bowl of Glutton-O’s. There was a thunk in the bowl as a dead cockroach pinned to a cheap ring of plastic fell into it. You hummed at Nifty’s idea of a breakfast prize, though you didn’t scoff at it. Instead, you opted to wear it, just in case the psychotic little maid was around. If she was, you would make her happy, and if she wasn’t, you could always throw it away when you were far from the Hotel.
Despite claiming the prize, you opted not to eat the tainted cereal, getting up to leave instead.
“Ah, (Y/N), good morning,” Alastor greeted you energetically as if he had only just spotted you when in reality he had been waiting patiently for you to awaken and head downstairs.
“Morning Alastor,” You replied warmly, used to his sudden appearances.
“I didn’t know you were back in our wonderful home. Tell me, was it trouble in Paradise with Lucifer?” His head lurched to the side and his grin became more malicious as he mentioned his rival’s name, though he was back to his default expression a moment later when you replied.
“Christ on a stick, Al. You make it sound like we’re a couple or something.” You shook your head, chuckling, “No, everything’s fine between me and Charlie’s dad. I just came over to visit last night. I’ll be going soon though.”
“Going? Oh my. Well, I can’t let you go without first ensuring you’ve had an enchanting day out. How would you feel about joining me on my morning constitutional?”
You smiled and got up, straightening your crumpled clothes. “Sure, I could do with a walk.”
“Wonderful!” Alastor stamped his cane to the floor, and your outfit transformed into one more fitting for a trip to Cannibal Town.
“Oh,” You hummed, glancing down at the new outfit. You weren’t offended; Alastor liked his travelling companions to look their best and to be honest, you had needed a fresh change of clothes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my dear,” He replied brightly.
Then, Alastor offered you his arm, a rare gesture seeing as he didn’t liked to be touched, and after escorting you out of the hotel, the two of you separated, walking side by side.
You had been to Cannibal Town only twice in the past. The first time was because that was where you arrived upon your death. The second time, you were running from the carnage caused by some loan sharks wherein you had been caught in the crossfire. At the time, you had been dressed so poorly that the inhabitants of the elegant town had chased you to the border, trying to take a bite out of you.
Since then, you hadn’t been back. However, seeing as Alastor was escorting you and since you were now dressed to match the high standards Cannibal Town held, you felt safe in going there.
All those who passed by you and Alastor stopped to bow or tip their hats in due reverence to the Overlord.
“So…” You started, “Is this your territory?”
Alastor threw back his head and laughed, “Ha-ha-ha, my territory? No, no. This wonderful patch of Hell belongs to my good friend, Rosie. Now there’s a fine Lady, if you’ve ever met one.” He hummed happily, “Indeed, they don’t make them like her anymore. I’d introduce the two of you, but I have it on good authority that she is currently away attending business.”
With that, Alastor led you to some of the finer boutiques of the Town. He snapped his fingers and the attendees rushed to his side, crowding him, and pushing you out somewhat. You shrugged your shoulders and began looking around at the many wonderful clothes surrounding you.
You had seen old films wherein boutiques like this once existed, with attendants and fine boxes tied with perfectly curled ribbons. Until now, they had seemed to be a thing of the past, but one good thing about Hell was that the past was all around you, and should you want a taste of something more modern, you could always catch up with a bit of Vox-tech, ensuring the best of both worlds.
You heard the sharp static screech that meant Alastor was offended and turned to find him gesturing at you.
The salespeople who previously crowded him were suddenly surrounding you.
“Alastor, what’s going on?” You asked uncertainly.
“Well, my darling,” He grinned devilishly, “Call this my treat. It’s rare that I have someone travel with me so willingly and I do find it ever so nice to have a passion project these days. So, these fine people are ready to bow to your every whim. Clothes, pearls, a bottle of the finest Champagne, you name it and they will bring it to you. In fact-” Alastor clapped his hands lightly and suddenly a tiny imp rushed to his side, struggling under the weight of the ice bucket he held above his head.
Alastor waited as another hired imp hurried over to pour two flutes of Brut Imperial Moet & Chandon Champagne, handing one glass to Alastor and forcing the other into your hand.
Alastor took a sip and smacked his lips together, eliciting a satisfied sigh, “Ah, 1911, a fine vintage. So, a new wardrobe then?”
“Oh, Alastor, I- I couldn’t,” You said sheepishly as a Cannibal Tailor began taking your measurements, holding a tape measure against your leg.
You tried to walk back to Alastor but were restrained when the tailor hooked the tape around your waist.
“Nonsense, I insist.” Alastor chuckled.
“No, really. I didn’t come here to get anything from you.”
“Exactly! You don’t want anything from me, and that’s precisely why you shall have everything. I do ever so enjoy gifting my friends, especially those humble enough to try and deny me my eccentricities.”
You tried to argue further, but it quickly became an exercise in futility. No matter what happened, you would not be able to convince Alastor to change his mind. So, you gave in, and in doing so, you ended up having one of the best days of your afterlife.
That day, you felt like you were a part of a movie montage. You were rushed about into changing rooms to try on several outfits tailored to you, your face was peppered with makeup, attendants were constantly by your side, gushing over you and offering mimosas or whatever else your heart desired (though, you avoided the finger sandwiches filled with actual human fingers, or any other food, seeing as you were afraid of what might be in it.)
Overall, you knew that this kind of attention would be too much if you were constantly plied with it, but for a short while, it was fun, and you were happy to let yourself be spoiled.
Finally, Alastor decided he had given you enough and offered to take you out for afternoon tea, which you happily agreed to as long as there were some non-cannibal options.
Alastor rested a hand over his heart as if offended, “Oh, you non-cannibals don’t know the kind of flavours you are missing, but if you insist, I promise to take you to one of the tamer venues in town.”
He waved the attendants away, leaving your new belongings to a Demon who would have them transported directly into your room.
When the two of you sat down outside of the Insani-Tea tea house that overlooked the pavilion in the central plaza, Alastor sighed contentedly. He picked up his cup and swirled it around airily, taking a look at the scenery as he changed the topic from the previous ones about the hotel, “This has been quite a lovely day if I do say so myself.”
You smiled happily, resting your hands around your tea cup and relishing the gentle warmth, “It has. Thank you, Alastor. I needed a nice day like this.”
“Hm? So, life with our all-powerful Satan hasn’t been all you imagined.”
You chuckled as Alastor caught your eye, “Well, it was all Charlie’s idea, and you know what she’s like when she gets a thought into her head.”
“Indeed. A very determined young lady.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“You’re not happy, then?”
You took a moment to contemplate the question, “Honestly? I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in a very long time. It’s… hard sometimes to be in such a new place when I felt so at home in the hotel, but I think that Charlie might be on the right track when it comes to Lucifer.
Granted, her methods are… Well, she’s a real ballbuster when it comes to her ideals on friendship and the like, but I think that if her father could see what she’s trying to do and make a connection with people like us then he would see that Hell isn’t just one big punishment and that he and his family did manage to build something sort of good here.”
At the mention of Sinners as a Collective, Alastor’s grin became darker and more sinister in nature, as if he didn’t approve of your placement of him and the other Sinners on the same level, though, distracted as you were, you missed his disapproval and sense of superiority. He however didn’t miss the way your smile softened when you mentioned Lucifer’s success.
It wasn’t love. Of that, Alastor was certain, but if he nudged you in the right direction, you could probably fall for that blonde idiot, and if that happened, and if Lucifer somehow also found feelings for you, Alastor could use you to manipulate Lucifer.
Like all of Alastor’s plans, this would take time and a lot of work, but the reward would be great. With time, he would be the new ruler of Hell, and that was a day he sorely looked forward to.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that our darling Charlie was right in her hunch,” He said genially. “You should continue to work with Lucifer. I’m sure it would be beneficial for everyone.”
“We’ll see,” You agreed, taking a sip of your tea.
Lucifer paced back and forth in the Pride Parlor where you usually spent your afternoons. Where were you? You had been missing all day.
He folded his arms tightly against his chest as he paced. Had he upset you the night before? What was he thinking? Of course he had! You had told him how you died, and now… Now, what? Had you run away? Should he call Charlie?
Lucifer didn’t know what to do. He didn’t own you, and while you had claimed him as your friend, he had never reciprocated in kind.
The sound of the door opening caught Lucifer’s attention and he looked up hopefully, but it was only Spick closely followed by Span, each of the snakes holding feather dusters and getting to work cleaning the room. Lucifer watched as Span dusted the fireplace mantle, his eyes travelling upward to a portrait of him and Lilith together; it was one of the earlier pieces he had commissioned from an awful Sinner, Salvador Dali; the artist’s punishment for selling his soul to an Overlord had been that whenever he was commissioned, he wasn’t allowed to paint his beloved surrealism art and could instead only paint portraits.
In the painting, Lucifer was staring intently at Lilith, admiring her for everything she was or ever would be since her potential was limitless to him. She however was looking straight ahead, a demure smile upon her face.
When Lucifer thought of you, he couldn’t help also thinking of Lilith. Granted, you and he were only friends, but Lilith had also disappeared and now she had been missing for seven lonely years. Lucifer would hate to think that he had driven the only other person to live with him since then away too.
Anxiously, he twisted his wedding ring from side to side, feeling more miserable than ever.
“Hey boys,” Your cheery voice greeted as you entered the parlour.
Lucifer spun around to find you eagerly smushing Spick and Span’s faces like they were puppies or something equally as pettable.
“(Y/N)… You’re back,” He murmured quietly.
Mistaking his quietness for indifference towards you, you wilted somewhat, “Yeah, but I can uh- I can leave again if that’s what you want.”
“What I want?” Lucifer repeated listlessly. He held up his hand as if he was going to touch you, but let it drop again, “I’m… I’m going to my workshop.”
You nodded, your brows furrowing at the strange exchange, “Okay, I’ll- I’ll be in my room.”
Lucifer passed by you to leave the parlour first, then he seemed to change his mind, if only for a moment.
“It’s good to have you back,” He said softly before heading out.
You smiled to yourself, relieved. “It’s good to be back.”
You thought that Lucifer hadn’t heard you, yet as he walked to his workshop, a small smile reached his lips; it had been a long time since he’d considered anyone new to be a friend.
#fanfiction#reader#reader insert#fanfic#lucifer morningstar#lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer hazbin hotel x reader#charlie morningstar#lucifer magne#lucifer magne x reader#hazbin hotel#hellaverse#sinless sinners#alastor#chapter 7#part 7#a day with alastor#fem reader
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✰ syn ’ safe for work a-z boyfriend for jay park
✰ pairing ’ boyfriend!jay x gn!reader
requested!
a ⋆ affection - how affectionate are they?
very
very extremely affectionate
he's always touching you
always holding your hand
he likes to fiddle with your fingers
or he likes to play with your hair
he just loved being around you
and he tells you he loves you like all the damn time
b ⋆ bonding - how often do they bond with you?
whenever he has the chance to
he is always trying to hang out with you
tells you he misses you after 2 minutes of being apart tbh
he's so clingy but it's not overly clingy so it's okay
he always bonds with you
he will sit in a room with you and just do his own thing
as long as you guys are together everything is okay
c ⋆ communication - do they keep in touch with you when they're away?
uhhh duh
he literally sneaks his phone during events just to text you
buys airplane wi-fi just to be able to contact you
he is DEDICATED to being with you even if it's through some pixels on a screen
he will always keep in touch
communication is extremely important with jay i can't even express how important it is
d ⋆ dates - how often do they set up a date for you two?
all the time
he's always taking you out to eat tbh
his love language is litrally acts of service
he loves doing things for you
especially taking you on dates and seeing you get all dressed up for him
it literally makes him weak in the knees tbh
bro is ready to give everything up for you
e ⋆ essential - what is the thing that is important to them?
family and his members
in the beginning his relationship wasn't as important to him
but once he knew you guys were going to last he started to prioritize you more
basically you're family to him, his wife/husband, duh?
but he values his relationships more than anything!
f ⋆ friends - how did the friendship start?
you guys just kinda met through a mutual friend tbh and got close
your friends did not expect you and jay to get along and when they found out you guys liked eachother?
they were literally so shocked
g ⋆ gross - what is the thing he hates in your relationship?
he hates fighting
he's a very expressive person
and when he fights he tends to raise his voice
and he does not like raising his voice at you
so he tries not to argue with you
and when you pick petty arguments with him it really makes him upset because he hates fighting over stupid shit
h ⋆ hugs - do they like hugs? how do they feel?
yes
he loves hugging you
his hugs aren't big
but they are so tight
he's basically trying to squeeze you till you pop tbh
they are very comforting when you two are cuddling in bed especially though
i ⋆ intercourse - how are they during intercourse?
he's good
he's very loving
very domestic
very vanilla
literally loves missionary
just loves being close and intimate with you
it never gets old though
j ⋆ jealousy - how jealous do they get?
very
oh my god
his temper is so bad
so ofc he's gonna get jealous
why is jay lowkey a toxic jealous..
just very possessive over you
does NOT want another guy looking at you tbh
he will have murder on his mind if a guy looks a second too long
k ⋆ kiss - how good are they at kissing?
good
he loves kissing you
always kissing your neck or your shoulder
and steals a kiss from you every time you turn your head towards him
l ⋆ love - how do they show their love to you?
through acts of service of course
and physical touch
AND gift giving
he loves spoiling you, taking you out to dinner, taking you on trips
he just loves it ugh
m ⋆ mad - how often do you argue?
sometimes you guys clash
a little more often than some others
but that doesn't change how much he loves you
like i said, avoid petty arguments
he doesn't enjoy them, and i hope you don't either
n ⋆ naughty - how do they deal with you annoying them?
they just
don't
he ignores it
but sometimes he laughs
okay i lied
he always laughs
he doesn't get annoyed
he just thinks you're so cute trying to annoy him
o ⋆ open - how often do they open up to you?
he's very open with you
always having gossip sesh's with him
tells you all the hybe tea tbh
literally tells you all his problems
and even the members go to you for advice
he's very open <;/3
p ⋆ pet names - how are they with pet names?
babe, prince(ss), love, honey, sweetheart
he's not a baby person
never calls you by your name
always calls you by the pet name he picks for you
q ⋆ quiet - silent treatment?
he doesn't give you the silent treatment
if there is a problem you guys ARE going to talk about it
there is no avoiding anything in this relationship
even though he has a short temper, he will always talk things out with you
his communication skills are extremely good
r ⋆ ramble - how often do they talk about you to others?
all the time
but not in a bragging manner
just in the manner that's like "oh y/n and i did this" a few days ago
nothing that's privacy invading
just what you guys did or have planned to do
but he will never fail to mention at least a few times how amazing you are to him
and he is so glad he has you
s ⋆ soft - how soft are they to you?
he hates being soft with you tbh
but like only in joking way
he loves you a lot
he just tries to ignore the fact he does enjoy being the little spoon
but he gives in when you're laying in bed with him
but he will never openly admit that tbh
t ⋆ think - what reminds them of you?
food and music
if he sees your favorite food his mind traces back to you immediately
or if he sees something you really like to eat he will buy it for you and bring it to you
he also listens to music that reminds him of you
usually ballads
u ⋆ unhappy - what makes them break if you break up with them?
the fact he believed you were his one true love
he didn't believe in soulmates in the beginning but when he met you
he suddenly did
ugh he is a sucker for you
and everything would break him
he will literally be #broken
v ⋆ vacation - how are they with long distance relationships?
he's so awful with this
but he copes because he keeps a picture of you in his wallet tbh
he wears it's his lucky charm
and he texts you or calls you like every second of the day
even when you're asleep
you will wake up to like 600 messages from him tbh
w ⋆ wholesome - the sweetest thing they ever did to you?
there's too many times he's sweet with you
but probably when he went all out for valentine's day
literally so many roses and flowers
and he bought you outfits to wear
took you out to the fanciest places
and bought you the most meaningful gifts
the way i'd literally sell my soul just to be with him
x ⋆ extra headcanon
let's bffr
if you guys live together
jay will always say good morning to you
even if you're sleeping
he leaves you a note on the nightstand
and he always kisses your forehead before he leaves to go to work
y ⋆ young and beautiful - (how long does it last?)
it lasts a really long time
i can see it being long term and ending
or just lasting forever
i think if you broke up it would be so sad
so how about, we just scratch that idea and you guys never break up ofc
wedding planning starts now
z ⋆ zzz - how do they sleep with you?
jay does NOT like being coddled when he's sleeping
he will cuddle with you before he sleeps
but when he's actually ready to sleep he likes his space
he's a deep sleeper, so it'll be hard to get him off of you if he falls asleep cuddling you
so let's just avoid that
2022 © jungwnies
thanks for reading! reblogs & likes are appreciated!
#enhanet#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen reactions#enhypen headcanons#enhypen oneshots#enhypen fluff#enhypen masterlist#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen scenarios#heeseung#lee heeseung#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#enhypen jake#jake sim#jake x reader#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jay#sunghoon#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon#enhypen sunghoon#sunoo#kim sunoo#sunoo x reader#jungwon#yang jungwon#𐐪♡︎₊˚ ― jungwnies#jungwnies
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TASTE OF THE UNIVERSE
PAIRING. jing yuan x gn!reader
WORD COUNT. 1,600
GENRE. fluff, pure fluff
SUMMARY. in which jing yuan occasionally gets tired of being general and you are there to cheer him up. but what exactly are you to him? jing yuan thinks you’re more important to him than you probably know.
NOTE. brain empty jing yuan thoughts only _(:3」z)_ if anyone else has jing yuan thoughts feel free to share my ask box is open <3 in the meantime, pls enjoy !! xx
Jing Yuan joined the Cloud Knights to escape a life of boredom that was bound to await him if he followed his parents’ wishes and joined the Realm-Keeping Commission. And while he believed he ultimately made the right decision for his life, there were parts of being leader of the Cloud Knights that didn’t align with the future he had always dreamed of when he was a child.
Some days, especially those days filled with stacks upon stacks of papers, Jing Yuan wished he could ignore his duties and explore the galaxies. Though, he reckoned everyone with any sort of career must have felt that longing before. Longing for a different life, different experiences, more time to explore.
Such was human nature, after all.
At least during those times that being a Cloud Knight general felt overbearing, Jing Yuan had you to alleviate the feeling.
His relationship with you was nothing more than a friendship if you based it solely on labels. That is to say, neither you nor Jing Yuan have called each other anything but a friend. However, it’d be a lie for him to say he had never felt the implications of anything more with you.
You were just friends, yet he gravitated towards you when he craved someone’s warmth and solace.
You were just friends, yet you insisted on getting dinner with him whenever you could after work, no matter how late his nights were.
You were just friends, yet Jing Yuan found himself wishing it was something more.
With that wistful thought, he pulled out his communication device and opened his messages with you. To his delight, he found an unread message from you only half an hour ago.
Y/N: Hey! :) How’s your day going? If you’re not too busy today, do you want to have dinner with me again?
His eyes lit up at the invitation. He had piles of paperwork to get through, and Luofu’s duties were ones he would never neglect so long as he was the Arbiter-General of the Cloud Knights. But leaving some of the matters with less urgency to be dealt with tomorrow in order to make it to dinner with you was something he could accept. Not so much neglecting as it was prioritizing, he called it. Or work-life balance, as you had told him.
Jing Yuan: Good afternoon, Y/N. My day is good. Better, now that I saw your message. And yours?
Jing Yuan: As for dinner, perhaps we can go to my place today? I can have the chef prepare your favorite foods if you wish.
He let out a soft sigh he’s been holding in. While it was common for the two of you to see each other, having dinner in a more private, intimate space wasn’t something regularly on the agenda. But if Jing Yuan wanted to get to know you on an even deeper level, he reckoned dinner at home would be a good step.
Y/N: My day is also good!
Y/N: I’d love to have dinner at your place. But maybe we can give your cook a break tonight :)
Y/N: I visited Belobog for my last vacation and learned how to make Snapper Jam during my time there. Since you’re too busy to visit yourself, maybe I can make it for you! You can have a little taste of another planet.
Y/N: Though… I won’t have the ingredients from Jarilo-VI, but we can make substitutions accordingly!
Jing Yuan chuckled to himself. Of course it’d be rather difficult to make authentic Belobogian cuisine without the exact ingredients, but he trusted your imitation would still be delightful to the taste.
Besides, it was the thought that counted most and the fact that you wanted to share a part of the galaxy you experienced with him meant more than the quality of the meal.
Jing Yuan: Hahaha, I’d be delighted to taste your cooking. Let me know what ingredients you need. I’ll have someone gather them before you arrive.
Y/N: Okay! I’ll send a list soon.
Y/N: I’ll see you in a few hours! :)
Jing Yuan: I’ll be counting down the seconds!
˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖
You weren’t one to be particularly bashful around Jing Yuan. Perhaps in the beginning when you only knew him as general of the Cloud Knights. But the more you got to know him, the less hesitancy you felt in opening up. Now, you would consider him one of your closest friends.
A close friend who occasionally gave you butterflies and heart palpitations, naturally.
And tonight happened to be one of those occasions.
You haven’t been alone in Jing Yuan’s home before— Or rather, Jing Yuan’s palace is a term more befitting. Despite the vastness of his living quarters, there was an air of intimacy still present in the room.
Jing Yuan watched as you cooked a meal for him in his kitchen, asking if he could help in some way even though you knew that man had not had to cook for himself a day in his life. You asked him to prepare some vegetables as the sides while you worked on the main dish.
When the two of you finished, you had a smile on your face. One the Jing Yuan matched. He placed your plates on the dining table, making sure the two of you were seated side-by-side. You poured a glass of wine for him before filling up your own cup.
“Cheers to this delicious meal made by the lovely Y/N,” said Jing Yuan with a grin, ready to toast.
You clinked your glass against his, not breaking eye contact as you had your first sip. “With the help of the even lovelier Jing Yuan, of course.”
“Naturally.” He smirked. His tone changed into that of a more serious one as he took a bite of the Snapper Jam. “I don’t know if I expressed it well, but I truly am grateful that you did this for me. It’s almost like I’m in Belobog myself.”
You laughed off his compliment, knowing your dish tasted almost nothing like its Belobogian counterpart. But there was only so much you could do without the authentic ingredients. You hoped you were able to do it some justice— Enough to make it enjoyable for Jing Yuan at least. “Well, if you can’t travel the universe yet, I can at least try to bring the universe to you.”
“You already have,” he said, “even without the food.”
Placing another bite of fish in your mouth you raised your brow in question. “How so?”
“You’re here with me aren’t you?”
It dawned on you that he was flirting with you. In the cheesiest most poetic way possible.
A giggle escaped your lips as the realization set in. “General Jing Yuan,” you said teasingly, “if you’re not more careful with your words, I’ll start thinking you’re hitting on me.” You paused. “Unless, that is the intended implication.”
“And if it is?” In contrast to his usually impeccable table matters, he rested his elbow on the table and propped his head on his palm, staring up at you with hooded lids. An almost cocky smile spread across his face, but his eyes shined bright and hopeful.
“I can’t say I’d be opposed,” you said, pretending to be nonchalant about the entire thing. That didn’t last for long before you burst out into a smile, almost bouncing in your seat. “In fact, I’d be rather ecstatic if that were the case. Almost happy enough to kiss you.”
Jing Yuan instantly straightened up at that, no longer lazily leaned over the dining table with that cool composure of his. He craned his neck sideways, examining you with his intense stare.
“How do we get you even happier then?” he asked, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. “Would confirming I am flirting with you be enough to suffice?”
You nodded, taking another sip of wine to quench your suddenly dry throat.
“I do like you,” he said sincerely, turning in his dining chair so that he was facing you directly. “And while it may be too soon to truly say you are my universe, I have no doubts it will get to that point, if you’ll only allow it.”
“I like you, as well,” you admitted, placing your hand on his cheek and leaning forward for a kiss. Jing Yuan’s eyes never left yours even as he reached out to cup your jaw. “And you’re well on your way to being my universe, too.”
He let out a low chuckle, brushing your lower lip with his thumb. “Then… What are we waiting for?”
You replied simply by tilting your chin up and meeting his mouth with yours. His lips felt warm and inviting and you instantly hoped there would be more of this to come. The half-eaten food sat almost forgotten on the table, but you had more pressing matters to attend to.
For now, all you could focus on was Jing Yuan’s lips moving against yours, his hand making its way down to the small of your back, his knee brushing against your upper thigh.
Him, him, him.
The thoughts were all-consuming as you melted into the kiss. You wanted nothing more than to enjoy this moment with him. And you knew he felt the same.
Slowly, you pulled away as he rested his forehead gently against yours. His golden eyes burned deep into your own and you found yourself unable to look away.
“Wow.” Jing Yuan smiled as he licked his reddened lips. “The universe sure tastes wonderful.”
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fanfiction#hsr#hsr fanfiction
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ghhhhh i have a massive Beru brainrot,,,,z he won't get out of my headdd... can I request a cute little crack fic about a gn/male reader who returns from a fancy gathering or party they're drunk? they get overly excited to see Beru, and uh- basically this happens
The lip gloss scent wouldn't come off, and Beru smells like cherries for a few days. Jinwoo witnessed this happen to Beru lmao
also the relationship between Beru n the reader is platonic, they just like Beru..., little meow meow..
take care!
Solo Leveling:
Little Meow Meow ^-^
Summary: In which loving Beru is like loving a cat.
Or Beru is too cute not to love.
Pairing: Platonic! Beru and M! reader.
Note: Thanks for being patient!
Warning: None. Just fluffy goodness.
★・・・・・・★
Beru watched as you stumbled into the apartment.
In fact, he had watched the young man go into a bar filled with laughter, music, and clinking glasses.
Now, Beru almost popped out from the shadows had you not held onto the wall with all your might.
His Liege had asked him to watch over his little friend, to make sure that you were not harmed or taken advantage of. Beru also knows that His Liege cares about you very much, considering how much you had supported his family through tough times as a B-class hunter.
“B-Beru? Is that you?” You hiccuped, before you rubbed your eyes. Beru jumped at the sudden call of his name, and didn’t know how you manage to spot him without revealing himself.
“Beru~ I know you’re there~” You take a step, but tumble over. Luckily, Beru was there to catch you.
"Beru! My favourite lil man~" you exclaimed, your words slightly slurred. "You won't believe the party I just came from! It was incredible!"
Beru tilted his head, a silent acknowledgment of your presence, instead, leading you to the sofa. The drunk man, however, paid no mind to Beru's stoic demeanor. Instead, you gave the shadow knight a wide grin.
"You know, Beru, you're like my own little meow meow," you giggled, reaching out to rub the creature's head. Beru shivered, a foreign feeling bloomed from within.
Suddenly, you cupped Beru's face and brought it closer to your own.
"You're so cute, Beru, You’re like a little kitty!" you cooed, and without another warning, your lips pressing against the creature's forehead.
Beru immediately jumped back, surprised by his own avoidance and embarrassment. Is this what humans do when they get drunk?!
Luckily HIs Liege can’t get drunk, because humans are like a different person when they are drunk!
If Beru wasn’t here, what if you did this to someone else! That would be embarrassing!
“Beru~” While Beru’s head was filled with question marks and danger signals as more scenarios pop up, you however, weren't satisfied with just one kiss.
You dive towards him and continued to shower Beru with affectionate pecks, your enthusiasm fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins.
Also, were you wearing lip gloss?? Why does it smell like cherries?!
Beru, being smothered with kisses, he quickly held you up and away from him. He didn't know what to do.
My Liege!
Jinwoo, having sensed the commotion, entered the room just in time to witness the peculiar scene. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Beru, who was covered in red lip stains, and looking at him confused and pleading for help.
"What's going on here?" Jinwoo asked, trying to stifle a laugh.
You turned to Jinwoo, your cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and alcohol.
"Oh, Jinwoo! Beru just deserves all the love, you know?"
Jinwoo couldn’t help but chuckle, making Beru even more flustered. Luckily, Jinwoo easily peeled you off of the poor shadow soldier, letting the poor Beru breathe again.
You grinned, giving Beru one last affectionate pat before settling onto the couch.
"Best party ever, Jinwoo. Best party ever." You mumbled before going into a slump, clearly won’t remember anything when you wake up.
And so, in the quiet apartment, the shadow knight sat awkwardly, adorned with the scent of cherries, as you drifted into a tipsy slumber, thinking of their own little meow meow.
Jinwoo didn’t forget to tease Beru everyday, nor did anyone in the shadow army.
#manhwa#solo leveling spoilers#solo leveling fic#solo leveling headcanons#solo leveling#shadow soldiers#sung jin woo x reader#beru#sung jin woo#male reader#x male reader#x male y/n#solo leveling crack#platonic
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Hello iz me, I thought of another request sorry sdvhf- Some killers reactions to finding a gn survivor in the middle of a trial asleep? Just passed the fuck out in the back seat of a truck in the cornfield map- Or asleep in a locker or the corner of a room, waiting for a teammate to come back, something like that
(No established relationships, for both of the requests I sent!… yet) 👀
If you could include Frank again because..👉🏻👈🏻, but aside from that, any other killers you want to write hcs for! :D Thank you again!
i see frank? i fold like a samsung galaxy z flip 4
𝘿𝘽𝘿 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡
u see the title babes G/N reader x Killers🤭
— killer(s) included;; frank morrison & danny johnson bc i had no clue who else to add🧍♂️
‼️tw(s);; none!
° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °
𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓
✿.｡༅ He was confused to say the least. Had survivors tried hiding inside and under the cars before? absolutely, but he had never encountered one sleeping in one.
✿.｡༅ What is he even supposed to do in this situation??? He could drag you out by your ankles and toss you onto a hook, easy kill, but you looked so peaceful.
✿.｡༅ Frank doesn’t blame you for deciding to pass out during the trial, he gets exhausted during them and after too.
✿.｡༅ He’s a killer not a monster 🙄
✿.｡༅ Ultimately you’re left alone, he’d feel guilty waking you up, he doubts the anxious pre-trial periods don’t help much with relaxation either. Coldwind farm wasn’t any better — but at least there were some spots that you could lay your head for a minute.
✿.｡༅Frank will make sure not to make any noise around the car you’re in as to not disturb you, he’ll kill one of your friends far away or steer chases away from the vehicle.
✿.｡༅ Internally he worries if the car is too hot in there for you, it was a very warm and sunny setting you guys were in so of course he was anxious that you’d overheat in there.
 ✿.｡༅ Despite his worries, you were still peacefully sleeping.
✿.｡༅ If you’re lucky he might sit near the truck you’re resting in while the match continues, he’ll wait for you to get up so he can take you to an exit.
✿.｡༅ You can give him hell about him actually being ‘soft’ & he’ll threaten to yank you out of the vehicle next time he finds you and then toss you on the rustiest hook he can find, but he never does.
• • •
𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 𝕵𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊
✿.｡༅ Oh hey
✿.｡༅ Danny finds you sleeping in one of the old houses in Haddonfield, he was looking for someone else but you were a much more pleasant surprise!
✿.｡༅ Unfortunately unlike Frank, he’s yanking you up and throwing you on a hook😪
✿.｡༅ He’ll catch you again in another house sleeping after he gets rid of the rest of your team, he’s confused now.
✿.｡༅ You’re quite literally in a life or death situation yet you’re choosing to sleep?? Surely you’d want to leave just like everyone else, so why were you just clocking out???
✿.｡༅ Of course he’s thinking of killing you right here, but this time he decides to let you have some peace before he kills you.
✿.｡༅ What does he do instead? Lay down on the floor next to you! He could’ve just went to the next room over and lay on the mattress but he wanted to still be as close to you as possible.
✿.｡༅ You’re unable to see because of the mask, but he’s looking at you from the side. He sees how you manage to keep yourself together before the games even begin and now he sees you relaxing once you’ve been thrown into one.
✿.｡༅ Thats pretty damn cool to him, he’s slaughtered your friends countless times but you were still somehow calm.
✿.｡༅ Maybe he’ll let you sleep some more, hatch is right downstairs so he’ll let you leave this time.
• • •
WEEWOOOWEEEWOOOOWEEEEWOOO
#dbd imagines#frank morrison x reader#legion x reader#dbd x reader#ghostface x reader#danny johnson x reader#jed olsen x reader#dbd fanfic
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some recent fanfic recs☑️
for: moonknight, batman/battinson/ jason todd/ cod
some are 18+ (please just dont read if you are not):***
the link is my short amazing *sarcasm* review, jokes aside go read them and show them love. also most of these are longer fics! (i think all are x fem!reader if yall want a gn!reader let me know)
moonknight 🌙
this whole series is 10/10 by @januaryembrs
the way jake is portrayed *heart eyes* by @phantomspiderr
just dropped their whole mlist here so you can binge read by @st4rymoon ***
i am a sucker for hurt comfort by @vintagemulti
batman 🦇
most prob already read this series BUT ILL NEVER GET OVER IT by @jangofctts ***
i just love sad bruce by @the-wintershade
nightwing longtime friend reader x bruce on pollen need i say more by @imaginedisish ***
the way bruce is portrayed A M A Z I N G by @vigilvntes
normally im not really into pregnancy fics but this one ooooh the tension, the angst, the buildup… by @afro-hispwriter *** (just read everything she wrote while your at it)
jason todd ♦️
recently did not read that many red hood fics😞
i actually have not read this one yet bcs of school but it is long and it sounds good by @lightwing-s
cod 💀
this series has me in a chokehold zombie apocalypse universe reader x single dad ghost with a KID now that i think about it its so genius to put ghost who is always kinda cold with a kid in a situation like this and reader by @nsharks
now the legend cod writer made a merman price fic.. im sold ofc by @halcyone-of-the-sea
i hardly see colonel reader fics and i found out i like them (x ghost and angst) by @bits-and-babs ***
#fanfic rec#recommendations#call of duty#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#batman x reader#battinson imagine#battinson x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#john price#price x reader#price imagine#john price x reader#john price imagine#steven grant x reader#steven grant imagine#moonknight x reader#moonknight imagine#jake x reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector imagine#battinson#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne x reader
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·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖 (𝐈) ❞
with your auto workshop at risk of closing down, your best friend offers to introduce you to people who are definitely in need of your high quality services: underground street racers of blue lock, whose obsessions are winning the races. however, your arrival at the track makes them think otherwise.
✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. kira ryosuke, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, barou shouei, niko ikki, mikage reo, & nagi seishiro x gn!reader
✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. headcanon (written) ; 1.1k
✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. e2l au, f2l au, street racer au ; fluff
✧ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. slight possessive behavior (barou)
✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. so my streamer au hcs popped off… ngl, i wasn’t expecting much, but thanks for that! here’s another one with more characters into the mix. i’ve been waiting to write this au, ugh. this was originally a huge post with 18 characters, but i thought it was too much so i’m splitting this into two parts. hm, a week or two for the second part?
[ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖 (𝐈𝐈) ]
𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞. the jewel. he has been your best friend since diapers, as well as your soulmate, partner-in-crime, ride or die, and a lot of other things referring to him as your other half. as your best friend, he hates to see you unhappy. for instance, recently, he tells you that he knows people who will gladly pay you a generous amount to fix their cars, risking your safety because it’s blue lock of all things. it’s not easy to turn him down, so you agree to meet your new potential customers at the track underground despite the consequences. the likes of you rarely come to blue lock so it’s natural to have everyone wary of your arrival, which he warns you to stay close to him.
𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢. the heart. he’s relatively new to blue lock, but is already very popular among the audience for the freshness he brings to the atmosphere, which most of the older racers lack. ryosuke’s his first friend, so at least there’s someone other than your partner who you can trust. you’re in his care while ryosuke checks in with the rest of his team, and he decides to give you a tour of blue lock to keep you entertained. he’s sweet and kind, asking you if you want water and if you feel alright because racers have been staring at you since you arrived. before he can say more, an uproar booms, caused by a racer standing proudly on his car with paint all over his body.
𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮. the monster. he loves decorating, especially his car which explains the spray paint, but is terrible at being an artist. on the surface, he seems playful and cheerful, performing some sort of gymnastics routine through the crowd to isagi and greets him with pinches and stretches on his cheeks. however, his gaze tells a whole other story. he’s dangerous, with the possibility that he can beat up the entire venue with his spray paint bottles. jokes aside, he’s made a strong first impression, and it seems like he feels the same when he’s up at your face, studying you intensely. that earns him a flick on the forehead from a red-haired boy who’s too pretty to be true.
𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐡𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐚. the surge. he’s the fastest racer in blue lock, securing every victory at the speed of light. also known as its “princess”, but he doesn’t seem too fond of that moniker. as he approaches bachira to scold him for always scaring newcomers, his beauty is so unreal that you don’t even realize you’ve been staring at him until he tells you to stop and that you’re turning into bachira. in all seriousness, he apologizes for teammate’s antics, justifying that he acts like that before a highly anticipated race. he’s out due to a leg injury and has a teammate helping him to stay in shape: a bulky racer with orange spiky hair who you first see at the team garage.
𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞. the hero. he’s the strongest racer in blue lock in terms of endurance, outlasting everyone in those types of races. the de facto leader of team z, he acts as an older brother to them as he’s very protective and solves issues in a civil manner, which balances out his hot-blooded personality. he’s more than thrilled to have you as blue lock’s business partner, but first things first, as ryosuke has matters to take care of, he’s asked on his behalf to take you home. you thank him for the ride and being nice to you. embarrassed, he says he’ll see you at the race before zooming away.
𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐞𝐢. the king. he’s the leader of team y, the racer ryosuke’s been complaining about ever since he came back to your shop the day after your first time to blue lock. based on his description, he’s selfish and arrogant, claiming that the venue is his throne, and also that he’ll be one of the competitors in the upcoming race. ryosuke advises you to refuse him if he visits. after all, you have that right; but out of goodwill, you won’t. sometimes you wish you don’t mean the things that you’ve said because you disliked him upon the first verbal exchange. he had the audacity to tell you you’re his when he wins. you’ll follow ryosuke’s advice for sure when this guy comes.
𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨 𝐢𝐤𝐤𝐢. the sentry. he’s the youngest member of blue lock and the only non-racer. instead, he has sharp eyesight for alerting everyone when the police are near. he’s seen your little exchange with barou, so he decides to talk to you about him. not only is his ability useful for avoiding trouble with the law, he can analyze hand movements and facial expressions, whether they’re genuine or not. barou rarely says that to anyone, meaning he’s not an exception to be captivated by you. this boy admits you’re one of the people he admires due to your mechanical expertise. as he had said, him and barou aren’t the only ones; a fan favorite’s waiting to be graced by your presence.
𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐨. the heir. he’s the leader as well as the second-best racer of team v. he considers ryosuke to be one of the best racers in blue lock, besides his best friend nagi of course, which is what he’ll use during his negotiations with you. a master at that developed by his upbringing, they worked on the majority of his teammates, earning their respect, so he hopes that you’ll find his terms reasonable and work for him. but what he doesn’t expect is you playing hard to get. you think a pretty rich boy like him deserves a wild goose chase for shits and giggles, but in fact, it makes his pursuit very exhilarating like his races. nagi thinks that what he’s doing is a waste of time.
𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨. the genius. he’s the best racer of team v and is ranked sixth of the top six racers of blue lock. most people would be happy about their achievements, but he doesn’t care as they’re essentially reo’s efforts. all he cares about are his video games and his cactus, until you arrived. he’s interested in attempting to impress you, with “attempt” being the keyword. but reo does all his work once again by introducing him to you as his most prized possession. you may not believe it because of his lazy disposition, but reo promises that you’ll see his full potential in the upcoming race. someone else who he doesn’t find to be a bother, he hopes to see you more often.
✧ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. if your url is in bold, that means i can’t tag you!
@2018-01-20 ; @astranne ; @kamiiyaka ; @keqism ; @lilikags ; @wanderersbell ; @venexus
#✦ .fics#blue lock#blue lock x reader#kira x reader#isagi x reader#bachira x reader#chigiri x reader#kunigami x reader#barou x reader#niko x reader#reo x reader#nagi x reader#kira ryosuke#isagi yoichi#bachira meguru#chigiri hyoma#kunigami rensuke#barou shouei#niko ikki#mikage reo#nagi seishiro#blue lock headcanons#blue lock fluff
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foaming at the mouth for efraim. i need to get passed around like a blunt between him n his other insect friends like immediately
prrrrrr!!! i went a lil....nutso <3
(cws: afab + gn pronouns, drug use, free use/taking turns, established relationship, vaguely/mostly consensual, breeding, oviposition, insect mutants, mild photo/video recording, exhibitionism, weird dicks, venom/monster "substances", unintentional knotting, oral, cum drinking)
wc: 1k+
Maybe Ef invited you over to roll a blunt with him but you showed up to find all his close friends :) hangin out in the dorm with him. Z and his other slime roommate are gone for the day so it's just you guys--and it's just a chance to make new friends, y'know? C'mon in, they're nice guys. You're not even sure if they're students at MC but who cares? As Efraim says, they're cool and they "just wanna hang".
There's that one guy with the dark hair that's supposedly a beetle hybrid; all smooth, deep skin with an array of small carapace shells all up and down his back, lining his skin almost like plates that you'd find on armour. Then there's Efraim's touchy friend who sports the deep, red eyes of a wolf spider, each extra set that makes up six running smaller and smaller as they scatter down his cheeks like red rivers. The sideways fangs that gleam when he opens his mouth are a bit off-putting, but he promises not to poison you, sweetie. And then there's the guy that's scattering little sparkly particles wherever he turns--apologizing every time he gets it on the couch--because his wings are covered in the stuff, as is his fluffy collar and antennae and his curly white hair itself. He's an albino moth, but as pretty as he is it doesn't preclude him from leering with just as much interest in you as the rest of them. He's a couple years older, so is the spider--it makes them bolder, more apt to offer you their rolling skills and to make sure every joint you smoke is taken care of before it even reaches your lips. Pretty things like you don't have to roll their own blunts.
It's not until a half hour passes by, when you're all sufficiently smoked up, that you mistake Efraim's lap for the couch and sit your ass on it. The joint he's got half-smoked perches in his mouth so he can wiggle you back in, keep you from getting up when you realize cause he doesn't really want you to get up. You're so comfy and warm. The guys don't mind, they probably didn't even notice.
Even if they didn't, it's a little hard not to notice when Efraim takes you out of the living room into the kitchen and slots himself between your legs. He barely bumps you against the counter but you're in it at once; kissing, belt unbuckling, his rough hands turning you away and bending you forward over the counter cause that's what you wanted. No need to say it, he can smell it. Just have to keep quiet so his stoned friends don't notice while they're playing video games on the tv just a few feet away. He moans into your ear as he slips it in cause you just feel so hot, and he loves the sound that pretty pussy makes when he's making love to her. He's trying not to make it obvious but fuck he can't help filling you up when he's all riled.
"Just gonna have to hold it in, sweets." He chuckles in your ear before kissing it and hiking your bottoms back up for you. One of his friends rolled another joint for you and you're not just gonna reject it, are you? He ushers you back to the little party with a smirk when you take it for a good, long pull. The others aren't dumb, this wouldn't be the first time Ef--or any one of them--messed with their significant other while the rest of them were hanging out. But none of them have ever dated a human before and Efraim seemed certain that they were a sluttier species than they looked. The fact that you don't say anything when his beetle buddy starts rubbing your knee is proof enough.
Ef's eyes zero in on you with intense focus when you start reacting to the touches, not that you notice. You turn your head and guy's dark face is right there, his eyes boring holes into you from centimeters away as he asks for a kiss. His hand slides up to cup you when you dazedly nod your head, his thumb finding your clit through the fabric the moment your lips touch.
It's any wonder, through the smoke and the haze of recreational drug usage, that you manage to pull each other's clothes off with any success. He's barely an inch away from you the entire time and you can barely work your fingers, but you both somehow manage on the cramped couch until he presses you over the arm of it. From here, you've got a full view of the tv screen as your boyfriend and both his other friends duke it out in their fighting game--all while his buddy that you barely know gets down on his stomach and slides his tongue up your inner thighs. He barely reacts when Efraim's cum meets his lips at the crest of your folds. He licks it up with the rest, hollowing out his cheeks to suck like he's drinking from a fountain. It occurs to you that maybe your pleasure isn't even his goal--maybe it's just an afterthought to what he really wants, which is to absolutely devour some human pussy while he's got the once-in-a-lifetime chance.
"Ef," You moan, tugging at the sleeve of your boyfriend on the floor, who is thankfully the closest of his three friends to the couch. His hands on the controller, he turns momentarily to kiss your cheek as you hang over the side of the couch, barely taking his eyes off the screen for a split second.
"Mhm. Love you too, baby. Watch me crush these clowns." He chuckles, only half-listening if that. In the meantime there's a cock begging for your attention, smearing sticky precum over your ass as he shakily guides it to slide down your folds. It's cold. It's got rough, sticky bumps that ooze some kind of mildly venomous substance, because you can feel the pricks of the poison as his arousal seeps into your skin. He can barely hold back the gasp when he glides it in, not more than a couple inches breaching your body suddenly before he sinks into all the rest slowly. Slowly, slowly, slowly--each moment as delightfully agonizing as the last as your blood mixes with his venom and creates a popping sensation in your veins that feels like you've been injected with sparkler candies.
Each thrust is deep, his powerful hips a violent set of pistons that throw you forwards against the couch every time. But more than that, his touch itself is penetrating; the beetle yanks your arms back and uses the force to press into you harder, his dick hardening and softening in erratic rhythm as if he's trying to mold himself to squeeze into your tightest cracks. The weed has him aggressive and somewhat feral and the others will tell you that themselves when this is all over--not before he can get you pinned and juiced up with venom to breed you first, though. He at least wanted one round with Efraim's pretty human and he's got it, he's claimed you rightfully when he drags you completely underneath him and dwarfs you under his arms, pumping your pussy with harsh thrusts to finally, eventually, come spilling that one, huge glob of half-beetle half-man cum that he forces down hard to fit into your womb. Even if you scratched and wriggled to get away, he'd press you down with a hand in your hair anyways to make sure it enters you. Only once he feels it disappear and you let out a hitch of gasping breath does he let up, though he reaches around to feel for that swollen lump in your belly before he pulls that sticky mess of his cock out. The strings of sweat, slick, and cum link you together as he leaves a devastating trail behind, undoubtedly staining Efraim's couch in the process.
And with his pants tugged back on he drops down and takes the place of the loser in the rest of their group match, the guys squabbling as guys do amongst themselves as they prep for the next round, passing another blunt between them as they poise their controllers and pick their characters.
Yet you sit back feeling almost pregnant, the mix of Efraim's residual cum plus the odd sphere of semen that was just forced through your cervix leaving you slightly swollen and mostly bloated. The effects of his venom are causing you to leak with arousal, the thin fluid nearly dripping out of you like a faucet so that you can't even mind that you're making an even bigger mess on Efraim's shared couch. It doesn't even matter, because the spider is up next and you have a feeling he lost on purpose, based on that fanged smirk he has on his many-eyed face.
At the very least he has the courtesy to wrap his cock--in his own webbing rather than a condom, but you can't exactly complain. It's a strange sensation to have in your mouth, however, as he takes one giant leg up on the sofa and looms over you to gently feed his string-covered cock past your glossy lips. The aid of his spidery legs in positioning him nearly has him floating over you, lazily slapping his hips against your face as he starts beating your throat in a mindless yet needy rhythm.
"So pretty," He purrs, his inner fangs clacking as he watches your throat bulge with the swell of his bulbous tip. The curved shaft makes it easier to plumb the depths of your mouth in search of a ripe spot to dump his load. "Tell your boyfriend you want us over more." His cackling peppers the sounds of his thick balls smacking your chin and sticking with what remains of his webbing that he shot out errantly. That plap, plap, plap echoes endlessly, degradingly in your ears, yet doesn't move the needle for his friends even when they cast occasional glances over to your spot on the couch. Efraim looks and readjusts his crotch, no doubt trying to mull the erection growing in order to give all his friends a much-needed turn with you. How generous.
"You just love bug cock, huh?" The wolf spider laughs as he spins a web between his fingers over your head. "I bet I'd have a harem of human sex dolls if everyone was as honest as you. Such a good toy." Suddenly the web twists into the form of a rope, and you watch in panic as he loops it around your neck and proceeds to tug--but only at the moment of his orgasm, when the bulge in your throat swells into...a second bulge. It hits you as the air completely leaves your lungs, your neck completely blocked: he wasn't wrapping his dick for protection, he did so in order to catch his cum like a balloon and plop inside you like he would a spider mate. He fixes the web-rope lower into the divot between both bulges, and with minute adjustments there's a sudden twing and the webbing snaps off the tip, fully encasing his bulb of cum to slide down the back of your throat and enter you fully to do...gods know what. He takes the rope away and slides out in one smooth motion, before he tilts your head up with a clawed hand and encourages you to breathe.
"Very good." His soothing tone lasts only a moment before those fangs make a reappearance in a smirk. "You'll be a good incubato-"
"Move it! My turn." The moth appears suddenly and jostles the spider aside, who swings back before hauling himself up to the corner of the ceiling with a grumble. That big smile is both alarming and affirming all at once--he seems kinder and sweeter than you expected, or maybe it's just the weed and the smell of sex in the room that's making him excitable. He tugs his sweatpants down to show off a long, protruding ovipositor, and with some eager repositioning to your side he manages to wriggle it in...just the wrong hole, at first. With your squeak at the unexpected backdoor intrusion, he yelps softly and readjusts towards your clit, which he bumps and rubs affectionately as if his ovipositor is sharing tender kisses with it. You worry a bit that he might try and shove it up there next, but the third time's the charm and as the other guys settle in on the opposite couch and switch the game for a movie, your cunt gushes a little at the smooth insertion of something so long and thin and warm.
"Aaahh.." Your sigh of relief is breathtaking to the group of faded-out insect men, each of whom have next to no interest in what's playing on the screen and instead are just watching you get fucked. Slowly.
"So cuuute....you're so, so cuuuute.." He moans with a distinct rumbling in his throat, which makes the collar of his neck fluff ruffle and bristle in mesmerizing waves. His sparkly dusts flutters over you in a misty shower of tiny particles, each one clinging to your skin and hair and eyelashes. Efraim's beetle friend sits on the floor twiddling his thumbs while he watches intently, in the meantime the wolf spider descends down to the couch to perch next to your boyfriend and chat idly while they enjoy the splendid view.
It takes only a minute or two of that sweet treatment for you to realize why this one hangs out with the others. Once he's pressed his ovipositor deep enough to pinch as it enters your womb, a second appendage beneath the egg depositor starts wriggling beneath his fuzz. It comes bursting out in a shower of powder as if excited--it's a stout, fat tentacle-looking limb, which drips with syrupy slime and struggles for contact until he leans forward enough to grant it access. When he does, you can no longer deal with mild squirming; your body thrashes and hips hump mindlessly as his cock stretches you out, flailing and twisting inside you as it lavishes in the attention your warm cunt gives it. That's when he really starts thrusting, and that same translucent, pinkish syrup drips off his tongue as he drools in complete ecstasy, black-sclera eyes rolling back in his head as he drops all that pristine composure. Lost in bliss, he pins your knees back with his fuzzy hands and folds you into a deep, merciless mating press.
It's no exaggeration to say that the experience is heavenly. Your boyfriend sits chatting with his friends about games and movies and weed, mere feet away, and yet he can still snap a photo of you and some videos while he tells you how sweet you are and how cute you look. How nice you are to let him introduce you to his friends and let them get to know a human for the first time. For letting them go crazy on you like his moth friend is doing right now, and how his other two friends are gearing up for again as they smell your pheromones and get excited at the human going into heat.
Then, while the moth is pounding you in that brutal breeding position, his wings flutter suddenly and he tries to pull back in a panic. He doesn't move. He's stuck--his ovipositor having swollen and latched inside your womb, the egg forming a knot that won't let him pull out of your cervix. The tentacle finally releases with a spray of syrupy cum all over your folds, and retracts slowly back into his body. But despite still being stuck, his egg-laying appendage is thin, and bendable...so the other guys just decide to sort of keep fucking you around it. He has to lean out of the way so the others can make space, but when they make you cum good enough you'll loosen up and let him go, they're sure.
Yeah, they just have to pump you full of more eggs, more cum, more venom, and it'll all work out. Totally. And they can just make sure to give you more weed to ease the process, maybe a little alcohol if you're in the mood to drink. It'll all make it sooooo easy, promise. You won't even feel the swell of your stomach until you look pregnant, or the ache in your throat from choking on all that mutant cock, or even the headache that comes from smoking too much because you'll just be in complete, total bliss. So good. So sweet. Such a nice, soft, breedable toy for all your boyfriend's friends ♡!
#efraim (mc)#centipede stoner#centipede stoner x reader#monster x reader#insect monster#monster boyfriend#spicy writing#monster campus#ellie writes
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A Mix-Up || Egon Spengler x reader
Summary: Gender-neutral reader mistakes Elon as Egon (they really do look alike from the back!)
Relationship: Egon Spengler x gn!reader (established relationship)
Word Count: 669
Warnings: Not beta-read, but other than that none! This is just fluffy slice of life
Author's Note: This is actually a little old (early 2022). I'm currently writing for a different piece of media BUT I thought "hey, why not post this now because...why not!" I've always been kinda shy to post my writing on the internet in general but to hell with it tbh ! Cringe culture must die and I love my blorbos past, present, and future too much lol
On AO3
It was a regular, snowy day in downtown New York. Ray was in the downstairs of the firehouse, fixing whatever new problem the Ecto-1 had come up with. Janine was reading some magazine with smart shopping tips while Louis was on the phone discussing taxes, the latter having piles of paperwork on his desk. Business during the holiday season usually slowed down, and that meant getting to spend more quality time with the guys. Peter and Winston were engaging in a friendly but competitive game of pool, and Egon was nowhere in sight. He mentioned something about “bringing a surprise” to the station, baffling everyone since Egon certainly wasn’t the surprise type. You sat on the couch, head propped up by your hand, watching as Peter lined up his shot.
"I never understood this game," you said with a yawn.
Winston had a small laugh and shook his head. "It's alright, kid, neither does Pete."
"Hey!" The other man said as he thrust his cue stick, completely butchering the shot in the process. "I just don't play this game often enough, alright, Z? I got no practice,"
You and Winston share a laugh at the expense of your colleague, Peter placed his hand on his chest in feigned offense. Winston took his shot, clearly doing a better job than Peter as the other man had scowled as the ball went into the hole. As the two continue playing, the sound of familiar footsteps enters the second floor. Turning your head, you smile brightly as you finally see your boyfriend Egon. His back was turned, preoccupied with refilling the snack cabinet in the kitchen. As he rummaged through the seven eleven bag, you took the chance of slowly sneaking up behind him to give a surprise hug. The two men playing pool had paused their game to watch you, amused from the sight of seeing you crouch up behind their friend.
“Gotcha!” You yelled as you wrapped your arms around Egon’s torso and chest, placing your chin on his shoulder. Unexpectedly, he was completely frozen, unlike how he would usually turn around to return the hug. Your expression quickly morphed into one of confusion as the seconds passed and he stayed completely still.
“Anyway, Elon, I want you to meet-” You whip your head to the left to see Egon standing next to Ray, both the men having mildly concerned looks on their faces.
“...(Y/N)?” The man you were hugging spoke, his voice only slightly different from Egon’s but you could tell it wasn’t your boyfriend. Hastily taking your arms off him, you spew out apology after apology, face fully red.
“I’m so sorry! God I- I should’ve known the second you didn’t hug me back I-”
Elon waved his hand with a laugh, the other guys in the room except Egon cracking up as well. “No matter, no matter, at least I know my little brother is well loved,” Elon took the liberty of pulling you in for a hug this time, and just like Egon he was surprisingly good at giving them.
Egon’s cheeks turn a light pink color from his brother’s statement as he pulls you in for a hug and forehead kiss. Elon had headed over to the billiard table to greet the two men who ended their pool game. The mood in the room turned joyous as all the guys had not seen Elon in a while, making this occasion a real treat.
“Sorry, Eggs, he really does look a lot like you,” you whispered. He smiles before putting his lips on yours, causing your face to go red once again. Getting kissed by Egon certainly did not get old no matter how many times it happens.
“It’s alright, (Y/N), I missed you too.”
Ray called out, “Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before we finish all the pizza.”
You pull away from Egon and adjust his tie, taking his hand and walking over to the others to get a fresh slice of pizza.
#RARE ELON SPENGLER TWIN SIGHTING!!#i love my earth day special boy he's so funny to me#so far this is the only fic i've ever posted anywhere#making it my mission to actually post more of my writing in 2024 or by the end of the year!!#to hell with being shy i need to share my love of x reader fics and my blorbos#egon spengler x reader#ghostbusters x reader#egon spengler#elon spengler#ghostbusters reader insert#ghostbusters#egon spengler imagines#x reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n
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HESH REQUEST!!!
him helping you clean out your attic and you find a bunch of your childhood stuff :( (including your old diary, which is FILLED with pages you wrote about him)
Anon, you're a genius
David "Hesh" Walker x Reader
TW- None, just fluff, love confessions, kissing, minute emotional angst
Word Count- 2.1k
Summary- Feelings dug up by written words
[A/N- Typed this out in one sitting! Tried to keep it GN.]
Call Sign- BADGER
There was only one good thing about being sent into No Man's Land, and that was the fact you were able to make a stop at your old house. Memories rush at you as you cross what used to be the threshold. The house was smaller than those around it, a nice looking one story building with a huge backyard. As an only child your parents felt they didn’t need so much empty space. Dust covers every surface you look at, the wildlife has taken over every inch it could reach. The air was thick as you moved further into the house, Riley at your heels and his handler not far behind.
Hesh’s and Logan’s footsteps echo loudly against the crumbling walls of your once pristine home. Your mother had taken pride in how orderly she had kept things. She always had somebody over for whatever reasons. That was actually how you had come to know the Walker boys. You mom and dad had been close friends of Elias Walker, your dad having served with the man. One day she had them over for lunch, the next thing you know you’re skating with Hesh and teaching Logan how to pick locks. You three had become the three musketeers. If one of you had an idea, then all of you had a plan.
Stopping in the middle of the kitchen to take in the feelings that come with returning to a place you used to hold dear, a long sigh leaves your chest. “It’s weird being back here after everything,” you say to the men behind you, “We have a minute to look around, feel free to dredge up old memories.”
Slinging your rifle over your shoulder, you start looking through the cabinets. You weren’t looking for anything specific but it was somewhat comforting to see that most of the dishware had survived. You could hear comments from Hesh from further in the house. Moving through the house made you almost want to tear up, it was a lot to process in the short amount of time you had. Down the hallway was Riley.
The dog stood in front of your old bedroom door, behind him the ladder that led to the attic had been pulled down. “Which one of you’s up there?” you called out from the floor. Hesh’s head pops out, looking down at you with a grin on his face. You shoot him a questioning glance.
“Badger, the fort is still standing!” He elaborates excitedly. The fort in question was exactly as it sounds; a hangout spot built from storage tubs and old blankets that hadn’t been used since your parents lived up north. A smile creeps onto your face when a memory hits you.
“Well shit, I told you it would survive to the end of the world.” You had built the place after all, and your creations don’t fall apart easily. “You know, there should be a box of those books in there somewhere. I remember a copy of World War Z being in there somewhere. See if you can find them?” you suggest.
He moves his head around in an indecisive way before nodding, “Yeah I'll try to find it.” He disappears back into the attic for a second before reappearing, “Oh yeah, I found some stuff from when you were younger. I’ll bring some down for you to look through.” And with that he’s gone again.
A huff from Riley has you looking down and shaking your head fondly at the dog. Riley pawed at the closed door again. Looking up you stare at the plain white door that leads to your old bedroom, why were you hesitating?
Slowly you reach your hand out, resting it on the cool brass doorknob. Just open the door. Placing your forehead against the door and taking a deep breath, You don’t have time to move this slow. What is wrong? A quick push and the door squeals open, hinges rusted from years of no use and nature's wrath.
The room looks just how you left it, your favorite color painted on the walls and your bed still unmade. If it weren’t for the dust and fallen debris from where a part of the ceiling fell in, the room looks as if you had just stepped out for a moment. Clothes still strewn around from your searching and desk still in disarray from writing in your diary before you left. That’s how you knew you were desperate to leave, you never left that book in the open. But you had been so worried about getting over to Hesh’s place that you had left it open. You don’t know why you hadn’t put it up, the Walker household was only a three block walk from your own. You would have made it in time.
You had been a block away from the boy’s house when the ground exploded, sending you into the grass. Your skateboard still clutched tightly under your arm, your blue drawstring bookbag cushioning your fall. In your panicked state you tried to rush home, the sifting road preventing you from reaching your destination. Your only saving grace had been Hesh’s dad, Mr. Elias Walker in his screeching to a halt in front of you. He flung the passenger side door open and you scrambled in. After that, he found the boys and the rest is history.
Entering the room further you pick up random items, quickly and silently going through the items. A few small items are stashed into your backpack, two of which being a family photo and your childhood keepsake. The thought passed to go into your parents room but you knew that would only bring sobbing and you couldn’t afford that right now. If you were lucky there would be a later time to properly mourn for them again. Turning around, you face the messy desk. As you approach you take in the messy state of it, shaking your head at the lack of organization.
A thump from the kitchen. Stepping out into the hallway you see Logan picking up a dining chair. “You okay Lo?” you call from where you stand. He looks up and smiles before holding a thumbs up in your direction. Shaking your head at the younger man, you re-enter the room, heading straight back to the desk. That diary that held every thought that crossed your past thoughts. Every single one dated and time stamped in a 24 hour clock format. Your dad had been adamant that you used the “military” time, citing that you would never be confused between 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM. He had been right, you had never confused 05:00 with 17:00.
Picking up the book you can’t help but feel like you were in mourning. Flipping through the pages reveals a time where what you were wearing to go out and the latest thing Hesh had done to make you feel butterflies in your stomach were the biggest problems in your life; not worrying about a bullet through your skull or a knife to the gut. Those feelings were still there like a raging storm. And it was honestly no surprise that you had come to be absolutely smitten with the man in the room above you. Everyone could see that even now you were in love with Hesh. Everyone but him; flipping back to the last page that had been written, your heart breaks a little more.
The date on the top of the page read 10:49, July 10th, 2017. The day ODIN had fired on Earth and uprooted the entire world's life. Eyes scanning the page as memories from that day screech to a halt in the forefront of your mind. You and Hesh were supposed to go downtown to skate and meet up with a few friends for dinner. Past you lamented onto the page about your outfit and that your hair wasn’t working with you. In between complaining about your outfit or excitedly talking about your plans for later that day, was your feelings of nervousness. You remember vividly searching frantically through your wardrobe and failing to find that one shirt Hesh had said he liked on you. That day was supposed to be special. Skating, dinner with your crush, a confession that you had hoped wouldn’t go wrong; instead you got a burnt breakfast and a crater in the middle of the city.
Footsteps echo from the attic as Hesh calls for you, “Badger! I got a box of things, could use some help getting it down.”
You finish putting the diary and any working stationary into your pack before moving to the bottom of the ladder again. Hesh wastes no time handing you a medium sized plastic tub. Taking the box into your arms you're surprised about how heavy it is. He must have found a lot. Hesh makes his way down as you walk back into the bedroom.
The box is set on the unmade bed and the lid is removed from the box to reveal several more items from your childhood. Most of them had been completely forgotten. Further into the box were books from the fort. But the item that had you pausing was the brightly colored notebook that once served as your diary. Flipping to the cover page revealed your name and a messy all capitalized KEEP OUT OR ELSE in blue sharpie.
Hesh steps up to your left side, a shit-eating grin sprawled across his face. “Prime literature right there, Badger.” He says teasingly. Heat rushes to your face, you feel that if you turned and looked at the mirror on the back of your bedroom door you’d probably see your entire face looked as if you slammed it into a bucket of blush.
You begin to stammer out an explanation when Hesh takes the book from your hands. He flips to a certain page and clears his throat. “I’ll have to say, this one’s probably my favorite,” His eyes sparkled as he read the words out loud, “I can’t believe that I’m in love with this stupid, handsome, green-eyed dumbass. Somebody please sedate me before I explode the next time he shoots me that stupid ass smile. With three green hearts drawn after it.”
You could’ve passed away on the spot, embarrassment zipping through your very soul as he flips through the pages. Avoiding his eyes you look anywhere but him, afraid of the rejection you’d find there. He was going to laugh at you and that would hurt more than a straight up “No.” would have. Why of all things did he have to find that! You pick at your hands as you look back at him, preparing yourself for the worst.
But you don’t find laughing or a sneer at your words, you just see him studying your being. Instead you find joy in his eyes and that stupid comforting smile. “I- I can explain-” you begin but don’t get to finish. You don’t get to finish what was sure to be a jumbled ramble because Hesh is surging forward, his lips pressed to yours. His hands pull you close by your vest straps to deepen the kiss. The shock leaves just as quick as it came and you're wrapping your arms around his neck.
Eventually you both need to come up for air, the realization of what is happening dawning slowly on you.
“That was-”
“I-”
You both began at the same time. You clear your throat, “You first?”
Hesh shifts on his feet, looking rather pleased with himself. “I was going to stop reading it, I swear!” He puts his hands up in a defensive way, “But then I saw my name and I got invested in this little plot of yours.”
Sheepishly you raise your hand to rub the back of your head, “Yeah, well I had a lot to write about…” You let your sentence trail off, unsure of what to say next. But you figure you might as well tell him. “I feel like this is the part where I tell you I had planned to tell you after we were supposed to go downtown and meet up with our friends.” You laugh quietly and gesture to the dusty clothes strewn around the room, “I was even trying to find that one shirt that you told me you liked.” A pause of silence passes before he speaks up.
“But then ODIN happened… Well shit, Badger.” He also looked at a loss for words. A rare sight. “Well, no time like now, huh?”
You thought for a minute before leaning back in and kissing him again. “Yeah, no time like now I suppose.”
[Not Pictured- Logan and Riley standing in the doorway baffled.]
[A/N- Took a little inspiration from my own younger self's journal! Hope I did this Justice! Likes and Re-blogs are always welcomed]
#call of duty ghosts#david hesh walker#cod hesh#hesh walker#hesh x reader#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fanfiction#call of duty#call of duty logan#logan walker#cod ghosts#cod x reader#cod logan#cod riley
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