#im not entirely sure if this answered your question or not but i tried!!!
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Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)
«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»
PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader
SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.
or;
in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.
GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.
PLAYLIST: right here!
WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)
Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k
masterlist
WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2
(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"
[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)
As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom.
It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin.
“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice.
You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly.
Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands.
Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers.
It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter.
“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands.
“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her.
Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?”
The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.”
To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future.
“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt.
“Sure, yeah. What is it?”
“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all”
You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway.
“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring.
“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-”
“I have class tomorrow.”
“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.”
You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now”
Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.
“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”
“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”
“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night”
With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building.
“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.
“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically.
“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down.
“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process.
Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding,
“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed.
“I’m going back to sleep.”
“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself.
He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids.
“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”
“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.
“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”
‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.”
“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.”
You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted.
The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done.
What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?
Yeah, that’s an easy conversation.
Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand.
You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way.
It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express.
You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display.
It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you.
You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night.
And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.
“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”
“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew.
“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.
“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”
You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head.
Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.
“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.”
You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe.
Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines.
You deserved to wallow in this pit.
At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath.
You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds.
Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock.
The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name.
“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond.
He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.”
Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.
You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears.
You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut.
Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call.
“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response.
“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.”
“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”
“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over.
“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows.
A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”
“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”
“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”
“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.
“You want me to put this on my face?”
“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.
“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further.
He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.
“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands.
“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.
“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.”
“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.”
It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh.
“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot.
The doorbell rings.
“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.
You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling.
“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!”
Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”
The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door.
Mingyu’s brought a girl.
Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.
Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later.
“This is my sister”
All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky.
“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”
What?
“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit.
With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.
“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge.
“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her.
“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.”
There it is.
“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence.
“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”
You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance.
Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over.
It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you.
It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister.
It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from.
That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun.
You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”.
“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder.
“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression.
“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already.
“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?”
“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!”
Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going.
“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect, “You’re better than that!”
“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away.
“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.”
“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you.
“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”
It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity.
“Okay, I know you��re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.
“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.
“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you.
You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.
“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.”
“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice.
“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.”
“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.
“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination
“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice.
“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”
“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.
“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”
‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion.
“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.
“Uh, no. Is there juice?”
“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter.
You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”
Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances.
Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles.
“What? Is it bad?”
“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?”
She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.
“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.
Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?”
“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”
“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.
Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”
“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face.
Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside.
“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later.
“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her.
The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight.
The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside.
There’s no Nayeon in sight.
But there is Mingyu.
His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both.
For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears.
And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him.
“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”
There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?”
“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?”
“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”
“Yeah, remember Minji?”
“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.
“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.
“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.”
There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny.
“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.
“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest.
“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”
What the fuck.
You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up.
“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.”
The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream.
Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.”
You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral.
“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”
Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see.
“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.
“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.
“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”
There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure.
It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting.
Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality.
Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school.
You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner.
Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner.
As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.
It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose.
Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.
“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand.
Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself.
“Well? Did you?” He demands again.
“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”
“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?”
Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!”
Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland.
“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit.
There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does.
“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.
Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.”
“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”
He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.
You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.
The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form.
You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart.
“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear.
“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.
“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.
You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed.
You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite.
“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”
“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.”
He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again.
“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet.
“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”
You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you.
“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.”
Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.
“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.”
You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”
Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus.
“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”
“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.
“You know what he’s like…”
“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.
“That’s not what I meant either.”
“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.”
“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation.
“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses.
“Especially when it’s none of my business.”
“Charming.”
“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”
“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major.
“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.”
“So they need models?” You ask.
“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.”
“Are we getting paid?”
“You get to say you modeled for me.”
“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans.
You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you.
“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.
“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh.
He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?”
“Ew,” Seungcheol voices.
“I am,” You confirm.
“For what?” He sputters.
“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?”
He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question.
“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?”
“Mhm, only for the night, though.”
“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks.
“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.”
“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.”
You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.”
Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.
“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-”
He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.
“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika.
“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk.
“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.”
“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.
“Huh? Oh, I was-”
“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that.
You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table.
“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch.
Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.”
“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”
“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.”
Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers.
“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause.
“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in.
“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face.
Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”
Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face.
Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it.
“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.
“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”
“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort.
“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points.
Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!”
“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”
That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor.
Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.
You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat.
It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.
“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over.
You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite.
It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.
“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.”
“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?”
“No, but you should.”
“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”
“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes.
That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.”
“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.”
There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar.
Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance.
But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last.
The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive.
Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time.
There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.
Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all.
Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers.
You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity.
He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence.
You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week.
In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information.
There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone.
“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins.
“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.”
The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name.
“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you.
He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t.
—Kim, Mingyu.
If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes.
You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was.
“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”
You wanted to slap him.
Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here!
You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off.
Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true.
Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up.
By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him.
You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand.
There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus.
“Hey,” he says unceremoniously.
You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.”
“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually.
Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything.
“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”
Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin.
“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you.
You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?”
“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”
“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”
With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back.
Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.
“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.
“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”
“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.
“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?”
It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour.
“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”
“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”
You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?”
“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly.
“But?” You sense her apprehension.
“But, maybe you should give it a go.”
You can only blink at her with wet lashes.
“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.”
“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?”
“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.”
There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.
“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”
“No. You’re making sense.”
“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.”
“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.
Once again, you find it within yourself to nod.
Yeah. You were gonna do it.
Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared.
The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”
You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.”
“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”
You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”
“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.
You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing.
“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling.
He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is.
You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry.
You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat.
“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”
You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake.
“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.
He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.
It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human.
You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on.
It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash.
It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness.
“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.
“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch.
Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”
“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice.
“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard.
“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.
“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.
The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to.
Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.
“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.
“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else.
“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh.
The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help.
You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention.
“Huh?”
“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.
It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”
“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor.
The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her.
The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house.
The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more.
The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.
You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked.
It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down.
Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention.
“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”
“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel.
“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car.
“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further.
Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”
“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns.
There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.
It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.
“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.
“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.”
“Why didn’t you leave with her?”
“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”
“Hm. That didn’t happen.”
“It’s like I said,” you mumble.
He hums again in response, dropping the subject.
“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.
“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”
You bit your tongue. Hard.
He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed.
“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended.
“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister.
“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”
“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.”
Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.
“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.
He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.
“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat.
He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride.
“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.”
You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”
Middle school was harder than you thought.
Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip.
It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results.
You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.”
He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair.
“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done.
You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you.
“What?”
“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation.
“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?”
You look up confused. “How?”
“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.”
On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes.
“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.”
He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years.
The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night.
There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there.
You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing.
He’s probably fine.
By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu.
He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos.
“Oh, hey,” he says normally.
“Hope I’m not too late.”
“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room.
“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”
He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.”
You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.”
Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway.
“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”
“I did, do you want me to change?”
“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.”
He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you.
“You good?”
“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round.
“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”
He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”
The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour.
“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”
“Oh, cool.”
Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself.
“Let me help.”
“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.”
“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?”
“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”
Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it.
“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff.
“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.”
“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”
“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”
“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.”
You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch.
It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night.
By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car.
She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.
“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest.
“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.
That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.
“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”
“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip.
She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!”
“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks.
“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.
“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”
“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”
Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants.
“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak.
“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.
“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.”
“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.”
It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise.
The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried.
You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them.
What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room.
“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked.
“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you.
“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping.
There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it.
You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room.
“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry.
You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.
And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls.
That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.
Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots.
You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn.
“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces.
“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break.
“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”
“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time.
“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts.
“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.”
“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?”
“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.”
“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out.
“I think I need to never agree to do this again.”
“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights).
“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away.
“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.”
Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood.
“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare.
“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine.
By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.
The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today.
“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera.
“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”
He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it.
The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound.
He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket.
You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see.
You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?”
He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.”
It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least.
There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off.
By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route.
“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing.
“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.”
“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?”
“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.
“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.
He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.”
Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.
Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting.
It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends.
Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day.
The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.
It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.
You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.
Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.
Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home.
Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.
After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little.
“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!”
“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”
“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”
“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime
“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.
The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here.
“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”
“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in.
“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.”
“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”
“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm.
“Ah, I see.”
The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?”
“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”
You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.”
He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.”
“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.”
You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.”
“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection.
“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”
“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”
“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’
He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.”
“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”
He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation.
“When does your shift end?”
If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that.
“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.
“Everyday?” he asks incredulously.
“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.
You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”
He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.”
“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.
“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.”
“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”
“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.”
There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.”
“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”
The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement.
It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.
It was safe to feel.
This was horrible.
Truly.
You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention.
But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.
“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.
“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?”
“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”
“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial.
“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.”
“Seok!”
“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.
“Seokmin!”
Beep.
The bastard hung up.
“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu.
Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.
He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.
She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle.
He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.
He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy.
Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.
“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night.
“Babe?”
She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?”
“Seok just called…”
Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long.
“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word.
“Fifteen.”
Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected.
“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it.
“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”
“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.
“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?”
“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.”
Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.”
“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”
He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.”
By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms.
“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her.
“What now?” she groans.
Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.
“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.
Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.
Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!”
“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.
“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.
Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours.
“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally.
“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy.
“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up.
Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”
Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.”
Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past.
It doesn’t.
“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”
“Huh?”
“When she called just now.”
“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”
“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.” Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully.
“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice.
“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated.
“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”
“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!”
“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place.
“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!”
Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it.
“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!”
There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”
It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.
“Fine.”
Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done.
There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.
It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.
Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it.
It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project.
It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful.
Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.
In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card.
It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece.
He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.
Part 2
#mingyu#mingyu fluff#mingyu smut#mingyu fic#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#mingyu angst#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen smut#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fic#seventeen imagines#svt#svt fluff#svt angst#svt smut
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it's just us | mv33
hi! i can't get enough of my dutch duo, so here comes the third part of the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess and if you didn't read the second part of it but you wanna catch up, here it is!
you can read each of this solo and you can read it all like series. it work well both ways!
so yeah, as usual, bon apetit and enjooooy x
summary: y/n is upset by some media nonsense she read online but max is here to remind her that at the end of the day its just them and the rest doesn't really matter
warnings: i tried with a smut but im not sure how it went, sexual content, +18, eating p, praising, comfort sex?
pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen
The kiss didn't change anything between Y/N and Max.
In the other hand, it changed everything, but it absolutely did not affect their relationship. There were no nervous questions, no timid behavior, no checking whether a quick kiss at the strategists' table was okay, or whether it was necessary to count down the seconds of the hug they exchanged with each other after the race so that it wouldn't last too long.
To be honest, their entry into a relationship was a kind of relief for the entire team. Christian Horner himself, the team father of the two flying Dutch, seeing them kissing after winning the podium, just shook his head and with a slight smile admitted "Finally, fucking hell".
Of course, the media did not leave a single dry spot on Red Bull drivers. The couple, of course, did not flaunt their feelings left and right, because it was absolutely not their style, but it was difficult to take a seat in the car without a quick kiss and wishing each other good luck. And we know how hungry reporter hyenas are.
"This is absurd"
The girl shook her head and threw the phone into the pillows. It was already late in the evening and the couple was getting ready for bed, as they had a long media day ahead of them tomorrow.
"I told you not to read this nonsense."
Max replied, emerging from the bathroom in shorts and drying his wet hair with a towel.
Y/N didn't answer. She kept her eyes glued to the sheets and felt her stomach begin to ache from nerves. Max knew perfectly well that the lack of an answer meant only one thing. The overthinking machine already started.
He put the towel aside and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her temple.
"Look at you, a fearless Dutchess worrying about some stupid texts. That's not in your style at all"
He spoke jokingly, trying to cheer her up a bit. However, she was really touched.
"It's just making me sick when someone is saying made up bullshit"
She replied bitterly, feeling tears forming under her eyelids. She could deny with her arms and legs that these were tears of anger, but in the reality she was simply hurted. And Max knew this perfectly well.
"You know very well that this bunch of idiots will write anything for views. At the end of the day, only you and I know the truth. It's just us, remember?"
He said calmly and stroked her shoulder. Y/N sniffed. Max was absolutely right. It's just them and that was all that mattered. Even though she received numerous criticisms in the media over the years, newspapers and Internet portals often trashed her, all this did not make any impression on her. Unfortunately, it was different in this case, because it was no longer just about her. It was about them, about her and Max.
She raised her head and met a pair of blue, gentle eyes. The ocean was calm, july was dominating the cloudless sky. She herself slowly began to feel calm, accepting that it was just meaningless nonsense.
"I love you, but you already know that, right?"
She asked, smiling slightly.
He nodded and returned her smile, kissing her forehead.
"The only thing that matters is that we have each other and we love each other. And as a certain genius said, fuck 'em all."
"Fuck 'em all"
The girl repeated and smiled wider, causing the last tears of sadness and anger to leave the corners of her eyes. Max wiped her cheeks and lifted her chin, kissing her.
Y/N kissed him back, touching his rough cheek. He easily pulled her onto his lap and she sat on his soft thighs, laughing quietly. She knew exactly where this was going.
"We have a lot of work tomorrow, Max."
"We will boycott media day tomorrow. 'Red Bull drivers protest against idiotic headlines' sounds better, doesn't it?" he asked, being so serious that the girl burst out laughing, "Or better yet, 'Red Bull shock!' Couple had sex until dawn to boycott the media', yes!"
"With the link 'see photos', definitely," she added, laughing.
Max took her face in his hands.
"I much prefer it when you smile, you know?"
Y/N nodded and leaned in, kissing him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she tangled her fingers in his still damp hair. Their kisses were slow and tender, filled to the brim with love. Years of arguments, making up and standing up for yourself only to argue and slam doors again led to a place where there was an incredible amount of love to give and receive from both sides.
Max slipped his hands under her shirt, squeezing lightly her soft flesh. The girl sighed quietly into his mouth and he smiled at her reaction. If he thought that after so many years, he would fall in love overnight with the girl he always had by his side, he would laugh at himself.
He took off her shirt, so there was no longer any blockage between their heated bodies. Skin pressed against skin, lips pressed against lips. These moments were incredibly soothing for both of them. One might think that after so much time spent together, both in good and bad relationships, one cannot count on any elation. What wrong thinking this is.
Max grunted softly as he grabbed and pressed her closer to him. His soft purr, which lightly touched the girl's ear, gave her goosebumps. He moved from his mouth to her neck, leaving wet, slightly pink traces on her skin. Y/N involuntarily closed her eyes, feeling both the softness of his lips and his rough, scratchy stubble.
"I love the way you smell"
He said quietly, almost in a whisper. She smiled to herself and gently grabbed his hair, tilting his head back, making him break away from her neck and they were able to look into each other's eyes again.
"I taste even better though"
She lunged seductively and crashed into his mouth again. Max easily grabbed her thighs and lifted her, throwing her onto the bed.
"You always have to do this, right?"
He asked, his breathing a little quicker. His aura instantly darkened, and his eyes seemed bottomless. Y/N frowned a bit, not knowing what he meant. But seeing him like this, she only wanted one thing. Him.
"You always have to throw something away, set me straight. Always."
She raised herself on her elbows, looking at him with a slight smile and thus posing a challenge to him.
"You could try to humble me"
As soon as she finished speaking, he pressed her body against the mattress and kissed her deeply. The girl wrapped her legs around his hips and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wanted to be closer, as close as possible.
Their kisses were still full of love, but now the tenderness gave way to passion. When Max moved to the girl's neck, she felt her lips burning and swollen. It didn't help when she bit down on them, feeling Max suck on her nipple. Blue eyes carefully followed the girl's rosy face, wanting to make sure she was giving her nothing more than pleasure.
When his teeth hit the soft skin, a long groan filled the bedroom. Max smiled, licking her breast while massaging the other one with his hand. He much preferred to hear her moans rather than Dutch insults. After a few moments, he moved lower again, kissing his way across her stomach. He tightened his large hands on her sides and buried his face in her stomach. She smiled at his gesture, running her fingers through his hair.
"You're soft, so soft. Fuck, so soft."
Max murmured, his face still pressed against her stomach. Y/N couldn't help but laugh quietly. This whole situation, the very fact that they were now apparently a couple, was unthinkable to her. And the fact that they were both adults and now they were acting like a couple of teenagers.
"Simply, simply lovely"
He shook his head and placed a few more kisses on her skin until he reached the waistband of her panties. He looked up at her face again, wanting to make sure she had her consent, but she, still smiling slightly, just nodded in answer.
Max undressed her completely in one move and spread her legs, hugging her thighs. As soon as his tongue passed over her clit, she closed her eyes and licked her lips. This wasn't the first time they had had sex, but Y/N had already become familiar with certain behaviors Max displayed in bed, and one of them was the desire to please his partner. Max loved to take, but God, he loved to give even more.
As his tongue moved over her clit in smooth, circular motions, his eyes studied her body carefully. Her hard, pink nipples, uneven moving chest, her dry, parted lips, rosy face, her tightly shut eyelids. Max smiled slightly, proud of himself of turning her into such mess. Y/N involuntarily opened her eyes and looked down her body, causing their eyes to meet.
"Do you like it, schat?"
He asked, pausing his movements. He blew lightly on her pink, swollen clit, making her shiver.
"Mhm, please -just, just don't stop"
"As you wish, love"
He replied, going back to work. Her hand involuntarily tightened on his hair and it didn't take much for her back to arch and an orgasm to fill her body. A loud, long moan broke the density that had reigned in the hotel bedroom. Her head felt heavy and dizzy, and it was hard for her to breathe. Max pulled himself up and kissed her, moistening her dry lips with her own juices, which made him all wet. Y/N smiled and hugged his neck, giving him wet, sloppy kisses. He was resting one hand next to her head, and with the other he was trying to free himself from his suddenly too tight and slightly soaked shorts. When he succeeded, he slowly inserted himself into her hot, tight and incredibly wet interior. She broke the kiss, parting her lips at the sudden sensation, digging her nails into his bare, muscular back.
"Fuck, Max, oh my god-"
"Yeah, i know baby" he muttered, stopping his movements "I'll be gentle, take your time"
Max kissed her, wanting to help her relax. She returned each of his kisses, which were now delicate and tender. Max was incredibly gentle and had countless layers of love inside him. His tender touch, sweet nothings whispered straight into the ear, the certainty that his partner is happy and feels incredible pleasure. Max seemed to her as an incredibly selfish asshole at times, but in this case it had absolutely no effect. The only thing he cared about at that moment was pleasing her and distracting her from negative thoughts. After some time, he began to move slowly inside her, feeling that she is not so tense anymore and soon any discomfort disappeared and was replaced by incredible pleasure. Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply.
"I'm all yours now" she said, smiling slightly into his mouth.
"You are and always been mine"
He replied and kissed her back. His movements went from slow and calm to faster and more decisive, increasing in intensity with each passing minute. Single moans that had been thrown into the thick air filling the bedroom some time ago now cut through them like bullets. Max felt the sweat that had formed on his back sting the scratches left by the girl's nails. He sat back on his heels and wrapped his arms around her thighs, now fucking her to the point where they skin were clapping on each other. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her thighs, his still damp hair falling into his eyes. His lips were bitten and every now and then a low moan escaped his throat. His arm and abdominal muscles flexed and relaxed steadily, and numerous love marks adorned his fair skin.
"You look so good, and feel -fuck, feel so good, too"
Y/N moaned, clenching her hands on the sheets, feeling how he perfectly hit her inner, sensitive spot with each movement.
"And you are doing so good by taking me so well, baby"
The truth was that she was a total mess underneath him. She wasn't even fully aware of her words or of her actions, all of this was feeling so good, he was feeling so good.
It didn't take much for either of them to reach their orgasm, which came over them almost simultaneously. A moment later they were lying next to each other, Y/N resting her cheek on his chest and her hand lying limply on his stomach. He was hugging her, tracing lines on her arm.
"I hope you won't worry anymore about any stupid things said by other people"
Max said and kissed her temple. She smiled and raised her head, kissing him on the cheek.
"At the end of the day it's just us, right?"
#f1 imagines#f1#f1 one shot#formula 1#f1 oneshots#f1 imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen smut#mv33#mv1
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Touching, Teasing, Dreaming
Despite his strong physical capabilities, the man crumbles at the slightest show of skin.
Blade, Gepard, Jing Yuan x Reader
A/N: Little is known about these characters but either way, I want them soooo bad!!!! I might have to play the game for them and the jjba va!!!!!!! im kinda embarrassed w how much i want gepard looooolllll
SLIGHTLY NSFWWWW // KINDA SMUTTY ((just a pinch))
WC - 1,608
~~~
Blade
“Blade, enough is enough,” The dark-haired man pays you little mind as he glances in your direction from the corner of his eyes. Something in his chest lightens at the puff of your cheeks and frustration etched into your pursed lips. He continues to ignore you and softly grabs your chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he walks past. The touch is gone faster than it was delivered. All he gives you is a subtle nod, a notation that warns you to back off, before making his way further into the hall. Despite the slight curl of his fingers forming a fist, you continue to press the matter. “I wasn’t done talking to you!”
The loose fist quickly becomes tight as the man turns to you with a fierce glare. His eyebrows are furrowed, much like their natural state, but now his attention is on you. He simply does not have the time to waste but, if you’re so insistent on pushing him, Blade is sure he can find some time.
“What is it?” His low voice calmly asks as he fully turns to face you, finally.
“Have you not done enough brooding?” You appear to be unwavering in your confidence but, Blade can see right through it. He takes a step forward and you take a step back. The action causes concern to swell in his chest but, he hides it underneath the stony expression on his face. He continues moving until you back into a wall, he walks entirely up to you and ensures that there is nothing but mere centimeters between you two.
“Brooding?” He repeats as turns his head to examine you fully. Blade makes note of the way you refuse to look into his eyes other than the occasional glance before looking down at your shoes. But, that is not what catches his attention.
The exposed clothing strap resting against your shoulder is what quickly catches his eye. He tries to ignore it but he simply cannot look away from the bare skin. This should not concern him, these feelings and this desire should not be something that affects him. But, it is you.
Without removing his eyes from your own, Blade pulls your sweater up and over your shoulder to effectively cover both the strap and your exposed skin.
“I need to get back,” He announces and nearly grunts at the worry in your eyes. “… to brooding.” Despite playing with your own words, toying with your worry, he doesn’t move when you grab the front of his jacket.
Immediately, his clothed thigh shoots between your own as his slim hands plant on either side of your head. The compromising position is getting to him in ways that nothing else can, he is certain you can tell. There’s a question of your lips, a demand that he can not say ‘no’ to when asked. If you request that he stays the night, he cannot find it in himself to deny it. He decides to cut you off first.
“Don’t ask me of this.” He orders but, the pout on your lips already sends him reeling far enough. There is nothing that could stop the man from gripping your chin once more and roughly kissing you against the wall. No force could pull him away from you now and no force would even dare to try.
Gepard
“Do you like it?”
The captain is stunned speechless by your appearance. His lips part to answer your question but no words come out, he merely nods as his eyes slightly widen. The momentary silence is broken as he harshly swallows, breaking himself of the trance.
“You’re beautiful,” Gepard breathes and his eyes are pools that reflect his genuine honesty, the soft blue shines with a commitment to you and only you. “unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Finally, his hands reach out. His large palms fall to your hips and lightly rest against the thin fabric of your thin lingerie. Again, his mouth runs dry as he continues to stare.
All the captain can do is stare and stare as hearts begin to take shape in his eyes.
“So that means you like it?” You egg forward and your voice of reason is the only thing keeping Gepard sane at the moment. He eagerly nods again before timidly licking over his bottom lip.
“More than anything,” His hands gently squeeze your sides as thick fingertips press against the white fabric adorning your skin. Gepard watches as a sly smile spreads across your face and he immediately leans into your touch when he feels your own dainty fingers ghosting over his bare wrist. Gone is his thick armor and cape, the man before you now is only a handful of clothes away from being as nude as you.
“Good,” You purse your lips before dragging his heavy hand around to your backside, encouraging the captain to touch you as he pleases. Gepard’s face nearly turns heavily red, a flush takes over his face at the feeling of your soft skin.
“Daring-”
“Are you nervous?” Your words almost sound taunting and Gepard can see the amusement now in your eyes. If he looked a little further, he would also see his own timid expression in your lustful pools. The captain begins to shake his head but is yanked forward as you tightly grip the collar of his dress shirt. “Take, Gepard. Everything is yours to take.”
He’s so tempted to give in to you, to do exactly as you desire and hold you down until your legs give out but, he prides himself in being a gentleman. He values his own restraint and cherishes you much further beyond a messy fuck.
“Allow me to take my time with you,” His voice is soft, gentle almost as he softly tugs on the backs of your thighs to pull you into his lap. You follow without complaint, almost turning into a liquid in his hands. “you deserve to be treasured.” The thoughtful words cause you to fist his dark shirt and sinfully arch your back, pressing your chest into his own.
Then, finally, the captain places his lips beneath your ear. He kisses the spot delicately before lowering his face to repeat the action in another spot. Each peck grows heavier than the last and by the time he makes it to the valley of your breasts, you’re happily grinding in his lap.
“Patience is a virtue, my dear,” He preaches, his hands now cupping your breasts before squeezing over the soft mounds with pure dedication. “it’s time you learn a thing or two.”
Jing Yuan
“Don’t you think it’s time to rest?” Your voice gently pulls Jing Yuan away from his meditation, dull eyes opening upon your command. The older general brings his heavy stare over to your silhouette in the doorway. It takes a few blinks for his eyes to get adjusted to the light but, he immediately notices the flimsy robe covering your body. The material does not do its job in the slightest and it takes everything within the man not to show his upcoming arousal on his face.
“If this is what greets me then I suppose it is,” He takes his time getting up from the floor but, rises with grace nonetheless. Slowly, the general makes his way over to you and does not hesitate to reach out when you’re close enough. “hello, my love.” His hand softly cups your cheek and quickly washes your entire body in warmth just at his touch. “I didn’t realize it was so late,”
“I know,” You quickly answer back and the slight nip in the delivery of your words makes the old man smile. His lips quirk upwards in amusement as you pull away and head for your bedroom. You know he is going to follow, your unwavering confidence causes desire to further pool in his gut.
What would he do without his delight?
Upon stepping into your room, Jing Yuan is greeted by the sight of your robe falling to the floor. He sucks in a harsh breath at the pretty lingerie lining your skin and once again, grabs you with firm hands. This time, you’re sure it’ll be harder to break away from him. When Jing Yuan pulls you into his chest and buries his face into the crook of your neck, you know you won’t be let go until his desires are settled.
His hair tickles the sides of your face, lightly brushing against your cheeks as his front subtly rolls into your backside. The feeling makes you laugh but, it’s quickly cut short by an airy moan.
“You’re eager,” You hum before lifting your hand up to his thick hair, the white strands soon find themselves woven between your fingertips. “weren’t you meditating a few minutes ago?”
“All I thought of was you,” He murmurs against your jaw, a heavy hand now cupping your throat. The general tilts your head, angling your face toward him before selfishly taking a kiss to satisfy his own desires. His actions quite literally steal your breath away. There’s a skillful method to his kisses, pushing and molding your lips into his own before his tongue peaks out. The hot muscle quickly snakes its way into your mouth and licks behind your teeth.
Jing Yuan tightens his grip against your waist as you falter in standing still, he holds you on your feet against his strong body when you begin to feel the effects of his strong-willed desire.
Old man or not, the general gives you a taste of euphoric freedom that no one else ever could.
#blade x reader#gepard x reader#jing yuan x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr gepard x reader#hsr jing yuan x reader#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#xiaos spicy almond tofu
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work it | na jaemin
Jaemin can’t quite keep a part time job; every time he gets hired, he somehow fucks up enough to be fired straight away. But he just can’t get fired from his job with you, not until he successfully asks you out on a date, anyway.
OR: How many times can your cover Jaemin’s mistakes before you blow up, or him.
pairing — jaemin x fem!reader
genre — restaurant!au, slowburn, fluff, humour, smut (MDNI)
wc — 20k
content — profanity, both jaemin and reader work at a chinese restaurant, kun, jaehyun, mark and shotaro mentioned, waitressing dynamics (im gonna be honest most of this is just me throwing words together and hoping for the best), smut tags below the cut :)
a/n — *sniff* my baby.... i loved writing this so much because the dynamics is something i truly enjoy ^^ there were times i wanted to strngle myself because i just couldn’t think of how to but the scenarios into words but here it is <3 hope you guys have fun reading!!!!
smut tags — making out, boob/nipple play, fingering, pet names, just the slightest bit of a dom/sub dynamic, lmk if i missed anything <3
Jaemin is in the back room of the pet store, looking at a big bag of dog food and a laminated paper with the number of servings needed for each pet section when he hears his boss call for him.
“Jaemin? You doing okay here?” He turns around to look at Mr Choi, showing a light smile and a thumbs up.
“All good sir, just trying to familiarise myself with each serving of the pet food before I try feeding them.” He waves the card around, the lanyard attached to it swishing around. Today was his third time coming in with a shift at the pet store, and although the place isn’t near his house, it wasn’t far from his campus either, which ultimately makes his travel easier. If he can go all this way to a lecture he won’t even remember, he can go again and again to make some cash and help his sobbing wallet.
Mr Choi grins, plump fingers clapping together in delight. “I knew I could trust you. You’ve worked in so many places so you must have adapted quicker.” At this, Jaemin’s smile strains a bit as he lays his hand on one of the food packets to seem normal. He’s not wrong, Mr Choi— Jaemin has worked at a lot of places. He started when he was fourteen at his uncle's small business in the night markets, looking after keychains and phone cases while his uncle would try to sell items with his marketing voice. His task was to answer customers when they asked for the price, and to find out the price he just had to remember the prices — and if he was really struggling, his uncle quips, you can look behind each sections name tag, where the prices are written in vibrant red.
But he was confident with the prices, who would forget that the key chains cost 500 won and the cases cost 1000 won?
Of course he wouldn’t forget, but he wasn’t correct either. The five and fifteen behind those items were actually 5,000 won and 10,000 won. And throughout the entire day when he would receive coins instead of the colourful notes his uncle was collecting, he didn’t even question it; he just thought his uncle was a top-tier marketer. Needless to say, he was ‘fired’ (he’s not sure if he was even supposed to be paid for his labour) and his parents took out the money he credited to his uncle from his savings.
You would think that the brutal action of taking someone's hard-earned pocket money would deter them from trying another job again until they were fully prepared to take on such professionalism. But Jaemin was devastated at the fact that he had lost his chore money while sitting down on a plastic stool in the hot summer's night market. And so he tried to get another job to attain back the money.
At age fifteen, for his birthday present, he had asked for a job opportunity from his parents. Reluctantly, they had asked one of their neighbours if they’d like to get their lawn mowed. After seeing Jaemin in the backyard a few times doing the gardening, they weren’t abhorred by the idea of paying him a small fee to clean their lawns. Excited, he set to work with the mowing, which was something he would do, but he didn’t remember if it was the growing bush on his left side or right that he was to avoid at all costs. Turns out it was both, which attained Mrs Choi’s sacred tea sprouts that she’d imported from one of the islands in between Malaysia and Indonesia, and it costs an arm and a leg, he recalls her saying. The horror on her face, when she saw the shaved-down plot of land, was something Jaemin never wishes on his worst enemy and all the while desires to draw frame to frame.
But of course, it didn’t end there. He worked at a convenience store and a local retail store when he was sixteen, but was fired from the first and never received his roster from the latter. He thought that maybe local stores were just too picky with their quality of work due to having to compete against monopoly businesses, and so he opted to turn to chain businesses instead. He worked at McDonald’s and almost deep-fried his instructor's hand when being taught how to work the fries, and barely batted an eye when a few teenagers shoplifted the stores’ display clothes when he was working the chain clothing store at the mall near his house. To his defence, he’d thought that they were his coworkers changing the clothes on display with their casual dress code of the workplace, and so naturally, he didn’t think much of it. His longest-lasting job was at a general retail store he was hired for during Christmas, where he lasted for three weeks due to his supervisor being too busy to catch Jaemin’s mistake.
It’s a miracle really that he’s lasted three solid days at this place, but there isn’t much he can screw up in a pet shop; so far all he’s tasked to do is feed the fishes, as they’re the easiest to feed, and discard the box with hamster and rabbit poop for compost. Surprisingly, they’re both placed in the same corner of the room, but they’re kept in different storage boxes. Jaemin remembers how green means compost, and blue means fish; it makes sense, so he just goes to the blue one and scoops one full scoop into a mini bucket, before going into the store and feeding the fish. With the compost bin, he simply fits it onto a wheeler before going out to the back and dumping it into the designated compost area.
Jaemin sniffles a bit, before placing the laminated poster back on the shelf, checking his watch for the time. “Oh,” He exclaims, “It’s lunchtime for the fishes,” His smile towards his boss might just be pushing it, but it seems like he’s doing a great job at, well, keeping this job; anything resembling ass-kissing, he’ll try. As long as it guarantees a longer stay for him of course.
Mr Choi laughs heartily, sending Jaemin a thumbs up as he slowly filters out of the back room while Jaemin heads to the blue tin. What he misses is how the relief from Mr Choi’s face turns into sheer horror, as he sees Jaemin scoop into the blue tin and drop the pendant-like substances into the fish’s designated feeder.
“Stop!” Jaemin drops the scooper into the tin as his boss yells out, his blood running cold at the sudden shout. “Jaemin..have you been using—” Mr Choi’s eyes widen as he cuts himself off, going back to the store with hurried steps. Jaemin is very confused, as he has his hand midway in the air from Mr Choi’s exclaim, standing in the backroom like an NPC only activated when a main character comes to him for a quest.
But, miraculously, he can move his feet as he hears another shout of— a woman? Or maybe it was just Mr Choi’s sheer…excitement of Jaemin’s dedication to his job? But what he sees when he gets out of the back room and into the main store isn’t a surprise party held for Jaemin and his efforts (okay, he thought that maybe this was all a ploy to just show his new staff some appreciation; he’s still sceptical about the horror in Mr Choi’s voice, can you blame him?). What he’s instead met with is his boss’ and how his hands are clenched on his already thinning scalp — Jaemin winces when he sees a strand slowly descend to the floor— as he skids left and right around the aquariums.
It isn’t until Jaemin takes a closer look and sees that the fishes he thought were sleeping are now, well, permanently sleeping; on the floor of the aquariums, save with a few floating slowly, hanging on for Mr Choi’s happiness or the longevity of Jaemin’s work streak. He later finds out that fish float when sleeping.
“Jaemin, oh my god— the blue tin is the compost bin, and the green one is the fish food! I’ve told you about this two times, there’s even a fish sign on the green tin, how could you not tell?!” Jaemin might be tripping, but he swears he can see the bald patch on his boss’ head growing steadily.
Of course, now wouldn’t be the best time for him to point out scalp care remedies, and so he settles for the next best thing; “I thought the fish sign meant that they just…smell really bad…” Mr Choi now has his hand splayed across his face before he slowly goes to rub at his eyes, and nose bridge next, probably preventing a stress-induced nosebleed.
He points towards the front of the store, where the counter sits next to the door, finger jabbing up and down. Jaemin takes this as a sign to get some tissues from behind the counter, or his boss’ water bottle that always seems to have unlimited tea; but before he can even get back to him, with his eyes still close, in the softest tone Mr Choi says “... Out.”
He would’ve stopped his job hunting there, to be honest; but he’s in the last year of his course and is living with a roommate in a separate flat from his parents, which means he has to have at least some money to buy some necessities like groceries, much less pay rent.
He tells this much to Mark when he asks why Jaemin decided to work at a gym straight after working at a pet shop, and also what his resume looks like for people to still be keen to hire someone like him. He completely evades the second question, happily confiding in his friend about the job at a gym he picked up a week after being fired from sending the fishes into a food coma.
(“…Too soon?”
“Yeah, maybe a little bit.”)
And when Mark asks how Jaemin’s day was as a conversation starter, he vulnerably confides in him about losing his job again. This time working at a gym, he was assigned the task of giving out flyers and talking to people about why they would benefit from going to the gym, according to the outline he was provided in this big binder, the corner of the cover peeling off with age. While he was trying to promote the gym and give the discount flyers, he got into a long-winded conversation with this one old man who was talking about how the treadmill ‘fucked his knee up’, which had Jaemin thinking if treadmills existed in the 1980s.
They were five minutes into Jaemin searching the creation of gyms on Naver and the old man scolding him for not listening to a customer even though he was ‘not yet a customer because you haven’t accepted the flyer, now have you?’ when his supervisor comes out and yanks on Jaemin’s ‘employee in training’ lanyard from around his neck. Jaemin wasn’t sure what factor was the tipping point, but Mark thinks it was because he was on his phone during work hours.
“Or maybe the fact that you were stuck talking to someone likely to be the last person to ever sign up to a gym?” Mark is spinning his pen as he says this, looking up from his laptop screen towards Jaemin. Mark doesn’t even write his notes by hand, so it’s truly beyond him why he’s brought a high-class fountain pen to their study session at Jaemin’s, but that should be the last of his worries.
“Actually, they did have yoga and treadmill training for those aged sixty-five and above, so I wasn’t even targeting the wrong market.”
“Are you saying you’ve been wrongfully fired?” Mark sports an amused smile at Jaemin as if he’s laughing along with his joke; but that’s the problem, he wasn’t joking.
“Don’t laugh at my demise,” Jaemin smacks Mark’s arm, and he would feel bad at the wince that the latter lets out if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of his brutal laugh-hitting habit five out of seven times in the past week. Mark slowly halts his laughing fit when he sees Jaemin sulking, suddenly turning soft.
“Alright, you know what, here,” Mark fishes out his wallet as he says this, twisting and turning his bag on Jaemin’s bed. He gives the latter 10,000 won, waving his hand out towards Jaemin’s window. “Go ahead and get some snacks, my treat. And get me the watermelon-flavoured ice cream too?”
Jaemin scoffs. “You’re only doing this because you’re too lazy to get it yourself.” Mark’s smile is sheepish.
“Well, do you have 10,000 won to spare?” That shuts Jaemin up, as he snatches the notes out of Mark’s hand with a glare.
“When I do get 10,000 won, I’m making you eat the note,” Mark’s laugh is nervous as Jaemin marches out.
The cold hold of the ice cream contrasts the warmth in Jaemin’s hand, as the walk back to his unit proves to be a good remedy for taking a mental break from studying, as he decides to take a long way back; partially because the walk through Central parks is nice, but mainly because he wants Mark’s ice cream to have melted into a gross mush when he gets back.
Walking through the park, the rustle of the plastic bag and the tree branches are the only sounds echoing throughout, with Jaemin swinging his arm leisurely. The park is a circle shapen thread of grass with benches and pathways swirling around it, adorned with a children's playground in one corner, and the park's famous Yoshino cherry tree sitting right in the middle of the whole scene. The walk from the ice cream store back to his unit, the long way, requires Jaemin to walk through the park and the line of stores and restaurants in company with the park’s facilities. For as long as he’s lived here, three out of four of the store slots have been busy with business and traffic; all but one.
Unit store 1279 is infamous for dooming local businesses whenever someone applies for its lease. Jaemin has seen two restaurants and at least three cafes open and close, all with varying reasons for closing; the landlord is a nightmare to deal with, a corner of the store leaks something green but only when no one pays attention, and lastly about how there’s a ghost that lingers near the back door, sending cold shivers down staff and patrons alike when they pass through the door.
Out of all these rumours, Jaemin truly has yet to see one of them be proven true, the landlord was friendly enough to send welcoming flowers when each business would open; and close. He was keen to feel the shiver of the ghost's presence course through his body when he visited two openings ago but to no avail.
However, the reason why he finds the store so intriguing today is related to neither of those rumours; right on the glass door of the supposed vacant spot is an estate-sealed sticker adorned with bold letters spelling out “SOLD”. Not leased, but sold, with just below the official sticker being a recruitment post, a single slip of the business's phone number flapping in the light breeze.
We are looking for part-time staff. Starting rate at 25,000 won per hour. No prior experience is required.
Jaemin shifts from one foot to another as he eyes the piece of A4 paper taped to the door. Isn't this fate? A store opening right near where he lives, willing to accept someone with no experience, and the last slip of number is left? All while Mark’s ice cream is melting in his bag. This is the universe's calling if he knows of any.
Jaemin paces around the living room while Shotaro sits on the couch, head tilting left and right to the opposite rhythm of Jaemin’s paces as he tries to look past his whizzing figure and to the TV. If Shotaro had even a single mean bone in his body, he would ever so kindly tell Jaemin to stop pacing and maybe instead stand in one place, if he’s comfortable to of course. But as far as Jaemin is aware, he flinches at the sight of a fly, and is much less able to hurt one, so, of course, he doesn’t tell Jaemin to stop obscuring his vision, and instead turns to look at him, ignoring his show.
“Are you okay?” He asks, and Jaemin finally deflates, seeing this as an invitation to rant to his roommate. Plopping himself right next to Shotaro on the three-seated couch, he links their arms together by the elbow, needing something to ground himself.
“I wanna call this place and see if I can get a job, but I don’t know how to go about it; is there such a thing as a verbal resume?”
“You mean, an interview?” Shotaro provides, hand hovering slightly in the air as he contemplates patting Jaemin’s hand in comfort, but not for long as Jaemin separates them with a look of shock on his face.
“So that’s the word I was looking for?” He frowns to himself in contemplation, before sulking right back into Shotaro’s bicep. He doesn’t think they’ve passed the phases required to get this close to his former, but he’s too stressed about fucking up another job, and Shotaro seems to not mind this sort of interaction.
“If you find it so stressful to call them and have a phone interview, why don’t you send them a text?” Jaemin doesn’t know if this is truly coming from the goodness in his heart or if this is just something that everyone knows. Either way, the words put him at ease as he stands from the couch, patting Shotaro on the shoulder in thanks.
“You’re right! They didn’t specify their expectations; they just had phone number slips and a recruitment notice. You’re a genius Shotaro,” To that, the boy flushes with a shy smile on his face, but before Jaemin can hear him say something about how he didn’t do anything, and that he would love to help you even a little bit, Jaemin has headed off to his room and is curating a message to send.
To: +82 10-7854-4793
Hello, My name is Jaemin and I am interested in working in your establishment. When can I come in for an interview?
From: +82 10-7854-4793
Hello Jaemin. We are grateful for your enthusiasm, could you stop by next Thursday at 12 p.m at the Tao Village restaurant? Please bring a copy of your resume and provide a USB of a soft copy of said resume. We look forward to hearing from you.
To: Tao Village HR person (I think)
Yes I am available :) Thank you
Jaemin was not quite sure what is an appropriate outfit for when you want to be interviewed for a job as a waitress, but Shotaro’s eyes had dimmed just the slightest when he saw Jaemin step out of his room with jeans and a hoodie.
“Is that what you’re gonna wear?” His tone was far from condescending, even with the smile on his face, he looked more like a proud mom, but Jaemin could tell when his roommate may be slightly disappointed with a poor choice, so he had gone back and dressed up in some slacks he had and a polo shirt tucked in. he hopes he doesn’t see people he knows, or worse, Mark, because he knows he wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Now he’s situated in front of the store, the ‘sold’ sticker now nowhere to be seen and a light glow shining through from the glass door, but the sun shinning from outside obscures any other view Jaemin could peak from the inside, as he sees more of his own reflection instead. Hand clasped on a clear folder and a USB with his resume, he pats his head one last time before opening the door and stepping in.
He’s been inside this store a few times over the past few cafes and restaurants, and so he’s not surprised to be met with a whole new interior. On the contrary, he’s quite pleased with the choices that the current owner of the store has made, with the walls now an even slate with ivory-coloured paint instead of the rundown orange brick that the last restaurant had. There are tables and chairs fit for two, and a last one for six people uninformed from left to right, with a counter and a curtain obscuring what he assumes is the kitchen towards the end of the restaurant.
Jaemin was too enamoured with taking in the whole place that he had completely missed the mini counter situated a bit to his left, with you standing behind, confused as to why someone has came in to simply look at the interior design and not, well, the menu.
A clear of your throat startles Jaemin out of his daze, as he looks towards you with the initial look of annoyance before his expression melts.
She’s so pretty. What the fuck? Does she work here? Is this a needed requirement? Maybe Jaemin should’ve topped up with a bit of cologne or something to truly seal his spot, but before he could embarrass himself by very subtly going to smell his shirt, you start.
“Hi, welcome to Tao Village, how can I help you?” He’s not sure if you’re using a customer service voice on him but it proves to work as he immediately thinks of how sweet your voice sounds. But Jaemin doesn’t want you to think he’s a creep who follows pretty women around and ask for their number the minute they open their mouth (he was so, so, tempted to ask for yours), so he tries a better way to ease in.
“I need to…speak to your manager.” His strong voice startles you both, as your eyes widen a bit before you lean back from the counter, now wary.
‘Is…is everything okay? My manager is unavailable at the moment.” Your eyes flit back to the curtain, where Jaemin assumes the head of this whole place is at the moment. His brows furrow further as he looks down at his watch. Twelve p.m., on the dot like the person he had texted requested. There must be a mistake.
“No, I’m sure they’re here. Maybe somewhere at the back? I need to speak to them,” he’s not sure why he’s suddenly being so demanding (he suspects that it's the polo shirt he’s wearing) but he’s nervous and he doesn’t want to be rejected before he was even given a chance to prove himself.
“I’m sorry if I offended you in any way, sir,” You voice out, now leaning back with your hand situated on the ring button placed below the counter, in case of emergencies or to be able to call for backup from the back of the kitchen. You didn’t think that you’d use it this early, “Can I make it up to you or help you in any form?”
Before you get to ring the button or Jaemin gets to backtrack, the curtains pull back and out comes a man in his mid-twenties, wearing an apron and holding a… paintbrush?
“Is everything alright?” He drops the paintbrush into its respective tray before he steps closer towards the two of you. You point at a faint smear of paint that’s caught on his cheek, mentioning silently to rub it off. Still, when he gets the memo and goes to wipe it off, he ends up smearing it further into his skin, his expression not wavering from its seriousness. It’s when he does a one-over at Jaemin that it all clicks.
“Oh! You must be here for the interview.” He pats down on his apron as if checking his bearings. “Kun said he’ll be back by now; that’s alright, have a seat.” He offers one of the two-seater tables, as Jaemin shuffles his way onward to take a seat, plopping himself on the opposite side of who he assumes is the boss of this place, as he takes his apron off and goes to brush at his clothes, before taking a look at his stained hands and deciding otherwise.
“Thank you for coming, my name is Jaehyun and I’ll just give you a brief breakdown of this place,” Jaemin nods as he rubs his palms against his jeans, thinking about how much he truly knew about this job. Come to think of it, he has no clue what the job he’s applying for even entails, just that they need staff who don’t necessarily need any experience (Jaemin does have some experience, maybe not the right kind) and were willing to pay enough for him to be able to pay his rent and only eat instant noodles two times a week, instead of the standard eight.
“We’re called Tao Village, and we offer a range of Chinese cuisines. I run this place with Kun, who was the one that got in contact with you. Both he and I cook, so we’re always in the kitchen. I have my niece,” That’s when Jaehyun points at you, which you don’t hear as you set up cutlery on tables with your earphones in, completely tuned out. “But she needs help for when we get a bit busier, or when it’s closing time; I can’t stay back because I have to wake up early the next day for the stores' essentials. We can show you the ropes but so far I just need you to work from Friday till Sunday.” Jaemin does his best to listen and store the information, but he realises that Jaehyun’s waiting for his reply.
“Yes, that should be okay,” He gave a thumbs up and a tight-lipped smile, which he slowly brings down when he sees Jaehyun’s stare on his hand.
“Great,” Jaehyun claps, standing up and reaching for the apron he placed on his lap before wrapping it around himself. “Well, the official opening of this place is on Saturday. Come in on Friday and we’ll try to acquaint you with the basics.” With a clap on the shoulder and a grimace of a smile - can it even be considered one? - Jaehyun hands him a brochure-like menu of the restaurant, telling him that if he can memorise it as soon as possible it will be helpful.
You’re wiping down the counter when Jaemin stands to leave, and when he shoots you a barely-there smile, all you do is look away.
“You got another job?” Mark sounds surprised when he says this, and that puts Jaemin off, because, of course, he got another job.
“What was I supposed to do? Stay jobless and have Shotaro pay all the rent and food expenses?” Jaemin’s on laundry duty this week, and is being mindful of what colours are supposed to go together according to the laminated piece of paper Shotaro taped above the washing machine.
“Knowing him, he probably would offer to pay your uni fee too.” Mark tosses up a pair of bundled-up socks as he says this. “Wait, so where do you work now?”
“At the new restaurant, you know the haunted place just past the park?” Mark hums as he says this. “I’m a waitress, er, waiter there now. From Friday to Sunday. Which is good because I only have classes throughout the weekday.”
“And you barely get invited out during the weekends anyways,” Mark snickers as he says this, but misses catching the sock as Jaemin grabs a pair of used underwear and throws it directly at the boy, barely missing the undergarment as he looks at him wide-eyed. Words of ‘ew dude’ and ‘that’s gross’ goes into one ear and out the other as he picks the briefs back up and shoves them in the washing machine, closing its door and starting it off.
“Well, I have a good feeling about it this time,”
“Are you gonna blame the ghost for your- wait, did you put any detergent in?”
“ …Does it not come with detergent already?”
Jaemin picks a lint off of his shoulder, before smoothing his hand down his shirt and his pants next. He was told to wear an all-black attire, not sweatpants or hoods, so he stuck with a simple t-shirt and some black jeans. He doesn’t know why he’s exceptionally nervous this time when all the other times he was only caught praying to last more than a weeks worth of paycheck. For some reason, he’s not keen on crossing his boss this time - Jaehyun seems scary.
Stepping forward, his hands find the handle and with one deep breath, he pushes the door. Except it doesn’t budge.
He steps back and looks through the glass of the door, seeing if anyone is inside. When he doesn’t find anyone, he pushes once more, and one more time with all his body weight; yet it doesn’t budge.
“I swear they asked me to come in at four,” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, looking at the time while his face stays squished against the door. Not even a second later, he hears the click of the door unlocking, and before his reflex could take over and help him step back, he’s launched forward and onto the ground.
“Oh my god, are you okay? Why would you cling to the door like that?” Your voice reaches his ears as he’s situated on the floor, and he then realises that his fingers were latched onto the door handle when you pulled the door to let him in.
Your slack-covered knees come into his vision first, before your face enters his view, albeit upside down.
“You didn’t get a concussion from that alone, did you?” Sounding so serious, Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your words as he pushes himself up to his elbows, brushing at his shirt before inspecting it for any dirt. So much for looking wanting to look presentable.
“Jaehyun’s not here yet, and Kun’s stepped out just then,” Jaemin realises this is the most he’s heard you speak since the first time he’s seen you, as he sees your standing figure reaches a hand out to him, offering to help him up. He gladly accepts it, but is mindful to not pull all his weight.
“Oh,” Is all he can muster, now sheepish at the fact that your second impression of him is not any better than the first. His eyes scan around the place as he finds new additions since last week, such as a few ink-wash paintings on the wall and paper lanterns lining down the ceiling instead of the LED lamps that Jaemin saw last. Even the staff counter looks more lived in compared to the glimpse he caught before, with what looks like a brand new electric kettle and two mugs with silicone lids, one with a peach and another with a bear as their handles.
Not knowing what else to say, his eyes seek yours for any sort of initiative; hoping that you will catch his gaze and give a smile, all while explaining to him the in’s and out of this place, like how should he take orders, if there’s a particular way to fold the tissues that are placed on the tables, and if the Fujian fried rice of this restaurant is the one with or without pumpkin. Simple details.
But you all but look back at him, instead you drop your gaze away from him entirely and go to the staff counter at the back of the restaurant, picking up and taking a look at the kettle before you go behind the curtains that lead to the kitchen, out of Jaemin’s sight. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed there as a rookie staff, so he doesn’t play with his luck and instead trudges behind the counter at the door. After a few minutes of poking and prodding at things like the card reader and a pen cup, the front door swings open and in comes a tall man with red hair, holding plastic bags full of an assortment of things from food to cutlery.
“Oh, you must be Jaemin,” Jaemin straightens his back at the mention of his name, nodding his head and bowing in lieu of a greeting. The man trudges through the restaurant, the bursting plastic bags bumping into the chairs every now and then, and not long after the door swings open once more to reveal Jaehyun.
“Jaemin! You’re,” He gives his watch a glance, “On time! How pleasant, come, have you met Kun? Let’s go into the kitchen first.” Jaehyun manages to say this all with an expressionless face, but Jaemin does not feel like he’s being condescending, following his now-boss silently through the restaurant, past the main staff counter and the curtains and into the kitchen. Boxes are perched on the metal counters of the restaurant’s kitchen, filled with what Jaemin guesses are the containers for the ingredients of the dishes, and some restaurant plates, as well as takeaway boxes and bags. You’re taking out the abundance of takeaway container lids from boxes that take up two-thirds of your height, stocking them up on the top shelf.
“Kun, have you met Jaemin? I’m not sure we’ve given him a proper tour of the place,” Jaemin doesn’t think he’s gotten any sort of tour of the whole place, so all he does is politely shake his head.
Kun grunts as he places another big box next to your unpacking figure, the impact of it barely making you flinch. He looks at Jaehyun before his gaze falls on Jaemin, and with a smile and a wave of his hand, he goes through the backdoor of the kitchen without looking back.
Jaemin is guided through the whole place, with Kun showing him the storage room and the cold room, which conveniently has a sliding door; the singular bathroom of the whole place, and the main part of the restaurant.
“You don’t need to prepare much for tomorrow, it says in your resume that you’ve worked in a lot of places for short amounts of time, which gives me the impression that you can pick up traits easily,” Jaemin delivers a stiff smile as he feels Kun clasp a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Me and Jaehyun will just tell you the way we work, but first I need you to help with the unpacking. Any questions?”
Jaemin nods his head, taking the chance to now ask his burning question. “Will I get paid for today?”
Kun just laughs and pats him twice on the shoulder, shaking his head and heading to the kitchen, shoulders bunching up now and then.
Tasked with the job of organising the cutlery, Jaemin places the metal spoons and forks into the cutlery tray placed next to the plates and bowls for setting up the tables. You’re here too, wiping down the window and the glass door, emitting any sort of stain. Jaemin tries his best to not let his gaze wander on for too long, wanting to be in your good books. From what it seems, you seem just as important as both Kun and Jaehyun, so he doesn’t want to risk doing anything wrong, or piss you off. He also thinks you’re really pretty and would like to ask you out, but that’s beside the point.
It’s when you’re getting up from wiping the bottom of the window when you hear the clatter of plastic. Turning around, your eyes widen when you see Jaemin and the plastic forks he was supposed to put away at his feet.
“I…” There goes Jaemin’s one and only chance. He isn’t even being paid for this and he’s gonna get fired, right in front of the person he was trying to rizz up, too. Before he can say anymore and save his reputation, you whizz past him and into the kitchen, the curtains flying around you but you’re mindful enough to shut them back, not letting the sight of Jaemin with a bunch of forks splayed around him like he’s being sacrificed to the fast-food culinary Gods. He hears Kun and Jaehyun’s voices coming through the curtains, variations of them asking if everything is alright, to which you answer with the clutter of pots and pans.
Coming back with a big metal bowl, Jaemin’s eyes widen as you kneel — for the second time today — at his legs, picking up the forks frantically and placing them in the metal basin.
“Are you gonna help?”
And now he’s on his knees too. Scooping up the forks and placing them in the bowl, once every single fork is off the floor, you rush towards the undermount sink at the corner of the staff counter just as footsteps echo from the kitchen and Jaheyun’s figure emerges.
“Is everything good?” Jaemin feels paralysed, unable to decipher anything since the doom he felt spilling all the single-use forks onto the floor.
“Yup,” You answer nonchalantly, filling up the basin full of forks with water and a few drops of dish soap. “Just thought to rinse these clean first before…” You pause for a second as you look at Jaemin, before trailing your gaze to Jaehyun with a smile. “Before Jaemin organises them.”
Jaehyun simply nods his head before he trudges back to the kitchen, and Jaemin barely gets to utter a ‘thank you’ before you walk past him and into the kitchen.
“So she just helped you? That simply?” Jaemin’s smile is all but smug, as he cracks open his beer and clinks it against Marks, both taking generous sips.
“What can I say? I charmed her with my natural skills,”
“The natural skills of messing things up,” Mark scoffs at him before leaning over to get a piece of fried chicken out of the takeout box. “She probably pitied you for making a rookie mistake.” He starts munching on the chicken and hums in delight, following it with a sip of his beer. Jaemin reaches to pick up a pickled radish.
“Well, rookie mistake or not, she likes me enough to help me. You should come to work tomorrow for the grand opening, and while you’re at it bring everyone else too; I swear she doesn’t even like people,” Mark laughs in delight at Jaemin’s invitation, promising to come up with something.
Mouth full, he asks, “How long do you think you’ll last?”
“Swallow your fucking food first before jetting all your spit at me dude,”
In the same black polo shirt, Jaemin steps in at noon, just like his boss number one (Kun) asked him to, while boss number two (Jaehyun) had emphasised that calling him this early is to ease him in easier into the culinary business. Jaemin doesn’t mind, he’s just glad that he’s being paid for today's work.
He greets you with a wave as soon as he gets in, to which you wave back before going to the kitchen and announcing his presence.
“Jaemin’s here now,” You come back out and stand at the staff counter, taking the kettle and filling it up with water to boil. Going behind the counter, he places his phone and earbuds into his pocket, remembering that they were prohibited unless he’s on his break. Once the water is boiled, you pour it into the two mugs Jaemin remembers seeing yesterday, before putting it back on its stand and taking the mugs back into the kitchen.
Jaemin simply fiddles around, not knowing what to do. It looks like his presence on Friday was needed to set things up, but now that it’s all done, he can only wait for a customer to walk or call in, or either one of you to give him a command; he’s weary this time ‘round to not fuck anything up.
Coming back out right behind Kun, you busy yourself at the counter next to the door while Kun comes up to Jaemin, patting him on the back.
“Don’t worry about doing much today, it’s just a soft opening and not a lot of people know about our business anyways. I’m just expecting maybe two or three takeaway orders and just a handful of tables. This could be a good chance for you to bond with each other, yeah?” But before Jaemin could take in the fact that Kun had wanted some sort of bonding to happen, his mind got caught on the words ‘soft opening’.
“Wait, so today’s only the …soft opening.” Careful with his tone, Jaemin tries to make it sound like he’s just restating a fact rather than being surprised. Kun is too busy drinking from his hot water to notice Jaemin’s nervous front.
“Yup, Jaehyun and I decided it would be best to have a grand opening maybe after we got to test the waters out.” He places the silicon lid with the bear cover back on his cup to retain the heat, and Jaemin really can’t help but feel like something bad is brewing. But before he could even voice out a word, the door to the restaurant opens with a bell resounding, and in swarm a pack of ten or so customers, and a blob that looks like Mark.
“Yoo, this place is quite neat,” Apparently it talks like Mark too.
Both shocked still with wide eyes, trying to make sense of where and how this many people all came together into the restaurant just minutes after the soft opening, Jaemin just hopes that nothing about Mark and what seems like a club he gathered from the university can be somehow linked back to him. It doesn’t seem like the universe is keen on taking his side, however, as he sees Mark’s eyes squint and searches around the restaurant, knowingly searching for him. Jaemin doesn’t know why he hasn’t tried looking at where the general staff area would be, like at the door or where he’s currently situated, but before he could duck to hide or face his impending doom, you miraculously step in.
“Hello, welcome to Tao Village, how can I help you?” You sport a kind but mute smile, hands clasped together politely.
“Yeah, can I have, like, a table or something?”
“Sure, for how many people?”
“Ooh! Good question… I think there’s like, ten of us at the moment.”
“Is it alright if I were to ask you to sit separately? Since you’re walking in, we didn’t have the opportunity to set up. Just in two groups of three and one table for four maybe?” Jaemin doesn’t know how you do it, but his shoulders sag when Mark gives you a thumbs up, going back to the group of people all loitering around the entrance, telling them that they will just break into subunits.
Kun has somehow slipped away without any notice, which left just Jaemin behind the counter for you to encounter when you head towards the bottled water in the fridge. “Can you help me with the water? I’ll take their orders and you can just follow along first,” With a nod of his head, you press the bottle into his hands, waving him off as you reach for a server notepad, writing down table numbers and heading to the tables.
With your presence and the two chefs busy in the kitchen, Jaemin doesn’t do much but avoid eye contact with Mark and listen to you pick up the scarce phone orders that come through; trying his best to learn how to pick up such skill. After the third time of the phone ringing and Jaemin staying in place, simply looking at you to pick up the phone, you pick it up and press the answer button, before pressing it against his ear and giving an encouraging nod.
It turns out to be a scam call, with the person on the other end attempting to sell Jaemin a double-doored fridge with a touch screen and dual ice and water dispenser, all while Jaemin tries to promote the restaurant.
“With the dual dispenser, you can fill your glass up with both water and ice at the same time so your water doesn’t go too cold on the first si-“
“The mapo tofu is a great dish to order, as tofu proves to be a primary source of iron, easily accessible and cheap with the rising price of meat.”
“…It’s a Samsung model which has been on limited release—“
“Do you want the food or not?”
(The telemarketer hesitates just a bit before stating that they’ll call another time.)
Nothing else happens, you two go to the kitchen whenever a sound of the bell ringing resounds, signalling that a dish is ready to be served, and Jaemin uses all of his brain power and logic skills to pick up dishes that are for tables that Mark isn't seated at.
He successfully gets to do all that is required of him and stealthily avoids Mark, silently celebrating as he sees you place fortune cookies at every table, signalling that it’s time for them to pay the bill and leave.
But of course, nothing good ever lasts.
“Jaemin, bro,” Mark must’ve been some assassin in his past life because Jaemin barely notices him creeping up to him until he’s already wrapped in a handshake and a bro hug. “Well done dude, you barely made a mistake today. Yo, the food was good too, you should bring back some of the Mongolian lambs every now and then, yeah? I’ll see you later,” And with two claps on his back, he’s fishing his pockets for spare change as he heads towards the front counter and near the door, finding a singular coin before placing it in your palm, smiling as if he’s single-handedly pulled you out of poverty.
“Your friend?” You murmur towards him, looking at the coin in distaste.
“Yeah, unfortunately so.”
“I can’t do it,” Jaemin is shaking his head and hands vehemently; making him feel even more sick than he was.
You roll your eyes at him, holding the restaurant's phone in your hand. “You have to start somewhere, you can’t just avoid it now and expect to be miraculously good one day. I swear once you learn how to pick up phone orders you’ll only want to do that.” You explain, before putting your free hand out, palm facing up, encouraging Jaemin to do the same. Once he follows, not without a lot of hesitation, of course, you gently place the phone in his hand, closing his fingers around it with two hands before giving it a light pat.
“Now,” You pick up Jaehyun's phone that's placed on the counter, dialling the restaurant's number before placing yourself on the other side of the restaurant to cease any echoes. “I’m gonna call and act like a customer, you try writing down the order details.” With a nod of his head, you press the dial and turn the other way around, opting to look away to make Jaemin less nervous.
With a deep breath in, he picks up. “Hi, welcome to Tao Village,” He pauses, looking at you for any sign of motivation, but continues when he notices you waiting. “What would you like to order?”
“Jaemin,” Your voice sounds in the dining area and not through the phone, as you turn slightly to look at him with the phone tucked into your chest. “Some customers might not order food straight away. Maybe try asking how you can be of assistance,”
“Hello, welcome to Tao Village restaurant. Uh, how can I help?” Jaemin tries again, to which you reply with a bunch of dish names, asking for the different types of sauces that come with the mixed vegetables, as he tries his best to answer with what he remembers and writes down the prices of each dish from the takeaway menu.
“Uh, okay. Is that, did you want anything else?”
“Nope, I’m good. What's the total?” Jaemin fumbles with the calculator, shoulders hunched over the counter, punching in the numbers and writing down the total on the piece of paper. “That would be around 38,000 won.”
“Are you sure?” This time your voice is right by his ear without the phone pressed against it, your arm brushing against his side. Jaemin doesn’t even have the time to be scared, distracted by the proximity of you two as you reach over and use the calculator.
“It came up to 42,000 won. Did you forget to calculate the buns?”
“Oh,” Jaemin splutters. “Maybe, my bad.” Although this all sounds so new to Jaemin, he doesn’t feel as overwhelmed as he thought he would; with every other job he had, there would be someone assigned to help Jaemin understand the ropes of the place, but everyone else would add something on too, like how folding clothes the ‘Marie Kondo way’ was is even more efficient, even if that defeats the whole purpose of displaying a t-shirt at a department store.
You coach him through the quirks one by one, not moving on until Jaemin shows that he’s somewhat picked up the action. It all feels like a dream come true, with you guiding him as if you know that he couldn’t last a week into his job without actually knowing that. He’s just not sure how effective it will be in the long run. And it turns out that he doesn’t need to wait long to find out, as the ringing of the phone echoes in the restaurant devoid of any noise except for the soft piano background music.
Nodding your head at him, Jaemin picks up the phone and only hesitates for half a ring before he presses accept, bringing the phone to his ear and repeating the welcome phrase. It all goes well, with the customer asking if they can make a phone order for pick up, to which Jaemin replies ‘Why yes, of course you may’, and the sound of a car door closing sounds through the phones speakers, and suddenly the quality of the customers' voice sounds like hot garbage as their phone connects to their cars’ bluetooth.
“Sorry, did you say you wanted mixed vegetables in rooster sauce? Sorry, we don’t offer— oh. Oyster sauce. Yup,” You look at him with a confused look on your face, curious as to why Jaemin can’t understand the person when everything was good. The furrow of your eyebrows and the scratching sound from the phone sets Jaemin off, as the customer mutters something about ‘how many times do I have to repeat myself?’.
Jaemin writes down what he can understand, writing down the name ‘Kai’ and giving the customer the estimated waiting time, before hanging up the phone.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” You give him a pat on the shoulder, taking the slip of paper from his hand, wincing as you take a look at the scribbles writing of the dish names and their prices. “It’ll just go up from here. Hey, tell you what, why don’t you try remembering the ingredients of our fried rice, and see if you can differentiate between which one is the normal one and the special one without looking at the names, yeah? I’ll go help set up the ingredients for cooking these dishes,” And with one last tap, you disappear behind the curtains, taking a pen with you and correcting the mistakes before providing it to the two chefs.
You’re busy talking at a table of customers when the door swings open and in walks a customer, which leaves Jaemin to tend to them instead. With a customer service smile, he clears his throat and greets them.
“How can I help you?”
“Oh, I’m here to pick up an order. Under the name Kim I think? Sorry, I didn’t place the order but my dad did.” The woman scrolls through her phone as she says this, looking at what Jaemin guesses to be an exchange of texts between her and her dad. He ducks a bit to look at the dock under the table, where all the takeaways are brought and placed with the order slip attached to them with a piece of tape. He sees one with the name Kim and picks it up, removing the attached slip and placing it on top of the counter while the lady reaches for her wallet.
“Okay, uh, did you order the sweet and sour pork, with a large fried rice?” Jaemin reads off the food, a procedure you emphasised was important when dealing with takeaway orders. The lady nods, impatient as she swings her card around. He looks at the price at the end of the paper before punching it into the machine. Once the transaction goes through successfully and a receipt is printed, the woman quickly snatches the handle of the takeaway plastic bag and nods her head goodbye. Jaemin senses that something is wrong, off maybe even, and so he looks at the copy of the receipt and the contents of the order slip, looking at the other orders waiting at the dock and their contents and seeing that they all match their slips, and so with a shrug, he sets off to go back to the staff counter.
It isn’t until ten minutes pass that his wrongdoing was confirmed, as you call for his name from across the restaurant while sifting through the takeaway orders, a customer patiently looking over to see your interaction. He pulls up beside you, squatting down eye-level to the dock like you are before he whispers, “Did I do something wrong?”
“Where is the order for Kim? The one with the fried rice and sweet and sour pork? I remember bringing it here when it was packed at the back.” Jaemin feels his blood run cold at the mention of the order, a clear replay of his interaction with the woman coming in full blast.
“Oh… that…” At this, you pause your search and look at Jaemin, whose breath hitches at the short distance between your faces, courtesy of your crouched figures. You close your eyes, breathing in deeply to calm your nerves, before straightening up at lightning speed, knocking Jaemin over and onto the ground with an ‘oof’.
“Your order is still not ready yet, sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll go and check up on the progress, did you want to take a seat while you wait?” You smile at the customer, who nods back and says something about not minding the wait. You walk over Jaemin’s bent knees on the ground, going past him and into the kitchen.
He picks himself up quickly, making brief eye contact with the customer before looking at the curtains which you walked into. He’s doomed, you’re gonna tell Jaehyun and Kun about the mistake you made, and they’re gonna come out mad with their sleeves pulled up, ready to beat the shit out of him. He should’ve taken the self-defence class his mom recommended to him when he was twelve, maybe then he could do something to make the pain afterwards not hurt as much.
But before he could think about running out of the place with the bowl of fortune cookies (compensation for the beating that is due… possibly), you come back out, heading for the sink and filling up a glass of water while you place it on the table that the real Kim sits at.
“Shouldn’t be too long, they’re just finishing up on the sweet and sour pork. Here some water while you wait.” And now Jaemin is confused. He’s still on the floor of the restaurant with his brows furrowed and mouth hung open as if he’s gonna start throwing a temper tantrum. Your eyes widen ever so slightly when you catch a glimpse of him still on the ground where you left him, but your professionalism pushes through as you widen the smile on your face with a hum, before shuffling away towards his direction when the customer looks away. Pulling him up, Jaemin is only able to offer you a few murmurs of random words to voice his confusion.
“They’re making a new batch, I figured that someone provided a similar name and didn’t know the order details, which is why they accepted it. Don’t worry, they don’t know that you mixed it up,” Jaemin feels a sense of relief wash over him, looking at you with what he knows to be his puppy eyes; you make sure to look away.
“Isn’t it like, against the rules to not tell them?”
“Well, if you like rules so much, you can go ahead and take this takeaway order to the back and confess. Or you can split its payment with me and take what you like home. While you decide what to do, I’ll call the customer you gave the wrong order to and offer some apology coupon.” If it was professional to, Jaemin would give you the biggest head; but unfortunately, this isn’t the film industry, and so he sticks to the next best thing, which is to just look at you longingly.
In hindsight, five weeks have passed and Jaemin is still an employee of Tao Village, surpassing his longest streak of two weeks and five days at the retail store. Which calls for a celebration.
“To Jaemin,” Shotaro opens a can of beer with one hand, which truly impresses Jaemin, because he didn’t think that he knew what alcohol was, let alone drink it. “Who can finally pay his half of the rent on time,”
“You’re too nice, Shotaro,” Mark clinks his can against his and Jaemin’s at the toast, taking a sip. “I would’ve kicked him out as soon as he somehow disconnected the house's water system. You guys had to shower at the campus locker rooms for a week.”
Shotaro simply laughs as Jaemin lunges at Mark. “You don’t even live here, why do you keep coming? You should pay rent at this point too, fucker,”
Mark shoves at Jaemin’s face, which was really close to biting his shoulder, effectively avoiding a months-long bruise. He scooches away on the couch, leaning against the handle and sipping his beer. Jaemin picks up a piece of takeaway fried chicken, and it’s with his mouthful when Shotaro asks how he’s liking the place.
“It’s okay, it’s not too busy since it just opened and no one really knows of its existence. Except for when Mark brought a shitton of people on its soft opening day,”
“You told me it was the gran-”
“Anyway, thankfully I didn’t get into trouble for that. But I was close all the other times…”
Mark snorts while Shotaro mumbles something about how well Jaemin is doing. “What, did you do all the cliche mistakes?”
“Define cliche,” Jaemin speaks after taking another bite of the chicken, making Mark kick at his thigh lightly. “Like, did you spill red wine on a customer? Or break a plate, or write down the wrong order. You know, restaurant waiter cliches.” Jaemin ponders for a second at this, thinking back to his five weeks of employment at the place.
“Not quite…” He tilts his head in thought, but before he could follow it up with anything, Shotaro and Mark clink their drinks together from opposite sides of the couch.
“Then that means you’ve finally healed! Let’s celebrate while we can,” Mark and Shotaro both chug at their drinks, and Jaemin would be ecstatic to join if it weren’t for the fact that it’s only three pm in the afternoon. But also because he doesn’t think he can celebrate yet.
“Shotaro, did you know about this person Jaemin’s working with as well? He has a massive boner for her but like, they barely interact.” Shotaro chuckles at this, glancing at Jaemin whose face is now red as he stumbles for an excuse.
“She must be really nice if you like her; does she help you around a lot?” Shotaro questions, making Jaemin flush even more.
“If only you knew,”
He picks up a carton of Sprite from the ground of the cold room, goosebumps erupt all over his forearms as Jaemin hurries out of the place, closing the door shut with his foot. Shuffling past the two chefs cooking and back into the dining area, he briefly searches for you before he finds you at the basin at the staff counter, washing the used cups.
“I brought the carton,” He announces, making you turn around.
“Thanks, do you mind placing it here? You can open the carton but be careful when you put it at the edge, it can spill out.” Your fingers are covered in sud as you point at the counter next to you. With a nod of his head, he perches the carton on the counter, half of it hanging out with the cluster of items placed, not providing enough room. As he gently prods open the cardboard packaging, he glances at you, back facing him as you lather the cups in soap one by one. Before he could continue with his task with his newfound motivation (your existence), you lean over and open the door to the mini glasswasher, backing up against him as you place the cups in.
He averts his gaze quickly, eyes wide from seeing you bend over like that, not wanting to lose his feminist streak from letting his mind wander so easily. As he continues to prod at the Sprite container, he feels the briefest brush of your legs against his, and he completely splutters, accidentally hooking his finger at the opening of the carton and ripping it open, making all the cans stacked against each other topple out and over the edge of the counter, one by one making an impact with the floor.
With a screech and a poor attempt of stopping the cans in motion, he squats to make it to the cans before they fully fall to the floor. But it seems like, yet again, the universe is not on his side, because not only does he fail to catch most of the descending drinks, the bridge of his nose makes contact with the edge of the counter, making him join the cans on the floor.
“Oh my god,” You’re shocked by the view in front of you, like some sort of twisted Renaissance painting. You reach down, and just as Jaemin is about to tell you not to worry about him, and that he can just die a beautiful death with the cans surrounding him, you pick up the fallen cans, inspecting them for any damage.
“You’re lucky none of these popped open, the floor would be sticky for days,” You mutter as you place the cans back on top of the counter, separating the ones that turned out fine and the dented ones. All the while Jaemin lies there, his nose throbbing, contemplating how he’s lasted here so far.
“Aren’t you gonna tell them?” He closes his eyes as he gently presses his cold fingers against his nose bridge, soothing the pain. The answer seems to be an obvious ‘yes’ if your lack of reply is anything to go by. A few seconds pass and he feels the cold contact of a can replacing where his hands were on his features, and when he opens his eyes, he sees your face above his, inspecting him.
“What is there to say? That you’re on the ground fighting against a nosebleed?” You taunt, removing the can and inspecting the spot with the gentle press of your fingers. Grabbing his hand and opening his palm, you place the dented can you used gesturing to his face.
“You can drink it once you’re done, they won’t notice,” Jaemin sits up as you say this, bringing the can up to his nose, pressing the cold against it as he watches you go back to turning on the machine and walking away, tending to other restaurant responsibilities.
Notepad and pen in hand, Jaemin walks to the table that raised their hand at him and delivers his best customer service smile. “Hello, welcome back to Tao. Would you like to order?” You had given Jaemin the heads up to look after this table exclusively.
“They’re this group of ladies that have nothing to do but spend their significant others’ money. They come like, almost every second day; something about wanting to support local businesses. And they give generous tips. No one does that.” You sigh. “I wish I had that much free time.”
The women smile at him, seemingly charmed. Jaemin knows the power he holds, and he also knows that if he bunches up his cheeks just right, he can have any woman over the age of fifty want to pinch them.
“What a charismatic boy,” one of them comments, and he blinks his eyes and tilts his head, smile still on his face feeling just slightly strained as he politely rejects the compliment, feigning humility.
“Okay, well can we start our entrees with a set of fried dim sims and spring rolls, and for the main course we’ll have the mapo tofu, fried rice— did you say you wanted Hokkien mee? One of those too please, and a serving of mixed vegetables with oyster sauce and chicken chow mien. No mushrooms for either, please. And for drinks, we’ll just have three tsingtao’s and one glass of Shiraz.” The woman drones, and Jaemin has a bit of difficulty catching up and writing down all the dishes she’s named, and so he repeats it all back once it’s done; a practice heavily encouraged by you.
When Jaemin finishes listing the dishes back and receives four nodding heads, he smiles in thanks and head’s to the kitchen, yelling out ‘New order!’ for the chefs to be aware of. Coming back out and placing a copy of the notepad at the staff counter, his smile turns genuine when he sees you, showcasing two thumbs up.
Now bashful, he says “I think I’ve replaced you as ‘favourite waiter’ now.” His smile is cheeky as he says this, with you rolling your eyes, pointing at the fridge near the counter instead. “Stop spewing bullshit and get the drinks ready. I’ll write down the prices of each dish.” With a salute and nod of his head, he goes to fetch the drinks from the fridge and the bottle of red wine nearby, as well as an empty wine glass.
Preparing the drinks, your shoulders brush against each other in the tight space of the staff counter, with you looking back and forth between the menu and the order slip. Jaemin misses when your eyebrows furrow together, inspecting the slip for something.
“Uhm, Jaemin,” He hums back in response, eyes still focused on pouring no more than one standard drink of the wine. “Did you tell the kitchen that this is the table with a mushroom allergy?”
Jaemin’s heart drops to his ass.
His posture straightens immediately, vision zeroing in on the table he just took the order of, as his head slowly turns to you, a million thoughts run around in his head. With the expression he sports, you quickly grab a pen and a highlighter, running back into the kitchen as quickly as possible. Scanning the restaurant, when he sees all the customers occupied, he slowly slips away and into the kitchen, leaving them unattended to somehow save his ass, and from a possible murder case.
“—do you mean there’s a mushroom allergy? And why did none of you tell us? Of course the mixed vegetables and chow mien have vegetables in them.” Kun speaks as he cooks on the wok, lifting it every now and then as the clang of his wok’s spatula echoes out, mixing around the satay chicken.
“He wrote it down but just forgot to say it out loud,” You bluff, pointing at the copy of the slip that Jaemin brought back into the kitchen, now adorning the words ‘NO MUSHROOM’ in bold, highlighted letters at the top. Your other hand is clasped behind your back, holding the pen and highlighter. Jaehyun momentarily stops making his fried rice, coming up to the counter, and looking at you over it before snatching the slip, his aggressive manner making Jaemin wince slightly.
With a poor squint of his eyes, you and Jaemin wait with bated breaths for him to somehow finish reading the two words. When his eyes stop squinting, he spares a look at both you and Jaemin, placing the slip back down onto the counter before reaching into the bowl containing the ingredients for the dishes, fishing out the mushrooms and putting them back from where he originally picked them up, waving you both off. And you barely waste any time, muttering a sorry and going towards the curtains, pushing Jaemin out with you.
“Sorry. Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say, looking at you while you ignore his gaze so close to your face, centring him back to the staff counter. You shake your head and hand at him as if to say that he has nothing to be sorry about.
“Mistakes happen. Now can you put the puppy eyes away? We have a new customer to serve.”
“I’m not that stupid to bel— Hi, welcome to Tao Village. How can I help you?”
“Jaemin, do you think you could give the Chardonnay to table three? It’s for the man with the glasses,” You ask as you calculate the total of a takeaway order you just took, glancing at him to see if he’s available.
“Sure,” It turns out that you’ve already set out the glass and the bottle, as he opens the cap and pours it in, before taking a tray and placing the glass on it. You’ve taught him a few times to hold the tray with one hand, but he’s taking it slow and only using a single hand with drinks and sauces that he’s asked to deliver, not wanting to be too ambitious. Balancing it, he eyes for table number three and said man with glasses, strategically planning to swiftly arrive and deliver the drink.
As he waltz’s his way through, with his vision zeroed in on the customer, he completely misses the lady at the table before wanting to get out of her chair, completely skidding it across the floor and making an impact on Jaemin’s side.
Everything is suddenly carried out in slow motion, as he sees the fright on the woman's face, the tilt of his body and tray towards the customer settled on the table, the white wine toppling over the rim of the glass. If he retains his focus, maybe he can slow-mo recover and balance himself, only causing the wine to spill on the ground and maybe himself. He is willing to sacrifice his (Shotaro’s) black t-shirt.
Then he blinks.
A groan echoes and silent gasps are spilt, as he opens his eyes and sees first the man drenched in white wine, and Jaemin’s hand on his arm, balancing himself. Before he could even separate himself and apologise profusely, he is suddenly grabbed by the collar, and in his head, he’s already commemorating the lovely memories he’s made here with you and mourns how quickly he has to abandon the delusion that you two will end up together.
With one eye squeezed close, he’s not sure if it’s better to expect a punch or a slap against his face, but before he can anticipate either, he hears someone say “Excuse me, sir,”
“What do you want,” The man snarls at you, as you make eye contact with him, a silent customer-service-smile sported on your face as always.
“Apologies sir, but we don’t accept this sort of behaviour in our restaurant. Violence is not part of our values. I do ask of you to let out staff member go, you’re scaring him.” Jaemin can’t help but nod his head at the man, who glares at him before letting him go and jamming a finger into Jaemin’s chest.
“This boy spilt my drink all over me, how is that a part of your values?” He yells, making Jaemin wince at the loud volume, but you merely blink, stepping forward and closer to the customer, lowering your voice in an attempt to get him to soften his, too.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience caused sir, but this sort of behaviour is not tolerated. If you would allow our staff to apologise and we’ll-”
The customer scoffs, “Apologise? An apology isn’t gonna fix the stain caused on my shirt. Isn’t the customer always right? Who the fuck are you to speak to me like this,” He shoves you at your shoulder as he says this, causing you to stumble back into Jaemin’s figure, whose arms shoot out and hold you by the waist.
The curtains leading to the kitchen skid aside, and out steps Jaehyun. It all feels so dramatic if Jaemin were to look at it from a perspective of an outsider, as Jaehyun walks over to you three, his figure looming over all of you.
His smile is blinding, dimples forming on both his cheeks as he clasps his hands together. “Out,” Is all he says, hand now facing the door of the restaurant.
The man blanches. “But—”
Jaehyun merely shakes his head in a stern manner, smile suddenly dropping, pursing his lips as if taunting a child. Without making contact with the customer, he guides him gently towards the door, before the man gets the memo and stomps his way out. Jaehyun turns to the remaining customers at the table, providing a formal apology and confiding in them that they simply don’t tolerate this sort of behaviour towards their staff.
“Would you like to pack away your remaining food? You can pay at the counter just at the front, thank you for your understanding and apologies for the inconvenience,” And with that, he steps back into the kitchen, curtains shutting close as if they barely jostled. As you and Jaemin pick up the plates and pack the food into takeaway containers, Jaemin slowly approaches you, his arm brushing against yours.
“Are you okay,” He asks, voice solemn. It never feels nice to get yelled at by a customer, Jaemin’s just used to it, but he forgets that it can take a toll on different people.
Your smile is shy, barely looking in his direction as you click to close the lid of the container, grabbing both of your containers before placing them in a takeaway bag. “Yeah, I’m okay.” without a second glance, you walk to the front counter, giving the bag to the customer as well as the receipt.
“Can you two close up? Kun and I have to get up early tomorrow to make it to the fish market before the good quality scallops all sell out.” Jaehyun says this later in the day, as he folds his apron and places it on the staff counter. “I’ve already mopped the back. Do you have the keys?” He looks at you as he says this, to which you nod and give a thumbs up. With a nod of his head, he goes through the back door of the restaurant, leaving you two alone. Jaemin mops as you wipe the tables clean, preparing them to be set up once again tomorrow. Silence engulfs you two, with the only sounds being the slosh of the mop in the bucket and the scrape of chairs as you manoeuvre around them.
Jaemin decides that this is a good time to speak up. “Thank you for doing that,” He continues pumping the mop into the drainer part of the bucket, removing all excess water before plopping it back down. “I wouldn’t have minded if he had smacked me,” At this you laugh, cheeks bunching up cutely making Jaemin’s heart flutter.
“Did you want him to smack you?” You look into his eyes this time, the lights of the restaurant reflecting in your iris’. Jaemin thinks he could get used to this.
“Are you kink-shaming me? I doubt that’s allowed within the Tao VIllage values,”
“I’m not too sure. Hey, why don't we talk to the boss about it tomorrow?”
Jaemin’s grin is cheshire-like, “Wouldn't be the worst conversation I’d have,” At that you raise an eyebrow, to which he throws a wink. A comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, as you continue with your tasks, working around one another and you avoid the places Jaemin has freshly mopped while he manoeuvres himself around you.
It’s when you’re outside of the place and locking the doors, sizing up and down the door to put all the locks in place when you speak up. “You don’t have to thank me, by the way. People make mistakes, and Jaehyun would be less mad at me than at you. Plus, Kun doesn’t care like that either, as long as he can run this business, you can break as many cartons of drinks as you desire,” Looking over your shoulder, you catch Jaemin gazing at you, the same puppy eyes leering at you. Looking away, you pick up your stuff from the ground, wanting to bid him goodbye and completely disappear, maybe quit this job and move countries and settle down with a farming family of seven that don’t mind an additional one person to work their fields and pet their cows as a form of cattle therapy. Anything but face Jaemin’s face abd his ridiculously handsome features.
But before you could begin your progress, Jaemin calls out your name, making you turn around to face him once more. Thankfully, there’s no sign of the puppy eyes, but he is smiling.
“Since it’s a Sunday and we have a day off tomorrow, do you want to grab some food with me?”
The warmth from the broth and fishcake in your cup seeps into your hand, preventing them from getting too cold in the Autumn breeze. Jaemin counts his notes under the red and yellow haze of the fishcake stall, handing them to the old lady once he collects the right amount. The woman snatches the notes once Jaemin presents them and counts them twice, nodding her head in dismissal when she’s done.
Picking up his cup, the two of you manoeuvre yourself around the park and settle on a free bench, looking out into the lit-up park, with parents and kids at the playground while adults settle their picnic mats and huddle around near the fairy-lit trees; the Central park seems to be teeming with more people with the sudden shift of seasons, as people embrace the coming cold by celebrating in their own ways. Kids scream at the top of their lungs when sliding down a steep slide, and adults teem with laughter as they swish their wine in their plastic glasses.
Picking out a stick of fishcake from the cup full of broth, you blow on it a few times before biting into it, settling into the park bench more comfortably as the warmth of the food engulfs you. Excluding the bustle of people, you and Jaemin sit quietly as you indulge in your food.
But the silence doesn’t last long. “I don’t know how kids are so agile at such a young age. Like, aren’t their bones basically jelly?” Jaemin points at the few kids climbing up ropes at the playground, taking them to a tall slide as a reward.
“It doesn’t look too hard,” You quip, head leaning closer to Jaemin as you look at the kids climbing up vicariously. Jaemin turns to look at you, making you realise just how close you leaned in. “You think you could climb that?”
“At my age? Easy,” You scoff, leaning back and away, now feeling more flustered. If Jaemin catches on to your behaviour, he doesn’t make it obvious, sipping on the broth in his cup and opting to ask you about your favourite playground equipment.
“Thank you for the fishcakes,” You pat your stomach, smiling at your coworker.
“Of course,” He rocks back and forth on his heels the two of you standing at the edge of the park, ready to part ways. “I can never have a pretty girl like you be deprived of such Autumn goodness,” Jaemin teems at you as he says this, ready to receive some sort of backlash for his behaviour.
Imagine his surprise when you slightly guffaw, before stopping yourself with a hand to your mouth and a straight face. “If you think I’m so pretty,” You start as you turn around, slowly beginning the walk back to your house. “You would do more than just buy me a 3,000 won snack; I think pretty girls like me deserve more. No?” And with a wave, you continue your walk, leaving Jaemin with wide eyes and a slightly concerning grip on his cup.
It’s been eight weeks since Jaemin started working at Tao Village as a waiter, and he hasn’t known peace throughout.
It’s not that the pay is bad, or that the people around him treat him terribly. The pay is generous enough and as rarely as he sees Kun and Jaehyun on his shift, even if they’re a curtain width away from him, they’re nice and give him a container of food after every shift. And you’re an angel on earth, helping him whenever he fucks something up, and saving his ass nearly six times since he’s started working here.
The problem is that he makes those mistakes. And he has to go out of his way to not make these mistakes, and after every shift he feels like he’s worked five days with no break when in reality he just had a five-hour shift and a very generous thirty-minute break, eating hot and sour soup while you tell him about the weird customers you’ve encountered, asking him to rank them from most to least smashable with the details given from your anecdote.
Speaking of you, he thinks you're the epitome of his worries. Ever since he slipped up and basically confessed to thinking you’re attractive, you’ve been tormenting him, torturing even. If he were to tell you this, you would deny it all. And of course you would, because—
“I’m not doing anything,” You reply when Jaemin asks what you’re doing with the order slip that he’s just written down on. With a pen in your hand and a separate order slip, you’re copying down everything word for word instead of just taking Jaemin’s one to the back like normal.
“Yes, you are. Why are you making a copy of my slip— Are you ripping it to pieces?!” Jaemin shrieks, which catches the attention of the patrons in the restaurant, earning him a light smack against his arm.
You sigh, “Look, Jaehyun doesn’t like it sometimes when the slip looks too messy. There’s already a lot of oil and water being splattered on these poor things the minute they go past the curtain.” You shake the paper in your hand. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, you grab Jaemin’s hand, not looking at his face in case he’s flashing those eyes again. Jokes on you, because he’s also blushing, so you’re doing him a favour.
“Your handwriting isn’t messy, they’re just used to mine. I don’t want them to make a fuss over nothing,” You pat his hand and head to the back, not before reminding him to check on table number seven.
Looking at his left hand, the hand which you grasped hours ago, he holds it to his chest and prays to whatever holds power to keep him strong. He doesn’t know if you’re doing these things on purpose, or if he just has a weak heart.
“You barely go out of your room, so I’d say the second option is more likely.” Mark quips, tilting his body to the same side that his kart skids in the game. Jaemin lies down on his bed arm slung over his eyes as Mark plays on his console.
“Am I just due for a good fuck? Is that why I’m basically busting whenever she brushes past me?”
“Yo,” Mark sounds concerned now. “Brushes past you? Like, it’s just the accidental skinship that makes you horny?”
Jaemin sits up now, wanting to prove himself innocent despite the words he uttered just seconds ago. “You have to understand, I think she’s doing it on purpose.”
“I’ve seen your place Jaemin. The staff counter seems like a tight fit, I don’t know how she can be doing these things on purpose.” Jaemin huffs at that, falling back onto his bed again. He doesn’t know how to explain to his best friend that he isn’t delusional, so he just mutters a ‘whatever’ and tries tickling him, wanting him to lose the game and get last place.
“Yup, your order is just right here. So it’s just the large special frie—” His voice gets stuck in his throat repeating back the order to the customer when he feels a figure pressed up against his back, and with a glance to the side he sees you leering over, looking at the slip he holds in his hand. When he makes eye contact with you, you barely give back a nod of your head, encouraging him to continue reading.
“Sorry. Uhm, just the large special fried rice, and two servings of the spring rolls,” You lean in even more, and Jaemin can only thank the great heavens above for the bit of privacy that the takeaway counter provides. He feels the plush of your breasts pressing against him, leaning against him while you reach over below the counter to some pens, opening the notebook of table reservations and writing in a new booking.
He only messes up putting in the total price of the order twice on the machine, before the customer picks up his food, leaving you two behind the counter. Just as he’s about to turn around and say something, you separate yourself from him, patting him on his shoulder and closing the notebook shut.
The first thing he does is find his bearings, as he clutches a hand at his chest, then his neck, and lastly his ears, feeling how hot they were. Next, he has to somehow find a way to see if he just made that whole scenario up. Looking at where you now were, which was at a table, conversing with a customer, he was a few seconds away from losing his mind. But his thoughts were confirmed when you glanced a look at him, the corner of your lips lifting ever so slightly before you continue speaking to the table.
Jaemin doesn’t know how long he can last.
He now knows how long he can last.
Unsurprisingly, it’s not long at all.
He doesn’t know if what you’re doing is on purpose, or he’s just infatuated with you enough to now notice these things, but all he can blame it on is the fact that it’s been some time since he last got laid, and so that’s why he’s getting flustered by your proximity these days.
But he also thinks that you might be doing some things on purpose; like squeezing past him in the tight margin of the staff counter to wipe some inconspicuous water stain, bodies brushing against each other in a tight squeeze, or inspecting his hand for too long after he’s delivered a sizzling plate of Mongolian lamb to the table, in search for an injury you both know is not there if he hasn’t already blatantly dropped the whole dish onto the table. Or that one time when you both went to the cold room, with him reaching up for the carton of beers while you kneel to get the soft drinks, side to side. You had momentarily lost your balance while pulling out the boxes from the back, resulting in your hand clutching at his pants, wanting to regain your balance.
“Oh, sorry,” Your words are a clear contrast between your actions, as your hands linger on for longer, lashes fluttering when you look up at him, the light of the cold room twinkling in your eyes. Jaemin swears he feels your hands squeeze ever so slightly before you let go, shuffling out of the room with a carton tucked by your side.
He doesn’t know how to confront you about it; it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the sudden burst of attention he’s receiving from you, it’s just that it’s both not enough and too much. He wants more but he doesn’t want to risk popping a boner while taking a sixty-year-old woman’s order.
Every time he thinks he’s got you cornered, something always comes along to save you, like the call of a customer, or Kun coming through the curtains to get some hot water, even though his sightings are as common as blue moons.
So when Jaehyun asks you two to restock some of the items into the storage room as a part of your closing shift, Jaemin thinks the opportunity is basically being graced into the palm of his hands.
“The stuff might be a bit heavy, so be careful with your posture when picking up the boxes,” Jaehyun tuts, scrubbing his wok clean. “And remember to lodge something between the door, it still gets stuck from the inside. Don’t go home too late, but also don’t half-ass things as well.” Jaemin almost shivers when he hears her mom echoing back the same things to him in his head.
“Jaemin, do you know that door wedge we have at the back? You can use that, sometimes even I forget. Kun’s trying his best with the handle.” He steps over the freshly mopped places, going past and at the cashier, placing your tips in your dedicated storage boxes.
“Okay we get it Jaehyun, but if you keep speaking we won’t be done unti—” The front door shuts before you can finish what you were saying, but you only let out a light sigh before finishing up with the mopping, with Jaemin drying the cutlery with a towel.
“I’m gonna start with the boxes first,” Jaemin nods his head at you, seeing you go through the back door and towards the storage room. Jaehyun and Kun were kind enough to place a few boxes inside, but there were some still littered outside.
When a few minutes pass and Jaemin is all done, he still sees the extra boxes outside, not having moved a bit. He calls for your name, just to see if you’re back there.
“Yeah, I’m here, just—” You grunt, balancing the box on your knee as you take its contents out, placing them on the shelf. “Trying to sort this. Can you help me with the boxes outside? Be careful with the door, I have my shoe lodged there.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at the third reminder of the day, before shutting the lights off from inside the restaurant and picking up the boxes near the door, stacking them on top to only use one trip to the storage room. The light from within shines a silver lining across the now dimmed restaurant, as Jaemin nudges the door open with his leg, careful to avoid your shoe as you had advised.
He places the boxes down with a groan, straightening up and stretching his back. “That was a piece of cake,” He smiles cheekily at you, to which you barely react, handing him the box you were balancing, opting to take the items out from his hands, making the process more efficient.
“Are you having fun?” Jaemin speaks again, not letting the silence between you two stretch out for too long.
“With putting these things away? Not exactly my definition of fun,” You look at him questioningly, picking up another item while glancing at him.
“Not with the packages,” He shakes the one in his hand for emphasis. “I meant ever since that night at the park, where I called you cute—”
“Pretty,” You mutter, and the word slightly shocks you both, as Jaemin sees your shoulders stiffen. You have been doing everything on purpose, because you, too, put some meaning into his attempts.
“You keeping tally on how I compliment you?” putting the box down, he opts to look at your face as he says this. It’s not every day that he gets to tease you like this, so he uses this opportunity to rile you up a bit as you do to him, body inching closer to yours.
You feel the heat radiating off of him and onto your back, as you place down the last item in your hand on the shelf and turn around, only to be startled at the proximity of you two, Jaemin inching closer with the box discarded at the side. This close to him, your eyes tilt up to look at his, mischievous iris’ grinning back at you.
“I don’t…” Jaemin’s eyes glance at your lips as you start, parted open now as your mind blanks on what to say next. The distance between your bodies shortens, and you feel yourself craving for something. A simple touch of his hand at your sides, the heat of his breath at your cheek, the soft push of his lips against yours.
Your tongue brushes the corner of your lip at that thought, an action Jaemin can’t miss with how close you two are.
“You don’t? Don’t what, don’t know what I’m talking about? Finish your sentence pretty,” Jaemin’s hand raises, and your chest flutters at the anticipation of his touch, only for it to deplete when he places it on the wall beside your shoulder, getting closer and closer.
You want to scream, needing him to just do something, anything, but your body still inches back, wanting to see how far either of you can prolong this. Jaemin notices your game, leaning his head in and bringing his lips to your ear.
“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything for you, just gotta have you use your words, baby.” At this your eyes flutter, fists clenching at your sides to gather up the courage as his warm breath fans against your neck.
“Can you kiss me?” Your eyes look at his as you push his body back by his shoulders, wanting to look at him as you ask for him, for more. Smile slowly softening, he leans in and places a peck onto your lips, plush skin pressed against you, both of your eyes closing shut. Before you get to do anything else, he parts back slowly, seemingly done. But you’ve barely even started.
“More,” You mutter before placing your arms around his shoulders, pushing both of you closer to one another as you lean in, kissing his lips once again, catching him by surprise. His lips are only still for a split second, before he reciprocates, pushing against you, giving you exactly what you asked for.
“Your hands, please,” You mutter in between as they slowly turn from innocent pecks to open-mouthed kisses, your own hands coming to his biceps, wanting him to touch you.
“Where, baby?” He sighs against you, hands grasping yours, ready to be guided.
“Everywhere,” You clasp your hands together, before grabbing his wrists, placing one at your waist and the other underneath your boob, arching your back in encouragement and contempt of finally having him closer. And Jaemin listens well, hands squeezing and thumbing at your body over your clothes skin, before roaming them around. Slithering one behind your back, pushing your body flush against his, chests brushing as he rushes to kiss you more, lips pressing against you feverishly. Your arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, wanting your boobs to be pressed against him fully, nipples perked with arousal from him, having the both of you pushed back and against the wall as he follows your lead of wanting to be all over each other.
Except walls don’t click shut.
But Jaemin either doesn’t notice or pays it no mind, continuing his quest of ravaging your lips, not that you mind, as he squeezes the flesh of your boob and brushes a finger over your clothed nipples, biting lightly onto your bottom lip as your mouth parts slightly from the pleasure, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.
“Jaemin,” You try calling for him, voice coming out a bit hoarse as you pull back slightly. He takes that as a sign to venture more.
“What is it, hmm? Want me to go lower?” He doesn’t wait for your reply as he angles his head down towards your neck, breath tickling against your skin as he nips at it lightly.
“No, Jaemin. There’s—” He chuckles at you, looking into your eyes with a smirk now adorning his face. He raises his eyebrows at you while he scans your body pressed against his, and that shouldn’t affect you as much as it did.
“What, does my pretty baby want more?” his smile now turns slightly giddy, placing a sweet kiss on your lips before bringing both hands to your sides, squeezing slightly making you react to the sensitive spot being handled. “I can’t fuck you here, as much as I’d love to. But I don’t wanna be looking at a box of fortune cookies—”
“Jaemin, we just closed the door.” And you physically see Jaemin react to this, as he processes your words with a confused look, before the light in his eyes dims and his face falls, looking frantically between you and the door behind you. He searches at the bottom of the door where you had lodged your shoe, only to see it past the frame, squeezed from the pressure of your bodies against the door.
He’s about to apologise profusely, mind scrambling to think of a way he can get you two out. But before he can get too far, you plant a kiss on his cheek, and another one on his lips when he turns his head to look at you. You let out a light sigh as his hands find themselves back onto your body, pushing your hands towards his jacket, wanting it off. He shucks it off and throws it behind, hands grabbing at you again as you bring your fingers to rake at the hair at his neck.
“But—” Jaemin cuts himself off with a whimper when your hand grazes under his shirt, the cold press of your fingers against his warm stomach, fingers splaying themselves against his taut muscles, grazing your nails lightly making his body flush even further.
“Fuck, the door,” He tries again, but falls short as his head falls against your shoulder when your fingers linger past the seam of his pants.
“Later, I need to feel you,” You mutter. “Someone will come by tomorrow morning anyway,”
“Oh, fuck.” Jaemin curses as you palm his dick over his pants, his hips bucking up and into your touch, wanting more of you against him. His hand pushes your shirt up, tucking it before he slips his fingers behind your back, reaching for your bra and taking it off once the hooks are undone. His hands cup at your boobs, vision glazed over you as he squeezes them together. He leans in with his mouth parted, looking up at you and making eye contact, whining slightly in lieu of asking for your permission. It’s hard to wait for your word when he’s just as desperate, wanting your touch and scent all over him.
“Jaemin, please,” You pant, hand flying to his hair and gripping softly, scratching your fingers against his scalp as an initiative. “Make me feel good, I want your mouth on me,”
He swipes his tongue against your perked bud, before blowing lightly and saying “Anything for my doll,” mouthing at your breast, before closing his lips around your nipple, sucking in as his free hand occupies itself with your other boob, slightly scraping his nail against you before pinching your tit. The pain and pleasure shoots through your body, as you moan his name, nails scratching his head.
Your whimpers and whines turn Jaemin on even more, as he swipes at your bud one last time before pulling back, tipping your face back towards him and kissing you again.
“Want your fingers…been thinking about this so much,” You reach for one of his hands, guiding him to the apex of your thighs, looking at him as you press his fingers against where you want him the most. Even through the thick fabric of your pants, the push of his fingers against your core has you whining, happy for some friction but wanting, needing more.
As his hand goes to unzip your pants, he replaces them deftly with his leg instead, pressing his knee against you.
“Fuck,” You sigh, as he presses himself closer to you, body now flushed against yours, thigh stimulating your pussy through your pants, mouth at your cheek, jaw, neck. Jaemin is completely overpowering your senses, yet you want more.
“Pretty doll, letting me do all of this to you.” he pushes your pants down, leaving you in your underwear and your shirt tucked up, fixing it every now and then to pinch at your tits, loving when you keen against him. “Wanting me to do all of this to you. Have you thought about me a lot? Bet you thought about us sneaking off right here so you could suck me off, or maybe thinking about me taking you right behind the counter, forcing yourself to act normal with my cock in you,” He hums against your ear, swiping his tongue against the shell before biting lightly on your lobe, wanting you to remember his touch all over you.
You’re not entirely sure what he's saying, yet you nod your head up and down, moan slipping past your lips at the light swipe of his fingers against your clothed core, doing anything to get him to give you more.
Jaemin chuckles, “Is your mind going blank already? I barely did anything to you baby, do I have to dumb it down for you and remind you?” His condescending tone is the only thing that registers in your head; that and the fact that he’s not doing anything, hands splayed still at your sides, his knee not pressing hard enough against you, with no signs of more.
He leans in and presses a sweet peck against you, before his hand squeezes your cheeks together, an attempt of garnering your attention back.
“If you want something,” He leans in, just a breath away, but moves back when your eyes lock on his lips and lean in. “You gotta tell me. I’ll only do what you want me to, got it?”
Nodding your head, you add a breathy ‘yes’ when Jaemin raises his eyebrows at you.
“Good girl,” He smiles, and it only makes your head just the slightest bit dizzy. But you’re brought back when you feel the press of his thigh against you once more, a friendly reminder of what you’re missing out on.
“I want your fingers,” You start, voice wavering a bit, getting shy from having to voice your dirty thoughts. But the press of his finger pads against you edges you on even more, encouraging you to continue. “Always look so good doing the most mundane things. Want you to fuck me with your fingers, fuck,” Jaemin proves to be a great listener, as he quickly makes work of shoving your underwear aside, commenting how you’ve ‘soaked through your panties and my pants, messy girl’. He rubs against your clit, building up a rhythm, before rubbing his fingers against your folds, soaking them in your juices thoroughly before the pad of his fingers press against your hole, making quick work.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jaemin grunts at the squeeze of your walls against his two fingers, filling you to the hilt and shallowly pushing. “Bet you would feel so good around my cock,” You moan at his words, eyes falling shut as you rest your forehead against his shoulder, giving him better access to whisper such filthy words to you.
“So fucking dirty, getting off of my fingers in public like this. You’re lucky it’s late, no one gets to see you like this,” His fingers quicken their pace, the hot feeling in your stomach tightening as the palm of his hand smacks against your clit, other hand occupying itself with gripping your ass or tweaking your nipples. “Only I get to see you like this, messy and undone. All mine for the taking.”
“All yours,” You echo back, head burrowing further into his neck. As you feel another finger push into you, his pace making you clench tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched whine when his other hand comes down to stimulate your clit. Mockingly, Jaemin repeats back your moan in the same high-pitched voice, twisting the end of it to sound like a question.
“Is my baby close?” He pecks at the side of your forehead, a sweet gesture contrasting the pressure of his fingers against you.
“Please, Jaemin. Don’t stop,” You feel yourself grow hot, storage room now feeling stuffy as you separate from his shoulder, head tilted back against the door as your senses are overwhelmed.
“You’re so hot, fuck.” He smothers the pool of drool gathering at the corner of your lips, spreading it onto your cheek before leaning in for a kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, too close and fucked out to makeout steadily, just wanting to feel him against you. Curling his fingers against you, you feel yourself ripping over the edge as he presses his other hand against your stomach and swipes his tongue over yours, sucking at the tip of your muscle before finishing it off with a peck.
“Let go, pretty. Show me how messy your cunt can get,” Fingers fucking into you, with a final rub and pinch of your clit you break off into a silent moan, hands clutching at his shoulders as you tense up, finally reaching your high. Jaemin’s fingers keep a steady pace as he helps you ride off your high, now going slower than before. But his fingers don’t stop even when you calm down, seeing how far you can go as he overstimulates you.
“Hurts,” You cry, but don’t make a move to stop his ministrations, hips pushing up into his touch, panting against his mouth when he kisses you again, pushing his fingers in and out of you. After a few more seconds though, your whine lilts painfully and you weakly push at his hand, to which he relents as he slows down the pace, before pulling them out carefully.
“It’s gonna feel icky for a bit, so bear with me,” Jaemin softly murmurs, reaching above to a shelf that conveniently holds paper towel rolls. The emptiness that is left emphasises the tiredness you feel, as your shoulders slump and you lean back against the door for further support. Jaemin folds the towel and dabs at your core, cleaning you up to the best of his abilities before he wraps his clean hand around your waist, manoeuvring you to lean against the wall, carefully pulling your shirt down and underwear and slacks back up. He slides the two of you down slowly, and you open your eyes to look at him, tiredness slowly wearing away as your heart flutters at his gestures.
“You okay?” He hums, his back now pressed against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with you as he gently smoothens his hand down your scalp, before cupping your face gently. You nod your head, leaning in and pressing a kiss against him.
“More than okay, that was so hot.” He chuckles at your words, poorly concealing the smug look that overtakes his features.
“I’m glad at least one of us had fun,” He teases, which makes you feel shy, as you spare a glance down to see a chub at the zip of his pants. He waves you off, adjusting himself a bit before sliding his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.
“With what we did just then? I’ll be able to come for days even just thinking about you,” He laughs softly as you squeeze his hand in warning, before resting your head against his shoulder, with Jaemin reaching over for his jacket discarded earlier on, tugging it over your legs to provide warmth.
“You haven’t made a mistake today,” You mutter, breaking the silence that had settled as you play with his fingers with both your hands. Jaemin can only look at the side of your face as you say this, before getting comfortable and pressing his cheek against your head. “How could I when you have such high standards to meet? I need to be on your good side,” Your scoff holds no mean intentions, glancing at him briefly over your shoulder.
“You’re already on my good side,” He faux gasps.
“You’re telling me you liked me this whole time? I didn’t have to prove myself to you?” Jaemin squeals as he sways side to side, before wrapping himself around you and swaying you along with him.
You’re shy when you speak up again, muttering “I’ve already told you how I thought.. about you,” He tsks as he meets your eyes again, eyes going down to look at your lips that you bite nervously.
“Don’t even think about talking about that, I don’t know how long I can stay working here and pining after you.”
“But… I like— wait. Do you not like working at the restaurant?” Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, Jaemin tenses a bit at the information he let slip. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s ungrateful for your efforts, but the soft gaze that you give to him only soothes him.
“Okay, I’ll be honest. I think you’ve noticed by now that I’m not the most, flawless, person ever.”
“You’re telling me that you’ve made a few mistakes? No way,” He whines at your tease, as you bite your lip to contain your laughter, nodding your head to get him to continue.
“I’m just not really good at keeping part-time jobs like this. Things that need me to physically and actively do things. I once got fired from a scouts guidance group because I would give badges to the kids when they asked.”
“…Aren’t scout leaders there by volunteer? How can they fire you?”
“That’s my point!” He grumbles against you, bringing your head back down to his shoulder when you lift yourself to look at him, not wanting to look at you directly in your eyes. “And working as a waiter is definitely not easy, because I have to guess when a customer wants to order before they actually call me, and help with food and dietary needs and advice, and be smiling and happy all the time even when the old ladies pinch at my cheek and call me handsome like I’m some three-year-old golden child.” You pat at his bicep soothingly, fingers squeezing as he rambles on, letting him pour it all out.
“Well,” You bring your hands up to your lips, pressing a light kiss at the back of his hand before settling it back against your legs. “If you hate the job so much, why not quit and find something better?”
He stills as you ask this, thinking about your question. He hasn’t ventured far from the initial annoyance of having the job, not thinking of the reasons why he’s staying in contrast with the million reasons why he doesn’t want to. But the tingling feeling left at the back of his hand seems to be enough of an answer.
“Because I get to spend my time with you,” You squeeze your lips together as he says this, not knowing if you should cringe or swell at his words. You giggle lightly when you see him fall shy, hiding his face into your shoulder.
“Okay, then don’t quit,” You quip when you realise he’s not going to come out of hiding anytime soon, opting to play with your laced fingers instead. “Stay with me. You can deal with customers who ask if we have duck on our menu even when we clearly don’t, and try your best to not burn your finger on the sizzling plates, or get locked in the storage room overnight.” Jaemin feels bittersweet at the scenarios you provide, torn between what he should do.
“Or you can ask me out and then quit,” You shrug, conveniently avoiding his sudden gaze on you as he sits up. “Up to you,”
“I can do that?” You glare at him.
“I’m gonna blow up, Jaemin. I can’t believe you haven’t—” He stops you with a peck to your lips, now grinning like a maniac. “Can I be your boyfriend?”
“What will I gain?”
“Uhm… unlimited head?” You clench your grip on his hand harder. “...And a very deep and meaningful emotional connection where we fill each other's gaps and lift our—”
“Unlimited? Can you promise?” He’s about to agree without a second thought, before he sees you raise a suspicious eyebrow at him.
“..Yes?”
“Then yes, you can be mine.” He sighs contentedly now, cuddling himself back into you.
“I can’t wait to quit.”
You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by the sound of a door hinge and a sudden shine of light. You try to bring your hand up to shield the onslaught of the sunshine, but the weight on your hand reminds you of your position, with Jaemins head tucked on your shoulder and yours stacked on top, hands still laced and legs slightly tangled into each other. With a squint of your eyes, you look up at the figure standing at the door.
Jaehyun’s facial expression doesn’t change much, other than the slight parting of his mouth. To you, this means that not only is he shocked still, but also somehow angry and maybe … confused? If the left side of his lip is slightly tilted down; you’re still trying to learn.
“Jaemin,” Your hoarse voice calls, shaking the boy next to you lightly to wake him up. He whines, lips mumbling gibberish into your shoulder.
“The doors open, Jaem,” That wakes him up a bit more, as he squints towards the open door.
“Oh,” He says, and then Jaehyun clears his throat. “...Oh,” The two of you rise slowly, as Jaemin places his jacket over your shoulders.
“So,” Jaehyun starts when the three of you step out of the room, the two of you now standing like students being punished for their wrongdoings. It takes all his willpower for Jaemin to not raise his hands in fists over his head.
“Funny you ask, boss. Remember when you told me not to close the door?” Jaemin thought he started off strong before he saw you looking at him with wide eyes. Jaehyun’s lip tilts to the left.
“How could you ignore the only warning I gave you? Not only did you lock yourself in that room, but her too? You know how dangerous that is, what if we didn’t have a Sunday shift to open for? This liability costs you, Jaemin.” At that, the boy feels his posture straighten.
“Am I..?” Jaehyun's frown is the strongest expression Jaemin has ever seen. He feels like doing a backflip right now.
“Fired? Of course—” And it probably is rude for him to whoop as loud as he did, but Jaemin is on cloud nine, having bagged a person like you and being liberated from having to mop the floors like clockwork. He cups your cheeks and kisses you square on your lips, laughing at the surprised squeak you let out and the bliss he feels. Taking and shaking Jaehyun’s hand, he turns and walks out of the place.
Jaehyun sighs. “This is who you were rooting for?”
Your cheeks feel hot from the sudden public display of affection, before shrugging. “He’s cute. And he’s always trying his best.” You try as your hand clutches at the sleeve of the jacket he’s lent you.
Ever since being fired from the restaurant, Jaemin feels like he now has the best of both worlds, going to the restaurant after your shift to pick you up, or spending time with you as your boyfriend throughout the week, not feeling like he only has to look forward to a shift to see your face. You’re also happy with this shift in your relationship, spending your time with him freely.
But Mark isn’t.
“I don’t know why you couldn’t have asked her out and kept your job. You don’t even get to use your twenty percent employee discount.”
“I mean, if I’m an ex-employee then I can’t see why I couldn’t.” Mark grunts as he smacks at Jaemin, leaving the latter with a pout on his lip as he rubs at his shoulder.
“I miss the Mongolian lamb, man. Can we not go back at all?” Jaemin thinks about it briefly, his mind going back to the restaurant and how you’re probably working your Friday shift at the moment. “I don’t see why not,” he hums, thinking about planning a day when both he and Mark can drop by, but he is dragged to his feet and is being pushed to wear his shoes and shrug on a jacket, before he is out the door with Mark guiding him through it all.
“Welcome to Tao Village. Oh, hi,” You look up from the slip of the phone order you just took, seeing Jaemin and Mark standing at the door. Jaemin’s lips break into a smile as he sees you, already enamoured even when you’re in your work uniform. Mark merely smiles and nods his head as a greeting, before lifting up two fingers, gesturing for a table for them.
As the boys take their seats, you go up to them with a bottle of water and ask Mark if he wants his Mongolian lamb dish for today. He clasps a hand to his chest, touched. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
“It’s all you order, really.” You write down his order into the slip in your hand, before looking at your boyfriend, who’s been gazing at you fondly, barely concealing adoration. You tap at the menu in front of him, encouraging him to voice his order.
“I want you,” Jaemin’s smile is menacing as he says this. Mark visibly shrinks in his seat, but you barely blink. “Gross, dude,”
“A dish's name, Jaem. Or I’ll tell Jaehyun that you’re here.” At that he pouts, leaning back before asking for fried rice, and a glass of red wine.
Mark gets his dish on the sizzling plate, and Jaemin spends two whole minutes trying to make sure that your fingers didn’t get caught on to the hot pan. You smack at his hand to get him back to his food, to which he flings his hand back, making impact with his glass and conveniently spilling the red drink all over. Mark blinks twice at the scene unfolding, pausing when he almost shoved a piece of lamb into his mouth, before continuing when he sees the wine only seep into the tablecloth and not anywhere near him.
Jaemin looks between the cloth and your expression. “Look at what you did,”
“What I did? Your hand was the one that smacked into the glass. You didn’t even try to catch it?” Jaemin ignores your words, waving at your words as if they’re merely pesky flies.
“It’s okay, I can forgive you but you have to compensate in another way,” He smirks at you, before his fingers slowly inch towards your waitress' apron wrapped around your waist, thumbing at the fabric tied around you. “Maybe a pretty girl like you can go out with me?”
You smile sweetly, clasping his hands into yours and rubbing your thumb into the back of his hand. You place it down on the table, your smile not dimming as you shake your head. “You have to pay for that, kind sir,” You nod your head in mock shame and guilt. Jaemin’s smile dims as he looks at the red-stained tablecloth.
“It’s part of the Tao Village policy.”
OKAY the part where jaemin *mocks.. u hehe was completely inspired by @/sunpopz haechan fic called ‘free falling’ !! give that a read bc its soso good
thank you for reading! let me know if you enjoyed it <3
#jaemin x reader#nct jaemin smut#jaemin smut#jaemin fluff#nct jaemin x reader#nct scenarios#nct dream smut#nct dream fluff#nct dream scenarios#jaemin scenarios#jaemin hard hours#jaemin oneshot#nct dream oneshots#na jaemin smut
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Breaking up ft. Satoru Gojo
Day 13 of 31 Days of Ficmas!
summary — you break up with your partner a few weeks prior christmas.
word count — 1.2k
content — hurt/comfort, gojo is emotionally constipated but he’s trying ok, lowercase intended
notes — today was supposed to be obito’s fic but i wrote this one first because im kinda… going thru the same thing lol. enjoy <3
everything feels out of place as you lay in bed trying to place together pieces of an unfinished puzzle.
two weeks have passed since the last time you and gojo spoke to each other. two weeks since you broke up with him, leaving a part of your heart behind.
you know you have to move on, but it’s hard when you have years of friendship and a one-year-long relationship weighing on your back. you look back to all the efforts you put into it and, foremost, you can’t completely let him go.
you always knew about gojo’s personality, in fact, you fell in love with it. but it became unsustainable when you were the one doing everything while he sat back and watched.
you used to say to him, “you are a good person. you are the best person I’ve fallen for, like a window of light in the dark.” and never once you regretted those words. you made sure to repeat them to him during the breakup.
you truly believe satoru’s a good person, and he never intended to hurt you. what defined the fate of your relationship was his inconstancy, his fear of emotions.
gojo could shower you with kisses and “i love you”s for days, but they were always half-hearted and, whenever the conversation between the two of you took a deeper turn, he would instantly shut down.
become cold, even.
he also didn’t care much about life in general, talking about several topics and simply forgetting to ask simple questions like “how was your day?”
you knew he cared, but it didn’t feel like he did.
it killed you every time he’d disappear for an entire day, especially on days you weren’t okay, not even bothering to reply to your texts, and then replying with a mere “i was busy” – you knew it already, but a text would be nice.
and to match his emotionless self, you were the embodiment of intensity.
you tried to crack up his shell, always paying attention to what he said and remembering it. you dove head first into every interest he had, and supported him in every choice he made.
you cared, you asked and, mostly, you talked.
multiple times, you tried to express how you felt, how you wish he could open up more and maybe just regard you a little more – a few texts not to worry you wouldn’t hurt. gojo said he was like that, but that he would try to be better.
what mined your relationship was that lie.
because he never even tried.
and after another month of dealing with all of that, with not feeling wanted enough, cared enough, you decided to end everything.
you can’t lie a little part of you hoped he would fight for you, ask for you to stay. but as you watched distress filling his eyes, all he could muster was, “i’m really sorry i couldn’t be better.”
and you lost everything you thought you had.
you blink away your tears, trying to escape from your painful thoughts, and get up from the bed – it’s past seven now and you need to start getting ready for a christmas party at one of your friends’ house.
you need to move on.
after taking a quick shower, you put on the red dress you’ve decided to wear – a dress that gojo bought for you months before – before starting to do your makeup.
this is when your doorbell rings.
you frown, “who is it?” you yell as you make your way toward the door, but there’s no time for an answer before you open it.
you almost close it again when you see your ex-boyfriend standing there, but you don’t. you know you need to be mature about this situation, even if seeing him makes all the walls you’ve been building crumble down.
it hurts.
“gojo.”
you don’t look him in the eye, focusing on his christmas sweater instead. funnily, the one you gave him a year ago.
“can i come in? it’s freezing outside.”
if you looked into his eyes, though, you would see the big blue bag under them. you would see how faded his blue irises are, and how fucking anxious satoru is.
you don’t ask further questions, letting him into the house he knows all too well before you close the door. he follows you like a lost puppy, and keeps standing when you sit on the couch.
“you look gorgeous,” he compliments meekly.
“thank you. what do you want?” it takes all of you to not start crying right then and there, but you know you have to be firm.
“i want you back.”
satoru doesn’t beat around the bush, and the silence that follows is so loud it can be heard. you feel your heart beating in an insane rhythm, and your head spins.
“gojo, you can’t–”
“you were right. you are right. about everything,” he interrupts you. “i was a boy, and for that i’m sorry. i acted like you had to keep up with my shit, like you would always be there, and i’m sorry for that too,” gojo speaks so fast you can barely keep up with him, like he’s going to die if he doesn’t say those words. “i thought i couldn’t change, i thought i didn’t have to. because it is easier to live the way i live, but… it is much harder to live without you.”
“gojo–”
again, he doesn’t let you speak, “don’t call me that. please, don’t call me that,” gojo drops on his knees in front of you and grabs your hand. “call me satoru, toru, baby, love for all i care. just not gojo. i’ve been miserable without you, i never thought a person could get so miserable,” his voice cracks, pulling your hand towards his face in a desperate attempt to be comforted. “i promise you i will do better, i will pay attention, text you all the time, tell you all about my past and what made me who i am, scream through my pain for what’s worth. just take me back, please.”
you are so deeply in shock that it takes you a while to register the tears falling down his face, his eyes closed as he expects the worst.
all it takes is for your thumb to caress his cheek softly, and satoru sobs. you grab his face with both of your hands, cleaning his teardrops as your own fall, and you gently kiss his forehead.
it kills you to see him like that, but at the same time it gives you a reason to live to know that he’s willing to try. for you.
you kiss his nose, his cheeks, and then his lips.
satoru whimpers, pulling you into an embrace so strong you’re afraid he’ll never let go.
“toru,” you say when you part your lips and bury your face in his neck, feeling his scent. “everything’s okay now. i’m here, i’ll take care of you.”
“missed you so much, i’m so sorry,” he whispers.
“i missed you, too,” you confess, finally looking into his eyes and frowning when you notice he hasn't slept. “what’s past is past, we’ll be okay. but i guess we should just sleep a bit, hm? it was one hell of a ride.”
“sleep together, right?”
he sounds so clingy, you chuckle lightly.
“yes, toru. together.”
#s23ficmas#wbysaber#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojou#x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#fanfic#angst#fluff#hurt/comfort
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where the fun begins, 2 * ls2 (ms47)
it’s friday: logan throws the party he’s claims he’s having just for you to come around, not even knowing if you’ll be attending
pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader
notes: um im on my phone in school i dont have a word count and neither did i plan on making this this long… sry guys uwu hope u like it (i’m desperately running out of logan gifs pls help me)
biggest thanks to @angsthology for helping me out with the white man fight and smug logan because i couldnt, for the life of me, figure that scene out so thank yew baby :*
(f1 masterlist)
| one | two | three | four |
friday rolls around, two days since logan had seen you in the bowling alley with another guy. he also spent the last two days organising a party, completely last minute, sending the entire house into a frenzy to set it in stone.
typically, parties are structured and planned at least two weeks ahead of time. but this time is different.
he can't ignore the frustration that clouds his thoughts when he thinks of that night. or you, in general. all he sees is you wrapped around someone else's arms.
he's been watching the door for the past hour, curious if you had taken him up on his invitation. it's been two hours since the start of the party, and logan knows damn well that word has gotten around about their open house party.
it should have been invitational only, as they usually host their parties. but it's way too last minute to make it an exclusive party. so, they made sure word got around.
he knows that you know what time the party starts. because mick's friends have already made their way into the frat house, drowning in alcohol and pressed up against girls on the dance floor. he only wonders if you would ever come by.
logan folds his arms over his chest, smiling smugly as he watches the crowd pour into the dimly lit home. he turns to oscar. "see? i told you i could pull it off."
oscar stops next to him, hands in his pockets. "i got to say – this is the most effort i've seen you put in a girl," oscar teases, glancing at his friend from the corners of his eyes. "you must really like her."
"i just don't like losing," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "especially not to some loser like the guy she's with."
losing? no, he is jealous. but he would rather abolish this entire party as a whole than admit that to anybody.
"schumacher?" oscar laughs, throwing his head back. "he's not even a loser, mate. have you even talked to him?"
"whose side are you on, dude?" logan frowns, throwing his arms in the air. "there is a wrong answer to this question."
oscar rolls his eyes and punches logan. objectively speaking, he is on mick's side; for your sake. but in a friend perspective, he’ll always be on logan’s side. but even he can admit logan’s a bit of a dick sometimes.
"whatever, dude." he smiles to himself, watching liam open the door to let another crowd in. "it's a very well-put-together party. i'm surprised. where did you get the keg on such short notice?"
logan has this shit-eating grin on his face, one that oscar desperately wants to wipe off. but he can only step back and watch the downfall of all his antics. it's funnier that way.
"frederik knows a guy."
oscar raises an eyebrow. "alright, mate." he pats logan on the back. "liam’s hosting the beer pong. let’s go?”
logan shakes his head, staring at the door with his arms folded over his chest. “later.”
“staring at the door won’t increase the chances of her coming,” oscar hums proudly, patting him on the back. he pushes him through the crowd of college students and massages his shoulder as he tries to find where liam had set up the table. "and anyway, they're coming after pre-drinks."
logan stops in his tracks. "how do you know that?"
oscar steps back with a smirk. "lily told me. did i not update you on that?" he sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "must have slipped my mind."
he knew, since the night logan plotted this party, that you and your friends would be pre-drinking before coming here. another reason you're apparently dragging your feet here is for lily – not wanting her to be alone in a frat house.
as honest of a guy oscar tries to keep himself, it doesn't remove suspicion from him trying to take advantage of her. understandable and respectable. so he told you to take your time.
"dude!" logan scowls, shoving oscar back. "that's vital information you should have told me ages ago! i've watched the door like a fucking hawk all night waiting to see if she's coming."
"it's funnier this way," oscar giggles. "also, it's because i'm dating lily."
"you're what? since when? why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"way before you started seeing her. but you're focused on the wrong thing, mate."
"i doubt that, actually."
"oi, beer pong bitches!" liam screams, his hands cupped over his mouth as he beckons for the pair to approach him. he's knelt on a bar stool to catch their attention in the crowd. "logan is up first for the public versus the house."
logan chuckles, slowly making his way towards the beer pong table once more. "are you sure? i'm undefeated, mate," he turns to his friends, "you'll never get your turn if i'm up first."
frederik grins, gesturing towards the rows of red cups filled with sizzling cheap beer. "we wanna see how long you last."
oscar giggles, patting his back. "revenge for making us scramble to put together this party at such short notice."
"and anyway," liam laughs breathily, stumbling into logan's body. he takes a sip from the red cup in his hand. "we have another table for the casual games by the pool."
"and i don't get to play at that table? how rude," logan scoffs, stepping towards the table. he spreads his arms out as he looks around the crowd. "any takers?"
there are a couple who try taking logan down in his own game of beer pong. but as someone who's always in attendance at every party on campus, he's simply mastered the game – how to distract his opponents when he's losing, how to throw them off the game, and how to hit the ball into the cups.
he's figured it all out.
the games pass by very quick, and logan only drinks a couple of cups out of the 6 opponents that are brave enough to step up to the challenge.
"seriously?" logan giggles, slightly intoxicated from the beer. he watches the previous guy walking away, greeted by his group of friends and consolations for a 'nice try'. but logan knows it wasn't a good try. he didn't have a fighting chance at beating him. "where's the real challenge?"
"i could probably beat you."
he hears a chorus of 'oh's from his own friends crowded behind him, lifting his head to meet a pair of blue ones. he sees you first, hands on someone else's body and an arm wrapped around your shoulders. his eyes land on mick, smugly grinning at him with a hand inside the pocket of his jacket nonchalantly.
"yo, isn't that-"
"liam, read the room."
logan doesn't notice lily threading the edge of the makeshift circle over to his side, greeting oscar with a smile. he tilts his head at mick. "you think you can beat me? i'm undefeated, bro."
he sees you whispering something at mick, swatting at him with a small smile. logan knows that look: the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara under your eyes. you'd drunk a little too much during your pre-drinks.
and so do you with logan: the heaving, permanent sly lazy grin and slumped shoulders. you even notice the way he's already slurring at his words.
"mick, should you really be entertaining this?"
mick smiles down at you, squeezing you with a soft shake. "just a bit of fun. we're at a party after all. i'll keep it friendly."
"i know you will. but will he?"
"trust me?"
you tilt your head and lift an eyebrow. you sigh with a small smile, "fine."
"asking for permission?" logan scoffs. "what are you, scared?"
mick scrunches his nose, lifting his hands from you. "no, mate. reassuring her," he smiles. he slowly tears his jacket off of his arms.
logan clenches his jaw at the sheer audacity when mick turns around and hands you his jacket. he feels a wave of anger, something he's never felt before, rising in his chest when mick leans down and presses a quick kiss to your red cheeks.
this might just be jealousy. but it's an emotion so foreign to logan that he doesn't even notice it. in his head, he's just mad that he's lost you to this guy.
someone rumoured to have gotten into the school through his dad’s connections.
"you sure you wanna embarrass yourself in front of her?" logan asks sweetly, biting down on his bottom lip. "one more chance to back out, schumacher."
mick shrugs and steps towards logan. "all in, mate."
"just making sure you don't embarrass your little girlfriend," logan grins, craning his neck slightly and squints his eyes down at you. "you don't want everyone to see him lose to me, do you? you should advise him otherwise."
you don't even get a chance to react before mick steps into logan's line of vision to you. "don't bring her into this."
logan scoffs, eyeing mick up and down. he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. "huh?"
"let's keep this friendly?" mick smiles. he extends his hand towards logan.
logan's gaze trails to the hand held out in front of him. he chuckles dryly before turning away, earning another chorus of gasps and shocked whispers around him, walking over to his side of the table. "you know how to play beer pong, don't you?"
mick purses his lips together, retracting his arm before padding over to his spot. "yeah."
liam looks between them, drunkenly filling up the new set of cups with beer. the kiwi can only hope that they keep talking so that he doesn't have to rush with the cups.
"i can teach you if you'd like."
"no, i think i can handle myself."
"alrighty," liam stands, clasping his hands together. "enough yapping. play the stupid game, you guys. it's just beer pong."
logan remembers a time when you used to be in this crowd. cheering for him instead of some random guy you met in one of your classes. you should be on the other side of the crowd next to oscar and arthur.
logan doesn’t do great with losing. if that hasn’t been implied, he doesn’t know any other way to show it.
mick crosses his arms over his torso. “make a shot, reigning champ.”
“i can be generous,” logan scrunches his nose, pressing his lips together. “guests first.”
the boy across the table shrugs. the game doesn’t go by as fast as the previous ones that logan plays. mick was actually true to his word, knowing how to play the game.
logan’s drank more cups than he’s ever in the entirety of the evening. he has to take a couple of deep breaths, staring down at the table when mick hits the ball into the last cup on his side.
he lost. he… lost? how is that possible?
“good game,” mick smiles with a polite nod across the table.
logan scans the table, taking his last cup into his hand. he hadn’t even stood a chance against mick. he still had more than half his set on the table.
mick swiftly turns around, ready to approach you when logan speaks. “one more?”
“mate-“
oscar taps liam on the shoulder, his one arm around lily’s shoulders, and grins. “no, let him do what he wants,” he glances at lily, who is smiling back at him, “i wanna see how this goes.”
“he’s gonna get himself into a fight, oscar,” liam mutters, pointing at logan. “you know him.”
“let him,” oscar shrugs. “he’s an adult — he knows what he’s getting into.”
“one more?” mick asks, halfway towards you. “are you sure?”
“yeah. best of three?”
“logan,” frederik calls out, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. “mate. he beat you fair and square.”
“no, it’s alright,” mick smiles. “no hard feelings.”
“very hard feelings,” logan mutters to himself, reaching to the side to open a beer can to replenish everything himself. “you stole my girlfriend.”
liam quickly takes over logan, swatting his hands away as he fills one cup sloppily with half of the liquid trickling down the side.
the next game goes by even quicker than before, the entire duration flashing right in front of logan’s eyes. he’s lost again. at least, it was closer this time. it was tied down to one last cup. mick simply played his shot better.
in normal circumstances, maybe logan would have just taken the loss as one would. but this is mick we’re talking about. logan will be anything but diplomatic about it.
“you had me nervous for a moment there!” you giggle. you move your arm out to avoid spilling the cocktail that frederik very graciously mixed for you during the game. “i thought you were going to have to play the third round.”
mick laughs breathily, blinking rapidly with a hand on his chest. “me too. i’m filled with alcohol,” he laughs, sweeping you into his arms. he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, lifting you slightly from the ground. “let’s go whenever you want to?”
“aw, mate,” frederik sighs, heading over to mick. “house rules: the winner stays until defeated.”
“no way,” you whine, jokingly tearing frederik’s hands from mick. “i wanna head to the bar and get another drink with him!”
“fuck this,” logan mutters, throwing the racket down on the table. he snatches the last cup on the table and glances over at you excitedly bouncing as mick swept you up into his arms.
he rolls his eyes, whirling around and heading towards the backyard of the house.
mick hums as you engage in a conversation with frederik, his hand still on your waist. “um, hold on,” he whispers, tapping you gently. “i’ll go check on him. he looks mad.”
you tug on his shirt. “no, he’ll be okay. he’s just a sore loser, mick.”
he laughs, shaking his head as he detaches himself from your grasp. “i just wanna ask him if he’s okay. i’ll meet you guys at the bar.”
you hum hesitantly, letting go of his hands finger by finger. frederik nudges you in the direction of the bar where oscar and lily are already walking towards.
mick steps out into the backyard, hopeful to find the blonde that turned his back on them. while he didn’t frequent petty fights, logan’s reactions are just very entertaining to him. all because he had failed to appreciate your presence when he was blessed with it and mick stepped up to take you out on a date.
and when he was hearing whispers about logan remaining undefeated at the beer pong table, he took up on the chances. perhaps the alcohol made him feel slightly competitive.
he’s ashamed to admit that he let his ego get the best of him and that’s why he stepped up to logan’s challenge.
“mate,” mick announces his presence, slowly approaching logan sitting on one of the sun beds by the pool. “i hope you didn’t take the game to heart.”
“fuck off,” logan mutters, dropping his head low. he picks at the grass under the bed and clenches his jaw. “what are you doing here anyway? shouldn’t you be celebrating with your girlfriend?”
“she’s not my girlfriend.” logan looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “yet.”
“seriously, what’s your deal? have you just come here to parade in my face that you got the girl or something?” logan pushes himself up to his feet. “i get it, man.”
mick sighs. “no. i was checking on you. you look like you had too much to drink there.”
“i don’t need you babysitting me,” logan shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “i’m a grown adult.”
“do you need some water? i don’t imagine you feel so good after chugging that much beer,” mick mutters under his breath. “you should really sit down.”
“don’t act like you care.”
“logan,” mick sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to let his frustration pass. “iced or room temp water?”
logan rolls his eyes. “stop acting all saint-like, man. i know you wanna hit me.”
“mate, i do not want to hit you.”
“for sure, you do. you just don’t know it yet.” logan shoves his hands into his pockets. he takes a step forward. “we all know you want to hit me. just do it.”
mick takes note of the step he takes, but stays planted into the ground. “i don’t want to fight you.”
“i know you do. the urge just hasn’t clawed at you yet,” logan grins sloppily. another step forward. “or are you holding back? because she doesn’t like messy guys and you’re scared you’ll lose her it you throw a punch?”
“i’m not holding back. fighting is a waste of time — i don’t like it.”
“she’s very conservative, dude, but she’s very forgiving,” logan nods, looking into the glass doors that lead into the house. he tries to spot you in the crowd but when he doesn’t, he returns his attention to mick. “you’re allowed a couple mistakes.”
“i’m not taking advantage of her like that.”
“i’m not asking you to take advantage of her kindness. i’m telling you that if you need to throw a punch or two, she will definitely forgive you. no need to be scared.”
mick laughs slightly, throwing his hands into the air to surrender. “i’m really not looking to fight with you. that’s beyond me, mate.”
“she appreciates when you let loose a little bit,” logan nods to himself. “why do you think we were going out all those months together? it’s not just cause i won her over with my charm, ya know. she’s got a bit of a wild side, mate.”
mick tilts his head, squinting slightly. he appreciates the extent logan is going to just to rile him up.
“if you don’t know that, then maybe she’s just not comfortable with you.” one more step forward. “i know so well a side of her even you’ve never seen before.”
“do you?”
“yeah,” logan answers in a low tone. he drops his head, one corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. “she’s got that perfect picture smile from a magazine, but you should have seen her when we went to this one party on campus.”
“ah. so?”
“do you know that she gets touchy when she consumes tequila?” logan perks up innocently. “very brave — she’s taken body shots before, you know. off of me?”
“okay? that was a frat party; of course you guys would host that kind of activity. i was there when that happened.”
logan ignores the jabs at the fraternity.
“kissed her yet? in case you haven’t, she tastes like those strawberry mints she always keep a tin of inside her pocket. they’re very minty, but it’s lovely.”
mick grins, pursing his together. “yeah, i know.”
“have you seen her in that one baby doll dress that she likes wearing a lot? what about her yellow sundress that barely covers her thighs?” logan pouts his bottom lip out. “it’s a scene when the wind comes by.”
“mate, you’re kind of crossing a line now,” the german chuckles. “don’t talk about her like that. i know you like her too.”
logan takes another step forward, eager to find that one trigger in mick. “do you know the mole she’s got on her hip? on the left side of her lower back. it’s really really visible when you’re fuc–“
“aw, fuck’s sake!”
logan almost bursts into laughter when he realises what had happened. his back meets the land of grass in the backyard, a pain shooting through his face. when he looks up, a crowd has formed around them during their conversation and liam is already knelt by his side.
lifting his head, he sees mick covering his face with both hands. he runs his hands through his hair as he looks down at logan with wide eyes, hands cupping his warm cheeks. “oh, my god. oh my god.”
oscar and lily pour out of the glass doors with a crowd following them out, the australian raising his eyebrows at his best friend lying back on the ground with a bloody nose.
“logan?” oscar asks, already knowing that he’s probably done or said something to trigger the normally calm headed man in front of him. “what did you do?”
logan scoffs, letting liam help him to sit on the sun bed. “i have the bloody nose and you’re asking me what i did? why don’t you ask him? he hit me.” logan points at mick as he takes the tissues that liam is putting into his hands.
oscar stares at logan. “really? you’re going with that?”
“yeah,” logan grins, glancing at mick. he presses the tissues to his nose, hissing when pain shoots through his face again at the contact. “god, dude. you don’t look like it but you can throw a punch.”
mick nurses his knuckle, taking a couple of steps back. “i know, mate. i’m not stupid.”
you stumble out of the glass doors, heaving as frederik keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. you were in one of the bathrooms upstairs — where it’s exceptionally cleaner — when mick threw the punch (frederik was holding your purse waiting for you outside the door).
when you made your way back down, the crowd inside the house halved. frederik would tap ollie, taking body shots off of someone, asking where everyone had gone.
and ollie, lying back on the table as he put salt on his stomach, pointed to the backyard and muttered something about a possible fight. “logan, maybe,” he muttered before promptly shooing you away.
you look at mick first, who has his shoulders slumped with oscar and lily by his side and is staring at you with guilt all over his face. then you look at logan, being nursed by liam and someone else, with a tissue and an ice pack against his face.
“yeah?” logan perks up with a scoff at you. “can’t pick who to nurse?”
@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp
#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#mick schumacher x reader#mick schumacher x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#frat!au
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Home is where my Heart is.
Chapter 1: A New Home
Table of Contents | Profile
Word Count: 1395
A/N: aaaa im so happy i can finally post it. pls enjoy~ it's hazbin hotel guys, that's a warning in itself
(edited as of Feb 20)
I hopped off the bus clutching my hat in one hand and my bag in the other. Lifting my hand off the hat, I reached inside my coat for a piece of paper.
“Angel Suites, 123 Bullard Avenue,” I muttered reading the paper then looking at the tall building in front of me. I sighed and went inside and was then greeted with a stench of tobacco from the clerk in the front smoking reading a magazine.
I grimaced and knocked on the wooden desk to gain his attention, from the lack of a bell. He lifted his eyes from the paper and narrowed his gaze to glare at me, causing me to break in nervous sweat.
“Hi, I-I’m Miledy Calliope. I called you yesterday for an apartment room?” I tried to say out cursing at myself from my stutters.
He rolled his eyes, folded his newspaper to the side and opened a small drawer to his right, muttering curses as he looked for my keys. When he finally found them, he threw them at me to which I hastily caught, causing me to drop my belongings.
“The stairs are to the left,” he groaned in annoyance, opening his newspaper again and turning on the radio on his left increasing the volume, seemingly to drown me out if I had any more questions and then taking a drag from his tobacco.
I huffed and drudged to my now apartment room, it was cold and damp inside. It has a somewhat worn-out couch and bed, an empty kitchen. To save myself from a migraine, I plopped down on the bare bed and collected my thoughts to stay calm.
“This is better than nothing at all. Better than staying at that damned place for sure,” I complained quietly looking through the glass window in melancholy. I sat up and rummaged through my bag to find a little rabbit stuffed toy, squeezing it for comfort for being in a new environment and an entirely new life.
For a while, I did as much I could do to make the place cleaner than I found it and homier for me. As the sun went down, cleaned up myself. I wore a glittery loose dress, the length all the way to my ankles, accompanied by bright earrings and a fur coat.
After locking up the door, I headed towards my first gig. I breathed out a sigh as I tried to shake off my nerves, I stood at the half-filled club. I turned my head when I heard a shrill call for my name.
“Miledy!” I see a short woman theatrically calling my name.
“Miss Mimzy!” I replied excitedly, “Thank you so much for having me!”
“Of course, no problem! Just bring in some bills, yeah?” she joked with her thumb and pointer together to sign for money while winking.
“I’ll try!” I shrugged with a smile.
After a while of talking someone gave me a cue to get on stage. “Good luck, honey!” Mimzy cheered.
As soon as I got on stage and sang in front of the mic with a sudden boost in confidence, I didn’t notice a fine gentleman sitting next to Mimzy greeting her and talking with each other.
“Mimzy! Good evening, my dear,” the brunette greeted tipping down his hat. “A newcomer I see.”
“Hi, Al!” she replied enthusiastically, “Yeah, I scouted her from the city down during my trip. Lovely, isn’t she?”
Alastor merely hummed amused and answered, “A pleasing voice indeed. Would you mind introducing me after the show? I'd love to get to know this new talent of yours.”
Mimzy raised her eyebrow a bit skeptical, “Sure, no problem.”
The further the songs went on the more Alastor was enchanted, barely able to take his eyes off her. However, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one to take interest in her, his face contorted into a sneer when he lustful stares the men had in his peripherals, as they enjoyed their liquor.
When I finished my stage, the place erupted in cheers, whistles and applause making me feel overwhelmed with the attention. I smiled and waved my hand at them, thanking them for enjoying the show. I bounded to Mimzy and her company, where she counted her money.
“That was fantastic, darlin’! Look how much money you raked in!” Mimzy cheered.
“Given how clear and beautiful her voice was, I'd say it's quite deserved!” the gentleman with a glasses complimented. I blushed and replied with a small thank you which he smiled at.
“Miledy, this is my friend Alastor, he works as a radio host right here in New Orleans.”
“Miledy, Miledy Calliope. I just arrived in town today actually,” introducing myself to him and shaking his hand, his grin subtly growing deeper.
“Well, I have to go check the schedules and see when I can squeeze you on stage again. Toodles!” Mimzy smiled with an obsessive glint in her eyes.
Alaster faces me once again, “Can I offer you a drink?”
My smile froze a bit, thinking about it. He analyzes me a bit before adding with a laugh in his tone, “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to harm you! I’m a frequent patron here and a very well-known voice and face here, you know? I neither don’t want to put my reputation to be at risk nor do I want you to have a bad time around here. Just think of it as a welcome gift as friends.”
I thought over what he said and smiled as he went on. I conceded to him, “Alright, why not? Sorry about being so skeptical.”
“No worries at all! It’s great that you’re on your guard. Not a lot of people are like me,” he teased bringing us to the bar.
“What? Tall and charming?” I retorted getting more comfortable around him.
He chuckled charmingly making me blush again, he then joked “Well, I was going for a kind respectable gentleman. I guess that can work too.”
I laughed at his not-so-subtle attempt to improve his self-image while his smile seemed a bit more genuine as he finally heard this woman laugh. He seemed to be enthralled with the image of me laughing and giggling at his remarks that he fished for more reactions out of me while we enjoyed a bunch of drinks.
The night grew colder, we started to gather ourselves and got out of the establishment.
“You sure can hold your liquor, darlin’,” Alastor remarked, he himself flushed red.
“I can say the same to you for a lanky figure like yours, sir,” I teased, “This was fun. Thanks for tonight, Alastor.”
His gaze softened and reached out pat my head which I indulged, finding his touch comforting. Oh, dear was I drunk.
“No problem. It was a fantastic night for me too. Do you have any plans anytime soon?” he asked keeping his hand on the top of my head.
“Mmm. I think I have to buy a few things for my apartment, why do you ask?” I answered, somewhat hopeful raising my eyes at him doe-ishly.
He breathed out a chuckle from my actions and replied, “Allow me to accompany you then. I’ll show you a fantastic store, one where your money’s worth spending to. I’ll free some time in a few days to show you around.”
“I’d like that. Thank you,” I smiled.
“Great! Now come, I’ll escort you back home. These streets are crawling with criminals at these hours,” he explained offering his arm out to me which I latched onto, growing creeped out as we strolled down to my place.
When we were half-way there, I heard a blood curdling scream as clear as day. It seemed so close to me, as if they were screaming in my ears, causing me to freeze and hold onto Alastor tighter. His perked up in alert as he circled his arm around me protectively, unbeknownst to me of the sadistic smile he had in the sick pleasure of the sound of suffering.
Reminding himself of the damsel in his arms, he rubbed had over my back and led me faster. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s nothing, just some pesky crows,” he lied.
I didn’t question further and walked briskly right next to him, blocking my ears as the screams slowly quieted down leaving it to my imagination.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin charlie#hazbin angel dust#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfic#alastor x reader#hazbin husk#hazbin nifty#hazbin vaggie#alastor x oc#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor
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An Unexpected Visit (Cal Kestis x Mechanic!Reader)
Summary: You find a little metal friend in your lonely workshop on Koboh and you have no idea where he came from. The answer to that question brings you more hope than you thought it would.
Warnings: Small blood mention.
Words: 3.8k
Note: Thought I'd post a little something while I work on the next few chapter of BoP! Pretty sure this is gender neutral, but if im wrong don't hesitate to point it out!!
Koboh was a hot planet to live on even on its coldest days. There was no such thing as frost here, and snow was out of the question. The native population of the planet was used to it, buildings designed to keep out the sweltering air and clothes made of the thinnest materials.
You, however, hated it.
You’d been warned the planet was warm, but no one had quite mentioned how high the temperature really was. You regretted trusting the Ihi Tib that had brought you here more than anything, but you’d used up all your credits on that trip and there was no way in hell to make that money again to leave, not while working here.
You longed for Habo, the little planet you’d decided against in favor of this one. No raiders, no empire soldiers, just nature and its shy inhabitants. No droids either, but there wasn’t any here either, so you didn’t care. Sometimes, you dreamt of reaching its lush forests and mountains and feeling cold drops of rain on your skin.
The metal roofing of your shop did you no good either, heat waves often visible above it. Its only room felt like a furnace even at the best of times, and you weren’t a stranger to the feeling of sweat-soaked clothes sticking to you uncomfortably anymore.
You tinkered with a metal detector that some prospector had brought to you, taking the opportunity of the night’s barely detectable coolness to work on a project. Apparently, it had stopped functioning properly after it’d been dropped into a chasm. By the looks of it, you were surprised it even was in one piece. Well, mostly in one piece. Maybe the revenue you’d make from this might be able to pay for new boot soles, yours having almost completely disintegrated because of the burning sand that covered the entire region.
The only sound in your workshop was the harsh grating of your screwdriver against the detector’s metal, as you tried to pry open its chassis. The thing just wouldn’t budge, and you considered whether the boots were even worth it.
A whistling sound startled you, the old screwdriver slipping and taking a chunk out of your palm. You swore and tugged a rare oil-free cloth from the toolbox beside you, hitting your head on your work lamp in the process and swearing again. You pressed the cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding and looked towards the open room to determine where the whistling had come from. The door to the shop was locked, you’d triple-checked it while closing. Was this one of the raider lackeys trying to draw you outside again? You’d fallen for it exactly once and promptly learned not to investigate strange noises you might hear outside, but this sounded like a mechanical whistle, not a breathing being.
The strange whistling sounded again, this time from behind you. You spun on your heels, tied the cloth around your hand, and reached for the rusty rebar you kept by your workstation. Nothing seemed amiss at first glance. Had you imagined the sound? Maybe the heat was getting to you, you hadn’t refilled your water canister since this morning. Dehydration hallucinations were rare for you, but you’d still had your fair share, especially when you’d just arrived to Koboh. Getting used to this planet had been a challenge.
Suddenly a flash of red and white crossed the room, hiding behind a wooden bin you used to store your own unfinished projects. The whistle came again, followed by a few beeps. A droid, you realized. He’d been speaking binary! You’d hardly recognized it, not having heard it since your arrival. Lots of droids, the Ihi Tib had assured you, the bastard.
“Hey little buddy, can I help you?” you called, slightly lowering the rebar but still holding it tightly with your free hand. A series of beeps followed in response. It was mostly unintelligible, but you could make out the meaning of some of it.
“Yeah, I’m the mechanic here, do you need something fixed?”
A scared whistle. You crouched, putting down the rebar at reaching distance from your hands.
“I’ve let go of the iron, I won’t hurt you as long as you don’t hurt me, deal?”
You received no response, but the droid tentatively stepped out from its hideout. It was a cute one, you thought, a little flat head and cubical body supported by its two lanky legs. You could see his eyes focusing and zooming on you, no doubt examining you for any sign of aggression. You raised your hands as a peace gesture, and he stepped closer. He emitted a green light from his position. You laughed at the sudden scan but didn’t move.
From up close, you could see the damage he carried. The side of his left leg was blackened as if burnt, and its small body had a gaping hole that revealed his inner components. No wonder he’d been scared, one more hit and he’d be fried. He looked mostly intact on the inside, but you’d need him in your hands to determine if that was the case. You went to speak but got cut off by the loud noise of your door slamming shut behind you.
“Beedee, I told you to wait while I left to find a spare-”
You squealed at the man’s voice, grabbing the piece of rebar again, wincing as it rubbed against your clothed palm, and jumped to your feet.
A man stood at the entrance of your shop, only a few feet from you. You shakily held up the rebar between the two of you as a threat, the droid incoherently beeping behind you and hitting you with his little leg. You ignored him, and the intruder raised his hands, showing you that they were empty. You could see a metal baton at his side and a pistol strapped to his thigh, but he wasn’t reaching for them despite the threat of your rebar.
“Whoa, easy,” he exclaimed rapidly, “I’m not here to attack you!”
“What do you want?” you called, “Shop’s closed at this hour.” It was fairly late in the night, and not many people were still up at this time apart from you. No one with good intentions, at least.
He took a less defensive stance, increasingly unimpressed at your choice of weapon, or your unsteady hold of it. “My name’s Cal, I’m just here for beedee.” He gestured to the droid. “Come on buddy, we’ve got to get back to Greez.”
The cantina’s owner?
“How do you know Greez?” you asked with narrowed eyes. You’d never seen this man, and he’d never been around here. News spread fast in a village this small, you would’ve heard about it in less than a day. The cantina sometimes welcomed suspicious or dangerous individuals, and you wondered if this new guy was one of them.
“It’s a… long story. I’m just visiting. Beedee, let’s go.”
You examined the man closer, as he was clearly only interested in the droid. Now that the adrenaline had mostly run its course, your mind pointed out how attractive the man was. Sure, his armor-looking leather garments looked like they had seen better days, but it was hard to ignore his soft-swept hair, scatter of freckles and sharp jawline that his stubble didn’t quite manage to hide, not to mention his lean yet muscled build.
The droid, beedee, didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he pushed into your leg again and emitted a series of noises you couldn’t understand.
“Is he always this unclear or is my binary just rusty?” you asked the man hesitantly, keeping the rebar in hand and taking a few steps back to put space in between the two of you.
“He got shot in the middle of a fight, his vocabulator got damaged,” he said. Your grip on the metal tightened. A fight? “I was going to fly to a relay point to find him a new one, but this guy,” he shot a reproachful look at the droid, “Won’t stay put long enough for me to go.”
The droid continued his monologue. The only word you could make out was ‘Mechanic’.
“I’m a mechanic, beedee, is that why you came to see me?”
He near-violently nodded his head.
“I’m sorry he disturbed you, like I said, we need the new component to fix it.” Cal said, shrugging.
You crouched and took a closer look. You could view the injured piece now, its main area intact but its outer edge clearly burnt out. You shook your head. “You don’t need a new one, actually.”
Cal looked at you like you’d grown a third head. “Have you seen the chip? That thing is as good as dead.”
“Not if you reroute the circuit towards his internal commlink instead.”
He blinked. “You’ve worked on droids before?” he asked cautiously.
You nodded. “It’s what I trained for as a teen on my home planet, but I had the great luck of finding a dishonest pilot who promised me there were a lot of droids here.” You gestured to your near empty workshop, embarrassed. “As you can see, not quite the reality of the area. The only ones here are those the raiders keep, and I’ve made it quite clear to them on multiple occasions that they could shove it. Being on their bad side isn’t the greatest, but at least I’m not helping them loot and kill people. Used to work on ships too and loved that, but those are also lacking here.”
He looked at you as if evaluating your body language. You weren’t exactly hard to read; you wore your emotions quite visibly. “Why haven’t you left?” he asked.
“A droid mechanic on a droid-less planet doesn’t exactly have the revenue to jump on a hyperspace voyage. Maybe in a couple years, but at this rate the raiders will have found any stash of money I could keep. Anyways! what I’m trying to say is I can fix beedee if you want.” The droid beeped approvingly from where he stood, jumping up and down in triumph.
Cal seemed to weigh the risks. You didn’t blame him, some unknown mechanic on a near empty outer rim planet didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you knew you could make the repairs easily.
“Alright,” he said defeatedly, “but if a single electrical filament is damaged, I’ll know, and you won’t get a cent.”
You shrugged, his threat not scaring you. The droid already had enough injuries as is, you weren’t planning on adding to them.
Beedee jumped up to the worktable you’d been working at earlier and you pushed aside the metal detector with a wince. The movement pulled on your palm painfully. The droid didn’t miss your reaction and pushed on your injured hand with a foot.
“Just a cut, little guy, nothing to worry about.” You said, perhaps unconvincingly. The screwdriver you’d used was a bit rusty, and you knew you should get a bacta patch to keep an infection from spreading, but you couldn’t afford one. You’d wash it out with water later and hope for the best.
The droid didn’t miss a beat at words and a little vial was suddenly flung up in the air. You didn’t manage to catch it, not having the reaction time you might have with more rest and water in you, but a calloused hand caught it before it could hit the ground. Cal stood next to you, offering the tube in an open hand
“A stim?” you exclaimed, picking it up and examining it, “I haven’t seen one of those in years, they cost a fortune.” You glanced towards Cal. “I’m not sure the cut warrants using one.” you added.
The man just folded his arms and leaned against the table. “If beedee says you need one, I wouldn’t argue, or else you’ll be arguing with him all night.” he said.
You mumbled a soft thank you as you injected the stim, your hands already feeling much better after only a few seconds. You took off the cloth and despite the dark red that coated your hand, the cut had all but disappeared, leaving only a thin pink line behind. You scrubbed the dry blood off as best you could and turned towards the droid again.
He sat in front of you, presenting his exposed wiring. You picked up your smallest welder and started working, self-conscious of your beat-up tools. You could feel Cal leaning in with each detailed movement you made, unquestionably watching the process to learn how to do it himself. You worked as diligently as you could despite your focus trailing occasionally to the man that held close to your side. The slight reprieve the night air provided seemed gone, his warmth seeping into your skin.
It wasn’t a complicated job, you just needed to reroute the processor to the commlink to translate the droid’s processes into clear binary code to then bypass the burnt translator located on the edge of the vocabulator. It was a trick that was specific to this type of vocabulator though, so it wasn’t a well-known process.
You finished with the rerouting, satisfied by the clear binary beedee could now emit as he properly introduced himself to you. And idea shot through you and you slipped out from Cal’s side to reach for your spare parts bin. You rummaged through it for a moment, the droid sending you a questioning whistle.
“Wait a minute! I know I’ve got it somewhere here…” you grumbled. “Ah-ah! Here it is.”
You held out a grey piece of thin durasteel as you sauntered back to the waiting duo, grabbing your heat gun along the way. “I think I can give you a temporary fix for your casing, let me just… There! It doesn’t match your colors, but it should do the trick.” You slid a newly shaped metal plate over the spot where the casing had melted away, grinning at its sturdiness. “This won’t fix it forever; I’d need a little more time to make an entirely new one and to make it the right color, but this should keep your components safe for a while!”
BD-1, as you now knew him, spun around in circles as he tried to check out his new part. You took out a small mirror from a drawer and held it up to him so he could see. He let out a string of excited beeps and whistles, repeatedly asking Cal to look at his ‘cool looking patch’. You glanced to the man on your side and discovered him watching you intently with a small smile. You felt your cheeks heating under his stare and scuttled back a few steps.
“Uhm, I hope this all works out until you’re able to find new parts, you guys! I could get started on a new custom permanent case too, so beedee doesn’t lose his usual flair.” BD-1 whistled in approval. “Shouldn’t take me more than a few days, maybe 5 at most, if you’re interested.”
Cal nodded, his intense gaze not faltering. “I think that’d be perfect. How much for today’s work?”
“Oh no, consider it as a repayment for that stim and for the opportunity to work on a droid again. Honestly, I had forgotten how much more interesting it is than working on the prospectors’ tools. As for the pickup, if I’m not here when you come back to get it, that means I’ve gone out to trade for parts. I’ll leave the finished casing in this drawer here,” you pointed to the right one, “and you seem to know how to get past the locks. Just close it back up when you leave!”
He laughed at the remark and thanked you for your work on BD-1. The droid gave you a sharp farewell whistle despite its clear disappointment at having to leave already. He climbed onto Cal’s back as the man moved toward your shop’s door.
“Hey,” you called, “if you come around this corner of the galaxy again after picking up beedee’s casing, don’t hesitate to swing by! It’s always nice seeing someone new.”
He turned on his feet, walking backwards for a few steps. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” He winked at you, leaving you at a loss for words, and turned back to walk through the door.
After you calmed your elevated heartbeat, you locked up after him, deciding the two unexpected guests were enough for one night. You leaned back against the door and sighed. Maybe you should’ve accepted the money. Cal seemed like a nice guy, but Koboh was getting harder every day. Habo was still on your mind, but you’d settle for anything other than this damn planet. Kriff, you’d even be willing to join a crew of wandering space pirates if that meant you actually got to do something other than retrieve and fix the same old tools over and over again. Maybe one day luck would favor you, you thought, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.
-- 9 days later ---
The walk back from trading was always exhausting. The prospectors that held the best materials were currently residing on a high cliff that hid a cave’s opening. Getting up there was arduous, but if you left early enough it was manageable despite the climbing you had to do. By the time you made the trek back, however, there was no escaping the sun’s rays, and the only thing keeping your hands from the burning rocks as you scaled down the cliff was an almost ruined pair of leather gloves. They wouldn’t last another climb, you thought, and neither would your boots.
You’d have to find something to barter with the one villager who made most of the prospectors’ equipment. You didn’t even have money for food this week, but you’d make do, like you always did. Maybe you’d go back to the cantina tonight to offer maintenance on Greez’s bartender droid. His cantina was apparently bringing in more customers this week, so maybe you could find some other work there too.
You were also looking forward to hearing more of the village gossip. You’d heard rumors of a Jedi taking down raiders all over the region when you’d gone for a drink the night before but given that the source of that information was Turgle, you were far from convinced. A Jedi would be hunted down in a minute by the Empire, especially if they used their famed weapon and left witnesses. The fisherman you sometimes saw hanging around the streams, Skoova, had however confirmed that there was indeed a newcomer hunting down raiders for sport.
He hadn’t been very talkative, only describing him as a short-haired man of average height that fought in a poncho. You didn’t know how you felt about someone wearing a poncho on a desert planet, though you did find humor at the idea of the raiders getting their ass kicked by some new guy in a raincoat. Either way, if there was a chance that this not-a-Jedi-even-though-Turgle-says-he-is guy had arrived here by ship, you wanted to find out more no matter his unusual taste in clothing.
You entered your workshop after the long walk back from the prospectors, bracing for the intolerable heat of your metal cage. You stored what little you’d brought back in its rightful place and dragged your feet to your worktable, ready to start working on another tool a prospector had given you to fix. You remembered distantly that Cal still hadn’t swung by to pick up BD-1’s new case.
You peeked inside the drawer and found it empty of the custom case. There were a few credits in there, thankfully enough to cover the material you’d used for the case, plus a couple more. Despite the much-needed money, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Of course, the one day you left your workshop had to be the one when he decided to come here. You sighed and pushed the drawer away, rubbing your eyes with your palms, hoping (and doubting) that he would visit again. You didn’t even know what region of Koboh he was from, you didn’t recognize his accent at all.
A glimpse of white caught your eye before the drawer shut completely. You reached towards the unknown object and found a folded note that you were sure hadn’t been in therebefore you left. You opened it and didn’t immediately recognize the handwriting.
-
Thank you for the case, BD-1 is practically begging for a couple more designs (to match my ‘rizz’ - I have no idea what that means. He convinced me to wear an old grey poncho I had just so we matched and I fear giving in to the different colored cases will be the start of a slippery slope, but how could I say no to the little guy?)
I’ve gone off-track – What I mean to tell you is that if you still want to leave Koboh, there will be a ship (it’s mine) at the landing pad until 1500 tomorrow. Bring what you need, but I have all the essentials on board. Food and water I mean, and maybe I have a spare toothbrush somewhere too?
Anyway. We’ll figure it out.
I can drop you off somewhere if you want, but I wouldn’t mind a mechanic on board if you’re interested. Can’t guarantee regular hours or absolute safety but hey, still more interesting than metal detectors, right?
This might be my last visit to Koboh in a while.
P.S.: BD-1 wants you to know you’re the only one allowed to fix his leg, and that he ‘requires you on board’. His words, not mine. He shot an electric dart at the last person who tried to repair it (me).
Cal
-
You couldn’t help but let out a loud celebratory shout as you read. He had a ship, and you were finally getting out of here! No more prospectors whining at the time it took to fix their tools, no bedlam raiders trying to kick through your door in the middle of the night, no need to refill your water supply from the well that stood well over a mile away.
You’d happily make BD-1 a thousand little metal outfits to match Cal’s ponchos if he wanted-
Your mind screeched to a stop. Hadn't that been the outfit Skoova mentioned?
You remembered what Turgle said about the second newcomer, the one he had called a Jedi. You didn’t remember ever reading about that order using guns, but… Cal had been carrying another weapon. The metal handle, you now realized, that was hanging at his side.
Oh kriff.
Had the idea while building the BD-1 Lego set. I meant for this to be just a little 1k meet-cute oneshot, Of course, me being me, i wrote 5k. Edited it a little, and it's as short as I can tolerate lmao
My first time posting for Star Wars! Still not over Survivor despite having played it more than 100 hour in the first two weeks i got it, and having done reruns since. The double-bladed stance has me in a chokehold.
Tell me what you think, and check out my masterlist!
#Cal kestis x reader#cal kestis#cal kestis x you#jedi survivor#jedi fallen order#jedi video games#star wars jedi#star wars#fanfic#star wars fanfiction#star wars fanfic
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Pay Attention to Things That Most People Ignore ☆ LS2
logan sargeant is most definitely not most people. it was time he started learning how
characters/pairings; daughter of poseidon!reader, chiron, mr. d, son of apollo!logan, theo (oc), son of athena!oscar.
warnings; monsters, typical pjo-type violence, logan is hopeless but that’s okay! some chb innacurracy sorry i havent read the books in a while, err very rushed writing im sorry, LAWD this is a mess i tell u 😭 perhaps i hate it — 3k words.
a/n; is the title... an all-american bitch lyric? yes. why? im not good and titles and i went to that song in instinct... for no reason. also this was based on a request — though i do admit its a little bit different as i would (hopefully) be making a part 2 hehe. by now im realizing how this title prob has nothin to do with the story
Over the years, she’s come to accept her life. Did it hurt when it felt like her entire life ended? Of course. Does it still hurt when she turns on the television to see them basically rubbing it on her face? —Whatever.
In theory, she probably could’ve gotten away with it had she not been a daughter of one of the big three—thanks a lot, dad. —but it was proven one too many times that it was not safe for her or any of the other kids. If it didn’t put anyone else’s life at risk, she would’ve disobeyed her mother, she really would (she was a child, she really hasn’t grasped the full concept of what other people would feel).
But, you know, oh well.
It’s sixteen years later and she still has that lingering grudge in the back of her head as the screen plays another Grand Prix — another Grand Prix she could’ve probably been a part of.
She tried, she really tried so hard to forget about it, to let go of it, but again, it was proven to be way too hard to let go of something she had an actual chance of, an actual good chance.
Though it might be hard to let go, she couldn’t really complain much about the life she actually had now.
Sure, it gets pretty lonely sometimes being a forbidden child, there weren’t exactly much of them (that are known and living at camp). But she had everyone else, despite practically being an only child at camp, to her everyone else there were her little siblings—of course, that probably has something to do with the fact that she was the oldest camper and the one who has been there longest.
When she heard a set of the all-too-familiar clops her heart dropped from its current fast-paced beating.
She quickly closed your laptop shut, cringing when you heard how loud of a sound it had made. That was it. She didn’t even try hiding her disappointment in herself. She slowly emerged from under the blanket with her lips tightly-wound shut, bracing herself with whatever the Centaur will have to say, her mind playing a quick telepathic farewell to her laptop.
“Hello, Y/N.”
She sighed, “Chiron.”
“Where and how?”
She swallowed the pre-existing nerves in her throat, “Mr. D.”
He hummed in response, so she continued.
“A pack of Heineken and two bottles of Jack Daniels.”
“Hm, good picks.” She responded lowly under her breath with a small ‘yeah’ as Chiron walked closer to the head of her bed near the bed-side table—his hooves making clopping noises each step.
The silence was taking too long to her liking so she just went to get it over with, “So, you’re gonna take it away from me?” she paused, then mumbling under her breath for herself, “—it’s probably another Red Bull win, anyway.”
Apparently, it was loud enough for the Centaur to hear, making him chuckle.
Surprisingly, he didn’t mention anything else about the laptop, “Who do you support?”
Hearing the question quickly made her look up from her fidgeting hands to see the smile on his face, she screwed her brows in confusion as she continues to look at Chiron for—something. Then, realizing that he was still waiting for an answer, she shook her head.
“Uhm—well, uh—”
“You think that Lando will ever get a win?”
That seemed to loosen her up, “Ugh, Gods, I hope. I’m getting exhausted over here—you know, sometimes I really wish I could ask the Oracle about it.”
He chuckled then which made her crack a smile.
When it died down, Chiron looked at her smiling face. He couldn’t help but frown a little, he knew how she felt about racing, he knew how she still feels about it.
“Y/N.”
She looks up at him, “Yeah?”
“So, I am aware that your birthday is nearing…”
“I mean… why wouldn’t you be? I’m here all-year-round.”
Chiron cleared his throat at her interruption, giving her a look.
“Sorry.”
He acknowledged and continued, “I am also aware that it lines up with a certain event…”
She raised an eyebrow it that, almost guessing what that said ‘event’ was.
“So,” he stopped, initially had her thinking he was just pausing but when he left out the door of her cabin she raised her hands as if saying ‘what gives?’
Seconds passed and it seemed like Chiron wasn’t going to come back any time soon so instead she stumbled off of her bed to quickly catch up to the Centaur that was headed to a building—the girl almost caught up to him, almost following him into the building but he was already back out in a good few seconds, stopping her right in front of the set of stairs, raising both her hands in question once more, “You just left. ‘So’, what?”
“I have it arranged that you will be attending the Miami Grand Prix.” He smiled as he handed her a lanyard.
She swore her eyes looked like it could’ve popped out of their sockets in a matter of seconds. She couldn’t believe what she was holding; a paddock pass. She couldn’t believe Chiron had done this for her considering how careful of a man (well, half-man) he is especially with her being a forbidden child. This was about to turn into the best birthday yet.
When she looked up to the smiling Chiron, her mouth still hung open in shock but her arms immediately wrapped around the man’s body in a bone-crushing hug.
She didn’t know how many ‘thank you’s that spilled out of her mouth but next thing she knew he was hugging her back with a chuckle escaping his lips.
After a few more ‘thank you’s from her, she pulled away smiling at him, “I thought you’d rather keep me here forever, why now?”
He cleared his throat, “Well, you are turning twenty-one, not many of you reach that kind of age—don’t tell them I said that—so I’d like to make it a bit more special.”
Still smiling, she looked at the paddock pass in her hand again, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this, Chi. Thank you, again.”
Being there felt… odd… unnatural.
She always thought if she were ever walking through the paddocks she would be walking as a driver.
What was even more odd was she felt her senses tingling, like she was being watched.
It was a bustling crowded place with many more interesting people compared to her, so it was weird to her that she felt like she was being watched of all people.
But alas, she brushed it off. It didn’t feel like anything bad—if it were, she would know—so she’s just going to have to save that thought for later.
She had to remind herself why she’s here; daydream in real-time of what could’ve been.
Yeah, she weren’t really keen on letting that go.
That is, until she was into her head she failed to notice the person—and group of people that came with said person—she was running into.
Before she knew it, a strong arm was holding her back with too much force for her liking, the action itself almost kicking in her self defense instinct until the person she did bump into pushed the hand away.
He was now talking to her, she assumed, but she was too focused on the person who had pushed her away.
Something about him felt… off. He was what she would count as freakishly huge for a normal human being, her eyes couldn’t help but recalculate the large man over and over until eventually the person that has been trying to get her attention snaps her out of it.
“Sorry, that’s Theo, he’s like that. I swear he doesn’t mean any harm.”
The scowl she hadn’t realized that made it’s way to her face slowly dropped as she slowly move her gaze to the person that was talking to her.
When their eyes met, she swore she saw a flash of something pass by his expression.
“Yeah,” she finally let go of this ‘Theo’ person and found her words, “Sorry I bumped into you.”
“That’s fine.” There was a brief silence across them until he cleared his throat, “I’m Logan, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know. You drive for Williams.” She replied flatly.
He cleared his throat again, scanning her for the shortest moment, “Do I know you?”
She looked to his eyes again with a small squint. “Most likely not. Good luck, bye.”
Before he could say anything else she was already speed-walking away. And for some odd reason, Logan found himself watching her walk away before getting pulled away himself just in the same time as the girl turned around to give a watchful eye.
It was getting annoying. This was supposed to be a weekend to enjoy but she could not help but feel that uneasiness creeping up on her. Over the years she had somewhat mastered the ability—well more the ability mastering her—of sensing bad things, whether that was events or creatures alike.
So, to simply put that together, that’s how she found herself sneaking around the Williams garage. Not hospitality, garage.
From years of quests here and there, many hours of weapons training, and not to mention capture the flag schemings with other campers, she had mastered the skill of being sneaky. It really did work well in her favor.
What she didn’t expect was to be completely entranced the moment she got into the busy garage; it was the first time she was seeing a real life-size F1 car in real-time.
Everything was so enchanting to her, it felt like she was reliving her childhood dreams all over again. When she had gone through with her plan, she didn’t really register the fact that she was going to go face to face with an actual working Formula One garage.
She really tried to stay focused on the task at hand but it really was in her blood to be unfocused.
“Hey!”
Somehow, just somehow, she had heard his voice over the loud noises around her and just somehow, she knew he was addressing her.
Immediately, she tried to hide or duck behind something—anything just so she didn’t have to face him.
Before she knew it a hand was gripping her upper arm and pulling her somewhere quieter and she was met with green eyes that looked at her with suspicion.
“Are you like a fan or something?”
She was taken aback by his words.
“…what?”
“Are you following me?”
“What—no. I mean not you specifically—why did I say that.” she whispered the last part to herself. If she was being honest, she hasn’t really been brushing up her skills in socializing with anyone else that weren’t the campers.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing! I—”
Their conversation—if you could’ve called it that anyway—was interrupted by the same man she had been suspecting from earlier.
“There you are.” It was the first time she was hearing his voice and just by that she already knew that they were going to be in big trouble. His voice was low and unnerving, saying the words as if he’s been searching for them not for worried purposes rather unfortunate ones.
Logan didn’t seem to have the same feeling as her as he looked more relieved among other things to see the man. “Theo!” he greeted while throwing his hands in the air, “What’s up, man?”
Fortunately for Logan, Theo wasn’t exactly paying attention to him instead looking at the girl in front of him instead.
When he noticed he tried to interfere, “Oh, no, don’t worry about her, she’s not harmful.” He then realized he didn’t exactly know this girl so he looked at her with questioning eyes, “You aren’t, right?”
Except her focus didn’t waver from the big man that looked at her with a stare that tried to kill.
Logan, still clueless, looked between the two back and forth in confusion until Theo said something that really caught his attention.
“Daughter of Poseidon.” Theo growled.
Logan’s head couldn’t snap towards her faster.
“Shit.” She mumbled under her breath.
Before they knew it, she had grabbed a hold of his hand and running away with it, Logan still very much in shock at this new information he attained.
Through empty places and crowded ones, the girl forgot that the man she had ahold of weren’t just anyone but a very real and hard-to-miss Formula One driver. Sure, he was a rookie but a driver nonetheless.
But she couldn’t care less about the attention she was gaining; she was far too busy running for her life than think about cameras and the public.
“What the hell was he talking about? Poseidon?!” she didn’t answer his panicked question so he continued instead, “Are you a half-blood too?”
The ‘too’ in his question was what finally caught her attention but still, she didn’t answer him, only cursing herself for not noticing one when she saw one.
Just when she thought they had lost them, the monster once disguised as Theo was standing there at the end of the opening, she and Logan had slipped in.
Next thing she knew she was fumbling around trying to fight off the apparent Giant that was Theo.
“What the hell are you doing there, mind a little help over here?” she yelled over at Logan who was pretty much… useless in the corner.
He continued to panic, looking for anything he could use to get the Giant off of her.
Suddenly, while she was struggling to get the Giant’s grip off of her, the force stopped as a cloud of mist poofed where the monster was once before. She quickly scrambled herself up and was met with a figure in McLaren clothing holding a gold-dust colored weapon pointing at her.
“Oscar Piastri?!”
He didn’t answer her, dagger still pointing at her direction, “Who are you?”
Putting her hands out in defense she explained herself, “I respect that.” she commented, “I’m Y/N L/N, I am the daughter of Poseidon,” then she cautiously pointed at the Australian, “I’m assuming you’re a half-blood too.” she nodded at him, “Who do you belong to?”
Oscar then slowly lowered his weapon, his trust building by the minute, “Athena.”
Then both of them turn to Logan simultaneously.
“No!” he got defensive immediately, “I want to know what just happened!” he pointed accusingly.
All of a sudden, it just finally hit Oscar, “Poseidon?!”
The sea god’s daughter made a face and ignored the Australian, “What do you mean what just happened? Typical demigod stuff!”
The look on his face made her double-take, “You… do have occasional encounters with monsters here and there… right?”
When Logan’s expression doesn’t change, she turns to Oscar.
“I have this for a reason.” He said slowly, showing her the dagger. “—and, well, if I’m being honest, that has never happened before.”
“Shit.” she shakes her head in disappointment then pulling out her phone, “I need to make a phone call.”
She left the two men by themselves and went ahead as the line rings a couple of times before getting an answer.
After a brief conversation—that will continue later for details—the girl locked her phone and walked towards the two drivers.
“You’re coming with me this summer. It will not be up for debate and don’t worry about your… duties, I have it covered.”
Logan was quick to stop her explanations, “Wait—what—no! At least explain what the hell that phone call was about. You can’t just drop all that on us and expect us to be okay with it.
She rolls her eyes, “I’ll explain later, right now, you two have a job to do.” They didn’t object to that, the three of them walking out the pretty-hidden space the Giant had decided to corner them before.
Oscar stopped just outside, “I can take care of myself if anything else decide to come out and attack me, you should probably go with him. And uh, I actually need to talk to you,” he pointed at her, “—later. Not exactly letting you off the hook that easily.”
She didn’t complain.
The two walked in silence, every once in a while getting stopped for a picture and such, until Logan speaks up.
“Apollo.”
She turned to him, eyebrow raised.
“My dad.”
“Oh.” She paused then comments, “Fitting.”
He didn’t know what it was in her voice, it didn’t sound exactly like a compliment but he wasn’t sure if it was an insult.
Whatever, he shrugged it off.
After that, they both went into their own train of thoughts.
Without noticing, they both sucked in a breath in unison.
“I’m sorry for—”
“I think you should—”
The two quickly stepped back from whatever it was they were going to say, heat rushing up their necks. They kept walking on the awkward silence that fell upon them until Logan re-focused his attention and remembering what she had said—well, what she almost said earlier.
“Wait—‘sorry’? What were you apologizing for?” he turned to her who was now ducking away from his eyes, her own focus stayed on her fidgeting hands.
She made a noise before finally finding her words, “It’s just—this always happens, you know. I’m a forbidden kid, I attract the worst kind of trouble there is for half-bloods. And earlier; I had brought it to you and Oscar.” he was going to say something to ease her guilt but she beat him to it, “I’m just glad that monster didn’t hurt any of you.” She threw her hands in the air, “I mean, it’s qualifying day for Gods sake! —maybe I shouldn’t go to the race tomorrow.” She mumbled the last part to herself, though not quietly enough that the driver didn’t hear.
Logan was taken aback by her statement, giving him an opening on his almost-offer.
“What—no! Why not?” he asked.
“Look, it’s bad enough that there’s two demigods in one place; adding a forbidden kid in the mix won’t really make it any better. I still want everyone to have a safe race. Who knows what kind of other monsters I could attract.”
From every point of view Logan could gather, it was simply a fact that this girl knows about their world far more than he did, far more than Oscar did, so he couldn’t really be the voice of judgement in whatever she had to say. But… he wanted her to stay.
It calmed him down for some reason, knowing someone shares the same—if not, worse—fate as you.
So, he tried to find a reason, a good reason to make her stay. Of course, he wasn’t a pro at this half-blood thing so he offered something that he was familiar with. He gave her a more… human reason.
“I think you should stay.” He blurted.
“Logan—”
“Dude—is it alright if I called you that?”
“Uh, go nuts.”
“You deserve to have some fun, watch a race! I’ll even have you as an official Williams guest!”
She hummed with a smile creeping up.
“And if you’re worried about trouble, that’s fine. We can always handle trouble! We are all trouble-bound any way, better face them now than later! Plus, I think it’d be good if you could teach us the basics early.”
She felt the warmth spread through her chest. It’s been a while since she felt someone so welcoming that wasn’t anyone within Camp Half-blood. It was nice. He was nice. Almost made her forget that she was in the place she was meant to be in.
Her heart felt wholesome, but didn’t make it show, her mouth couldn’t stop the comment from escaping her mouth instead.
“You really want me to stay, huh?”
#logan sargeant#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#ls2#ls2 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#williams racing#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1
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actress!y/n saying in a interview that she would love to become a WAG and mason commenting that he’d be more than happy to fulfill her wish (they are already rumoring spreading about them being an item) 😮💨
fueling the fire
pairing: Mason Mount x Reader
TW: none
A/N: i didn't know how to end this so im sorry if its shitty
"We know you're a huge football fan, but would you ever like to become a WAG?" The interviewer asked as you sat still in your chair, trying not to mess with the lie detector wires that were currently attached to you.
"I'd honestly love it. I've hung out with a few of the Chelsea boys, and they're all super sweet, and extremely attractive might I add" You giggled as you answered the question.
The interviewer looked at Judd, the man monitoring the test, and asked if you were lying or not, to which he confirmed that you were telling the truth.
"So you're admitting to hanging out with this man?" The interviewer slides a photo of Mason Mount in-front of you, causing you to let out a laugh.
"Yeah, we've hung out a few times. He's hilarious and overall just a great guy"
"Would you ever consider being a WAG to one of the Chelsea players?"
"Uhm- I mean sure. Just depends on our chemistry" You shrugged.
"She's nervous" Judd spoke, which caused your head to snap in his direction.
"Would you say you have chemistry with that man?" The interviewer said as she pointed to the picture of Mason that was still sitting in-front of you.
" I'd say we do" You tried to answer short and simple going forward until the interview was over.
~ 3 weeks later ~
The Lie Detector Test video was published and in a matter of minutes everyone was seeing it. You were checking Twitter to see people saving snippets from the video, when all of a sudden you got a notification that you'd been tagged in a tweet from none other than Mason Mount.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
masonmount
yourusername I'd be more than happy to fulfill your wish of becoming a WAG
4,385 Retweets 296 Quote Tweets 52.7K Likes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The entire comment section of his tweet was in shambles, as there was already speculation of the pair of you being together. In reality, you considered each other best friends. You'd only met the boy a few weeks ago, and you both weren't ready for a relationship. But you both did enjoy a good prank, so to mess with both yours & Mason's fans, you replied to the tweet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
yourusername
masonmount Great, when's the date?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fans went crazy at your response. They were fully convinced that this was real. You immediately received a text from Mason after tweeting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mason: Prank?
You: Of course
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You both committed to the bit, acting like this on social media for weeks on end. During this time, you and Mason got closer and did end up becoming a couple. Fans thought you'd both been dating long before you actually started, but you wanted to keep that information to yourselves, wanting to be able to have something for yourselves at the end of the day.
#✎ natalie writes#mason mount#mason mount fluff#mason mount x reader#mason mount x y/n#mason mount x you#mason mount fanfic#mason mount imagine
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Where are You?
✪ pairing: BIKER!yuta x GF!Y/N
✪ warnings/tags: smut!, angst, fluff, arguing/fighting (verbal not physical), make-up sex, name calling (brat, slut, baby, good girl, princess), breast play, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, riding & doggy, tit sex (?!), spanking, fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex (only on pill), cum eating, rough yuta
✪ w.c: 2.4k
✪ a.n: hii!! this is 1 of 2 fics i release today 😆 ! yesterday was my sisters birthday so i wasnt able to upload but im back with 2 stories today yay! anyhow i hope yall enjoy this one && thank u all for the love and support on Mirrors 🤍
3:40 a.m
I turned to the clock once more, the minutes and hours passing with still no sign of him. Yuta promised to be home by midnight, but 3 hours later he’s still not here. His race should’ve finished by now. I tried calling and messaging him but no response. I was about to give him one last call, when the front door opened, keys dingling.
I rushed out and was met with the man. Yuta was taking off his leather jacket, his black tank underneath. His muscular body under the moonlight that shone from the windows made him look even more attractive.
“Where have you been?” I questioned.
He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “Racing, where else?”
“I know that, but what took you so long? You said you would be back by midnight,” I said, slightly irritated.
“Johnny got into an altercation with the other team when they wouldn’t shut up about the win being rigged,” Yuta explained.
“Yet you couldn’t answer my messages or calls?”
“Look, Y/N I’m tired. Let’s talk tomorrow,” he said softly. However I wasn’t having it. Honestly, this wasn’t even the first time he’s ever done this. For the past months or so he’s been coming home late after his races. In which I have grown suspicious about.
I scoffed, “Sure you are.” Before he could let another word out, I went back to our bedroom. As much as I wanted to give him a peace of mind, I was too tired from staying up waiting for him.
“Y/N,” Yuta yelled when I sat down in the bed. He came storming in. The patience in him evaporated. “What the fuck is wrong, huh?”
I slightly flinched at his words. I looked up at him, “You, that’s what’s wrong.”
Yuta came closer, “Me? What the fuck have I done?”
“You never come home! You’re always back so late,” I said, my voice slightly rising.
He chuckled, “That’s it? Really?”
‘Why was he treating this as a joke? Laughing? Nothing was funny about this.’ I got up from the bed, “Yes, I’m your fucking girlfriend for fuck sakes and I barely even get to see your face nowadays.”
He took another step closer, “Sorry, I’ve been so busy I didn't know my girlfriend was lonely.” Yuta didn’t seem sorry at all. “Nice try at a lame apology,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Another step, “Why are you acting like such a brat right now?”
I didn’t respond, I couldn’t. Brat. The word sent a chill down my body, in a good way.
“Huh? What’s wrong now?” Step. “Oh, I got it now,” Yuta said with more enthusiasm. His face brightened up like everything clicked to his head.
He brought a hand down my body, placing it above the curve of my ass. I felt as he fondled it, until he went further down and cupped my sex. I gasp at the touch of his hand on my sex.
He leaned into my ear, “You’ve been needy haven’t you? Is that why you’re so upset?” His hand separated from me, he separated from me. He stood there looking at me as I began to lustfully yearn for his touch.
“Answer my question baby.”
Fuck. He was right. I missed his touch, his kisses, his praises, his cock, his entire being.
“Y-Yes. I missed you so much Yuta.”
He smirked, coming back to me. “Sorry for that princess, I’ve been rather neglectful of you. I’m sorry,” he said, kissing down my neck until he reached my mouth.
His tongue entered my mouth, playing with mine. Our kiss was intense, filled with want. This was something not only I, but what we both needed. Our kiss deepened even more until I ended up back on the bed on Yuta’s lap.
His hands roamed over my back in delicate touches, until they ended up back on my ass. I moaned into our kiss when he smacked it. Soon, Yuta pulled away from the kiss—our saliva connecting—and stared at me with lustful eyes, eyes of an animal ready to pounce on its prey.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded, and so I did. He began unbuckling his belt, his cock springing out. It was already hard, leaking with pre-cum. “Suck.”
I looked up, his hand reaching to grab my hair, pulling me closer to his cock. I sucked in a breath, I wanted nothing more but to get him inside my mouth.
“I don’t have all day,” he reminded me.
I started kissing his cock, tip to base. Then licking him as slowly as possible, making him year for more. “Fuck. You- take it like you always do slut.”
I decided to stop teasing him and took his cock inside my mouth. He’s too big. The tears pooled in my eyes quickly. “Shit. That’s my girl, taking me so well,” he groaned when he felt the sensation of my moans around his cock. His hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and started bobbing my head up and down until he relaxed his grip on my hair, allowing me to take him out. I went into a fit of coughing, and my jaw was starting to hurt.
“Done already?” Yuta teased. I glared at him, “You nearly choked me with your fucking dick.” He laughed at my statement. “Take off your clothes,” he said, when he finished laughing.
One by one my clothes were gone. His hands came in contact with my breast, fondling them and pinching my nipples.
“Such pretty tits,” he said. Then next thing I knew his cock laid rested in between them. He squeezed them together as he thrusted in between them, his pre-cum allowing easier movement. The more he thrusted, the harder and faster he went.
Yuta fucked my tits until the ropes of his cum painted my face and tits. He swiped a finger over some cum that splattered on my face, bringing it to my mouth. I swallowed every single drop he gave me.
“Open up your mouth princess,” he said, when I finished taking in his cum. I opened it, and even stuck my tongue out. With another movement his cock buried itself in my mouth again. This time though he didn’t move me, so I started bobbing my head up and down his shaft, my hand following along. I swirled my tongue around his tip, earning a moan from him.
“Just like that,” he said, stroking my hair. He was close again, so I continued my movements on his cock. Finally then he exploded inside my mouth, the white ropes of his cum filling up my mouth once more. He slid his cock out and gathered the cum that had slipped past my lips, and pushed it back in.
“Such a good girl,” he said proudly. “Swallowed every drop right?”
I nodded, “Please… I need you, I want to cum too.” I pleaded with the man, I was so soaked, I felt it on my legs and thighs.
“Come up here then baby, lay down for me,” he said, patting the bed. “I’ll take care of you.”
I did as he said, laying down while he got on top of me. He spread my legs apart, a smile appearing on his face. His fingers slid down my cunt at a slow pace. He then brought them to his mouth, licking them clean. Yuta let out a satisfied groan, “Always tasting so good.”
“Please,” I whimpered.
He looked at me, descending in between my legs. He spread them apart, and placed them on top of his shoulders. “Fuck, you’re leaking everywhere baby. Sorry, I neglected you for so long, but don’t worry because we’ll take care of this,” he said, kissing my clit.
His tongue then darted out, licking a strip up and down my cunt, repeating it over and over. I squirmed at his touch. He drank up all my juices like a starved man, a man deprived of water. I gripped onto his hair, pushing him a little further in.
“Fu-Fuck right there,” I moaned, when his wet muscle intruded inside my cunt. He added to the intensity when he brought his thumb and began circling my sensitive clit. I was close to cumming, just a little more. “I’m gonna cu-cum!”
Yuta’s tongue went out, causing the sensation to be lost. Fuck. “Then cum baby, you deserve it, don't ya?” Soon his fingers came to replace his tongue, plunging in and out of my cunt while his tongue now lapped and played around with my clit. Yes this was what I needed. A couple more thrusts from his fingers, and I came all over his arm. My chest heaving, trying to catch some oxygen. It was too good.
“Good job baby,” Yuta said, kissing my temple. “You ready now?” he asked.
“Ye-Yes please put it inside.”
“Get on all fours then,” he says. I flipped over, my hands and knees on the bed, awaiting him. I felt as his hand fondled the flesh of my ass, before he landed a hard smack on it. I yelped, not expecting that. I turned back, and was met with Yuta stroking his cock while looking at my drenched cunt. He moved in closer, I felt as his tip touched my cunt.
“So tight, so wet. You feel so fucking good,” Yuta muttered, as he pushed further inside me. I felt the delicious stretch of his cock inside my pussy, and how it reached me deeply inside.
Once he was all in he wasted no time. Yuta thrusted into me like a wild beast, going at an uncontrollable speed and pace. His cock was so deep within me that I felt so full already. The sound of our skin slapping and my moans echoed in the room. I turned my head back, and was met with Yuta’s lustful eyes. He looked so drunk of pleasure.
The grip on my hips was sure to show up bruised tomorrow. My eyes rolled back when his tip kissed my g-spot. We just started but I was already so close to cuming.
Suddenly Yuta’s hand tugged on my hair roughly as he continued his excruciating pace. My tongue lolled out, he took it as an opportunity to spit in my mouth. I swallowed it unconsciously, I was too high on the pleasure to comprehend what I was doing.
“Such a good slut,” he said, letting the grip on my hair go and thrusted even harder. His hand once again came in contact with my clit, pinching it until I finally came undone. My orgasm passed through me. I clenched around his cock, erupting in groans from him. “I’m cumming,” he said and unleashed once again. His hot white cum painting my walls white this time.
I barely had time to recover before he said, “Ride me.” I looked over and Yuta was already head against the headboard awaiting for me, his cock still hard. I weakly crawled over, placing myself on top of him. I grabbed his cock, and pushed myself down as his cock entered me once more.
Once I was in I began moving. Up and down, his hands guiding my hips. Slow, then fast, slow, then fast, slow, then fast. I kept this pace up, but it began to feel not enough. So I started bouncing on him even fast, my hands gripping his shoulders. I kissed his lips, melting into the pleasure he was giving me.
I didn’t stop, until I began growing tired. “Let me help you,” he says. Yuta took over, using the grip on my hips to plunge into me. My tits bounced all over his face, until he no longer could resist the temptation and took one in his mouth. He sucked on my breast, then swirled and flickered my nipple. I was approaching my next orgasm, and clenched around him. He detached himself from my nipple with a pop, “Cum for me baby.”
One thrust, then two, and three. The knot in my stomach unleashed, I came once again on his cock once more. But it didn’t stop there, Yuta had yet to cum. Luckily it didn’t take long. Yuta came after a few more thrusts, I probably milked him dry today.
We stayed in that position for a while, trying to catch our breaths. Yuta hugged and soothed me, gently kissing me. “Let’s get us cleaned up,” he said after a while. He walked us over to our bathroom, placing me on the tub as he ran the water. I was growing drowsy, the sex had tired me.
Once the water was done running, he placed me inside and joined in. I didn’t know what happened afterwards as my eyes shut closed, falling into a deep slumber.
the next morning.
I tried shuffling to turn the other way, but something heavy was preventing me from doing so. I stirred my eyes, trying to get them to focus. Once they came into focus the sight in front of me made me widen my eyes.
Yuta lying beside me…
Typically the guy would be gone by now. ‘Was he running late?’ I thought. I shook him lightly, softly repeating his name. His eyes stirred, until they finally opened. He smiled.
Yuta smiling in the morning?!
No yeah perhaps I was still dreaming. I pinched myself, and when I felt the pain I knew this wasn’t a dream.
I finally decided to speak up, “What are you doing here? You’re usually gone by now.
He looked at me, his face softened. “I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, pulling me even closer. His embrace felt so warm and comforting.
“I’m sorry I’ve been acting like an asshole lately. I should’ve been prioritizing you over anything, you didn’t deserve that baby.”
I looked at him, my eyes watering. “Don’t cry Y/N, it aches my heart,” he said, wiping the tears that had started falling down my face.
“I love you so much. You are the most beautiful woman in this world, and with the most beautiful soul too. I am so very lucky to have you Y/N.”
Oh fuck. His words made for more tears to come streaming down my face.
“I love you Yuta, I love you so very much. Thank you for your apology, Thank you for understanding. I love you,” I said, as I caressed his cheek.
“I love you so much more.”
© jhdyuiee
24.03.26
#yuta#yuta nakamoto#nakamoto yuta#yuta nct 127#nct yuta#nct 127#nct u#nct#nct drabbles#nct smut#nct fanfic#nct imagines#nct x y/n#nct x reader#nct x you#yuta smut#kpop fic#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#kpop#smut#nct angst#nct fluff#yuta fluff#yuta angst#kpop fluff#kpop angst#nct boyfriend#nct scenarios#yuta x y/n
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actually... im fine with it. (yandere!pantalone x gn!reader)
warnings! yandere implications, mentions of kidnapping and being tied up (not sexually), fluff
(a/n) requested by an anon!! tysm for requesting ♡ reminder that requests are open!!
˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚
"Are you awake?" A gloved hand reached out and grasped you chin lifting it up to give the holder a closer look of your expression.
Slowly blinking open your eyes, you surveyed the room quietly, noting that there were chains on the wall, along with a bed, and there were no windows. Your wrists burned, too, from where they were tied up behind you on the chair you were sitting on. The only source of light in the dimly-lit room was the small, singular chandelier that hung on the ceiling, seeming oddly out of place considering how grim the entire scene looked.
Finally, you focused your gaze at the man in front of you, still holding your chin and giving you a close-eyed smile. "Where am I?"
The black-haired man in front of you didn't skip a beat, only taking his hand of your chin and instead gesturing to the area. "A special place I prepared just for you."
"Why am I here?"
The man laughed. "My, you're taking this awfully calmly. You're here because I brought you here, of course."
well no shit. even i could make out that much.
"Who are you?" You questioned, although almost immediately regretted it after seeing the man's expression darken.
"Hahah... of course." Laughing, he stood up, from which he had originally been bending down to match your height. "You never even noticed me."
Thoughts ran through your head as you tried to put his face to names, but none matched until something lit up in your brain. "Pantalone?"
"Yes, that is my name." Pantalone sighed sorrowfully, his gaze never leaving your face. "But to you, I was just the kind man who you helped give directions to."
"How- Why-"
"Because I love you, my angel. More than you will ever realize."
You stayed silent at the sudden confession, although considering that you were the one that was restrained in some unknown place, it would be unwise of you to decline. Archons know what he would do to you.
"I've been watching you for weeks. Not through my underlings... I can't trust them. You're too lovely, they'd fall in love with you too, and then I'd have another problem to deal with. No... I watched you out of my own love, saving you from whatever trouble you had encountered behind the scenes and always making sure that you would be okay." Pantalone didn't seem to care whether you were listening or not, but rambled on anyway, his voice only becoming more and more desperate.
"But then some guy came to your house and saw me, and then began asking for you. Who does he think he is, asking to see you so casually??" The man's voice broke off into a low growl as his expression contorted into one of rage. "So I took care of him."
"You... killed him??"
"Darling, come on now, don't be mad at me. It was for your own good. After that, I knew it was much too dangerous to be living alone in a world of predators, so I generously took you in. This is where you'll be staying from now on. With me until the end of time."
"..."
"You answer? You can't refuse, but I'd still like another opportunity to hear your beautiful voice again."
"...Actually... I'm fine with it." You had come to the conclusion in the matter of seconds, but from what little knowledge you knew, you concluded that Pantalone had to have been powerful in status, careful with his plans, and also dangerous enough to have anyone look the other way to what he was doing. And considering the jeweled chandelier that dangled about five feet away from you, you also concluded that Pantalone was considerably wealthy. Not only that, but during his speech, you couldn't help but feel... moved. He had gone to such lengths just to make sure that you'd rest easy.
Not only that, he was also quite the looker himself. With that curly, soft black locks and fair face, every time you looked at him, you could feel your heart skip a beat. And if you really were to live here, then wouldn't that mean you wouldn't have to pay rent? And you'd get free meals everyday?
If he was shocked, he hid it well. Nevertheless, he wasn't able to stop the utterly confused expression flitting across his face. "You're... okay with it? I mean- that's good- but I expected at least a little resistance." He didn't seem disappointed per say, more just startled that you had actually agreed from what free will you had.
"Well... yeah. I mean... sure, you're a pretty dangerous person, but you do seem to actually care for me. Not only that, I wouldn't have to pay rent, get free food... not to mention that you're quite handsome yourself." Attempting to explain yourself, you winced as the tight ropes cut into your skin. Immediately, Pantalone rushed forward, uttering you quiet apologies as he cut the ropes off your hands with a knife that he had hidden in his sleeve.
He cleared his throat as you watched you settle into a more comfortable position, remorsefully noting the reddened bruises on your wrists. "I'm... handsome to you?"
As you nodded, he turned away, but you were able to spot his flushing ears that his hair was tucked behind.
"Aha... You really are too kind." The black-haired man smiled at you. "This is for the better. If you really are agreeing this steadily, then it means you won't try to run away. And if that doesn't happen, we can live together. Happily for the rest of our lives." And just like that, he swiftly leaned forward, holding your chin up with both hands as his soft lips met yours and engulfed you into a kiss. You felt your face burn warm, but you didn't resist, nor did you want to. Sensational fireworks seemed to light off from every inch of your skin, diving your consciousness in a sea of warmth. When Pantalone finished, he pulled away only slightly, giving you a smirk that played on his lips.
"You can expect more of that later."
masterlist ✩
#mondaymelon#yandere genshin x you#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin imagines#yandere genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#x reader#reader insert#x gn reader#gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#fatui harbingers#pantalone#regrator#genshin pantalone#pantalone x you#pantalone x reader#yandere pantalone#yandere regrator#yandere pantalone x reader#yandere#male yandere#tw yandere#tw kidnap mention#tw kidnapping#answered requests#open requests#requests open#requests
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Hey! I hope you’re having a nice day and don’t feel pressured to answer this, but how do you think the Pedro boys would react to having triplets? (I just learned im having two boys and one girl)
Heaven knows I’m already worried about mine with the casually offered reductions and all the talks about how difficult it’s going to be since it’s my first time. My heart goes out for the Pedro boys in less advanced universes knowing the complications that could come up.
Having Triplets:
Javier Peña: Gets drunk. Like - very drunk. Smokes an entire pack of cigarettes while he drinks. Worrying. Obsessing over the idea that he was already nervous to be responsible for one kid, but three???? He's never gonna sleep again. He's going to be grey by the time the kids are born, or bald from the stress. Once he's gotten over his hangover, he's asking questions. Demanding to know the risks and he has a fucking notebook full of questions for the doctors every time you go. Turns into the most solid father that you've ever seen.
Ezra: Speechless. For the first time since you have met the loquacious prospector, he is completely speechless. "I don't quite thing your suit's gonna be fitting you soon, little gem." His life has been one big adventure and he has just floated along. Now he will have to put that sharp mind to work to make sure that his little family has their feet firmly planted on a safe planet. Ezra will be planting roots - just don't ask him where he acquired the things he brings home for the babies.
Mando: Have you ever seen a wall of metal worry? That's what it would be like. This towering hunk of beskar would just lurk and be underfoot. Silently watching and you would wake up to any and all little luxuries that he could possibly get his hands on. The man would invest in a real bed for Maker's sake. He would even get a medical droid, putting aside his dislike for most tech to make sure you had the best help available.
Pero Tovar: Pero wonders why you are as big as a horse. (You hit him with a frying pan for saying that) When the midwife tells him that she feels more than one babe in your belly, he starts to worry. Childbirth in his days is not without risk and multiple babes are even riskier. He will start praying to God to allow the babes to born healthy and breaking his back even more to provide for the four of you.
Frankie Morales: His military training is the only goddamn thing keeping this man from having a panic attack, or a stroke. Definitely going to be getting high one last time before he flushes the coke down the toilet. If for nothing but to work out that fear without you knowing. To your face, Francisco Morales would be the most calm, rational man with dealing with the idea of triplets. He even trades in his beloved truck for a van - not a mini van, because those things drive like fucking ass - but a cargo van to haul the kids and all their shit around. He will be working himself into the ground to his get license re-instated so he can be earning more. He can't raise triplets on his retirement alone.
Agent Whiskey: In complete denial. Absolutely refuses to believe that you are having more than one baby. Like complete disassociates when it comes to that. Despite Ginger confirming it and everyone talking about the babies. He's convinced that everyone is pulling some elaborate trick on him. Right up until the moment he has baby number one in his arms and you start pushing again for the next one. Then shit gets real.
Dave York: Dave is another cool cucumber when it comes to dealing with the idea of triplets. He starts planning. Logistics is what matters. Paying for these kids. He will start taking more contracts and being away from home, but he always tries to make sure he's home for doctor's appointments. Surprisingly handy. Already put together the three cribs and started stocking up on diapers. He's changed his share before with Molly and Alice, but this time it's going to be interesting with three at the same time.
Oberyn Martell: Thrilled. He will be on the maester's ass to make sure that the births are smooth sailing for you. Multiple babies at once? He will enjoy running his hands over your swollen belly and making sure that the servants are nearby all the time so you do not have to do a thing. Spending hours with you in the water because it easy on your body with all three babies growing. Present for every moment from the moment your pains begin, until you are holding all three.
Max Phillips: Mixed feelings honestly. Three little baby biters? Pretty cool. Three sets of dirty diapers to change? Less so. Max is smarmy and cocky, but the cracks of that facade start to show when he realizes he's made three tiny little half vamp/half human beings that will need to be cared for. He might even put his little feud with Evan aside because the man has bigger fish to fry. But expect him to start offering you blood smoothies. You know, for protein.
Marcus Pike: The combination of stress and excitement inside him is like being pulled in two different directions at once. Immediately starts reading books on the subject of twins and making a detailed list of everything you need to buy. Will be making full use of his paternity leave to help you with the babies.
Marcus Moreno: It's a good goddamn thing he's a super hero. Marcus literally saves the world, so he is used to stress. There's a little bit of panic behind those rimmed Clark Kent glasses he has and he wonders if his powers was what caused this. He knew that copper IUD was a bad idea. He can only hope that Missy loves being a big sister, because she's gonna have 3 younger siblings.
Max Lord: Passes out. Literally the man faints at the news that he is going to be a father to triplets. The internal panicking that this man does rivals ten men. Nearly enough to do something stupid like wish he had the dream stone back, but not quite. You end up having to calm him down.
Zach Wellison: Gets a second job. Then a third. You practically don't see the man for nearly three weeks after being told that he's going to have triplets with you because he's working so damn much. Trying to make sure that he can buy everything you need and provide for the babies. Only starts to slow down when you remind him that you need him with you now. You don't want to do this alone. It takes him a minute to get that through his head, but he's pretty happy as soon as he gives himself a moment to be.
Dieter Bravo: FREAKS OUT. Like has a melt down as he denies it. Until he can see the ultrasound and has the three little nuggets pointed out to him. He's wide eyed and asking you if you want some of his drugs. You might need them more than him. When you decline, he takes all of them himself and starts to ask if you feel any different now. Playing with your stomach and talking to the babies as he lays out why is he upset. He's scared. Scared he's going to screw up and then it's three little people he's fucked up. Showing exactly why Dieter will end up being a good dad. Whacky as shit, but a good dad.
Javi Gutierrez: Obsessed with them. He has already been thrilled by your pregnancy and having a baby, but now that there will be three? Completely in love with the idea of built in best friends. The decorating of the nursery is now tripled and Javi just completely throws himself into it and treats you like a queen the entire time. Waits on you hand and foot and marvels over your changing body. Gets you one of those belly harnesses to make sure that you are as comfortable as you can be.
Tim Rockford: Have you ever seen the scene of a man pacing back and forth and running his hands through his hair? That's Tim. Like seriously concerned with how he is going to pay for three babies. On a detective's salary. There's going to be a lot of overtime in this man's future.
Joel Miller: What the hell can he do? Not like he can go back and unring that bell. He's panicking, his heart racing and his entire body feeling weak but he hides that from you. Does you no good and he won't have you worrying. He's fucking worried. Because this is a shit world you live in and there's a very real possibility that he will lose you and the babies. Rest assured that he will BURN THE WORLD DOWN to keep you and them safe.
🎉🎉Congratulation Anon!!! I hope that you have a smooth rest of your pregnancy and birth! Fingers crossed and good vibes being send your way!!!
#pedro pascal#the mandalorian#pero tovar#marcus moreno#agent whiskey#dieter bravo#ezra prospect#javier peña#dave york#oberyn martell#frankie morales#marcus pike#max phillips#javier gutierrez#tim rockford#joel miller#zach wellison#max lord#headcanons
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Plague Ponies - Research
CONTENT WARNINGS: no gore
Previous | Next
Summary:
Twilight doesn’t want to admit it, but things in Equestrian haven’t been in tip-top shape recently. It looks like even Princess Celestia has judged that the news cycle has been too grim as of late, as she’s instructed Twilight not to make a public statement about the number of ponies who fell ill after the Everfree attack.
With the help of her number one assistant, Twilight tries to figure out how exactly to quietly prep for an epidemic when they both remember: Granny Smith is super old! She must know what to do? Wait, Pinkie? What are you doing here?!
Twilight and Pinkie end up going to Sweet Apple Acres together, where Twilight is given a book that just might contain the answers she needs. Now to decide her next course of action…should she go back to the orchard and head home now, or should she indulge for just a second in Apple Bloom’s request to check on her project?
Transcript below:
Twilight Sparkle: Thank you for understanding, Doctor. I’ll send word immediately if anything changes.
Greymare: Of course, Princess. We appreciate your generosity. Everything should be ready within the week.
Twilight: Of course. If you’re in need of any more funds, tell the distributors to contact me.
Doctor Greymare bids his farewells to Princess Twilight and takes his leave. Twilight heads back inside the library, where Spike is looking on with concern.
Spike: Twilight…are you sure we shouldn’t tell everypony now? If everypony in Ponyville really is infected, shouldn’t they all know?
Twilight Sparkle: I don’t like delaying things either, Spike, but you read Princess Celestia’s letter out yourself. Our priority is to avoid panic until we know we can answer their inevitable questions.
Spike: I guess that makes sense…hearing about another disaster after the last string of disasters would make everypony totally freak out!
Twilight Sparkle: Spike!
Spike: What? Im agreeing with you! It’s a bad idea to tell everypony about an epidemic after a discord came back, got better, accidentally caused the princesses’ kidnappings, delayed the Summer Sun Celebration—
Twilight Sparkle: SPIKE
Spike lets up after Twilight’s outburst, looking amused as she takes a breath to collect herself.
Twilight Sparkle: Maybe things haven’t been the most…stable, lately, but the princesses have everything under control. Plus, I’ve been reading up on epidemiology and it’s normal for new pathogens to crop up every few decades. We just have to be prepared for them!
Spike: Oh, perfect! You’re the most prepared pony I know!
Twilight loses her composure entirely.
Twilight Sparkle: BUT I’M NOT PREPARED! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF PONYVILLE NOW, BUT I CAN’T EVEN KEEP IT SAFE. ALL I’VE DONE IS LEARN TO FLY AND MEMORIZE PRINCESS ETIQUETTE. THAT’S NOT GOING TO HELP ANYPONY!
Spike: Hey, you’ve been busy saving all of Equestria! You didn’t prepare for that either, but it went fine in the end because of your friends.
Twilight Sparkle: I guess so…
Spike: If these diseases pop up every now and then, Ponyville must have had some experience with this sort of thing before. You just finished talking to Doctor Greymare, right? Maybe he could help.
Twilight Sparkle: That’s just the thing, Spike. He said he hasn’t heard of anything like this before, at least not while he’s been running the hospital.
Spike: Is there anypony who might know what happened before him?
Twilight Sparkle: You would have to be ancient to remember anything further back than that. You’ve have to be…
The cogs in Twilight’s head begun to turn, and she and Spike come to the same conclusion simultaneously.
Twilight Sparkle and Spike: Somepony old like Granny Smith!
Twilight Sparkle: Spike, you’re a genius!
Spike: Bah, this is just a run of the mill performance from your number one assistant.
Twilight Sparkle: We should head to Sweet Apple Acres right now—
Suddenly, Pinkie Pie bursts in out of nowhere.
Pinkie Pie: TWILIGHT!!!! SOMETHING BIG IS COMING!!!!!!! THE FATE OF PONYVILLE DEPENDS ON IT
Spike: Pinkie, could you bring down the volume a little? My ears have been sensitive lately…
Pinkie Pie: Oh, sorry, Spike! The fate of Ponyville depends on it!
Spike: Thanks
Twilight Sparkle: Is it your Pinkie sense? Can you feel something bad coming?
Pinkie Pie: Yes! It’s big! Huge! Even bigger and huger than the time you believed in my Pinkie sense!
Spike: Wow, that IS big.
Twilight Sparkle: Well, if it’s so serious, we should tell everypony to stay indoors for the time being.
Pinkie Pie: Waaay ahead of you, Twilight! I already warned everypony not to take any unnecessary journeys on the way here.
Twilight Sparkle: Thank you Pinkie, you’ve saved us a lot of time. Now we can—
Pinkie Pie: —consult Granny Smith for her firsthoof account on Ponyville’s history of health and safety protocols?
Twilight Sparkle: …I won’t even ask. Yes, Pinkie, we’re doing just that.
Pinkie Pie: That’s a great idea, Twilight! Lead the way :3
Twilight Sparkle: Alright, let’s get to Sweet Apple Acres.
Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle begin to clear out to head to the farm. Twilight notices Spike hasn’t made moves to join them, so she sticks her head back inside to check on him.
Twilight Sparkle: Spike, aren’t you coming?
Spike: You know, Twilight, if staying indoors is so important, I think I’d better stay here and…make sure Owlowicious doesn’t go wandering around while you’re gone.
Twilight Sparkle: Alright, number one assistant! I’m leaving the library under your watch. We shouldn’t be gone too long.
It looks like most Ponyville Residents have caught wind of Pinkie’s warnings! Twilight and Pinkie only see a few ponies out and about on their way to Sweet Apple Acres. this far out, the news hasn’t yet reached the Apples, who are occupied with a busy apple bucking season.
Applejack: Howdy y’all! What brings you down to the farm?
Pinkie Pie: My Pinkie sense has been going off all morning! Im not sure what this one means!
Twilight Sparkle: But I think I could figure it out. AJ, could I talk to Granny Smith?
Applejack: Sure thing! She shouldn’t have hunkered down for her afternoon nap just yet.
Twilight Sparkle: Alright, girls, I’ll be right back.
Pinkie Pie: I’ll stay with Applejack and lend a hoof with the apples!
Applejack: You know what, that’d be mighty helpful of you, Pinkie! Big Mac’s been sick, so I’ve been buckin’ these trees all on my own!
Twilight goes off to see Granny Smith on her own.
Twilight Sparkle: Hello, Granny Smith! Sorry to barge in on you like this..
Granny Smith: Not at all, dearie. In fact, you ought to visit more often! I hear so much about you from Apple Bloom, you really should stay for supper one of these days and tell us about your lessons yourself!
Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. I’ll make sure to visit more often. Unfortunately, I didn’t come by just to say hi today. I actually did have a few questions for you.
Granny Smith: Of course! Ask away, dear, I’m all ears.
Twilight Sparkle: Have there ever been any emergency health and safety protocols in Ponyville?
Granny Smith: Emergency what now?
Twilight Sparkle: Have there been any outbreaks of sickness in Ponyville in the past? Did the town have a way of dealing with them?
Granny Smith: Oh! You just mean the plague ponies. Hold on dear, I know I’ve got a book back here somewhere…it’s been sitting collecting dust! A sign of better times, I reckon…now if only I could find it…
Granny Smith begins rummaging around the house looking for the aforementioned book.
Twilight Sparkle: I think this might be just the thing I need! I haven’t heard of plague ponies before. None of my books mention them at all.
Granny Smith: Oh, your fancy city books wouldn’t have anything on this.
Granny Smith returns with a beat up looking book on hoof.
Granny Smith: I knew I still had one laying around!
Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. Um, what it is?
Granny Smith: It’s a home remedy book! Back when the town was first settling, we had all sorts of sicknesses popping up. Prob’ly from all the different ponies coming together. Without much of a way to reach Canterlot yet, we couldn’t get aid from the big city for any fancy doctor magic.
Twilight Sparkle: Oh…I had no idea that happened.
Granny Smith: Heh-heh…I’m not surprised they didn’t teach you this in your Canterlot history classes…What city pony aid we lacked, we made up for in home remedies. We each of us came together and pooled our knowledge in books like these. Here, you take this. This one’s got some of my own notes in it. Maybe you could add your own!
Twilight Sparkle: I couldn’t possibly take this from you! It’s a part of your history…
Granny Smith: It’s yours, too. And it’s doing nopony any good collecting dust with me. Just promise me to read every bit of it.
Twilight Sparkle: …Thank you, Granny. I will.
Granny Smith: Alright, now I’m off to hit the hay. Apple Bloom, you should show Twilight your plant project in the barn!
Granny Smith turns to go and take her afternoon nap. Apple Bloom appears, eager to get her turn talking to Twilight.
Twilight Sparkle: Ooh, have you figured out how to get your subjects to multiply?
Apple Bloom: I sure did!! I made the adjustments you told me to and added a little something of my own! You’ve gotta come and see it!!
POLL: Should Twilight go see Apple Bloom’s Project?
RESULT: Yes
End transcript
#aaaand there’s episode 2#sorry for the weird order ?? but things should be more linear from now on..#plague ponies#mlp infection au#mlp grimdark#mlp#mlp fim#my little pony#my little pony friendship is magic#my art
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IM CRYING I GOT SICK SO I DONT FEEL WELL😭😭😭😭 Still I'll push through and get these Valentine's scenarios to you!!! You might get the other two a bit later tho so sorry!!!
Azul would definitely make sure to give you your gift first. He has done extensive research and came to Ramshackle with a bouquet of your favorite flowers! Though Valentines wasn't foreign to him, the way humans celebrated was a bit different! Then he'd take you to the town on the island, because somehow he got permission from Crowley!
It was with a bribe
........
At least you think so? But you got to go and have a great time on the rest of the island so who cares? He took you to multiple shops and then to the beach after. When you got back to campus you both went to his dorm. And it confused him to no end when you told him to wait while you ran off towards the dorms kitchen. He waited like an hour until you came out. He was a little annoyed but he couldn't go into the kitchen since the twins were keeping guard of the door as he heard sizzling. Hands down you enter the room with a, "Missed me?"
He'd question why you took so long but little did he know you ALSO did your research! Leading him to his own VIP room you'd explain nothing to him and watch as he blushed and tried to get answers from you. I mean why go to such a private room on such an intimate day? He's embarrassed even more as some other dorm members walk past him, a blushing mess, being tugged into his private office.
Not to mention your teasing the entire way there with hand holding and little pecks! He wouldn't say it out loud (7 forbid the tweels hear him) but he loves your affection just as much as it embarrasses him! And sevens, does it embarrass him!
When you get to the room the foods already set up! Courtesy of the twins. He knows the food was made by you, why else would you be gone for an hour!? and is kinda nervous for two reasons.
He's not too sure you can cook
2. Gifting food (for octo-mers) is usually part of their courting process
And I mean, yeah sure he's already dating you and everything but it feels really intimate! And it gets even more so when you lift the fork and bring it to his lips. (sorry to the people who CAN cook) But it seems Azul was right about questioning your culinary abilities.... Its kind of charred around the edges too, not a lot but to someone who's skilled at cooking its hard to not notice.
"Its burnt!" Azul laughs light heartily even though he still takes a bite.
"Yeah well its made with love, not skill," you reply sarcastically. As he eats his fill he makes comments about how he wants to avoid getting chubby, which you quickly dismiss saying you'd love him however he looked. To be completely honest he practically melts into your side on the couch. Its cute how shy he gets with this, and he seems to be leaning in more to your touch more.
Idk how to end this so HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!! I hope you enjoyed and I'll finish the other ones soon!!
-✨👀
Happy Valentine's Day (late, sorry baby I got busy yesterday until night time)
This is so cute! I love it! Food is def my love language, so I would love cooking a meal for Azul!! It's such an intimate thing to hand feed your partner...Azulito let me feed you 😭
Thank you for the gift my love! I appreciate it! Maybe in the future I can write a series on food as a love language with the twst cast!
#mochi asks#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#azul ashengrotto#azul ashengrotto x reader#✨👀 anon
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loves me (like im brand new)
TW: this fic deals with sensitive topics, specifically referencing sexual assault, as well as the recovery process, including mentions of flashbacks and references to dissociation. read at your own discretion
hey so this is entirely self-indulgent. ive been having a rough week (and im sure based on the content you could probably understand why) so yeah, it's not much. but take this as i try to cope (and finish the ttds au)
title is taken from call it what you want by taylor swift
wilbur soot x gn! reader
word count: 1.9k
The floor of the bathtub seemed to become your best friend during trying times. There was something about it that just became comforting when you felt like reaching out to anyone wouldn’t help. And it would help to reach out, but you couldn’t help preferring to spill your secrets to the bathroom floor.
It was too late at night for most people to be taking a shower, and you knew that. You’d been in here god knows how long, your phone left forgotten in your bedroom. The water was turned as hot as it would go, your skin left a blazing red in response. You didn’t know what triggered the episode, maybe the date was a little too close to the anniversary, or maybe you’d thought for a second that you saw the guy who assaulted you a few years back. In reality, it was a combination, you were always much more aware of your trauma this time of year, when memories of abuse and unmeaningful “i love yous” went rampant in your brain. There wasn’t much you felt you could do at times like this. The water helped, though. It hurt slightly, but the burn of the water was stronger than the memory of his hands on you. Everytime you did this, you hoped the water would allow you to scrub the hands off of you, but each time you could never feel clean. Your body wouldn’t feel like yours fully. You tried to stave off flashbacks and memories, forcing yourself to be grounded by focusing on tiny details in your apartment’s bathroom, the grout of the tile, the stains at the bottom of the shower curtain, the way the lightbulb would occasionally flicker. That lightbulb usually annoyed you, but now, you felt thankful for it as it’s random flicker would pull you out of your thoughts when you slipped into them.
You wanted to leave the shower, part of you wanting to go curl up in bed and put on so many layers until you felt like your body didn’t exist. But any attempts at moving made your brain yell at you once more, leaving you stuck in place.
A knock on the door startled you, your heart rate spiking, you didn’t have roommates, who-.
You question was cut off before you could even finish it.
“Darling?! Are you in there?” Wilbur, your boyfriend, sounded alarmed. He wasn’t supposed to stop by tonight, he was supposed to go hang out with Tommy, so why was he here?
“Wilbur?”
He seemed to let out a relieved sigh. “Are you alright? Can I come in?”
“I- yeah, you can come in,” you spoke, just loud enough for him to hear. He opened the door, quickly moving over to where you were, kneeling down next to the shower.
“What are you doing here, Wilbur?” I asked softly.
“You weren’t answering, I got scared.”
“I told you I was going to take a shower, didn’t I?”
“Darling, that was almost four hours ago,” He frowned, reaching a hand into the water to fix your hair, but pulling back once he felt the temperature. He looked at you, getting a better look now that some of the steam had left the bathroom. “Love, your skin is burning red, that cannot feel good. Come on, let’s get you out of there.”
You groaned lightly, leaning your head against the side of the tub, “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, love?”
“I just- I can’t, I feel…” trapped, haunted, exhausted, stuck, “frozen.”
He nodded, even though he didn’t fully understand. “Are you okay with me touching you?”
You thought about it for a moment. Anyone else and it would’ve been a no, anyone else and it would’ve set your brain into overdrive, but Wilbur never made you feel anything but safe and loved. You nodded after a moment.
He stood, leaning forward and turning off the shower. He got into the tub behind you, carefully lifting you and helping you stand.
“You’re gonna get wet,” you complained softly.
He just shrugged, “I don’t mind. I’m sure I’ve left enough clothes here that I can find something if it bothers me.”
You sniffled a bit and nodded. He carefully got you out of the tub, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around you gently. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head.
“Let me grab your pajamas, okay?” He went to grab them, but you reached a hand out and stopped him.
“Wait, I-” you paused, looking down a bit shyly, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
He gave you an encouraging smile, nodding, “That’s alright. I’ll stay with you until you’re dry, and then we’ll go together. Sounds good?”
You nodded softly at him, taking a seat on top of the closed toilet seat cover. You looked down at his jumper, “Sorry again about your jumper.”
He shrugged, pulling the jumper off and tossing it out of the bathroom, wearing a simple white shirt underneath, “Doesn’t matter. Not as much as you do.”
You looked at the ground after he spoke. You didn’t feel like you mattered right now. It had nothing to do with your boyfriend, he was being so incredibly kind, and you couldn’t ask for anything better. But your head fought back and forth between feeling Wilbur’s love and feeling like you were back in that room from so many years ago. You pulled the towel tighter around yourself, and it was like you could feel Wilbur’s frown. He knew you too well, knowing your tells whenever you retreated into your own head.
“Darling, look at me,” He spoke softly, kneeling down in front of you.
You slowly looked up at him, met with nothing but kindness in his gaze.
“There you are,” he smiled softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You shook your head violently, “No- I… not now.”
He nodded, rubbing your back gently, “That’s alright. Are you ready to get dressed?”
You nodded, and he carefully leaned down to pick you up, walking to your closet. He set you down once you were there, keeping his hand at your back. He looked around for a moment before grabbing one of his sweaters and a pair of old sweatpants, “Here.”
You took them, and he helped you get dressed, the both of you taking your time. Once you were dressed, he took your hand, walking you to bed.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked softly as you sat down on the bed.
“Could you hand me my water bottle?” You asked softly, pointing at the bottle sitting on your desk. He did so quickly, and you drank from it quickly before setting it on your nightstand.
You didn’t quite know how to get the words out to ask him the next part, so you just patted the bed. He understood, sitting against the headboard. You came over, laying down against him gently, and his arms were quick to fall around you, holding you close.
He kissed the top of your head, humming a soft tune. Once you’d relaxed enough, you spoke quietly.
“I thought you were going to Tommy’s tonight?”
He shrugged, “You weren’t responding, so I got worried. His girlfriend is there anyways, so he wouldn’t notice if I was there or not anyway.”
“Still, you didn’t have to come here,” you spoke softly, and he scoffed.
“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”
You nodded, burying your face against him lightly. You wanted to tell him what happened, it just took a few minutes to actually get the words out. “Today sucked.” You spoke quietly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I just… it’s around this time a few years ago that I was- I,” it hurt to say, and Wilbur knew, piping up softly, “I know.”
You nodded once more, continuing, “it’s just… it feels so much more real around now, and so I just feel so much more sensitive to everything. The tiniest thing sets me off into a flashback, and it’s like I can still feel those hands on me sometimes, and it’s just- it’s overwhelming.” You sniffled softly, “The hot water helps, I can feel it more than the stupid fucking hands, but I just- I’ve rubbed my skin raw so many times, and I can still feel it. I’ve never felt clean since then, but it gets so much worse around this time, and I just can’t help but feel gross,” you sobbed softly, burying your face further against his chest.
Wilbur held you close, rubbing your back gently, “I don’t think you’re gross.” He spoke, “I know that it might not mean much coming from me, but I don’t think you’re gross, or unclean, or anything like that. I think you went through something shitty, and that you survived. And I also know that I adore you, and I adore learning more about you. Everything about you is new to me. Each piece makes you up, and I feel honored to learn about all of it, even if it feels like a curse, because I know that it all brought you to me, the same way I know the stuff I went through brought me to you.”
You sniffled, wiping at your eyes, “Thank you,” You whispered. It meant more than he’d probably ever know to hear him describe you as new.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead gently. “Of course, love. Your past is not you, it’s like a piece of clay, you know? You can’t change it fundamentally, but you can change how it looks and how you use it. It doesn’t define you, it just makes up part of you.”
You sighed softly, “I wish it didn’t, though. I’d rather it have never happened.”
He frowned, “I understand. If I could change the past, I would, just for you. But since I can’t, I’ll do anything you need me to because I want to make sure you are okay. It’s what I’m here for.”
You nodded, and he carefully wiped at your eyes. After a moment of trying to calm your tears, you, strangely enough, started laughing.
Wilbur smiled, giving you an incredulous look. “What is it?”
You chuckled, shaking your head, “Just feel a bit stupid.”
“Why?”
“For not telling you earlier. I’ve felt like shit since like 2P.M., I just didn’t want you to worry”
He smiled, brushing a bit of your hair back, “Darling, I’m constantly worrying about you. I mean this lovingly when I say you stress me out every day, especially when you text me in the middle of the night to show me the bugs you see when you walk around town at night.”
“It’s always fun doing that, though. Plus, you know I’m always heading to see you.”
He flushed a bit, chuckling softly, “I know. But it does make me worry.”
You smiled, gently taking his hand in yours. “Thank you for showing up.”
He squeezed your hand gently, “Of course. I’ll always show up for you, darling.”
You closed your eyes, curling into his side and yawning out slowly. The dark feeling in your chest was still there, but it felt smaller with Wilbur around. It was much more bearable with him there.
“Goodnight, love,” He gently pecked your lips, holding you lightly.
“Goodnight, Wilbur.” With him by your side, everything felt lighter. You could breathe, with him by your side, and you were able to fall into a quiet slumber.
#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot#mcyt x reader#dsmp x reader#mar writes#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur my beloved#this is very Me specific i apologize
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