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#it looks cool if u squint your eyes tho

dkfile · 9 months

Text

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

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wonlovie · 7 months

Text

— RACING, BEATING PART II TEASER !

read part i here

— starring. illegal-racer!heeseung x model!reader

— tags. arranged-marriage!au, pre-established relationship, minor angst (if u squint??), reader gets objectified, smut [oral (m. receiving), face fucking, vaginal fingering, degrading (use of whore, slut; heeseung 'accuses' reader of wanting to fuck someone else during sex), mean-dom!heeseung, car sex [MINORS DNI])

— word count. [teaser] 0.6k, [estimated] 4k

— notes. HAH i did this instead of sleeping even tho i have a midterm today // this is ltrly only smut atm LOL

Heeseung caressed his knuckles against the length of your hollowed cheeks with a gentleness that contrasted his thrusts. Tears burned your eyes, the back of your throat sore from his abuse. The sound of wet slick and choking gasps almost rivaled your heartbeat as you stared up at the man.

He was almost fully dressed—a simple black blazer thrown on over a red silk top, ironed black slacks that fell to his perfectly shined shoes. His hair was styled up neatly, showing you the expanse of his forehead glistening with sweat.

A hand reached to cup the back of your head, keeping you in place as he fucked into your wet cavern relentlessly.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in a whine, head thrown back against the leather seats as he groaned loudly. “Fuck, fuck, baby, you’re taking me so fucking well.” His lips parted, ruby red lipstick smudged over his visage, staining the silver lip ring. Heeseung’s jaw dropped as you swallowed around his cock, a series of long, winded whines coming from the back of his throat.

“Shit, princess. Gonna make me cum,” he warned you, dropping his head down to look at you through hooded eyes. His newly dyed black hair fell over his irises, obscuring them from view. His face pinched in pleasure as he lifted his hips against your plush lips. “You’ll take it for me, yeah? Swallow every last drop like the good little whore you are.” His nails dug into your scalp.

You pressed your thighs together, the carpet floor of the backseat rubbing harshly against your bare knees. The dress you’d worn, a little black number that you picked out just for Heeseung, had ridden up to your waist. The fabric bunched prettily around your hips, showing off that you had forgone undergarments.

He watched you breathlessly, eyes darting from your teary eyes to the way your little mouth took him so well. He didn't miss the way you tried to covertly rub yourself, thighs moving slowly—a futile attempt to feel something against your aching clit.

His cock twitched against your tongue as you licked at a jutting vein, a perfectly manicured hand coming up to cup his aching balls. He watched tenderly as you switched from suckling on his angry red tip to taking his length fully, your nose tickling against his happy trail. His thrusts grew wild, a loss in rhythm suggesting he was close.

“Gonna paint your mouth white, baby,” he hissed, tugging at your matted strands. “God, you look so pretty covered in my cum. Wanna make a mess out of you so bad.”

You whined, your muffled tone vibrating against his dick. He cried out your name, low moans tumbling from his pretty lips as he came, shooting hot and thick ropes of cum down your throat. You blinked away tears, a burning sensation left behind as he pulled his length out from your mouth. Spurts of cum spilled from his tip and you lolled your tongue out as Heeseung dragged it over your face.

His chest heaved as he stared at you, adoringly as though he was admiring his art. “Fucking hell,” he hushed, tugging you impatiently onto his lap. You fell clumsily against him, legs bumbling to straddle his small waist. You moaned in unison when your dripping core rubbed against his cum and saliva coated cock, your hips twitching in anticipation.

Heeseung sighed out your name against your lips as he cupped your cheek with a large hand. The coolness of his rings made you shiver as he pulled you in for a kiss. His mouth moved against yours slowly, his tongue flicking out against your lip. His kiss was hot and wet, his tongue caressing yours in a way that made you crumble atop his lap.

— permanent taglist.

@jaeyunsleftnostril @deobitifull @jenowhere @moonchus @1-800shutthefuckup @lilriswife4life @ni-kisgf @fakeuwus @tya0 @chickenscoups @in-somnias-world

©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

#wonlovie #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung scenarios #heeseung x reaer #heeseung imagines #heeseung angst #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heeseung scenarios #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung angst #lee heeseung smut

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lunatiqez · 7 months

Text

SWISS!!! ugh. i love him. this is honestly just something i chewed up and spat out in the early morning/late night hours. its okay tho cus i need to get my money up and not my funny up (wtv that means??? enjoy ghouls n ghoulettes ily.)

WARNINGS: smut under cut!!! porn w/o plot. slapping (woooah mama!!) dacryphilia if u squint. swiss is a ghoul so there is mentions of claws and a tail,,, i couldn’t help myself. STRICTLY MDNI ACCOUNTS DO NOT INTERACT! I AM A MINOR!! INSTANT BLOCK!!!

swiss always knew he liked you. you always knew you liked swiss. so, naturally, it was love at first sight— or perhaps lust.

the ghouls, being naturally charming and hot, were very good at getting people in bed with them. now, you’ve had your rounds with both the ghouls and ghoulettes, but swiss was…different. he was unlike any of the other ghouls.

rain, mountain, aurora, and cumulus were all so gentle with you, being mindful of their ghoulishness and of your delicate human body. sodo, phantom, and occasionally cirrus, on the other hand, were rough when you wanted them to be.

you really couldn’t explain swiss. he was just swiss. an enigma. and he liked it that way.

swiss shoved your face into his velvet comforter as he fucked himself into you, hitting the spongey spot of your cunt so deliciously. one hand held your head down while the other kept your clit busy. you cried out in pure pleasure, and swiss laughed cockily at your reaction to his toying.

swiss brought his hand from your clit and smacked his hand against your ass, making you whine. immediately, he rubbed the already sore spot with fine hand, tracing intricate patterns along the redness with his claw.

as soon as swiss took his hand away, he brought the pads of his fingers right back to your bundle of nerves, causing you to shudder as he continued pumping in and out of you. a tear shed from both the rapture and stinging. swiss leaned into you, pushing himself impossibly deeper into you and licking a strip along your spine.

“fuck, fuck swiss!” you managed to moan past all of your huffing and whining. that seemed to rile swiss up even more. he gripped onto your hips as if you were going to disappear within a second.

“fuck yeah, babe. say my name, will you baby? can you say my name for me again?” swiss practically begged you. you smiled and opened your foggy eyes, knowing that you were getting to him.

“doing so good swiss. doing so, so good.” swiss grinned and his slick black tail wrapped around your thigh tight enough to cut off circulation— not that you minded at the time.

he pounded into you harder and harder until finally you felt his warm cum spill into you. suddenly, swiss pulled out of you and laid beside you, stroking your back with cool fingers. you shuffled beside him contentedly.

the ghoul grinned at you mischievously and you knew he was up to something.

“wanna go again, sweetheart?” he asked innocently.

“are you not exhausted??” you gasped slightly.

“not a bit. i could go for hours, and with you baby, i could go for days.” he joked. you let out a breathy laugh.

“on one condition, though,” he started. you looked at him with curiosity. he maneuvered so his head resting on his arm and he was facing the ceiling. “you gotta do the work this time, baby.”

reblogs > likes

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #swiss ghoul #swiss ghost #swiss ghoul x reader #multi ghoul #multi ghoul x reader #multi ghoul ghost #ghost band smut #ghost bc smut #swiss ghoul smut #swiss ghost smut #multi ghoul smut #multi ghost smut

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strawberrystepmom · 3 months

Text

pairing: Ginro x F!Reader -> Matsukaze x F!Reader

word count: 3.2k

contents: takes place in canonverse. reader pity fucks Ginro and likes that Matsukaze watches but things go further than just watching while he sleeps across the room.

cw cucking, cheating (if you squint even tho Ginro and reader aren't in a relationship). protected vaginal sex referenced but reader does not orgasm, oral sex (f!receiving), vaguely unrequited feelings, reader described as having breasts.

notes: dr stone has made me a full crazy person and if it isn't mean dom fics it's this so yeah. thanks for letting me be myself. hope you enjoy if you read, thanks for always being the best audience to my nonsense. love u!!!! ♡

Perhaps you are opportunistic.

Rolling your hips from above the whimpering man below you, the thought echoes in your mind thanks to the utter lack of dizzying pleasure you’d normally feel while in this position. You haven’t been in it many times but the times that you have, with anyone else, you’ve loved it. The sway and bounce of your body is more than Ginro can take, though, and you can tell he’s already close judging by the way he’s begging you to keep going.

“P…please,” he whines and you plaster on your best attempt at a sexy smirk, lifting your hips and gliding down the length of his slick cock in a single motion that clearly sends him over the edge. He groans and thrashes on the bedding below and your eyes meet a pair that watch you from across the room.

The opportunity you’ve been hoping to get.

Matsukaze. He never leaves, not even when you feel sorry enough for Ginro to do this for him.

At first you were uncomfortable but after several of these sessions, you’ve come to enjoy the audience. It gives you something to focus on besides the fact the man below you will never actually bother to learn what a clit is or where it resides and how he has yet to make you cum a single time despite your assurances you’ve enjoyed your time being physical with him. You don’t want to crush him even though it would be easy to do it, instead letting him ride the high of believing he’s something in his own head.

Honestly, though, it’s more because you like the idea of what you would do if you were to get your hands on his handsome bodyguard who now steps into the sliver of moonlight coming through the small window of your home. Ginro usually passes out quickly after this, the excitement more than he can handle, and he’s already snoring while his cock softens and you are able to gently lift yourself off of him. Matsukaze is at your side in an instant, offering his hand to you to make your life simpler.

“Oh, thank you.”

Your voice is light as air and you can hardly hide your surprise at the impeccable manners being exhibited despite the awkward situation. The afterglow of orgasm doesn’t light up your face nor does it make your cheeks warm yet they are warmer than they’ve ever been when your hand touches that of the man standing across from you, wavy hair cascading down his shoulders and onto the soft cotton of his shirt.

“My pleasure,” he mutters and you try not to giggle.

Pleasure. Something so sorely missing from your life considering your pursuits of Ginro were to use him solely for it. You underestimated his eagerness and his ability both and now you pay the price, leaving him a drooling lump in your bed while composing yourself. There’s nothing to clean up, the mess contained inside of one of the rudimentary condoms you keep hidden in a bedside drawer, and you leave it to the young man to handle it himself once he comes to.

“Matsukaze?”

The dark haired man looks at your breasts, your nipples hardened from the cool air of your home but quickly corrects himself and meets your eyes. You are not his to glance at but he simply cannot help himself, tempted by the way he has heard his master beg and whimper and whine as though you feel so good there is no other way for it to be handled aside from screaming to the heavens. Perhaps you are the heaven he is screaming toward, your sweet moans and coos lingering in the bodyguard’s mind even when he tilts his head to the side inquisitive.

“Yes, my lady?”

It’s hard not to giggle at his formality so you do, a small sound that won’t interrupt the snoring lump in the bed but that makes the heart of the man standing across from you beat wildly. It’s not hard to see what his master sees in you - an approachable beauty with a smile as bright as the sun and eyes that glisten with mischief when they look at him.

A selfish man would claim you for himself, as Ginro has done, and for once Matsukaze wishes he were more like him but he is bound by duty.

“Why do you stay? I’m not going to hurt him, you know that.”

He knows you’re being truthful, as deceitful as you can be when it comes to his master. You would never hurt Ginro which is why you let him believe he’s making you feel good and that you are enjoying yourself, too. The truth is that he stays because he enjoys watching you. His eyes stay locked on every movement of your body each time this happens, the way your thighs and hips ripple with each thrust and grind, the way your head tips back and you expose your neck to a man who doesn’t know how to kiss it properly. Not that Matsukaze knows any better how to do these things but he’d at least try. And God does he want to try.

“It’s my duty as his protector to ensure no harm comes to him no matter how trustworthy I find his company.”

You contemplate what to do next with a sigh. Looking around for something to cover yourself with, you settle on one of the tangled sheets and you unceremoniously rip it off of the bed, careful not to disrupt Ginro who is now snoring. Part of you finds it endearing, he truly is like no other man you’ve met before, but the rest of you is irritated and you drape the sheet around your body and motion toward the two seat table in the corner of the room.

“Let’s sit and talk, clearly he’s gonna need a bit to recover.”

Matsukaze follows you wordlessly and pulls your chair out behind you. Smiling over your shoulder and taking a seat, he rounds the table and joins you with a more-serious-than-usual look on his face.

“What are you thinking about?”

Should he answer truthfully? It would only cause trouble if he did, he’s sure, but he is so curious about why you waste your time doing this for a man who everyone else just ignores. Is it a power play? Do you want to manipulate him using your body? He has run through all of the possibilities and none of them suit you and the person you are which confuses the man even more. What exactly do you want out of this?

“May I ask you something?”

A nod and thoughtful hum grants him permission and he clears his throat.

“Do you..enjoy your time with Master Ginro?”

Sitting back in the chair, you cross your arms over your chest, pushing up your cleavage in a way that he can hardly avoid staring at. The fat of your breast spills over the white sheet and the familiar heat of blood rushing downward washes over Matsukaze. He always feels this way when he sees you on nights like this but he simply stiffens his posture and ignores the stiff cock beneath his oversized pants. His prior erection had resolved itself by the time you sat down but now he fears he can’t will this one away, not when your face is half lit and he can see the perfect fullness of your lower lip.

Silence continues for a few beats while you ponder how to answer a loaded question. You could say that you don’t take pleasure from it because it wouldn’t be a lie but that would be far from the kindest thing to say. It would be a lie to say you don’t enjoy your time with Ginro, something about him is terribly endearing to you despite having sense enough to know that he has none, but you can’t say that either without sounding like you care more about him than you do.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you glance up toward him and smile. It seems a bit sad to a man who has seen you smile with abundant joy in the daylight hours but everyone's a little different when the sun goes down, he supposes.

“It makes him happy.”

The sad smile fades into nothing, lips set in a thin line, and Matsukaze clenches his fist to quell the rising frustration inside of him. It could simply be chalked up to desiring what he has no right to have but he can’t help but feel you deserve more than what his master gives, a dangerous thought for a man in service of another to have. He can’t stand to see you smile like that again so he changes his line of questioning, squaring his shoulders and leaning forward in his chair with his legs spread wide.

“Does he bring you pleasure?”

The directness of his tone makes you blink. You look away from him, unwilling to look him in the eyes while you tell the truth and you can’t quite put your finger on why. Maybe it’s guilt, considering your eyes stay glued to his corner of the room searching for him even while your cunt squelches around his master’s cock, or maybe it’s the fear of being seen as vulnerable by someone so brave and unflappable.

Unflappable but ready to crawl out of his skin waiting for your answer to his question. He’s taut like a bowstring and you finally exhale, shaking your head.

“No, he doesn’t but it’s okay.”

Matsukaze shifts in his chair again and you look toward him, shocked by the furrow of his brow and the ticking of his jaw. Something has clearly frustrated him about your statement and you fear you’ve shared too much and offended him or insulted the man he serves. Opening your mouth to speak, he shakes his head and stops you, a silent wish for permission to go first. You snap your mouth closed to grant it.

“Then why do you do it? You don’t want power from him, you don’t want to make him feel bad yet you allow yourself to feel bad? Why?”

His questions leave his mouth in a flurry and you raise your brows at each of them. You suppose you’ve never really considered your own motivations in all of this outside of wanting to make someone who is kind of an outcast feel seen. Perhaps it’s a little much to use your body to do so but you appreciate the fact that he adores you enough it sort of makes everything else seem a little less serious. Your face shifts with each question asked but the man can’t stop himself now that he has started, cock angry and hard in his pants.

“Do you not want pleasure?”

This is when you snap. Shaking your head, you raise your eyebrows and lean over the table while remaining seated.

“Of course I do.” The hardened look on your face disappears as clearly as it appeared and he feels guilty for evidently upsetting you, the consequence of speaking out of turn. “I’ve tried to teach him how to do it and he just…isn’t interested so I don’t dwell on it.”

The bare honest truth is almost more flustering than your previously nude body was to Matsukaze. An unfamiliar feeling rises in his chest and he feels immense guilt upon realizing it’s disappointment in his master. How can this man claim to love women so much while leaving one so magnificent feeling unsatisfied?

Boldly, he continues to speak out of turn despite the way it makes his palms sweat profusely.

“Can you teach me?”

You look into his deep blue eyes and the corners of your mouth upturn into a smile. He feels guilty asking you, a man driven by duty, but he cannot in good conscience let you continue to give and give and get nothing in return. Rising from his seat, he rounds the table and kneels in front of you, grasping one of your hands in both of his.

“Please.”

Looking over Matsukaze’s head and toward your bed, Ginro continues to snore undisturbed and the worst case scenarios that run through your head do not even deter you from muttering your answer, looking down at the handsome man in front of you with a fondness in your eyes he has seen every time you look at him.

“Sure.” Your voice is as soft as your glance and you reach out to pet his wavy hair away from his face, your thumb tracing over the crescent moon shaped scar on his forehead. “What do you want to learn?”

The strong man looks uncharacteristically shy and glances away despite his body’s natural call to lean into your touch. His cock is harder than it has ever been and he’s grateful you likely cannot make out the lump in his pants thanks to the cover of darkness. Chest heaving with each breath he takes, his cheeks warm while you trail your hand from his forehead to his cheek and finally his jaw.

“How to make you feel good.”

Nodding, you pull the small sheet up over your thighs and hips, exposing your flesh to him. Your cunt is bare and he can make out everything beneath the thatch of hair covering it when you spread your thighs wide enough to give him a peek. His mouth waters, perhaps a natural instinct to a sight that looks so delicious. You barely have to guide him, his brain screaming at him to taste you and he leans in to do just that, puckering his lips and kissing your labia. The touch is so tentative you wonder if he will reconsider his request but he hums his appreciation when his tongue darts out and brushes against the sweet and tart taste of you on his lips.

Fresh arousal, real arousal if you’re honest, is a featherlight plume through your body and you squirm in the chair. He grabs the outsides of both of your thighs to hold you open and looks up at you for any indication of discomfort, a twitch of your brow or that same sad smile, but he’s only met with your glance down at him through your lashes. Your chest heaves just as he does, breath coming in small pants, and he lets instinct take over.

Another kiss to your core, this time accompanied by an experimental lick that stops just short of your clit. Your hips buck involuntarily and you squeak an exclamation of pleasure, clapping your hand over your mouth immediately and looking across the room toward your bed again. The lump in the sheets remains asleep, not that Matsukaze would have been deterred either way, and his tongue runs over your folds again.

The tip of his tongue brushes your clit and you squeal again, pressing your hand tightly over your mouth. Those midnight eyes glance up from between your parted legs and you are caught off guard by how love sick they look.

This is wish fulfillment for him far more than it is for you and the weight of that reality sends arousal seeping out of you, soaking his waiting and surprised tongue with more of that same tart-sweet taste. He hums appreciatively and the vibrations leave you breathless, tipping your head backward and then forward again to watch every move he makes. Perhaps you’re more of a voyeur than you ever originally imagined; the sight of pleasure being given makes your brain feel fuzzy and your limbs feel heavy.

No words need to be changed, he can tell by how your body reacts that you are enjoying yourself, and finally he feels comfortable enough to remove one of hands from your thigh and palm himself through his pants. Knowing how eager and willing you are to please has kept him from even mentioning his own arousal, precum leaving a wet spot on the fabric covering his cock, but the motion catches your eye and your face shifts. He shakes his head, tongue still working across the softest parts of you.

Removing your hand from your mouth, you take a deep breath and ground yourself before speaking.

“You can…do you know how..” you make a motion similar to jerking off with your wrist and he gets the message immediately, closing his eyes in anticipation of the relief he’s about to feel while loosening his pants and freeing himself just over the waistband. Looking down, you gasp. The fat tip of him is red and glistens in the low light, engorged with blood and need, a sight you have thought about more times than you’d like to admit.

“Wow.”

He chuckles against your cunt and you giggle back, a breathless sound, while he begins his work. The slick sound of his precum being spread down his shaft by his own fist makes you whimper and he continues to make himself very familiar with every part of you he can, tongue lapping at your clit while his wrist continues to work himself to a high that has blood pounding in his ears.

You are so pent up you know that you won’t last for much longer if he keeps this effort up but you are too greedy to stop at this point, too much time spent giving has turned you into a needy creature, and you buck your hips gently against Matsukaze’s face. The motion is almost identical to the way you were previously rocking on Ginro’s cock and the dark haired man’s eyes flutter shut. A final pass of his fist over his cock is all he needs to finish, release white and pearlescent across his knuckles while he eats you out like a starved animal, no feedback or teaching necessary.

Spreading your thighs as wide as you can, one of your hands finds the back of his head and you hold it in place while finally, finally, being given the mercy of release. It seeps out of you warm and in a gush, coating the chin and mouth of the handsome man who so eagerly wanted to witness this exact reaction from you.

Attempting to catch your breath, you release the back of his head to allow him to do the same and the two of you glance at one another with matching breathless giggles. How did this happen? Grabbing his hand, you drag it toward your mouth and clean off his release with your tongue, eyes fluttering shut tasting him. Heady. In return, he captures your hand between his and lifts it to his sticky mouth, planting a kiss on your palm. Now you’re both sticky and marked and have tasted one another..

“Oh sweetheart?”

Ginro’s voice breaks through the quiet of the room and both you and his bodyguard rush to compose yourselves, Matsukaze standing and rushing back to the chair opposite you while tucking his softening dick in his pants and you gathering the sheet back around your body while the lump in the bed rouses, blonde hair sticking up on end. His voice is thick with sleep and you sigh, keeping quiet in the dark.

“I’m almost ready for round two, where are you?”

Rising from the chair, you shoot an appreciative glance in the direction of the dark haired man who remains sitting. Unspoken praise from his “teacher” is more than enough for him but he wonders how he’ll react seeing you bounce atop Ginro this time.

At least he’ll be here to finish you off when it’s all said and done, mouth salivating at the thought of another taste of you that his master takes for granted.

#cw cheating #cw cucking #matsukaze x reader #dr stone x reader #ginro x reader #is there even a ginro x reader tag....#anyway...#kendall writes

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 year

Text

Language Barrier (Yandere male x reader) P11

tw: Infantalization, angst, violence, angst, cheating mention, general yandere shenanigans, and did I mention, angst? lots of words 3777ish

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

hi guys here u go , thanks for the notes and messages tho very nice very cool

no proofreasd <3 enjoysies

masterlist

part 1, part 10, part 12

You rubbed your eyes, feeling sluggish and lethargic.

Your head is buried in 2718's chest, all snug and comfortable. Both of you are clean and so are the sheets, your companion made sure to wash everything up before calling it a day. Your clothes and his have a wonderful floral scent to it, he must have used a powerful detergent to achieve that. It left no stains but the beautiful patterns on the fabric remains.

You don't know where he does the laundry though. You were knocked out cold on the couch the entire time... As expected after being awake for 45 hours straight.

The room is cold and 2718 is like a heater. You don't remember seeing an air conditioning unit around.

You squinted, 2718 didn't bother to close the curtains. The sunlight is still going on strong, burning your retinas. Whoever renting the sun must be loaded.

Yawning, you sat up. His arms limply hanging onto you.

You know he's awake, but he doesn't seem to stop you from moving away from him. There's a mild frown on his face though.

You plucked his hands away from you and hopped out of bed. You looked behind you to see that he's still laying there with his eyes closed.

The bedroom door unlocked 'on its own' and creaked open.

You walked towards it and widened the gap, entering the living room.

All the mess and debris were swept away, no trace of biological fluids were present. He must have dragged a wet rag over everything.

The massive holes leading to his porch was temporarily covered up by a tarpaulin, its' blue hue clashing with everything in the cabin. It seems to be glued onto the walls, sealing off the holes. You can leave the building through its' zipper.

He can't... 'lock' a zipper, can he? You don't see any padlocks around.

You tried unzipping the entrance, it wouldn't budge no matter how much you tug on its' tab. Worth a try.

You can't see the outside, the windows were destroyed and subsequently covered by the mostly opaque tarp. You're not sure if he cleaned up the sand around this house.

All the other doors were locked, you checked. Except the bathroom.

You turned around when you heard 2718 called you by the pet name. He stood by the bedroom's doorframe, wiping the sleep off the corner of his eyes.

You rushed to the entrance and began tugging on the zipper tab again, hoping that he will get the message and allow you to leave.

Instead, he opened the kitchen door and entered there instead. Leaving you to your own devices.

You followed him, whining to let you out. He paid you no mind as he took a clear plastic bag out of the refrigerator. It was filled with a beige dough, he's going to make the biscuits you ate the first day living here.

He set it down on the counter and washed his hands. He left the tap on and observed you. Getting the memo, you also washed your hands in the sink.

Satisfied, he turned the tap off and began removing some of it from the bag, placing it on a tray he took from a high shelf.

He pinched some off and rolled it into a ball. 2718 set it aside on the same pan, making sure not to deform it. He pinched another portion, but this time he handed it to you.

You mimicked him, placing the ball of dough onto the tray and gathering a small amount in your hands on your own coalition. This earned you an appreciative kiss on the cheek.

He rinsed his hands first and dried it on a towel nearby. The man pulled a chair nearby and positioned it near him.

You were in the middle of rolling a doughball when he picked you up by the arms. He sat you down on the high rise chair and pushed it close towards the counter.

He washed and sanitized his hands before helping you out. All the while, standing next to you.

It's peaceful. It's quiet, save for the residual drips from the tap hitting the sink. You can't hear his breathing or your own. There was the gentle hum of his refrigerator, but it's silent enough to blend into the background.

You watch the sunrays illuminate his eyelashes, almost making it platinum white in the warmth. His irises turned golden when being shone with sunlight, making his face look kinder than it actually is. The shadows on his face gave him so much depth to his form.

A vague sense of nostalgia came creeping up the base of your neck. But you have no memory of this man at all, it's just an odd yet melancholic sensation. You have never seen anyone that looks like this back home, maybe you came across some doppelgangers on the street, however, they're complete strangers.

He... should be a complete stranger, to you.

He noticed you staring. The both of you locked eyes for a bit before he smiled, chuckling and looking away with a shake of his head.

He paid no mind to you for the rest of the session. He focused on pressing small dents on the balls with his thumb. He reached up to grab a roll baking paper, tearing a sizable piece.

You helped him transfer the dough onto the sheet before softly lowering it down onto the metal tray.

He fired up his vintage stove. All he needed to do was tap the firewood in its' firebox, one of the shards spontaneously combusted, spreading its' flame to others. You eyed up its' flue collar and stove pipe, it is connected to the ceiling. Making you wonder if the smoke was visible from outside whenever he's cooking.

He picked the tray up and placed it into the firebox as well. On top of a raging hot metal grate. He completed his cooking by closing the glass door.

He rinsed his hands once more, you followed suit.

You dried your hands after him and hopped down the chair, his hand jerked towards you, ready to support if you happen to slip. They stopped hovering around you when he's certain that you're down safely.

You head towards the door of his glassblowing room, tugging on the doorknob while staring at him.

2718 snatched your hand and lead you away from the kitchen. You protested, wanting him to fulfill his promise of giving the translator her teleporters and coins. Of course, he understand not a word you say. The man continued to drag you out of the kitchen and into the living room.

He lets you go when you're next to the couch. However, you ran straight to the tarp, yanking on its' zipper. Complaining that you wanted to see the translator.

You looked behind you to see that... he was hurt? He looks upset, more sad than angry though. You can clearly see that whatever you're doing is hurting his feelings though, with his knitted eyebrows and bitter frown.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, lower lip slightly trembling. He shook his head but stayed in place.

You pulled the zipper once more to see that it's now moving! But... You get to unzip it half way. Allowing you to see outside, not allowing you easy access.

The vat of ink is still there, and to your relief, the translator's footprints. There were obvious signs of tampering, though. Her footprints look deeper in the ground, as if someone tried to dig the sand away but realized that the dye runs deep.

You looked over your shoulders. 2718 sits on the couch by himself, watching TV. He said nothing and his back is facing you.

You kept pulling on the zipper until it's completely down. You stepped over the tarp and onto the porch. You used your hand as a visor, shielding your eyes from the sun as you look into the distance. How far did she go? You can see the lighthouse from here, but as a dot. Why can't you see the translator? Her footprints seem to go on indefinitely though.

Barefooted, you descended the porch. You grimaced when your soles made contact with the burning sand.

Looking behind you again, you saw 2718 slouching against the couch. Distracted by the TV.

You took a deep breath as you walked, trying not to have a sole touch the ground for too long.

Actually, you ran. The sand is hot! How did the translator manage with her toes out!?

But before you could get far, you heard 2718 yell out your pet name. Regret and panic setting into him.

You ignored him and kept running forward, determined to find the translator.

His voice became louder and you heard rapid tapping. He must be chasing you now. It's only a matter of time before he catches you, but you can't wait for him or you'll burn your soles off. So you kept running to decrease contact time between fiery sand and feet.

You screamed when you were swept up, landing in the man's strong arms.

He scolded you in words you cannot truly comprehend, but felt the pain within. The souring of his mood and fury that comes along with it.

Your head wanders elsewhere as he went on an angry rant. Walking back home with your sore, sandy feet dangling in the air.

You were brought back to reality when you felt something drip on you. Looking up, you saw tears rolling down his cheeks as he continued admonishing you. Voice cracking and wavering for every word he yelled in sobs.

You're staring at a man, deeply wounded by your actions. He would pause his lambasting to sniffle and blink away his tears.

Something caught your attention in the corner of your eye. You discreetly took a peek at what it was, only to see that the translator was standing behind 2718, a mile away, in a defensive pose. She's trembling in fear and gesturing you not to alert him of her presence.

She must have heard the commotion from far away and decided to check out what was happening. It was best for her to keep her distance for now though.

You remained unmoving as you took on his emotionally charged berating. Feeling your heart sink when the translator's form became smaller and smaller as the two of you approach his home.

The translator slowly walked backward before breaking into a high speed sprint. She's fleeing the scene, and she's not leaving anymore visible footprints.

Without thinking, you yelled out a big 'NO!' while stretching your arm out towards her direction.

He whipped his head around to catch a glimpse of her running away.

You bit your tongue, oh, you've done it now. He is definitely going to kill her!

While he's distracted, you squirm out of his hold, losing balance and face planting onto the sand. Causing him to exclaim something before quickly picking you up again.

He crouched down to dust you off. Nagging you while doing so.

That... Wasn't your intention. You were planning to run off a bit to distract 2718 enough for the translator to escape. But at least this took the attention off the translator for now.

He suddenly pulled you into a tight hug as he cried into your shoulder. His anger died down, now replaced by some sort of desperation.

He is saying all these words, but you still couldn't understand anything. You can only assume his feelings, and that may not necessarily be correct.

He slowly pulled away from you, revealing his teary face. He looks completely broken-hearted. 2718 cast his gaze to the ground as he sniffled.

The man then looked up to you again and whispered something, gently shaking you by your shoulders.

Feeling overwhelmed, you screamed in terror. You don't know what he wants, or what he's saying, or what he wants you to know. The sun is blazingly hot and the blistering heat is giving you a headache.

He repeated the same sentence, only louder, he shook you harder. His voice became strained and worse.

I don't understand your language! You started crying too. The stress and pressure is too much to stomach. No one understands each other, neither parties can give what either of you wanted.

You tried clawing his hands away from you, but his grip was iron.

Your ears hurt from his yelling and you don't know what to do to make him stop. You felt sick, you felt nauseous. You can't tell if you're having a fever or the sun is giving you the heatstroke of your life.

You can't apologize, you can't tell him to stop, you don't know how! You dug your fingernails into his skin until it breaks, causing blood to bead through his cuts.

He doesn't seem to notice it though, he kept shaking you back and forth. Like he's desperate to also make you understand. But in a more physical and counterintuitive way.

You resorted to scratching him like a wild animal, leaving streaks of red and pink on his arms and neck.

"Hug him!" Shouted the translator in the distance. "Trust me, he'll stop when you hug him!"

Finally! Some directions that you can understand. You'll take it, even though it comes from a dubious person. It's better than nothing.

You quickly wrap his arms around him tightly, squeezing your eyes shut and bracing yourself for whatever is going to happen next.

And whatever the translator promised, happened. He actually stopped, calming down to hug you back. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and silenced himself in the end.

You relaxed when he decided to cool you down to a comfortable temperature. You sat on his lap, embracing him as you watch the translator cautiously stalked towards the two of you.

2718 ceased his crying, he sniffled from time to time. But looks like this simple gesture of... Acceptance? Affection? Apology? Calmed him down.

You asked the translator what he said.

Her eyes darted around, she's choosing her words very, very carefully.

"This may not be entirely accurate, but I'll try my best to translate this for you. He was begging you to choose him for once. Over and over again. Stroke his hair for me, please."

She refused to go any closer, leaving a huge gap between her and you.

You did as you were requested and ran your fingers through his blond strands. It's dry and coarse.

He melted into your arms, though. Exhaling a sigh of relief. You were amused to see that his ears rose up.

You asked if he said anything about wanting a hug.

"Oh, he wanted a lot of things. The thing about these people is that a sentence can have... Eighty thousand words? It's going to take a whole novel to explain that one line. But the gist of it is just-- he's extremely jealous, because he's always your second choice. Um..." She scratched the back of her head, struggling to summarize everything.

"He... He wanted acceptance, love and attention. Yours, specifically. But you're always off chasing after the ones that hurt you in the end. He is always there to catch you when you fall, patch you up when you get hurt. He stayed by your side when you had no one left. But it's a thankless job, he was never rewarded with the only thing he ever wanted; your loyalty."

She paused to check on him. 2718 remained still.

"He did say that he's sorry for wagering you, he needed to find a way to keep you safe and untouched while he duke it out with the Giant. He didn't account for the fact that the people already in the cage could hurt you too." She gestured you to keep stroking his hair.

"He repeatedly apologized for that and pleaded for forgiveness. And um-"

You cut her off, asking about the part where he said you weren't loyal.

"He never claimed you were a cheater, he just said you never saw him as your first choice in anything. He was just an afterthought to you. Always." She gripped onto her weapon tighter as he saw 2718 adjusted his positioning.

"What else..." She rubbed her chin.

You asked her if there were any clues to confirm you're his soulmate, and not a random doppelganger from another timeline.

She thought about it before answering.

"I think so, let me think." Said the translator as she wiped her forehead.

"You will always be his first priority- first and only priority. All he is asking is that you do the same for him- to at least put some more importance into his worth."

You nodded. Taking time to digest his thoughts.

You asked her if there is anything else you should know.

"...He wanted to be validated by you, he wanted you to recognize his efforts in keeping you safe and happy. He wants recognition and praise too. Well... that's a... little hard, isn't it?"

You asked if she knew what he was saying before you fell onto the ground face first.

"Oh, he was pissed. At me, mostly. He was ranting about how he's going to eviscerate me and sell vials of my blood for a gold coin each. He called me an 'evil homewrecker'... Hmm. It sounded much kinder in English." From the look on her face, it looks like 2718 had said much worse things than that.

"He did call you stubborn and selfish, though. Your friend is very hurt by your actions. He said you kept breaking his heart through every iteration of yourself. Looks like this isn't his first rodeo."

You gulped. Wondering if your previous-- or parallel incarnations are all cheaters. You felt guilty about treating 2718 this way.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up like that. You are not those versions of you, you had no way of knowing or controlling them. Plus, I doubt that every reincarnation cheated on him. I just think that he can't handle rejection all that well. Maybe it's believable when it happened once, or twice. But all the time? I think he's the problem at this point." She gave her rebuttal. Making you think about it.

"Don't tell him I told you that, though." She quickly added.

You asked how could you tell him that when you don't even have the biological hardware to communicate with him.

"I forgot." She shifted her feet. "Wait."

"I must apologize, I should have told you this earlier." You asked what she meant by that.

"His language is really complex. He never said anything that gave away the nature of your relationship."

Meaning?

"He never explicitly said that you were his spouse."

But didn't he call her an 'evil homewrecker'?

"That's the closest translation to what he said. But it's not its' true equivalent." She stopped to ponder. "He did refer to you as his eternal partner, though."

Is that not irrefutable proof that the relationship you have with him is romantic?

"That could mean fucking anything in this stupidly complex language! Why the fuck can't you get that?!" She exclaimed, exasperated that it's so hard to explain to someone who isn't equipped to understand its' nuances.

The high energy response made 2718 turn his head to scowl at the translator. You quickly hug him tightly and nuzzled your head against his lips. He lost interest in the woman, preferring to pepper the top of your head with kisses instead. His hands stroked your back in soothing circles.

She pursed her lips while scratching her neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get riled up. I should have been more understanding, you had no way of knowing about it."

You said it was no big deal.

"It's hard, really. To translate them into a primitive language- No intention to offend you, English really is considered an... analogue tongue."

All three of you stayed silent for a while.

You broke the silence by asking if there was anything else you should know.

"...I think that's all you need to know. Everything else doesn't seem relevant enough to the situation at hand."

You asked her why wasn't it relevant.

"He threw in long apologies for not being enough for you. It's heavily self depreciating and it was extremely hard to hear, too. I'll spare you the details. Trust me when I said it was horrible." She shuddered.

You asked her if she could convince him to hand you her teleporters and her pay, that they agreed a day prior.

"I'll try." She nervously swallowed her saliva. Expecting the worse, she opened her mouth to speak, her lips were quivering badly.

She spoke her piece. You're sure 2718 heard it all.

You asked her what was happening. She brought a hand up, silently telling you to wait.

You heard some scraping. Soon, 2718 stood back up on his feet with you securely held in his arms.

He walked towards the porch at his usual pace.

The translator exhaled a breath she was holding and grinned in victory.

You asked her what she said.

"I had to kiss his ass a bit, assure that I don't have the intention of stealing you away. I also had to say you apologized and promised to be a better partner for him."

What does it mean for you?

"You can't keep seeking me out after this. He already doesn't trust me, if you keep looking for me, he's not going to believe any of my translations. Even the simplest ones." She sighed.

You panicked, but tried to keep it under control. You asked how are you going to know what he wants after this.

"You'll live. I mean, You don't have a choice after getting the shard of immortality shoved down your throat. Assuming that guy was right."

That sounds an even worse fate!

"You'll be fine. As long as you know that he's the possessive type, I think you'll have no problem doing the guesswork."

You frowned, you don't want this! You hate being misunderstood and misunderstanding him, you can't fucking hear the language! Let alone speak it!

He took a step onto the porch. The translator tried following him up, but it seems like an invisible forcefield prevented her to do so. She collided against it, knocking her to the blackened sand.

You stared at her as she slowly got up from the ground, cradling her nose while groaning in pain. She was also dusting herself off.

Wait, where is her backpack?

The man unzipped the tarpaulin and stepped inside. You took one last glimpse at her before he zips it back up.

She looked angry with her fist balled up.

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere male #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere tw #yandere cw #cw self deprecation #tw angst #tw violence #male yandere x reader #male yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs #tw cheating mention

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justkennadi · 5 months

Text

Armin if he was 🖤Goth🖤

Notes: Got this cool idea in my head abt a grown up version of asot armin 🤔 (it’s really cause i saw these pictures on pinterest tho) if u don’t know what asot is it stands for A slap on titan which is parody type series on youtube. 👍🏾👍🏾 but sorry if this isn’t quite accurate to what being goth is like i’m honestly still in my baby’s bat phase so i don’t know much 😭😭

Context: Modern Asot!Armin x Fem Goth!reader

Warnings: mention of ritual attempts but that’s it

- You first saw him in middle school on the first day of 8th grade. This new blond kid just transferred in and everyone was excited to meet him!

- Well that didn’t last long.

- While you weren’t present but apparently he started spewing crazy things and started talking to himself (or a cat, everyones stories was different) and while he did good in class teachers didn’t appreciate his out bursts.

- People were QUICKLY frightened and bothered by him. He had no friends.

- You were dipping your toes into the whole gothic subculture yourself at the time but you weren’t too interested. However it seemed this new kid was in love with the whole thing. He wore all black all the time, sometimes a bit of eyeliner. He had the whole vibe to him.

- So something about him interested you.

- However, before you got the chance to go up to him, he ended up getting expelled and put in a mental hospital for attempting to perform a ritual on a 6th grader? Yikes.

- He made the news and that’s when you learned his name. Armin…

- As the years went by you slowly forgot about him. But how could you fully? He was your craziest story to tell to friends. A funny and wacky memory to reflect on.

- Now you are in your 2nd year of college. You have decided while you aren’t fully goth(at least you thought) you liked the idea and did get into some of the music and fashion but you stuck to causal clothes most days. And you never got into the heavy makeup you see most goths wear. You learned it’s more about the music anyways which helped.

- You had a slight fascination with darker things and had to constantly tell people you aren’t depressed even if you looked the part.

- One day, while in the library looking for an Edgar Allen Poe book for your book report you accidentally bumped into a slightly taller boy.

- “Sorry! My bad-“

- You realized as you looked at his face…well, did you realize? Is this him?

- “It’s fine.” The boy quietly replied.

- Oh.

- He had blond hair…blue eyes… this could be any white boy honestly. Plus his hair was shorter? And he looked more….put together? He wore a plain brown suit get up with polished brown loafers.

- “Is something the matter?” He asked looking at you.

-“Sorry…i’m sorry you just look.. familiar?” You say squinting your eyes slightly but you realized you might be acting weird so you start to go around him after apologizing again.

- However, before you can…

- “Let me guess. You remembered the crazy, sadistic boy from your childhood and i look like him.” He says stopping you.

- You slowly nod.

- “Yeah, well, it was me.” He looked away for a second. Possibly embarrassed?

- “Armin? Well, you clean up..nice…” You say taking in his appearance once again.

- “Well, a few years of a mental hospital and therapy can do that….” He chuckled. “I see you’re looking for an Edgar allen book too?”

- “Yeah…we get to choose and author and analyze their writing style for my English 2020 class….” You say looking at the shelf.

- “Mhm…I did that last year.”

- “Can i ask what happened to you?” You say abruptly.

- “Y’know…I’d rather talk about that over some coffee.” Armin says laughing once again. “If you don’t mind?”

- This Armin was a now refined gentleman. He leads you to a small coffee shop on campus after helping you pick a book. He even holds the door open for you. From what you remember he used to spit at girls, asking them bizarre personal questions, now he’s holding open doors and pulling your chair out.

- After you two get coffee he tells you everything.

-“So after the therapy and being in a crazy house for years they finally broke me. I started talking about my feelings and whatever and how my when my parents died i lost it and my grandpa wasn’t paying attention to me and blah blah blah. And i guess it was just a phase…well not fully.”

- “How so?” You say sipping on the coffee you got.

- “Well, i may not look it, but i consider my self to be a bit…how do you say..gothic?” He smirks.

- “Yeah i never would’ve guessed. You look more dark academia like.”

- “I don’t dress in all black all the time, you know it’s more about- “

- “The music?” You interrupt.

- Armin smiles. “Yes. Exactly. How did you know? Unless…”

- You smile a bit while nodding your head. Well here’s finally someone you can be yourself around! Everyone else either thought you were weird or a poser. Most just ignored you.

- After that day you and Armin start hanging out. He shows you his room which had many gothic band posters on them like Sisters of mercy posters and Siouxsie and the banshees posters and other plain ones with just bats on them. His room was a bit dark also being mostly black and gray and brown.

- You two loves making goth like inside jokes or thrifting for new accessories or even weird things.

- Armin liked to collect really weird things like taxidermies bugs and mini skulls or halloween themed things.

- He was also a night owl but he had to be awake in the day too so he did end up having slight eyebags and a constant yawn.

- He was really serious about looking presentable though. So as a result he normally just drink a dark coffee everyday. You tried it once and immediately spit it out. “This is so BITTER!?” You say in disgust.

- “Like pure caffeine.” He says taking his cup back and smiling.

- Sometimes you’d two match outfits or at least tried to coordinate them.

- People started to think you two were dating at one point. You never thought of Armin like that but the idea didn’t hurt…

- Sometimes armin tells stories from his past. Explaining how he thought he was a “crimson king” for a while or how he’d sacrifice animals like squirrels. He seems horrified with his old self but not horrified to the point where he can’t laugh about it.

- He was your favorite gothic person now honestly🖤🖤

#aot x reader #armin imagines #aot armin #armin attack on titan #asot #asot armin #gothic #x goth reader #goth armin #armin x goth reader

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sarahmysweetie · 2 years

Text

Taking care

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: you clean up Rafe's burn after Barry comes to get his money

Tw: burn wounds, angst, cursing, fluff tho

Don't steal from anyone, reblogging always helps!

I'm reading in the Cameron's living room as Rafe storms in, holding his arm. "Hey Rafe, you hungr-" i stop when i see the painful look on his face. "Rafe what's wrong?" i close my book and stand up. "Nothing", Rafe says as he walks to the stairs. "Rafe tell me!" i insist as i follow him to his room.

"Rafe listen to me!" I grab his arm and he hisses to the touch. I look at his arm and see a big red burn. My eyes widen in shock as i examine it. Rafe sits on his bed and i do the same, still holding his injured arm. "I'm sorry honey", i whisper feeling bad for grabbing his arm like that, i didn't know he was hurt.

"Rafe who did this to you?" i ask quietly, placing his arm on his thigh. He avoids my gaze as i try to get an answer from him. "Rafe..." i whisper, holding his face between my hands. I wipe the dirt from his cheeks with my thumbs. "It was Barry", he says quietly. "He came to collect debts, but i-i didn't have his money." His voice is shaking. "He burned my arm on my bike's engine, and- and stole it."

"Okay sweetie we gotta wash it, so it doesn't get infected", i say to him. He nods and we move to the bathroom. I turn on the tap and let the water pour on my hand to check the tempature. When the water is luke warm, i cup my hands and pour the water slowly on Rafes arm. "I know honey, i know", i say when he hisses in pain. "I have to use soap, otherwise it will get infected." I pump the soap on my hand and spread it gently on his arm. He groans in pain and i squint my eyes. It feels bad to hear him in pain, but i have to clean the burn. "Shit it hurts y/n", Rafe whines. "I know Rafey, i'm sorry."

"Okay, it's all cleaned up now", i breathe out. "I just need to find some gel or cream or something..." I dig through Rafe's bathroom cabinets, but all i can find is razors, soap and some aftershaves. "I think u should check downstairs bathroom", Rafe tells me, one corner of his mouth tugging up. I look at him and smile shaking my head. "Yeah i don't know why i thought that you would have some aloe vera gels in here."

After a while of opening and closing cabinets, i finally find a bottle of some aloe vera gel. I read the description quickly, and it sounds suitable for this situation, so i bring it upstairs where Rafe is waiting, sitting on the bathtub edge. "Tada!" I exclaim and shake the gel bottle. Rafe looks at the bottle, frowning. "Exiting", he says sarcastically. I smile, it's good to see that his mood has lifted.

I pour the gel on my hand. "Ohh it's cool, feels nice", i tell him and kneel down next to the bathtub. I carefully spread the gel on his burn, my fingers barely touching him. "It does feel nice", he mumbles closing his eyes. I bandage his arm loosely and kiss his cheek. "All done sweetie."

We are laying on his bed, my head resting on his chest listening his heartbeat. "Rafe you need to stop making deals with Barry", i whisper as i stroke his neck with my fingers. "I know babe, this is the last time", he assures playing with my hair. "We are gonna get your bike back, we will get the money somehow", i say to him. "Thank you", he mumbles quietly in my hair. I tilt my head to kiss him, holding his jaw. "I love you y/n", he says and kisses my forehead. "Love you too Rafey."

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #obx rafe #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #obx x y/n #obx x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #outer banks

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castle-dominion · 11 months

Text

c4x6 demons

Nice big moon there oh yes buzzfeed unsolved moments! I should finish watching that with my older bro... Where's the van outside tho? How do the doors close again? Maybe ghosts ARE real. Like in murdoch mysteries & then it was never again acknowledged that murdoch could see ghosts What can he see? I thought the thing came from you-know-where?

AC, on her dad's lap as they watch a movie together but then he tilts her in front of him: Dad, are you using me as a shield against flesh-eating zombies? She looks so adult. & oddly tanned. RC: I know he's busy, and you are very thoughtful to be so accommodating, sweetheart, but a healthy relationship is based on mutual respect. I mean, think about what kind of signal you're sending if you're the one always re-arranging your schedule at the other one's every beck and call. I mean, if you just drop everything the very moment that— *beckett calls* *castle drops everything at her call*

RC: The Ghost Wranglers are here? Okay, that's why I love these guys. Body's not even cold, they're already tracking down the ghost. KB: Why doesn't it surprise me that you actually watch that ridiculous show? GIRL SHUT UP RC: Ridiculously awesome. Jack Sinclair is, *becks turns to him in shock* hands down, America's most accomplished ghost hunter. KB: Um...Castle...Jack Sinclair is the name of our victim.

LP: His throat was slit almost from ear to ear, jugular, superior thyroid, common carotid left and right. You name it, it's been severed. Sexy Can't you be behind the guy? Heck yeah ghost killer! She works with dead ppl don't let her believe in ghosts

Oh nice maybe they caught the murder on camera castle explaining what it means <3 So many angles! Mum & I both immediately knew it wasn't begging for mercy. An emp maybe? (btw I'm pronouncing it émp' like in rvb when they were arguing abt it) GIRL IF THEY HAD AN ARGUMENT THAT IS A RECENT UPSET IN RELATIONSHIPS, THAT'S WHAT THEY ASKED ABOUT

Ryan's nice red sweater over his suit uwu JE: Right. Hey, we're still on for dinner tomorrow night, right? Me: what? Maybe it's a game night or smth not a date haha KR: Oh, yeah, Jenny's totally psyched. Me: oh KR: She's never really hung out with Lanie before, so *full body nod* cool. JE: Well, just to let you know, Lanie's gonna be getting off a double shift. So, she could be a little cranky. KR: Oh. *squints eyes* Maybe we should reschedule. I mean, isn't the whole point for Jenny and Lanie to get along? JE: Nah, she'll be cool. Just, you know, don't say anything controversial. KR, walking back over & crossing arms: Like what? What's controversial? [The computer makes a sound.] JE: Bingo. KR: Bingo. Don't talk about Bingo? JE: No. *gestures with some irritation* Barry Bavetta's been busy, and so has his lap. Dude has racked up a hell of a tab at a strip club

RC: We heard you were racking up quite a bill. Or is that billing quite a rack?

Sounds like he said he did kill the guy but obv it couldn't have been him. "you decided to prove him wrong"

Killing time was KIND OF funny "apparition american" KB: You'll see, Castle. This'll turn out just like every other murder investigation. *Ryan walks up looking concerned.* Once we find out more about our victim's life, the details surrounding his death, everything will be explained. KR: Um…maybe not everything. Mr irish folklore over there he looks SO mildly concerned & shaken & I LOVE it, good acting b'y *gestures politely to send castle in first* Caught a ghost! So cool!

Posting that intro on my blog

B'y surely u got SOME sleep esposito smiling watching castle set up his ghost murder board *drank her coffee* RC: ready for this? Espt *nods* RC: a demon

RC: That's not a real thing, you know. That real ghost hunters use. JE: "Real" ghost hunters? Isn't that a contradiction in terms, bro? Oxymoron? Nah man let people have their beliefs I thought that "I do" was Ryan Ooh Ryan nice tie! RC: You see? I am telling you, there is something going on with this house. The last people-- to-- *Castle tries to flip the board back around, but Beckett stops him.* RC: The last people that lived there moved out four years ago in a hurry. KR, breathy: Why? RC: I don't know, but I think it's time we found out. KB: Knock yourself out, Castle. RC: You're not coming? KB: No. I've got a murder to solve. KR sidles up to castle, eyes wide, eyebrow raised, mouth open: I'll go. *softly* [Beckett gives Ryan a look. Castle smiles at Ryan, then turns and sees Beckett's expression and his face falls. Beckett narrows her eyes.] RC: Ooh. That's a look. KR, looking down & to the side: Yeah. RC: I get these a lot. Just start walking. Faster. [Beckett watches them leave, then smiles & looks over at the empty coffee cups.] Ryan really is becoming castle jr!

Poor beckett, castle drank her coffee then said he'd make her one then he doesn't & she burns herself on it. I like the idea of ryckett & casito but rn we have some rystle & especkett scenes. JE: Yo. I, uh, just saw Ryan downstairs. I can't believe you let him go chasing ghosts with Castle. KB: Yeah. Maybe Shaggy'll keep Scooby out of trouble. Besides, you never know, maybe they'll come up with something useful. JE: Oh, you want useful. *sarcastic surprise* 'Cause I just spoke to CSU. They found fingerprints at the scene from a real live person, so… *points & wiggles finger* Becks still has the coffee with her

Girl maybe he thinks he was molested by a ghost it is not your business to make fun of the (probably psychological) issues of a man in prison! Wow the grammar & spelling... the handwriting is fine

Poor guy, he has to live with his mom bc he's an ex-con, he violated his parole for the guy who ruined his prison life, I just really feel for this guy. Prophesy vibes

This is so cool & cute & funny & scary! RC, trying not to show his excitement over the ghost: Oh, my God, that's terrible Ryan looking mildly freaked out is my new favourite thing Mercedes King & Mercy LaGrande are both cool names KB: So the question is, how is she involved in all of this? *rystle look at each other & hop up quickly* RC: Uh, well, you know, uh, Ryan and I would be glad to go check this out *ryan nods half winks* if you guys are too busy solving that murder. *especkett share a look*

Oh & now caskett is here instead of rystle These folks are doctors. They are psychologists, they are pharmacists, they are the medical professionals of the past. & I respect them. Why did he say mercy I can see IT not HIM? his face is an it but jack could have said him too.

Give that man a prize. tbh I expected the pics to be even more gory Murdoch mind moments!

I love the term on the lam, I like this guy's shirt (I have one from hot topic that looks like it lol) RC, looking to beckett: Really? He claimed there was a demon involved? AS: I know. Like anyone's going to fall for that, right? I mean, what kind of jackass did he think he was dealing with?

Ooh info! Cool! Valid, he probably turned him away. Yep you need a warrant babe. Do you need a warrant to get their car service logs? Ooh I love it when they do that! There was this one time a serial killer was watching TV with his wife 20 or 30 years later or smth & they said "this is a serial killer, we think he looks like this" with an aged up model including the style of glasses he would most likely wear & the wife looked at him & said "it looks exactly like you" & they both just laughed it off bc how could this guy my husband be a serial killer? lol that's so silly how he looks like the killer.

KB: Wait a minute, don't you guys have dinner plans tonight? KR, afraid: Uh, we can move it to…some night when Lanie's not coming off a double shift. JE: Uh, actually, Lanie's really looking forward to it. KB: You know what? No worries. It's on my way home. [Beckett takes the photos.] KR+JE: You sure? KB: That I don't want to be the one to blame for ruining Lanie's night out? Oh, yeah. I am sure.

Martha <3 Ooh hoo wowie look at alexis! & going to a party too! No he literally just called, you can answer & say she just went out bc she had plans or smth! gah!

Ooh scottish architecture! Ooh Laird's Lugs! KB: We'll go first thing in the morning, see what we come up with. RC: *puppydog eyes* KB: You want to go now?

RC: For me. Please. KB: I ain't afraid of no ghosts. *ghostbusters theme*

She's pulling his leg KB: How long have you known me, Castle? Of course I don't believe in ghosts. *door closes* RC: What was that? *lights go out* KB: Well, that's odd. RC: No, that's more than just odd. This is the same sequence of events that preceded Jack Sinclair's murder. KB: Except Jack only had an EMF meter. I've got a gun and a flashlight. *The flashlight goes out.* Except wouldn't their phones also be out? Gosh it's hard to be on someone's shoulders *grabs* KB: *gasps!!* Castle, I said legs, okay? RC: Oh. Legs. Sorry.

LP: Not as sorry as I was. I'm around dead people all day. When I get home, I want a live one. JE, eating: I was tired. [Ryan and Jenny laugh.] JO: I can't believe we waited so long to do this, babe. KR, wearing his fortnightversary tie: Yeah. Yeah, it really did turn out to be a perfect night. JE: *winks at ryan* KR: I would like to propose a toast. I know that it's kind of corny, but it's me, (yeah lol) so well, there we go. Uh, to best friends, now and forever. [They toast.] JO: Cheers. JE: And to the future newlyweds. JO: Aww. [They toast again.] KR: You are so thoughtful. LP: Cheers. JO: You know, Kevin said you guys made a great couple, *Lanie smiles & leans towards javier* but I had no idea. [Lanie and Esposito cuddle and lean in to kiss.] JO: So, when are you two getting married? [That kills the mood and Esposito and Lanie recoil w/o even kissing.] KR: JO: LP: JE: *stares daggers at Ryan* KR: *moves to drink his wine during the awkward silence.*

Sad that they found a magnetic field generator to explain the moving tripod BUT wouldn't it have also moved every other tripod & any metal that Sinclair had on him? WHY is it creaking tho? *makes castle open the door* Oh it's a rat It's like when higgins kissed a corpse! Well he fell on it & his lips touched its lips but he was so grossed out about kissing a corpse & that's totally valid Poor castle lol

Hide & seek lol. In the morgue: *Beckett exits and Castle stops on his way out* RC: Hey, how'd that double date go? LP: *crosses her arms and glares.* RC: I-- I just… LP: *eye twitches* *KB comes back in abt the case, but castle leaves past her* RC: Don't ask her about the date.

KR: Look, I said I'm sorry, okay? t-- h-- I didn't mean to jinx the dinner. JE: (imitating)"This really is the perfect night." KR: Jenny got a little caught up in the moment. JE: (falsetto)"When are you two getting married?" That's a question you do not ask! (Yeah jenny, sorry. I love you plenty tho. btw when are we going to find out she's a spy like with terrence myers or mary morstan) [Ryan sighs.] JE, mellowing out: I-- You know, it's-- it's not entirely your guys' fault. KR: You guys have a big fight after? JE: Big fight? *laughing* No. Mega fight, *seriously* yes. *ryan nods* The point is, we, um…we decided that we're gonna cool things off. (Good facial expressions.) KR, sad for his friend: Wait, you mean split up? JE: Yeah. Just until we both figure out what we want. *looks down kinda sad but also an "i don't talk about emotions" way* KR: Man, I'm so sorry. JE: Anyway. *starts ignoring him* KR: Look, brother, if you need anything, you know I'm always here… What? Friendship<3 also "brother" is such a Term

WHOA THE BRO GOT THE GIRL? Cafe jouer not cafe jouerre bro Either it's weird how he remembers all the details or they got burned into his brain bc of that event or it's weird how he remembers all the details bc they would be overshadowed by the horror.

KR: It wasn't someone Melanie worked with. I just tracked down George Banner, Melanie's manager at Flywide Travel twenty years ago. He said Melanie had two co-workers: KR: both guys. RC: A-ha. KR: Married. RC: Still… KR: To each other. (XD WOW) RC: Oh. I mean bisexuality, maybe they invited her to join idk The way castle's hair moves lol

It is not going to be him Ooh strong man there WOAH DETECTIVE SMITH!? Yeah I can understand why you... wait he killed her too I forgot AS: You're both very smart, but you're forgetting one thing. Me: you have a gun? AS: This house is haunted. Nice, lights out scene, fun. Now becks has also lost her gun, maybe ryan won't feel so bad about tyson getting the drop on him.

AS: Get on your knees. *castle starts moving* KB: Don't worry, Castle. He's not gonna shoot us. That won't fit the legend. AS: *pulls a sexy knife* rysposito had better be around Technically that's illegal tho

Ooh castle is so right! Jack sinclair's ghost was TOTALLY solving the murder! Sussy elevator (are ghosts canonically real?)

Oh no I feel bad for ashlexis. Castle said "goin'a" like "going ta" except since n & t are in the same place in the mouth he just said goin'a, not quite "gonna" Cuddling <3 Flesh eating zombies I love their father daughter love time Wait am I in the zombie movie? As soon as they press play we're going to be attacked by zombies!

#castle 4x6 #castle 4x6 spoilers #castle 4x6 quote #castle family #esparish breakup #the ghost hunting episode

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cinnatwo · 1 year

Note

Hope you don't mind but here's some basic name suggestions for moddy mew if you're struggling or haven't had time to look, feel free to delete if this is unwanted;

Pinky (cause they pink more of a joke name suggestion but when I did look at them this was my first thought) Rosy/Maple (from the Rosy maple moth which is pink and yellow, it's a very cute fluffy moth and is a personal fav lmao (I know I might use Rosy as a name for a mew I wanna make who's also gon be pink with bits of yellow who was gonna be actively based off a Rosy maple moth but lmao I haven't actually been able to make her yet I scrapped first drawing coloring attempt cause I didn't like it lmao, this is just a random trivia thing I wanted to share just cause I think itd be very fun if we both had Mews called Rosy, plus it's a really cute name and like with the mews green eyes like kind of a rose of u squint))

Speaking of rose there is a type of rose that's pink and yellow, according to Google it's name is "Peace" tho I assume maybe that means it represents that but I think Peace is a cute name and mews wouldn't normally have standard names I don't think idk

And lastly from my quick little research I found Aster which is another pink and yellow flower, check for aster pink yellow hybrid. The name aster apparently means Star and the flower was considered sacred to the Greek and Roman deities which is very interesting as like mews are sacred and diety in a way. These ancient wildflowers are steeped in mysticism which again very mew

Sorry these are basic and yea all themed around your mews colors, since I'm not sure on their personality ect I can't do a cheeky Google search based on that so I figured eh they might be named for their color.

If you want to delete this I completely understand its probably a bit rude/uncalled for I just saw your tag on mew that needs naming and thought I could suggest some names

This is all very welcome, no worries! Thank you so much. I love the rosy maple moth thing, and if you're alright with it, I think it would be really cool if one was named rosy and the other was named maple. I dont want to barge in on your really cool and original idea tho so dont be afraid to say no if you'd rather not. Also if you're comfortable with it I'd love to see the design once you figure it out, it sounds so cool.

As for their personality, their official Pokemon Nature(tm) is sassy, strongly defiant.

They hate humans and mewtwos with a burning passion and isnt afraid to say it. The only exceptions are professor oak and mr. Fuji. Cheesetwo avoids them like the plague.

If you dont fall into either of those categories they will be more relaxed and kind, but still enjoy sarcasm and satire and the like. If you're a victim of team rocket shenanigans you unlock her secret mama bear mode.

#the mew moddy gave me that i still need to name #i feel maple fits better than rosy but that might be me being biased because maple syrup is in my blood

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jeonqkooks · 2 years

Note

jen, jen, jen! i'm here to plaaay ;u;

i shall choose the prompt "things you said in writing" but for any couple/completely new pairing that you see fit!

hehe i hope you have fun with the requests, my love~

before we go | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/warnings: exes au, idol au, angst, fluff if you squint

word count: 1.7k (not v edited yet again but wbk!)

note: i love these peeps with my whole being but apparently i also love making them suffer, i swear they’re my babies tho 😭 anyway as i was thinking what to write for the prompt this idea popped up and i just ran with it, i hope you like it cee my love 🥺 <3

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards

“I have something for you.”

“Jungkook.”

“I didn’t spend any money if that’s what you’re thinking,” he chuckles humorlessly. “I was going to surprise you on our anniversary.”

The wooden box he hands you is fairly light; when you shake it, there’s only some faint shuffling of paper inside. On the smooth willow surface are your initials and his, separated by a heart-shaped lock. He fishes a small golden key from his pocket.

“I shouldn’t,” you say when he holds it for you to take. “I don’t think it’s a good idea–”

“I want you to have it.” He doesn’t take no for an answer, reaching for your hand and placing the key in your palm. His touch is warm; you wish he hadn’t done that.

You stare at him for a moment, feeling the cool metal in your loose grip that prompts a chill up your spine. After another minute, you relent. “What is it?”

The air is thick between the two of you but it isn’t uncomfortable, not exactly. It’s somber, it’s secret glances loaded with unspoken thoughts, it’s the finality of it all—the process of going back to being strangers when you’re still the axis that each other’s world revolves around.

“I…” He gives you a tight-lipped smile as he hesitates, scratching the back of his neck and looking close to apprehensive that it makes you a little nervous. “I wrote you a note for every day that I was on tour.”

“Jungkook…” It burns behind your eyes while your heart stutters and your throat closes up. You look at him, he looks at you. Two hearts hang heavy on either side of the threshold before one has to go. “Thank you,” you manage to say, “I’ll open it later.” You’re not sure if you ever will, but you appease him for now. It’s the last time anyway.

Hours have passed, and you keep glancing at the box sitting on your desk as if it’s calling out your name with a distorted megaphone. You contemplated putting it at the bottom of your closet at one point just so you wouldn’t have to look at it, but then you’d still know where it was and itch to see it again.

In the end, it isn’t surprising when curiosity and possibly a tinge of masochism triumphed at midnight, right as you’re about to go to slip under the covers. So here you are, readying yourself with a few deep breaths as if you’re Pandora herself, seconds before she unleashed all of life’s miseries upon the world. You slip the key into the lock, though no amount of preparation could have armed you for this.

There must be a couple hundreds of notes inside—it was for every day that he was away after all, Jungkook told you as much; you don’t know why you’re still rendered speechless—all dated and marked with his neat handwriting. He’s said before that he isn’t good with words—this is his way of sending love letters to you. Each letter inscribed with the most carefree of intentions, now tinted with a shade of melancholy.

First day of this little project! I hope you aren’t sick of me by the time I’m finished. It hasn’t been 24 hours yet and I already miss you like hell. How am I supposed to handle months without you?

You don’t think he missed a single day, though if he did, you can forgive him. You’re able to picture it so vividly—him hunched over a desk after every show, his body begging for rest but he still willed himself to stay up, diligently composing thoughtful notes for you. Each one is enunciated with an I love you at the end, next to a clumsily drawn heart. His inked hearts on paper look much more whole than the beating one in your chest does right now.

You had a bad day at work today. You said you were tired and wouldn’t let me call you on video, but I knew you were crying. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to make you feel better. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get home.

Some were more painfully honest than others, some were more playful and cheeky. Some were longer, some were shorter—he must have been exhausted on those nights, eyelids drooping with every stroke of the pen and muscles aching from constantly performing, but he still kept going, he had to. There wasn’t much that he was able to do for you—couldn’t hold your hand in public, couldn’t kiss you whenever he wanted, couldn’t let you call him yours when you were the centerpiece that he revolved around—but this, at least Jungkook could do this.

I just sent a package for your birthday. I hope it arrives on time. When you read this you’ll have remembered what it was ;)

Maybe it was a bad idea, but you’re in too deep. You wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he sitting in his room alone too, wondering the same thing about you? Wondering if you’ve opened his gift and seen his love manifested in written form? You know he’s probably still awake, having recently settled into a new pattern of restlessness—the bags under his eyes told you so themselves earlier today, that he hasn’t been sleeping well when usually he would clock out within five minutes of tucking himself into bed.

Last night I dreamt that we broke up. I woke up crying. I had to call you in the middle of your meeting to make sure it wasn’t real.

If you hadn’t done what you did, if you had waited to celebrate your anniversary and continued to let him be exhausted every time he came around to see you, let him drop your hand in fear and hold it in secret, let your love bloom in the dark like an eighth deadly sin that couldn’t be uttered aloud. If then, perhaps you’d be sitting next to Jungkook while you read these, laughing together whenever he wrote something stupid and giving him constant kisses because his earnest words deserve to know that they’re heard, by you.

But that’s all they are now—only what if’s—and all they will ever be again.

I saw so many dogs today. There was the cutest Maltese I’ve ever seen - but she was feisty, almost bit my finger off though. We should get Bam a friend after I get back!

Then, you wonder what the hypothetical you’s and the hypothetical him’s are doing. Are they happy? Surely they must be, you think you’re suffering enough for all versions of reality. Maybe they’re cuddling by a fire, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist, no space between their bodies nor their hearts. There could be pure chaos in the world but it wouldn’t matter because they’ve got each other. Nothing could happen to disturb their peace, no one would come to tear them apart. You could only yearn for this kind of ending.

I think I messed up on stage tonight. I wish you were here with me. You’re a better hugger than Jimin.

You go through them all in one sitting—albeit you have to take a break after every couple of sentences because it keeps getting harder to breathe—choosing to let anguish wash over you in one spectacular tsunami so the hurt doesn’t linger for too long. (It doesn’t work like that, but you’re hopeful nonetheless.) The key on your bed looks like it weighs a thousand pounds when it’s barely the length of two knuckles. Examining it closely, you’ve only now noticed that it’s engraved too, with your initials on one side and his on the other. A fresh wave of tears rolls down your cheeks again. “I wish you were here with me too,” you mumble into the quietude of night. You’re in the same city, reading the notes that he wrote for you when he was oceans away.

The guys are out drinking but I stayed at the hotel to call you. I said I felt like I could die if I had to go another day without seeing you. You said I was being dramatic but I don’t think I am. I miss you a lot.

The sun is almost up—you’ve been sitting here for almost the entire night. From your bedroom window, you can see pitch black slowly fade into dark blue, then it gets lighter, and lighter, and with every shift in the horizon you can feel every ache that has settled in every crevice of your being. It’s starting to get cold now—oh, how it’s so cold, a stark contrast to the flames that were threatening to engulf you whole.

It doesn’t feel like a new day, a new beginning. Time has stopped and you’re frozen in place, waiting on a salvation that will never come, longing for a love that will remain incomplete. Unfinished.

I made Jin hyung choke on his mouthwash tonight. You should’ve seen his face, it was hilarious. Oh wait, I have a video. I’ll send it to you right now.

Maybe you’ll turn this key into a necklace, one that lies over your chest and next to your heart. Feel the coolness of it against your skin so you won’t forget that he’s been there before, in your heart. Jungkook was once here and he wouldn’t leave—it’s his permanent residence now. It isn’t like you could ever let it slip your mind, but having a physical reminder would be nice. Mementos of your love, you could laugh at how seriously he took the notion—you even have something to help you safeguard them now, akin to a treasure chest.

If you could, you would take all the hurt and all the love and place it in this box. Lock it away to revisit it only when you desire, like reuniting with an old friend that you thought you had lost since long ago. But alas, you can’t—you’d have to settle for carrying it with you wherever you go.

Just wrapped up our final show. I guess this is the last note, for now. I can’t believe I’m finally seeing you again tomorrow. I’ve missed you so much, wait for me just a little longer, baby.

Funny how there were no stars tonight; it’s like they all followed him home.

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts scenarios #jungkook drabbles #jeon jungkook #fic: supernova

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violetnotez · 3 years

Note

Can you please make JJK boys HCs where their s/o is multilingual? Like they speak several languages and sometimes get asked around in Tokyo by foreigners and they get jealous bc they think it's hot but can't understand a single word at the same time. I just think it'll be cute and funny! ( U can ignore if u like) thank you tho ❤️

HC: S/O IS MULTILINGUAL | JJK

Music Genre: Rock | JJK

Characters: Gojou, Yuuji, Megumi

Warnings: cursing + slightttt suggestive content (if ya squint)

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shop Owner’s Note: Omg how could I ignore this! Thank you so much anon for requesting, this ask is just the cutest! It isn’t very long, so I hope that’s okay-I literally wrote this at like 12 in the morning so if it’s a shit show I’m sorry 😂💀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

The first time he hears you talk in another language it’s GAME OVER

He is instantly in love with the way you sound in this other language-whether it be English, Spanish, Turkish, Chinese, etc

He just thinks it’s so hot

Keeps asking you to say certain phrases in your language,,,,

It’ll start out simple like “Good morning,” and “How are you?”

But Gojo being Gojo, he’ll progressively make the phrases more intimate and flirtatious, asking you to say his name with your slight accent change from the language, how to say “I love you”,,,,,

The dude Probabaly found a new kink of his tbh 😂💀

Asked you how to say “beautiful” and now that’s your new pet name now

He really loves it when you have any chance to use your language, because you sadly speak in it so rarely even though it sounds so beautiful to him

But what he doesn’t like is when you talk to people for a freaking LONGGGGG time

Gojo is hoenstly really hyper sometimes, so if your helping a tourist in the middle of Tokyo, especially if your on your way to Gojou’s favorite bakery

This dude will do everything in his power to break you away

He tries to be subtle about it at first, like holding your hand and giving it a small squeeze,

But your not even noticing and now your laughing at whatever this random person said and he doesn’t even know what your saying...

it kinda irks him so much of your attention isn’t on him, so his solution to that is wrapping his arms around your waist, encasing you from behind

“Tell then you have to go doll, I’m starving ya know,” he whispered this into you ear, and the way he says it makes you think he’s not starving for food (if ya catch my drift) 👀😳

So with big shocked eyes and teeth biting your lower lip, you quickly bid the stranger farewell and follow Gojo, hands firmly placed in his

Gojo is hoenstly just really good at getting you to do what he wants, it’s kinda scary at this point 💀

Omg he is just amazeddddddddd

Like whoa he’s s/o is pretty, brave, AND smart?!

Damn he feels so lucky rn 🥺

He’s so excited by this new revelation, with a huge, boyish smile and eyes sparkling

If you ever try to downplay your language speaking skills, like “Oh I’m not very good at it” or “It’s not that big of a deal, a lot of people speak it” he won’t be having any of it!

Yuuji is your biggest hype man, just forcing you to be proud of yourself sometimes

“Cmon y/n you gotta admit it’s pretty cool! Some people can barely speak one language...and you can speak a whole other one!”

Deifnitely begs you to teach him, so whenever you to are out together, you’ll point out objects with your free hand that isn’t holding Yuuji’s, telling him what the objects are called in your language

Yuuji is surprisingly a very quick learner! He has struggles with grammar, but he’s very good at learning the Vocab

Your proudest moment tho was when Yuuji stubbed his toe on his bed and Sukuna must have felt it to,

Cause as Itadori was yelping Sukuna locked through Itadori’s cheek, and cussed in your language 💀

Itadori loves it when you help other people, cause it reminds him of how selfless and kind you are

Yet it just bothers him when other guys talk to you

Especially if they seem to be into you...making you laugh and smile, and they’re giving you that one “look” that kinda hints at their real motives in talking to you

And he’s just like - The hell bro I’m right here.

The worst part is that he really doesn’t know what your saying...sure, he can pick up a few words now but not able to piece the conversation together

Sukuna is calling him a “spineless imbecile” in his head and finding this whole situation hilarious as hell

He doesn’t like looking jealous, but once he knows 100% certain you’re getting hit on he intervenes quick

Usually he knows cause if your body language-you just look less into the cinversation, your body language shrinks in to protect yourself, and you laughs turn to uncomfortable chuckles

He quickly swoops in, loving how relieved you look as he wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you against you chest

“Thanks for talking to my girlfriend, but we will be going now,” he states plainly, his voice wounding kind yet eyes shooting our venom at the dude

But the amazing thing he said all that in your language

Proud ass moment 🥺🥺🥺🥺

He’s gonna act so indifferent

Like language skills? Okay cool to know 😐

Literally so bland about it like-

“Youre bilingual? Cool.”

Don’t let that fool you tho, this guy is kinda freaking out inside

Cause why was he so attracted to you speaking another language? Why does he want to learn it now? Maybe he should, right? Would it be wierd if he didn’t-

Hoenstly, he’s overthinking it 💀

His favorite thing is when you cuss in your language, he hoenstly finds it super funny

But jokes on him cause now he’s cursing in your language too 💀

Likes it when he has his head in your lap as you play with his hair, and hear you practice your language

The dude will literally hold up your phone/flashcards so you can play with his hair and study

Soemtiems he gets too comfy tho and falls asleep

Once he dropped your phone on his face and he a huge bruise right on the bridge of his nose 💀

First time he heard you talk in your language was when you were in Tokyo, in a mission together by yourselves

And this tourist came up to you guys who was obviously lost-

And you just whipped out this new language like it was nothing

Megumi has never been more confused-cause you never told him about knowing another language, like the hell did this come from?

Suddenly his cheeks are getting red cause wait why do you sound so hot?

Like all that shit he told Aoi about liking women with an “unshakable character” went out the damn window

He’s type now is being multilingual 💀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

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melo-yello · 3 years

Text

✨Self-Care Day✨w/ 💥🪨KiriBaku HeadCanons💥🪨

Off Day

💥🪨 You’re hanging upside down on the couch in your shared apartment with a boyfriend on either side of you. Kiri’s hand in yours while Baku’s had one hand on your thigh and the other scrolling on his phone as some cartoon drones on the tv

💥🪨 This is not how you envisioned your first free weekend into the last two weeks going

💥🪨 You sigh loudly before poking out your bottom lip “Suki? Eiji? I’m bored.” you pout dramatically as you throw a hand onto your forehead before you continue “Can we do a self-care day?”

💥🪨 Baku just grunts in affirmation as he stretches before standing. Kiri just smiles “Of course, Pebble. Whatever you want.”

💥🪨 You pop up pecking both guys on the cheek as you bounce off to the kitchen with Kiri’s hand still in yours “Thanks you two are the best!I’ll make tea!!!”

💥🪨 “And don’t you forget it!” Bakugou smiles popping your soft ass as he follows behind most likely to micromanage

💥🪨 You three chat about your week not having much time outside of courses to really talk. Between studying, training, and hero work you guys just didn’t have a lot going of free time.

💥🪨Per usual you and Kiri really carry the conversation Baku only chiming in ever so often to offer up things that he hates

💥🪨 You pop up remembering one of for favorite parts of a good ole fashioned treat yo self day. The cute headbands for you and Kiri to push your hair out of your faces. You return with a pink bunny one, a brown Teddy Bear one, and a plain black headband. Baku takes the black and Kiri takes the bunny.

💥🪨 “How do I look, Peb?” Kiri smirks flexing to show his broad ass built ass frame after putting on his bunny headband. “Ridiculous.” “-ly Hawt!” You laugh correcting Baku

💥🪨 You film in absolute awe as your Manly bf’s pierce Suki’s ear with ease after the off handed joke you made sipping tea. Cue Baku voguing it up with pride and a freshly pierced ear. Bakugou is slightly leaner and a couple inches shorter but just as toned

💥🪨 “Suki, Eiji, you are too manly!” You hype your man up as you post the video to your IG story

💥🪨 It’s your turn now!! Kiri easily pierces your ears with a red stud in your right and an orange in your left. Adding a second set of holes right above your first ones

💥🪨 Next comes high quality and novelty animal face masks Bakugou buys online to compliment his vigorous skin care routine. It rivals half of the YouTube Beauty community’s

💥🪨 Niether of you have any idea of where he buys them or where he hides them for that matter. He stores them away so you guys can’t steal them when he’s not around. Bakugou allows you and Kiri to use his masks on special occasions tho

💥🪨 “Mr. and Mrs. Dumbass.” He smirks handing you a frog and Kiri a tiger. Earning him a playful jab from you and “A Thanks, Babe.” from the red head

💥🪨 You suggest nail 💅🏾 polish next and Kiri is automatically on board. “Oooooo can you make them Red, Babygirl? Because they’d be so manly!” Kiri beams bouncing up and down. Baku will only allow his middle fingers painted. “I want white with bombs or just F U. Whichever is easier for you, Teddy Bear.” Bakugou nods scrunching up his nose from behind his own red panda face mask.

💥🪨 Kirishima’s nails are a simple sparkly red that say 🤍BITE MANLY in white while Bakugou’s middle fingers are white with black bombs with an orange F U on each one respectively

💥🪨 After you peel off your masks, you and Kirishima squeal in nearly perfect sync “Oooooooooooo! Sooooo Soft! Aren’t we hawt, Bakubro! Seeeeeeeeeee!” Both of you placing his hand on your faces

💥🪨Bakugou will just roll his red eyes into the back of his head as you two wrap him in a tight embrace “I’ve told you idiots a thousand times the importance of regular skin care with quality products.” He shrugs nonchalantly even thought he loves when you two are touchie with him. He hates to admit it

💥🪨 As you begin to search you nail kit for your preferred color, Kiri grabs your hand and presses it to his cheek “Can we do yours, Pebble?” He pouts. Bakugou follows suit grabbing your other hand “Pretty please, Teddy?” He whines firmly pressing your hand to his heart.

💥🪨 You buckle so fast it’s not even funny. “Bbbbbbbut...😤😖😞fine.” You concede

💥🪨These two really know how to put on the charm. Especially if Bakugou Kasuki is calling you Teddy instead of Dumbass.

💥🪨 “Great! Y/n, pick out a show to watch before we start.” Baku barks handing you the remote. “Why?” You question snatching it and putting on Criminal Minds. Simply thrilled you were getting to pick (Typically there were mini competitions for such a privilege)

💥🪨 “You’re judging, Bighead. You can’t look til we’re done.” Kiri hums thoughtfully trying to pick a good color combination. Baku already had his colors hidden in his lap before scouting so his hip was against yours sure to obscure your view of your own hand from you.

💥🪨 “Yea, no bias. When I win it’ll because I’m the best! Isn’t that right, Shitty Hair!” The ash blonde smiles cockily at the red head across from him. “In your fucking dreams, Spark plug!” Kiri spits backs just taking all the colors and copying Bakugou’s positioning

💥🪨 “If either of you fuckers, get those polishes on my favorite jeans there’ll be hell to pay.” You warn with a sinister tone to rival even Katsuki’s and the widest smile. The boys shiver at the seriousness behind your smile. Your threat is far from empty

💥🪨 You pretty much figured your nails would probably look terrible with each of your vividly different boyfriends competing with each other. “What do you, dorks, even get for winning?” You muse leaning into Kiri’s broad ass shoulder

💥🪨 “The next date plans and solo cuddles with Teddy Bear for the rest of the night seems fair to me. Huh, Eijirou?” Baku looks up from his work with a self assured grin blowing one of your nails. Vermilion irises float from you to Kiri.

💥🪨 Knowing damn well niether of them could keep you their hands off you. “Deal.” Kiri nods without giving Baku the satisfaction of meeting his gaze.

💥🪨 “Oh and I get shitly painted nails.” You sigh rolling your eyes. You’d be lying if you didn’t find it kinda hawt when they got like this

💥🪨 “There.” Halfway through the 2nd episode Kiri says and finally caps his last polish. Blowing gently across the surface of your nails.

💥🪨 By this time Baku has placed your arm on his lower back and his head in your lap. A firm grip on your wrist so you couldn’t checkout his work until Kiri finished. Your fingers make light circles there despite being held hostage. “Bout time, slow poke.” Baku huffs releasing your arm as you brought both hands side by side.

💥🪨 They had somehow managed to pick colors that didn’t totally clash. Kiri’s hand were mix match rose gold and pink with the teeniest (not to mention even) little white hearts in the middle of each nail.

💥🪨 Baku’s hand was very simple and clean. Black French tips with one red to orange nail with a black X on top as an accent.

💥🪨 You weren’t expecting anything this good. You could barely speak. You hadn’t been this lost for words since they had asked you out. You sniffle a lil bit. Your eyes glass up a little too.

💥🪨 God your partners are so great sometimes. The fact that they genuinely gave a fuck still manages to catch you off guard at times. After so many terrible relationships, effort, in and of itself, is kinda baffling

💥🪨 “Damn Pebs, it’s not that bad if you squint.” Kiri laughs nervously squeezing your shoulders. “Woah there, Teddy Bear, I’ll get the remover.” Baku stands ruffling your curls before you grab his wrist stopping him in his tracks.

💥🪨 “Suki. Eiji. Don’t be mad but I can’t pick! You guys both did really good! Fuck! I couldn’t ask for better lovers. You assholes are so much better than I deserve!” You gush before hiding your face in your hands. A little ashamed you let your boyfriends doing something as simple as your nails make you emotional.

💥🪨 “But Baby you deserve the world.” Kirishima immediately scoops you into a bear hug as he stands spinning you with ease and peppering you in kisses. Kiri places you back down even more gently than picked you up

💥🪨 “Princess, you’re a bad bitch! Don’t you dare forget it!” The shorter ash blonde says unwaveringly lifting your chin so you’d meet his eyes. He softly bops your forehead before kissing it and both cheeks. He pulls you close right as he yanks you up to straddle his waist

💥🪨 “Eijirou, I think our Babygirl needs a reminder of who she is and who she’s with.” His already deep ruby eyes darken lustfully. With no hesitation Kiri is right behind you in seconds

💥🪨 “I know just thing to jog our Pebble’s memory, Katsuki.” He whispers licking the side of your neck just as moves to capture Katsuki’s lips with his own

💥🪨 “Promise?” You moan softly lacing fingers into Kiri’s loose kitchens and trailing a cool hand across Baku’s abdomen stopping only at his joggers waist band

💥🪨 With that the three head to the bed room for some much needed group physical therapy

789 notes · View notes

luv-leni · 3 years

Text

Vampire!Cravity with a human s/o

Authors Note: Hey guys so listen the inspiration for this one hit me like a semi-truck. Which means this one is long(especially minhee’s) I mean like 2k words long. I’m very sorry 😭 please let me know if having this all be one reaction kills your eyes and I’ll edit it and split it into two separate posts.

Warnings: blood, dark themes, suggestive in minhee’s part if u squint, violence, death, and overall angst. There is fluff in here too I promise. This is all fiction!

Enjoy!!

Reaction under the cut.

Serim

A gentleman but a gentleman in a high position

He probably works for a big company

He wasn’t turned too long ago so his age isn’t a problem

He has literally no clue what he’s gonna do when his age does become a problem

Anyway this businessman is very friendly

He is charming and acts like he’s got nothing to hide

U meet him outside of his workplace maybe in a coffee shop

He’s dressed to the nines and super cute so u can’t help but stare at him

Of course he notices so he offers to pay for your drink

Correction he insists on paying for ur drink

This sparks a conversation, mainly about why he’s out in public in a three-piece suit

He talks about his work and meetings and stuff u aren’t really interested in

Before u can completely lose interest tho, his eyes capture ur attention

They almost look like they’re glowing

U interrupt him to ask about his eyes and he shifts uncomfortably and brushes it off

U being perceptive notice that maybe this well put together businessman isn’t all that he seems

He on the other hand thinks u are amazing for a human and he is attracted to u very quickly

look at you heart-stealer 😉

U two start dating for completely different reasons, u want to see the skeletons in his closet and he is falling helplessly in love with u

While snooping through his personality and life u find urself starting to fall for him too

Soon his secret won’t even matter to u

Serim is very good at keeping his secret so u aren’t going to find out unless he wants u to

So whether u find out about it or not is up to him

But he is a great boyfriend so u can’t complain

Allen

Ancient vamp

Allen would be the vampire who’s been around for like 400 years

When u meet he’s reluctant to be friendly with u

He’s old enough to have seen all the people he loves leave him

So he doesn’t want to get hurt :(

It would take some persistence from u but he’d eventually warm up to you

You’d fall in love with him and all his cool vampire features

His cold skin and glowing eyes

And he falls for u hard

He’s soft to u through the whole relationship because he doesn’t want u to think he’s dangerous

Even though out of all the boys Allen might be one of the more dangerous vampires

One thing is for sure he will protect u fiercely from anyone or anything

Jungmo

Jungmo lives as if he was still human

He’s been alive(well as alive as a vampire can get) for long enough to know what he’s doing but not long enough to lose his innocence

He still loves human activities

He exercises even though he doesn't need it and eats the foods he loves even though he doesn't need to eat

He goes to the park and plays with dogs

He meets u while playing fetch with a German shepherd

U just think he’s a normal guy who is very active

When u find out he’s a vampire u don’t really believe him

And then u see his fangs

He suddenly becomes much more intimidating

He does his best to reassure u he’s still the same guy u fell in love with he just drinks blood sometimes

now u get why he volunteers at the blood bank so much

Woobin

Sweet boy

Ruby blends into society very well as a vampire

He hangs out at coffee shops and bookstores he probably even works at one

U meet him there and he is an amazing gentleman

He doesn’t want u to know he’s a vampire because u are so cute and sweet and doesn’t want to scare u

he also doesn't want to confront the fact that he is going to live forever and u won't :(

But then u find bags of blood in his freezer

When u confront him about it he is so gentle and sweet that u really aren’t that freaked out

And he shows u his cool vamp powers and promises to never hurt u

A better love story than twilight

Wonjin

Flirt flirt flirt

He thinks if he’s gonna live forever he is gonna make it worth it

So he flirts with anybody and everybody

But when he meets u

He notices that u make him feel different than everybody else

Ur different, special

U make his undead heart race and he becomes addicted to u

He still flirts with u but he does it differently

He means everything he says about u

When u agree to date him he feels alive for the first time in a while

When u find out he’s a vamp the world gets 10x more exciting

U get a boyfriend who’s basically invincible and has cool powers

Jinnie is so relieved that u aren’t scared he wraps u in a big hug and picks u up with his vampire strength

A super exciting relationship with a very exciting boy

Minhee

Ooh mysterious~

Minhee is barely noticeable in everyday life

He rarely goes out during the day and works somewhere private so he doesn’t have to meet many people

When he does go out he blends into the shadows and is so sneaky that he could get away with almost anything if he wanted to

It’s lonely but he prefers it that way

He wouldn’t talk to u unless he absolutely had to

So maybe he works in a private office and u get hired as his assistant

He doesn’t want an assistant but being a big strong vampire doesn’t mean he can do everything by himself

Ur first day u notice how closed off and dark he is

But u are determined to be his friend

As time goes on minhee becomes intrigued by how determined u are (bonus points if ur good at being his assistant)

All the tension that has been building between u two comes to a head when u confront him in his office and ask him why he’s so cold to everyone

He gets this intimidating look in his eyes and says “people aren’t worth my time anymore” or something dramatic like that

You get upset because like?? Ur obviously worth his time 🙄

So to prove it u kiss him

He’s surprised but he wants it as much as u do so he doesn’t push u away

He thinks that maybe just maybe ur the one human he can let his guard down for

Then u guys make out on his desk

Hyeongjun

I think being a vampire would dull hyeongjun a bit

He used to be this cheerful happy boy but living forever can really take a toll

So he’s a little shyer and a little quieter as he moves through daily life

He never stays in one place too long because he doesn’t want anyone to suspect him

So he doesn’t have friends or partners for very long

Then he meets u

Ur kind and friendly and u remind him of who he used to be

So he immediately becomes ur friend

Something about u is different compared to the people he usually meets it’s like he’s drawn to u

Hyeongjun comes to trust u very quickly and ends up telling u his secret himself

U don’t believe him because vampires?? real?? uh huh sure.

Hyeongjun still has the same personality deep inside so he has to show off to u so he picks up ur couch with one hand to prove he’s telling the truth

Ur rightfully shocked and he is visibly nervous

He wants u to accept him so u think over all the good memories you’ve had with him while he stares at u with wide eyes

U love him so eventually u decide to accept him and keep his secret and he couldn’t be more grateful

U accepting him definitely bring out more of his cheerful personality

U two probably move away from the city into the countryside where no one can find u

It’s peaceful and beautiful and u get to spend the rest of ur life with the one u love

Taeyoung

That last one was so sad let’s move on to the cheerful stuff

Tae is a helpful boy!

He’s gonna live forever so he’s like ‘might as well make the world a better place since I’m gonna be here forever'

He volunteers literally everywhere

He does community service and works at nursing homes

The type to go around and pay for people’s parking meters in his free time

Like jungmo he volunteers at blood banks to get his blood because he doesn’t want to hurt anybody

He does all of this under fake names that he changes every once in a while so that way no one questions why somebody who should be like 90 looks 18

He meets u while helping out at an animal shelter

U come in looking for an animal to adopt

(If u don’t like animals then u come in looking for work)

Tae helps u out with the cutest smile on his face

He’s so cute that u ask him for his number

He agrees and everything goes smoothly for u two for a while

Once ur further in the relationship tho, tae’s secret starts to eat at him

He loves u and thinks u deserve to know the truth and he hates hiding things from u

So, like hyeongjun, he tells u his secret

He does it sweetly and holds ur hand so u don’t freak out

Accept this boy and his secret and he will treat u like a queen

He doesn’t like using his vampire powers but if it makes u happy then he will

He will keep u happy for the rest of ur life if u let him

Seongmin

My babysitters a vampire incarnate

He’s a baby vampire who got turned while in high school

He can’t really control himself so he stays away from people as best he can

U see him while in class and in the hallways and u think the poor boy is just shy

He doesn’t sit with anybody during class and eats lunch alone

U find him one day outside the school eating lunch and ask to sit with him

He hesitantly agrees and u notice how cute he is

U talk to him for a while and he isn’t very responsive or talkative so u ask him why he sits alone so much

Ur expecting usual answers like maybe he doesn’t have any friends maybe people make him nervous but no

He says that he has a secret 👀

Now ur interested so u ask him what it is

He says he's a vampire and ur like damn the cute boy is crazy this sucks :((

But then he offers to prove it so u say sure and he

Has fangs???

Those must be fake right??

U lean forward and touch them and prick ur finger on one

Nope they’re real and now ur bleeding 😃

Seongmin’s eyes go wide and he scoots away from u while u search ur bag for a bandaid

When the awkwardness subsides and seongmin stops looking at u like ur dinner, u start talking about this very unique situation

He tells u that he’s literally been starving since he was first turned and needs blood badly

And u just so happen to volunteer at a hospital

So u offer to get him blood if he promises to not eat u..he agrees obviously

And that marks the start of ur very strange high school relationship

Despite how strange he can be he truly loves u and takes care of u throughout school

U two are now inseparable

#fanfic #cravity #cravity angst #cravity fluff #cravity imagines #cravity reactions

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 3 years

Text

Reality check

Fandom: DC Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader Word count: 4.1k Summary: It was a normal day for you when the sidewalk literally opens up and swallows you whole only to spit you back out into a world that you thought only existed in comics before. There you meet a certain Vigilante and things get more complicated very, very quickly... Warning: I think this classifies as angst, not sure though, Definitly almost drowning tho, also multiple instances of unconciousness, lil bit of fluff if you squint, also me trying to be funny and failing Requested by the incredibly, amazing, breathtaking @dudeidkwhattoputformyusername: Hi! I love your work! is it possible for u to do a Damian Wayne x reader one shot, where reader comes from reality and bumps into Damian in Robin form. Then u can develop from there anyway u like! preferably fluff tho. thank u!!!!!!!!!!

Everything was blurry and your head was throbbing like someone was working on it with a jackhammer. The pain was the first thing that you felt during the process of waking up, no other sense quiet activated yet. Next was the realization that your body was shivering uncontrollably and wherever you were laying definitely wasn’t a bed for as far as you remembered, beds weren’t usually wet, cold and stone-hard. Following was your eyesight that finally returned to you, alongside with your smell and hearing, and as if they were high-school bullies who were teaming up against the local geek in a 90’s sitcom, they all came crashing up upon you like a train. Now theoretically seen, you were able to see, hear and smell again, but practically seen, asking you to do either of the three was like asking someone to find a needle in a needlestack, or a single straw of hay in a haystack. It was just too much, definite sensory overload. A few minutes you couldn’t do anything but lay there, shivering and cold and miserable, before slowly your brain started to work through all the input and sort through it until you were able to comprehend it. The first thing you noticed was the smell. It wasn’t a very pleasant one, it smelled like you fish, water and something rotten and if you had any more control over your body you probably would have thrown up. The sounds that you could hear now put the smells a little bit more into perspective. What sounded like screams and the end of the world before was now identifiable as the screeching of seagulls, the honking of boats and the soft crashing of waves. So you were near a harbor or port? The last puzzle piece was the view you got when you opened your eyes. The cold, wet, stone-hard ‘not-bed’ that you had been lying on was in fact a concrete jetty. Only a few feet away from you was the cold dark sea and above you was the night sky. How long have you been lying here? What happened? How did you get there? As you were staring up into the sky something about it made you uneasy, the way the stars were shining, the darkness of the universe, the fullness of the moon- Wait, wasn’t it a new moon just a few days ago? You sat up suddenly, immediately regretting it when the pain shook through your head again, re-starting the throbbin at 100%, and - after you could open your eyes again - looked down at your body. You were wearing a soaked through sweater that you had bought a few days prior and just as soaked through jeans and socks, your shoes nowhere in sight. The sea was restless and splashed against the sides of the jetty, dops landing on your sleeves and face. For some reason, the sensation of the liquid against your skin brought forth a flashback that completely blinded you. It was like you were watching from above as you relieved the last thing you remembered, how you had been going home after your part-time job at the library when the floor had literally peeled open below you and you fell into a cold nothingless, only for water to come crashing down at you from all sides. When you finally realized that you were not on the sidewalk a few blocks away from your home anymore, but in raging water, somewhere below the surface you were already only seconds away from drowning. With all the power you could muster and adrenaline rushing through your veins you managed to fight your way upwards and upwards until your hand finally broke through the water’s surface. The breath that you took when you made it up completely must have been the best and somehow worst gulp of air you had ever taken in. The adrenaline was ebbing off and the exhaustion made its way through all your muscles, but when you saw the lights in the distance you managed to keep on going until you had managed to pull yourself up a concrete jetty where you finally blacked out. Your mind made its way back into your body and you grasped the situation, even though believing it still wasn’t the easiest task. I mean the earth quite literally swallowing you up? That doesn't sound reasonable. And yet, it was the thing you remembered so you would have to live with that truth until someone could prove you otherwise. More and more questions started to swirl through your mind - an unreasonable amount of them quite honestly - but you knew you had to take things one step at a time. Okay, what did you know? You were in an unknown location so there was no new there, but your former question of ‘how long have you been there’ was now answered. Given the state of your clothes and the fact that it was still deep, dark night you couldn’t have been unconscious for long. But that didn’t help you much - you were still sitting there freezing cold and soaked with no idea where you actually were. What would you do usually when you were lost? Phone, ah, right. You patted over your pockets and actually found it, only to be very unsurprised when it only gave you a black void to stare into. Sadly you didn’t have a bag of rice to put it into in the other pocket, instead only a set of keys that you didn’t recognize along with something that looked like a keychain in form of a piece of polished wood with the letters D and (Your first initial) with a plus in between engraved into it. “Great, I can open some doors now, too bad I don’t know which,” you spoke aloud to yourself, only for the worlds to come out stuttered thanks to your teeth that were shaking just as much as the rest of you. You stuffed the keys and the broken phone back into your pockets and managed to pull yourself up and stand, even though all your muscles were screaming in despair. The thing you really wanted to do was lie back down and fall asleep again, wait for the sun to rise and dry your clothes, but you knew that with the coldness and the water all around you, you’d probably be dead or at least deadly sick by morning, so you had to find shelter, warmth and - maybe most importantly - answers. With slow, little steps you walked down the jetty, towards the buildings that looked unoccupied at that time of day, with an unknown city stretching out behind it that promised life and warmth. For what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes, you managed to walk a few feet until you were a safe distance away from the water and near a bench that must have been put there for people who wanted to watch the water or have a break from work or similar things. It looked at you so invitingly, so comfortably, so perfect. Deep inside you knew that you should probably not sit down, even if you told yourself it would be just for a few minutes, but your exhaustion took over and you sunk down onto it, falling to the side and rolling as good as it was possible together into a little roll. You’d take a nap, just a quick one, only a few minutes, then you’d get up with new energy and find the warmth you were looking for. The longer you sat there the heavier your eyelids got until you couldn’t take it anymore and the darkness enveloped you into its safety again.

The next time you woke up, things weren’t so bad anymore, it wasn’t all that blurry and the throbbing had dialed down a bit, but your body was shaking worse than before. In fact, it was shaking so bad that your shoulder thumbed against the backrest of the bench before being pulled forward again and repeating the circle, the only weird thing was that it was just your shoulder. And there was this weird pressure around it. Wait! You weren’t shaking worse, someone else was shaking you as if they were trying to wake you up. You peeled your eyes completely opened and looked into white voids surrounded by black and like your eyes were the camera of a 2000’ kids-camera they slowly zoomed out and revealed the white voids to be the eye-parts of a mask sitting on the face of a masked (duh) boy who was wearing a very, very colorful and bright outfit. It seemed familiar and the gears in your head started turning. “Habibti, you’re okay,” the boy said in a relieved tone and while he helped you sit up you mustered him with a confused look. “That’s not my name, it’s Y/N.” The way his mask contorted gave off a sense of confusion that mirrored yours, just with a little bit more worry in it, but before he could say anything else you motioned to his outfit. “What is it with the outfit? It isn’t Halloween yet, is it?” “You don’t recognize me?” he asked you and the tone of voice he used almost made you feel sorry for him, but given that you had no idea what he was talking about you would probably be able to cope. “No, sorry…” you started before the gears finally fell into place and you recognized it, “Oh, wait, I think I do, you’re playing Batman’s sidekick right? I think it was Robin. That’s so cool, I myself was always more of a Marvel fan - you know with Black Widow and all that - but both are super valid so cool hobby dude. It looks pretty rad too.” Even with the mask you could see the complete bedazzlement in his face and you wondered if your weird world-swallowing-experience had magically changed the language you spoke from English to Mandarine. “What- What do you mean?” “You’re Cosplaying right? Dressing up as a Comic Character?” you tried to explain and you could feel a slight anger building up at how stupid he made you feel without even being able to see his eyes. “I’m not Cosplaying a comic character?” he said in a questioning manner. “Yes, you are. You’re wearing the outfit and everything, like the guy in the Comics who works with Batman. I think his name was Richard or something, but you should know better, you’re cosplaying him after all,” you tried to explain yet again, seriously questioning your sanity. Now he really didn’t need the mask to hide the fact that he was seriously triggered by what you had said - even though you weren’t quite sure why. Had Robin been cancelled over twitter while you were unconscious? “I think it’d be better if I bring you to safety and get you checked out,” he averted the topic of the conversation and started to position his hands like he wanted to pick you up, but you put a stop to it when you pressed him away. “Listen, I appreciate the help, but I’ll definitely not be going with a complete stranger in a comic costume, so if you could just give me your phone so that I can call my parents or my friends that’d be great.” For a few seconds he just sat there straight, as if unsure of the best course of action, before he sight and pulled a phone out, unlocking it and handing it to you. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you thought about who to call, thankful that your mum had made you learn her number by heart, but when you went to dial it your whole body stopped working, like there was a physical restriction keeping you from typing. Suddenly you realized it. You didn’t know the number - you knew you should, that you had been using it for years upon years and that you definitely should know it - and your eyes grew wide. You scavenged through your head searching for more numbers, but then you realized another thing. There were none. How was that possible? You didn’t even know the area code from where you lived. “I- I don’t- what?” you looked up at the boy with tearful eyes, the reality of the situation just too much for you. “It’s okay, I’m sure it will come back to you,” he tried to sooth you, but you were too frustrated and sad to be happy about soothing from some creepy geek. “Would you please finally tell me why you’re in costume?” you asked exasperated and moved further away from him. “I-” The answer of the boy was cut short when a ‘whooshing’ sound echoed around the area and a booming voice called out: “Robin”. The boy shot you another look before shouting back. “I’m here, I’ve-” he obviously wanted to add something, but he cut himself off this time and just looked at you. A man in a black, leather suit with a black cowl over his face that you noticed to be definitely inspired by Batman and very well done came rushing towards you. Again, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you recognized the same worried look that the boy already had. “Oh no, not another one,” you sighed and pushed your hair back, “Is there some kind of Comic Convention here? Or is this a weird sexual thing?” Now the man looked at the boy even more confused, and the boy just shrugged, but instead of answering you, he brought his hand up to where his ear was under the cowl and spoke to himself: “I’ve found Robin, he’s found her, we’re going to come back now.” If it had only been the first and last part of that sentence you would have made a joke about them being into LRPG or something, but the ‘her’ part scared you for some reason. You stood up and backed away, happy that the boy didn’t keep the grip on even though his eyes were following your every move. “This was fun and all, but I’m still soaked and really cold, and I had a nice swim earlier which I want to calm down from again, so I think I’ll just go back home now, call myself a cab or something,” you turned around, more than ready to strain your muscles yet again with running away, but it never got to that point, because a second later you were ripped up from the ground and sizzled through the air. It was so surprising that you didn’t even manage to scream before you found yourself with hard ground under your feet again. You looked up at what had pulled you through the skies and found the boys face yet again and - may it have been from the scare of everything finally becoming to much - the last thing you could say before you blacked out for the third time that night was: “That’s some on point cosplay dude.”

The soft sheets of your bed gave you a sense of relief as you woke up from that weird ass dream that you were having. You were unsure about why exactly your unconsciousness was making you see these things, but you made a mental note about checking the dream meaning of getting swallowed by the sidewalk later on. For now all you wanted was to go have some breakfast and call your mom to tell her about that dream. So you opened your eyes and threw the blanket back only to be surprised by the ceiling that was definitely not yours. There was a sound beside you and you looked over to see a boy about your age, black hair standing up from his head a little spiky and green eyes focused entirely on you. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” you cursed and moved as far away from the boy as possible, “Who are you?!” “What do you remember?” the boy asked you, completely ignoring your question. Your eyes flew to the door that was right behind him and you found that there was no way for you to get to it without having to overthrow the boy - but by the looks of him he’d knock you out easily. “I was on my way home from my job when the fucking ground opened up, swallowed me, thrw me back up into the ocean and then I met two werid ass cosplayers before I woke up here.” “You still think we’re cosplayers?” “We?” “Yes,” he just nodded with complete ease. “Well, I gotta admit that flying thing was pretty rad. What was that? Are you actors and you’re making a movie? Because if so then I’m sorry for bursting onto the shooting site.” “We’re not making a movie,” he stated, still completely chilled, even though there was something else lying under it. “What then? You telling me you’re actually Robin? Because if so I’m not the only one who needs to have her head checked out,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes, arms crossing in front of your chest. The boy just mirrored your look, completely stern and serious. “You’re not serious, are you?” you couldn’t help but let out an unbelieving chuckle. He kept silent and just observed you. “You fucking are, oh my gosh.” “How can I prove it to you?” he asked, still so incredibly serious that you felt like you were a clown walking in on a job interview. “Oh, I don’t know. Call Flash, Superman and the easter bunny over so we can have tea with the tooth fairy,” you answered ironically and made a ‘cray-cray’ gesture with your hand going in circles beside your temple, but instead of being offended by your comment, he just pulled out his phone - the same phone you had tried to use earlier you noted. “What are you doing?” you asked, but he just held his hand up to sush you and raised the phone to his ear. “Hello, it’s Damian Wayne,” he introduced himself to the other person - and you noted that he was not a ‘Richard’ after all, “Yes, could you do me a favor? Could you come to the Manor real quick? Yes, yes I know, no it’s not an emergency. The suit would be great, yes. See you in a bit. You opened your mouth again when he hung up to ask who he called over, but he kept his hand up and motioned to you to wait, while he opened up the window, even though it was still cold out. A gust of wind filled the room and suddenly there was another boy standing besides the original boy - Damian as he had introduced himself - who was wearing a cape, a shirt with a logo that was definitely Supermans and ripped jeans. “H-How the fuck did he just? Was he here this whole time? What? How?” you stuttered and looked between Damian and the other boy who looked at you even more confused than you felt, but Damian waved him off and motioned for him to leave, which he promptly did. The new boy looked at Damian with question marks in his eyes, but he just waved him off. “You believe me now?” he asked, directed towards you and you had to admit it was pretty convincing. “But how? I’m in a comic?” “Y/N, this isn’t a comic, this is reality,” Damian told you with a soft voice, but your eyes just widened and you tried to move back even further. “How do you know my name?” “In your left pocket there is a set of keys and keychains. One of these keychains is a piece of wood with two letters engraved. A D and a (Your first initial), am I right?” Your heart stopped for a second and you patted the pocket where that exact thing was still lying. “H-How do you know my name?” “What do you remember about your life, about how you ended up in the water?” he avoided the question like a pro and you decided to play along, just in hope he’d answer your question sooner or later. “I was born the daughter of Y/Parents/N in Y/H/T. I grew up normally and went to school, nothing special, got a job on the side and when I went home yesterday the sidewalk started to open up like there was an earthquake and I was suddenly in the water, I told you about that part already.” “And you have never met me in your life?” he asked and sounded almost disappointed. “No, an hour ago I thought you didn’t exist outside of paper, the internet and movies,” you huffed and tried to figure out what his endgame was with this, when he pulled his phone out again and tapped on it for a bit before shoving it in your direction. “How do you explain this then?” You moved forwards with caution until you could see the screen and your breath stopped. It was a picture of you. Of Damian and you to be precise. The two of you were sitting on a bench, laughing and smiling and obviously happy, a cute dog on the ground between the two of you where something else drew your attention. In the photograph your left hand was intertwined with his right one. “W-What is this? Some sick kind of joke?” “You really don’t remember? Not at all?” he asked flabbergasted. “Remember what? What is going on here?” you almost shouted, the frustration becoming just a little bit too much, “Please just give me some explanation, please.” “You’re Y/N Y/L/N, you really are the daughter of Y/Parents/N, but you didn’t grow up in Y/H/T, you grew up here in Gotham. You went to Gotham academy, where the two of us met and...became friends. You found out about me being Robin and my father being Batman rather quickly too,” Damian explained and even though it didn’t match up even slightly with what you remembered, it felt weirdly accurate. You went to the bed again and sucked down onto it, before thinking back to the picture and raised an eyebrow at Damian. “Not that I say it’s true what you’re saying, but if we hypothetically say it was, then we weren’t just friends, right? We’re together?” “Yes.” “Okay,” a sigh escaped you and everything was feeling blurry, but you had to continue asking, wanting to know the truth, “Then how do you explain me ending up in the ocean?” “That’s where things get a bit harsher,” Damian sight too, but obviously for other reasons, “Yesterday evening you accompanied me to a party - a family thing - on a yacht and things were going great, but something went wrong. No one had an idea that the weather would shift like that, but a storm came and the yacht was thrown around and you - you were thrown off, I thought you died, I was devastated, but- uhm...well… You remembered that keychain? I gave it to you for our first year anniversary and it may or may not have a tracker in it, so that I could find you in a worst case scenario and if that wasn’t a worst case scenario then I don’t know what is.” For a few minutes silence filled the room as you worked through all of the new information, but the sad look on Damian’s face, the seriousness in his voice, the entire situation in itself? They made it hard to doubt what he was telling you. Your gaze was stuck on your fidgeting hands when you asked the one underlying question. “Why can’t I remember?” “I don’t know, I think you must have hit your head when you fell off and your mind mixed things up - mixed reality into something else and took a few actual things and made them fiction,” Damian gave you his half-assed, definitely not medically appropriate explanation, but you couldn’t blame him for that, you had no idea either. You pulled your legs up and hugged your knees close as you looked at him, really trying to see this supposed boyfriend of yours, but your mind just turned up blank. “What if I’ll never remember? What if that’s the way it’ll be from now on?” “I’m positive that things will turn out fine, we have friends who have the best medical experience you can get, we even have mind readers who could probably help you and if not, we’ll help you make new memories, I’ll help you and I’ll wait for the memories to come back just in case.” “That’s not fair on you though, Right now I’m not the girl you’re with, you shouldn’t have to go through this,” tears were now welling up at your eyes, even though you weren’t completely sure why your emotions were so strong. “I don’t care, I really don’t, because no matter what you remember or don’t, I love you and I really hope you’ll remember that you love me too…”

#Damian Wayne #Damian wayne x reader #batfam #batfam x reader #dc #dc x reader #dc universe #batfamily #batfamily x reader #Bruce Wayne #batman #robin #robin x reader #fluff #angst #amnesia

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angelyuji · 3 years

Text

I SKWKWJWJWK listen i know this isnt yandere content, but cooking together with ur s/o is probably my dream date and thats where i got this!!!

How Each Avenger Cooks For You 👩‍🍳:

loki, stephen, nat: these bitches show off every time they enter the kitchen. they like impressing you, but they’re super nonchalant about it and ur not allowed to help. they flip their knives, throw the ingredients, slice stuff in the air, do that fire pan flip thing...basically it’s organized chaos. a lot of fire too like... a lot. ur impressed, but don’t think it’s all show. the food is literally amazing. they basically cook like those fancy chefs in 5-star restaurants. (loki doing his iconic knife flips in the middle of ur kitchen and ur like um dangerous but cool!)

carol, tony, wanda: these heroes do all this impressive stuff, but cannot cook for sHIT. they don’t follow recipes because “recipes are for sheeples” and they’re fucking LEADERS....right... anyway, they wont let you help fix the food and yall end up ordering takeout. in the end, it looks gorgeous but tastes like ass, or it looks and tastes like shit. either way, they cannot cook, but they can put on a show! (i hc that carol cant cook for shit and tony literally cant take care of himself, so theres no way he knows how to cook properly)

bucky, steve, clint: home-cookers. they make homemade food, gives me very much housewife vibes. they dont put on shows, but cooks like a normal person. it honestly doesnt matter if u help them or not, the entire process is very wholesome and domestic. they dont need recipes because the recipes are probably something they learned from their family. there is usually no mess, but if there is, they clean up and make sure everything looks exactly how it looked before or cleaner! (pre-serum steve cooked healthy food often because yk...hes a growing boy and post-hydra bucky learned how to cook from steve. it calms him)

thor, peter: although they grew up very different and thor and peter seem like they would absolutely destroy a kitchen and not make anything edible, thats actually not true. thor was dropped in midgard for being a brat, so there’s no way he wouldnt know how to cook, but he only knows how to cook simple meals like eggs or...coffee. and, yes, peter is a hot mess like the rest of us, but he still knows how to make basic meals like pasta, eggs, and whatever. peter’s only had May and when she’s busy, he has to make sure he can cook! they both have their own little piece of paper with recipes and directions, so they don’t forget and you like to watch as they squint their eyes as they read their tiny notecard and look around for everything (there is no way in hell, jane didnt teach thor basic human skills during his time with her)

bruce, vision, t’challa: they dont know how to cook. vision doesnt need food, t’challa is a king, so he has people to cook for him, and bruce’s daily sustenance is takeout from fast food places near his apartment. so when ur like “lets cook at home!” theyre like “....what” so when u ask abt their cooking skills, theyre gonna try and prove that they can cook. these three follows the recipe down to the fucking teaspoons of salt, but STILL somehow manage to make the worst thing youve ever tasted. you’d watch and be like “woah ur doing pretty good!”, but you’ll eat it and go “...hoW TF?!??” theyre gonna stare at u like actual puppies as u eat it, so you have to pretend to like it (you’ll have to give in tho or you’ll get food poisoning, but they wont be hurt just upset that it went wrong. they’ll keep practicing till they get it right, so u become the official tastetester)

scott, sam: everyday is adventure with these two. scott and sam are okay cooks, but amazing company. their slogan is “its not the destination, but the journey”. sure the food is a little burnt and wayy too salty, but you guys had fun cooking together. cracking jokes, talking about your childhood, making animal shapes out of the vegetables, throwing knives into the ceiling...yeah, you probably werent too happy with that one. they both have one braincell, so they saw knife, they throw! you kick them out of the kitchen after that. (scott and sam are avid sitcom/rom-com watchers, so they obviously watch new girl, which then inspired the throwing knives at the ceiling)

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