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#guess I ended up writing it sorta??
hiyaluronic · 11 days
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*whispers* what if a certain lvl 20 hot!boi failed his wisdom save?
"Yes, well, we must make haste then." Essek stated, clearing his throat to shake free the unease he was feeling. "Ludinus is one thing, but a demon of such design that prays on the fears and self-loathing of individuals is not quite what I had in mind for this excursion, I'm afraid."
"But it's powering the engine and killing people, shouldn't we, y'know do something?"
Ashton sighed and leaned against his hammer, pointedly staring at Imogen. "It's a grand demon that's been here since before fuck all. I doubt it’s going to matter if it stays chained to an engine for another year or fifty."
"Ash is right." Orym started ignoring Ashtons interjected 'Thank You' "Besides, anything that stalls Ludinus, however good or bad at the moment, is unfortunately a help to us right now."
"I... I guess," Imogen sounded conflicted turning from Orym to stare off to the side where Chetney and Dorian had been affected, "but once Ludinus is dealt with we should probably come back and take care of it."
Essek nodded in agreement. "A problem for another day then."
'And such is your nature to always run. Why?'
His hand was halfway to the pocket of his robes when he heard the whisper. Essek closed his eyes with a quiet sigh.
A hand ran gently across his back, delicate fingers tapping against his shoulders before seeming to settle on the gentle curve of his neck. 'Do you not wish to see the fruits of our research? After all, I have you to thank for everything that I have been able to achieve.'
"We should go. Now." Essek stressed and opened his eyes only to see Caleb in the middle of the room, his form taught against the imaginary bonds that held him in place. Essek swallowed hard when he caught sight of the deep purple bruises that shadowed the white of Caleb's neck. Bells Hells was nowhere to be seen.
Shit.
'If it wasn't for this one here...' Ludinus grinned from his periphery, fingers twisting in the air at the same time Caleb buckled, the man forced to his knees with a grunt.
'Such a thorn in my side.'
Caleb choked, blood beginning to trickle from his nose, his lips strained to form soundless words, his bloodshot eyes pleading with Essek.
"This is not real." It was not, it couldn't be, he refused to fall for whatever horrid illusion that had been thrust upon him. Caleb was safe. The man had said as much himself just the day before. "You will not get what you want from me."
'You think this to be an illusion?' Essek winced when he felt the hot breath of Ludinus burn against the shell of his ear. 'Some perfunctory grand play of a fiend wanting to eat up all those tasty little demons that call that anxiety riddled head of yours home?' Ludinus laughed, 'You aren't as important as you seem to think in the grand scheme of things Thelyss. Your life is nothing but misstep after misstep.'
Essek watched while Ludinus stepped from him and moved to stand before Caleb. He tried to ignore the way the vile mans hand traced delicately down Caleb's cheek smearing blood across pale skin before gently caressing Caleb's lips.
He clenched his hands. This wasn't real, no matter how convincing the stage set before him seemed to be; but, if so, then why did his chest hurt and his breath catch?
'Everything you touch eventually tarnishes.''
Essek grinned, "Then it is good that you are something that has had the pleasure of my acquaintance. It means you yourself are doomed to corrode and rust. That is if any of this was real and not just desperate parlor tricks."
Ludinus laughed and turned to meet Essek's gaze, the man's eyes bright even in the dim light of the room. 'You still think this to be fake? Some sort of set dressing? Why do you think your precious human was so desperate for you to get to Aeor with these hooligans?'
Essek clenched his eyes closed, his fingers twitched. Caleb had been hurried in his explanation that he guide Bells Hells through Aeor but nothing had seemed amiss. Caleb had even promised him that he was fine but that he was unfortunately indisposed at the moment; but, like a worm burrowing into a rotting apple, doubt began to slither into Essek's consciousness.
What if Caleb had been sending him a plea for help in his rushed sending? Had he maybe missed something in their nightly talks? Had he been so foolish and lost in the wonders of their relationship that he'd missed some minute detail in the soft words of Caleb's assurances? It wouldn't be the first time he'd made a mess of things.
Caleb screamed and Essek's eyes shot open with a snarl. He swung his hands up and cast gravity fissure; a black mass hurtled forward ten feet to the right of Ludinus cracking the ground and pulling the hanging bodies from their chains. Ludinus gave a yell of surprise as both he and Caleb were pulled towards the center of the fissure.
The air was heavy in the room, pungent and sweet reminiscent of meadow after a rainstorm. "Caleb?" He winced at how loud his voice echoed in the quiet of the room.
Silence returned his call. Maybe he had misjudged the distance? What if he'd hurt Caleb beyond the point of healing? "Caleb!"
He moved quickly, "Caleb, you must answer me!"
He had been just mere feet from the still bodies of Caleb and Ludinus when something grabbed his ankle and pulled. Essek turned hand poised to attack only to falter when a familiar set of eyes looked up to him, the face distorted and bloated in death but still recognizable.
No it couldn't be, "Verin?"
'You left. They came and you had gone. I suffered your fate.'
"No. No you were safe, I made sure-"
Verin grinned, skin stretched taught, bloated and soured. 'A life taken for deeds done. Even if it was not the accused, retribution was sought.' A rattling breath escaped Verin. 'Why do you think you've been safe for all these years? I fell for crimes that were not my own, you killed me. You stole my future from me, brother.'
'You've doomed us all, Schatz.'
Essek turned from his brother to see Caleb, eyes dull, face stained red and kneeling in supplication. "Caleb, I..."
Ludinus, eyes alight with euphoria, slowly stood from the wreckage, his mangled form towering over Caleb's before resting a hand on Caleb's shoulder. 'The war of Ash and Light will be nothing compared to what Predathos will unleash and we all have you to thank.'
He looked at Caleb's tearful eyes and felt his own well in sympathy. "That's not..."
'Fuck, you'e truly made a mess of everything.'
"Beauregard?" Essek whispered confused. Where had she come from?
'You know how to stop this.' Beau grinned and brought her hands up to form a circle with a knowingly smile. 'Boom.'
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sleepinglionhearts · 1 year
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haven’t touched Genshin in a while, but here, have some OC doodles anyway
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kalloway · 7 months
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goin back to 2018/19 because I want to rewrite/finish my own fic, smh
it's been kinda nice rewatching the videos I used to, tho... kinda comfy feeling, despite what the games are all about hahaha
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theflyingfeeling · 8 months
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fanfic rambling in the tags, nothing interesting really, just me talking to myself lol, okay to ignore or read as you please ✨
#so i've found the perfect prompt list for an olli/allu fic advent calendar sorta thing#but i'm too intimidated by my own expectations and ridiculously high standards to even start writing any of them 😭#honestly these prompts are so insanely cute and fit olli/allu PERFECTLY#like. i'm actually having trouble deciding which ones to use because i want to write them all 🥺💞#but i'm so so scared that i'll just end up writing the same (boring) story over again for 24 times 😔#i wish i could just write without thinking and trying so hard to write a literary masterpiece#when i KNOW it's alright if it's just a silly little story about my blorbos#that's perfectly enough and i know this but my brain's just not having it 😩#also if i were to write 24 independent fics i'd have to keep them short and simple but. that's not how i do fics. unfortunately (for me)#to overcome this i guess one option would be to write just one longer piece with 24 chapters#and somehow try to include the prompt of the day in each chapter 🤔#but i don't want to make this even more complicated to myself lol especially because i'm planning to write AUs for a couple of the prompts#i REALLY want to do prompts (of any kind!!) but i'm just so scared of stressing myself out to another months-long writer's block 😭#fair enough the last time that happened (last winter/spring) i was in a shitty place mentally anyway#and so far i've been happy to be writing on random bursts of inspiration. that's how it's the easiest for me. the words just...flow out#i'm so insanely jealous of anyone who can just create stuff when given any prompt 😭#y'all are super humans to me how do you do it pls spill your secrets#and anyone tempted to comfort me by saying i shouldn't stress myself over this and that i don't have to write anything i don't wanna write:#i knoooooowwww and i appreactiate the sentiment but the thing is i actually DO want to write these prompts 😭#in theory at least. because they really are cute as fuck wth 🥺#the problem is that i can't /force/ myself to write something at the snap of my fingers without a clear idea besides the prompt#and also because i know it can take me days to finish even one story let alone 24 💀#so to even START on this project is a little intimidating 🫣#i just fear i won't have the patience :(#and when i realise i won't be able to finish the project i'll become frustrated with myself#if only i knew how to write shorter one-scenes in order to not tire myself out#but often i find those kind of fics somehow...unsatisfying :(#i'm just a sucker for crafting the context/background for stories. a little flesh around the bones if you will 🤧#okay that's all now i'm gonna go stare at a wall while doing nothing useful for the rest of the weekend byeeee#if you read this far i hope you're having a nice saturday
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omgeto · 9 months
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per karmas request I stayed up for a whole extra hour but now she’s inspired me to write. so if you could ever be so kind, drop frat boy!geto headcanons in my inbox for me to wake up to
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clemencetaught · 4 months
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"Miss Nakamura's friends are quite an...eclectic bunch."
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thecherrygod · 2 years
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I basically just had a dream of being back in highschool and i was crying by the end. This is new to me. I haven't been in hs in 6 years
#my posts#my dreams#bc i will explain it but. I'm so tired#something in the dream happened like no respect for privacy and stuff in the kind of fucked up bathrooms your brain makes up while asleep#... at least my brain loves making up fucked up bathrooms in my sleep that's okay anyways#there was a lack of respect for privacy and it made me angry and I'm the dream i sorry if reacted how i wanted to in actual hs i guess#like very violent to the point that at first they were laughing but then were very scared#like i was screaming and pushing and grabbing and stuff and people realized it wasn't so funny anymore#also i realized that it didn't matter what kind of relationships i had there up to that point they were all ruined bc of that#i apparently got changed in class to another and they made me sit in the back with no one besides me and i was very some which is#ignoring the violence that was my hs experience sjrarjtkfyñ#by the end the people that used to be on my life i think were trying to get back in but i was sorta always walking looking at the floor#sliding everyone's face bc whenever i passed i heard whispers that i was sure were about me (normal hs experience)#avoiding not sliding dgmzmy anyways yeah#at some point someone finally breaks through me and shows me something that idk how to describe. like meat and a bonsai? idk#sorta like they make me so anger look at it and they were warn and kind and i fully broke down crying and hugged them fnwmhmwk#it wasnt a random person but this dream is sorta personal even tho im writing it here but this is my blog i tend to post this stuff#but i mean i don't want to write his name i don't want it to appear in the main tags on accident#just know that i dreamt with him once before. also hugged him and cried KDNGRMHM#i wasnt going to make that comment thats why i used they pronouns before but nah its a he#also someone else like related to him was there and i think in a way he was trying to help but it was more him finding a business#opportunity and selling his own stuff at maybe an inappropriate time which i think he just does that sometimes gkwgkkf#anyways yeah i am very tired and i should go back to sleep#also i woke up with tears sorta formed in my eyes fkdkgkdg so i sort of still want to cry like in the dream i guess#its not even that early its 9but i don't have anything to do today so back to sleep
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darkdragon768 · 20 days
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Rhythm 0, The Milgram Experiment and The Stanford Prison Experiment (and others) show how people will abuse their power and authority if given the chance without consequences, and that's so so scary imo.
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rayvern-sheep · 1 month
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Update on my mental health: I am doing better! Just in case anyone read those concerning posts the past few weeks and was worried.
I have kinda long-winded advice sorta shit under the cut if you are thinking of top surgery but know you don’t deal w/ change well, or have got it but are wondering why you still feel like shit weeks later when everyone else seems to feel better. And then some more rambling in the tags if you’re into that sorta thing.
Oh boy it’s long under the cut… Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Some advice: if you have a hard time w/ big change, small change, any kind of change. Be prepared to have a hard time w/ top surgery recovery. The general consensus if you research it is that post-op depression is over by abt the fourth week, and that is actually deemed late by some sources. Many said the second or third week. If you are starting to feel worse after that point it does not mean you made a mistake! Don’t panic!
Even though I wrote several notes to myself before the procedure explaining that I did in fact want this, and I know I am bad w/ change, that did not help me when I was in the pits of a doom spiral. I’m ngl that was genuinely the worst I’ve been mentally in years. I had to ring a suicide hotline at one point because I thought I’d lost the point of life. Talk to someone you trust abt how you’re feeling. I just straight up sobbed into my mum’s shoulder abt how I didn’t understand anything anymore and I was terrified I’d made a mistake getting surgery. She talked me through it and reminded me that I’d wanted this for years, that I didn’t go outside w/out a binder on, etc. She reminded me that everyone deals w/ things at different times, just because most ppl feel perfectly fine by the one month mark it doesn’t mean I would. Then after that I just hung out w/ her. The day after that we went and did some chores outside the house. A little time outside is often a good idea, I do regret to inform you.
I’m not gonna say I’m all fixed and perfect now. I’m still low energy and back to hiding in my baggy hoodies (now I can get them on again yippee!!!) but I’m not pushing myself rn. And I wish I had some good advice other than idk have a good system of loved-ones. If you have a therapist talk to them. Don’t be like me and bottle shit up. I’m so good at bottling shit up that I do not notice smthn is getting bad until I’m at the very bottom of the fucking doom spiral and I look up and see how far I fell down it lmao.
I wrote a whole diff paragraph but deleted it. Better version though is just try not to put too much pressure on yourself. Surgery is exhausting, and feeling burned-out even after a month isn’t smthn to be ashamed of. Just focus on keeping yourself sane. If possible take it easy, do things half-assed and low-effort for a while if you can get away w/ it. Just while you mentally catch up to your new stuff.
For some ppl top surgery “fixes” all their problems, but for most it does not. Whatever mental or physical problems you had before surgery, you will still have. Now, my surgeon literally told me surgery would not fix everything. I knew this before going into this, before I even had my first conversation with him, and I still had a bad fucking time mentally. So don’t expect to feel perfect. I was in a weird surreal bubble for the first like 3(?) weeks where I was just physically recovering before my head fucking lost it.
I don’t wanna put anyone off, and tbh worrying abt how bad you’re gonna feel can be a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I just wanna say that it can get rough. But if it does, you are not alone!!! You’ve not ruined your life, it’s not the end of the world, you still have something to live for. Keep pushing through, take it slow, talk to someone you trust. Try to do things that comfort you and help you feel safe. You’re gonna get through it.
Idk man I just wanted to share my experience on this. Because in my frantic research from the bottom of the pit all I could see were smiling faces saying they felt the best they’d ever felt in their life. It was euphoria all day every day. And the only ppl who weren’t feeling perfect were the ppl unhappy w/ their results. But the thing is I love my results, everything looks as expected. It’s literally how I drew it lmao, couldn’t have gone better. Not to brag sorry. But the point was, nothing was wrong physically. The majority of the physical healing was done, but my brain hadn’t been healing at all during that time. It was just putting itself to the side while the body did it’s thing. And when even proper medical sources are saying that ppl usually start to feel mentally better after the fourth week, and I was actually starting to feel shitty by that point, it rlly made me worry smthn was wrong. I was frantically trying to blame something for what I was feeling. And it was likely a whole mess of shit, with the main culprit being my inability to process change. Dude I freak out when a loved-one gets a tattoo or a piercing or changes their fucking hair. I wish I was joking, but I’m not. It stresses me out. And although I always get over it eventually, I should’ve known that this was gonna happen. After those early weeks of the itchy haze, I totally should’ve known a mental spiral was on the horizon. But I was just so lost in the sauce that was the whole experience.
I would not change the experience of top surgery for the world. I only wish I’d been more prepared for the dive my mental health would take so late in the game. I expected post-op depression. But as I said that’s usually only in the first couple of weeks. So when it didn’t happen I thought I was okay. But oooooo boy. I forgot how slow my brain is at processing shit. And hey, if I did “make a mistake” in getting my tits chopped off. If in the future I’m like “Hey I’m a woman now!” then so fucking what. There are titless women out there, and they’re no less woman than a woman w/ tits so big they break her back. Life is for living so fucking do that. I’ve not butchered or ruined my body even if my gender does change in the future. Get rekt transphobes.
ANYWAY… I think I’ve rambled enough. If I remember smthn I’ll prob add it in a RB cos this post is already long enough now. Thank fuck for the “read more” function. So I can hide all my stupid mushy shit under here and not clog up someone’s dash. Yippee!!
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estbela · 2 months
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I suddenly have the urge to write historical fic
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toruro · 1 year
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— ✧ the letter
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i hope one word, one letter, will laugh and cry with you (the letter / ateez)
pairing. xu minghao x reader
description. in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.
genres. slowburn, fluff, angst, childhood f2l
tags. idol!au, alcohol consumption & underage drinking, lots of arguments, Lots of pent up emotions oops, miscommunication, sorta hot headed reader, minghao is minghao and that is a warning enough
fic playlist.
w/c. 26k
a/n. the smut has been moved to a separate post which can be found here! i had so so so much fun writing this! huge thanks to @gyuswhore bc em literally helped me through every step of the way & sat through me planning & switching around the events of the story a bajillion times, and thank u to @honeyhypen who read over this for me ^-^
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ENVELOPE
To: Xu Minghao
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“Why are you in my room?” Jun huffs, turning around to look up at you as you stand by his door. In front of him is a massive, yet unfinished LEGO replica of Hogwarts. You frown, glancing at his friend who lays on his bed with a phone up to his face.
He’s Jun’s new friend, and you’ve heard your brother talk about him but this is your first time really seeing Minghao in the flesh. Shaggy hair hangs loose over his dark eyes as he peeks over his phone and glances at Jun, as if to silently ask who you are.
“Dad says dinner is ready,” you tell him, feeling a little timid under the gaze of the new boy. He’s only two years older than you, but the only interaction you get with high schoolers is your brother, so you’re feeling shy. He’s a very nice looking boy, you think to yourself, but try hard not to stare as Minghao uncrosses his legs and sits up on your brother's bed.
Jun’s eyes soften when he notices you standing awkwardly, standing up and pointing at you as he says your name. “My sister—two years younger,” he explains.
“One point five, actually,” you correct him with a roll of your eyes, feeling more comfortable now that Jun is initiating something. Your brother laughs at you and ruffles your hair while Minghao stands up behind him.
“Ya-da, ya-da. You’re still two grades below, so it doesn’t really make a difference. Anyways, this is Minghao,” he says, pointing at his friend behind him who throws you a small smile and wave.
“I know,” you blurt out before you even have a chance to think, heat flushing to your face after you realize what you said and see Minghao give you a funny look. “I-I mean because Jun talks about you a lot,” you clarify, clearing your throat. “Y’know, he doesn’t have a lot of friends so when—”
Jun clamps a hand over your mouth and gently drags you out of the room as Minghao follows behind closely with silent laughter. “That’s enough from you. Watch it, or I’m never letting you talk to my friends again.”
“Friends? I think you mean friend,” you retort, looking back at Minghao who watches the two of you amusedly. “Are you sure you want to be friends with someone so mean to his sist—”
Jun flicks your forehead and you push his chest. “Shut up already! If you scare away all my friends, all I’ll have left is you, and you’ll just have to put up with me all day!”
“You’re right about that,” you say with a heavy sigh as you all make your way to the dinner table where your father has set out a meal for the three of you. Putting your hands up in defeat as you sit down at your spot at the middle end of the table, you glance at Minghao who takes a seat with Jun sitting between the two of you. “I guess I’ll back off for now.”
Jun scoffs. “You better.” The three of you laugh together.
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Yiren rummages through your closet, and you frown deeply. “Hey! You better clean that up,” you warn, rolling off of your bed and onto the floor, lazily standing up.
“I’m helping you pick out a nice outfit! You said Minghao is coming ri—” You scramble to your feet to slap a hand over Yiren’s mouth, eyes wide.
“Shut up! My brother’s room is right there—he might hear you!”
Yiren rolls her eyes, nudging your hand off her mouth with a huff. “Oh my god, don’t tell me you haven’t told him yet.”
“What?” you narrow your eyes at her, grabbing one of your bras that she threw onto the ground and stuffing it back into your closet. “You thought I was going to tell Jun that I have a crush on his best friend?” you half whisper, half yell.
“Uh, why wouldn’t you? You’re seriously missing out on your chance to have him help you get with Minghao.”
You scoff, looking down at all the clothes strewn across the floor. “Have you met my brother? He would flip if I even mentioned being with a guy, let alone that guy being two years older and his friend.”
“You don’t know that,” Yiren retorts, throwing herself onto your bed leaving you to clean up the mess she made.
“Yes I do. This is how I can tell you don’t have any brothers …”
“Well if you never make a move on Minghao, how are you ever going to get him? You gotta start somewhere, and maybe your brother is the first nut you gotta crack to get there.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t exactly planned on making any moves,” you mumble, reaching down to pick up a cute pink jacket you haven’t seen in a while.
“Uh, why not?” Yiren piques, sitting upright on your mattress.
“Excuse me, have you looked at Minghao?” you groan, slumping against your wall with the jacket in your hands. “He’s so … cool, and popular, and handsome,” you gush, and Yiren makes a disgusted face.
“Uh, no, sorry I don’t fawn over your future husband, so I don’t really look at Minghao but—”
“And he’s going to be a senior! Why would a senior ever go for—” you look down and gesture at yourself, “—me.”
“You’re seriously downgrading yourself—you know you’re a catch.”
“Yeah, not for someone like him,” you snort, flopping down onto your bed next to her. “It’s whatever, it’s a stupid crush anyways.”
“Yeah,” Yiren says flatly. “You’ve only been crushing on him for like three years—hey! Don’t hit me!”
“Then stop saying this stuff,” you groan, throwing a pillow onto her head.
“Okay fine, I’ll stop. So are you going to wear that?” she asks, pointing at the jacket you left at the foot of your bed.
“Yeah, I think I will. It’s cute right?”
“Mhm … bet Minghao will totally like it and—”
“Yiren, shut up,” you giggle, pushing her again as you roll off the bed. “Okay, so the pink jacket and these jeans?” you ask, picking one pair off the ground and holding it up for her to see.
“Mm, no,” she says while shaking her head, standing up to join you as she looks at all of the clothes she threw across the floor. “Let’s see …” she hums to herself.
“Yiren,” you say with a laugh, “I think you’re putting more thought into this than me.”
“Well I can’t just let my best friend be single and lonely for the rest of her life! If all you do is sit around and listen to Radiohead, you’re going to end up being sixty-five and alone in some cottage in the woods.”
“Hey! That actually seems pretty peaceful,” you try to object, but Yiren narrows her eyes in your direction.
“Okay well,” she drawls out, putting her hands on your shoulders so you’re right in front of her, “Imagine being sixty-five and living in a cute cottage in the woods with Minghao. Sounds better, doesn’t it?” You can’t help the giddy grin that makes its way onto your face when Yiren says that, and she punches your shoulder lightly when she notices. “See, you do want that! So just listen to me, okay?”
“Okay, okay, fine! Just tell me which jeans to wear.”
She looks down, picking through the denim before pulling out a light blue one with little flowers embroidered on the pockets. “Look, this is cute. It’ll match with the jacket.”
You nod along, not questioning her because as far as you know, Yiren’s fashionable instinct stretches much further than yours and whatever she says about this must be true. As you change from your pajamas  into your new, curated outfit, Yiren sits back on the bed and grins widely.
“Looks perfect on you. Minghao will love it.”
“You think?” you pique, looking at her with bright, beaming eyes.
She winks at you and you jump up and down on the balls of your feet at the excitement. “I want at least 25% of whatever you get from your wedding gifts. You both will owe me big time.”
“I’ll believe it when it happens … Anyways, you ready to go? Let’s wait downstairs and get some pop while we wait for Minghao to come,” you suggest, Yiren agreeing with a nod as she bounces behind you. Jun, it seems, is still in his room waiting for his friend, so you stick your head through his door. “We’re going down to snack a little. Wanna come?”
Your brother shrugs, pushing himself off his swiveling chair to join you. “You know if we still have those cupcakes? The ones you made last week?”
“I think we have a few left. Why? You liked them?” you exclaim happily, turning around to face Jun as the three of you settle in the kitchen. You reach for a box you kept on the island, popping off the lid to show him.
Jun grins and pulls one out and you offer one to Yiren who stands beside you. “‘course I like them,” he says with his mouth stuffed with cake and cream.
Yiren, shooting a look of disgust his way, says, “Ew! Please don’t chew and talk, that’s gross.” Jun rolls his eyes at her as Yiren stuffs her own face with the cupcake, sighing as she digs in.
“Whatever,” Jun grumbles after swallowing it down. “They taste really good, you should make them more.”
Yiren nods, tapping your shoulder, “Agreed. Send me the recipe too,” voice muffled as she continues to munch down on the cupcake.
“Didn’t you just tell me not to eat with my mouth full?” Jun mutters, crossing his hands over his chest. You laugh at the banter and suddenly you hear the doorbell ring, ears perking up. “That’s probably Minghao—I’ll get the door.”
As your brother makes his way down to the foyer, you turn to look at Yiren. “I would give you the recipe but I don’t want to be the reason your house burns down. Seriously, remember the last time you tried baking and—”
“Oh my god, is the recipe what you’re thinking about right now? Minghao is just about to come—offer him a cupcake! Show him your amazing baking skills and show him what a good housewife you can be!”
You give your best friend a look of bewilderment. “What the hell Yiren,” you groan, slapping your hand on your face, trying to hold back your chuckles. “Okay, I’ll give it to him but only because I want him to be impressed. Not because I want to submit myself to misogyny for the sake of a man.”
“Okay fine but—look!” she exclaims in a hushed whisper. “He’s here!” You immediately straighten your back and smile when Jun walks back into the kitchen with Minghao. He’s wearing some loose jeans and a black hoodie, his hair longer than before.
He says your name when he sees you, throwing up a wave and a smile. Minghao then glances at Yiren with a blank stare, pursing his lips together. Yiren chuckles nervously and clicks her tongue while pointing at herself. “Yiren.”
“Ah. Hi Yiren,” he says politely.
“You guys want some pop?” Jun offers when he opens up the fridge. Yiren, Minghao, and you nod happily and respectively call out your choices.
“Sprite!”
“Cola!”
“Cola!”
Jun juts his lip out in a pout when he turns back to the three of you. “I wanted Cola too, but there’s only two left.” You’re about to furrow your brows and tell him that it’s okay, you don’t really want any, but Minghao speaks up before you.
“She can have the Cola, I don’t mind,” he says casually, grabbing one can from Jun and handing it to you with soft eyes. “Here.”
“Are you sure? I don’t really care for the difference between Sprite and Cola and—”
Minghao chuckles and shakes his head, and you think you might just pass out when your palm brushes against his knuckles when he eases the cold can into your hand. “Seriously, it’s fine,” he tells you. You glance at Jun and Yiren who are busy opening their own cans, turning your attention back to Minghao.
“Thank you … Uh, do you want a cupcake? I made some a while ago and we still have some left,” you offer, holding up the box to him.
“It’s the last one. Are you sure?”
“How the tables have turned,” you laugh, and Minghao cracks a bright smile at that and holy crap, if you weren’t so busy trying to keep your composure, you’d be freaking out over how handsome he looks when he smiles. “‘course you can have it. I’ve had plenty of them,” you admit sheepishly as he reaches for the cupcake and brings up to his mouth.
“Holy shit. I don’t blame you for eating a lot—if I had these in my house they’d be gone in like an hour.”
“Right!” Yiren agrees, and you can’t help but chew on your bottom lip when you smile from the praise.
“Guess this is just a sign for you to make more, huh,” Jun says, walking to stand next to you to lean on your shoulder.
“Uh-uh! You gotta reimburse me somehow,” you protest, looking up at your brother with a firm expression.
“Please make more, they’re really good. I’ll buy you boba if you make more,” Minghao chimes, and it’s safe to say you don’t expect it from the way you cough on your own saliva. Yiren laughs at your reaction, and Jun only looks at you weirdly when you nod in agreement.
“Oh, so you’ll make cupcakes when he asks but not for your dear older brother?”
You roll your eyes, saying, “He offered to buy me boba! You know I can’t turn that down.”
Jun huffs in faux irritation, digging his hand into his pocket to fish out his keys. “Ya-da, ya-da. Anyways, would anyone other than my super fake, mean, evil sister like to go to karaoke now?” he asks playfully. All it takes is one glare and pulling on his hair for a few seconds to have him shouting out apologies as the four of you make your way to the car garage.
The ride to the karaoke place is short with Jun in the front and Minghao sitting in the passenger seat next to him. You and Yiren pile into the back, and the three of you scroll through your phones to decide what songs to sing later while Jun drives.
“I get to sing Creep, right?” you ask excitedly, bouncing up and down in your seat.
“How’d I know you were going to bring up Radiohead,” Jun mutters, pressing his head back into the head rest when he stops at a red light, while Minghao turns in his seat to look back at you with wide eyes.
“You like Radiohead?” he asks with a small smile.
The corners of your lips are lifted and your face brightens when you nod vigorously. “Yeah I do!”
“I think ‘like’ would be an understatement. I’m like 99% sure Thom Yorke lives in her skin or something because what she has for Radiohead is a lot more than just ‘like,’” Yiren says.
“No way, I love Radiohead,” Minghao tells you. Holy shit. So Minghao is attractive and nice and smart and pretty much perfect at everything and he enjoys Radiohead? You might go insane.
“Really?” Your eyes are wide with your jaw hanging open, leaning forward in your seat.
You hear Jun groan from the driver’s seat, and both you and Minghao shoot him a dirty look. “I forgot both of you are obsessed with Radiohead. Seriously, could either of you get more emo?”
“If you weren’t driving right now, I’d strangle you,” Minghao says bluntly before looking back at you. “Anyways, what’s your favorite song?”
“Junnie, please, can you put on Creep now? You know I’ve been waiting forever,” you plead, holding your hand out to the microphone that’s in your brother’s hand. The room is dark and lit up with red and blue LEDs across the border, making the room glow purple.
“But I want to sing another round of Taylor Swift!” he protests, pointing at the big screen in front of you while clutching the microphone close to his chest. You scoff, poking his side. “You know I’m not ticklish, so that doesn’t work.”
“You’re not ticklish? How?” Yiren exclaims, looking at Jun with wide eyes.
You turn to squint at her. “He’s weird. I thought we already established this.”
“Hey!” Jun whines. “See this is why you won’t be getting to sing Creep tonight.”
“Jun!” you cry out, and you’re about to pull out a string of complaints and curses, but then Minghao is stepping in, pointing at you.
“Put on Creep. She’s been asking for a while and I want to sing it too,” he says. Jun is quiet for a moment before sighing and handing you the microphone which leads you to puffing up your chest and smiling proudly.
“Thanks,” you chirp gleefully, as Minghao holds his own microphone up to his lips.
When he smiles at you, it’s kind and sincere in such a way that it has your heart swelling under your pretty pink jacket. Minghao coolly points at Yiren who sits by the control tablet. “Creep. Hit it.”
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The air inside your house is warm as you skip down the hall and down the stairs. When the bell rang the first time, you thought it was just some package but when you hear it ring twice, you think otherwise.
When you peek through the little peep-hole, you jump up and down on the balls of your feet, a mix of excitement and nerves pools at your stomach. You open the door and Minghao shuffles in front of you at the doorstep. You haven’t seen him in a few weeks, and his hair looks shorter. “Did you cut your hair?” you ask the seventeen year old as you move to the side so he can step in.
“Yeah, it was getting in my eyes too much,” he tells you with a nod, a small puff of vapor coming from his lips. It’s cold, and you hear him inhale a breath of relief when you close the door behind him. “Thought the door was never gonna open. I was freezing my ass off,” he says, unwinding the brown scarf from his neck.
“‘m sorry,” you reply sheepishly as he takes off his shoes, following you through the foyer. “Jun didn’t tell me you were coming so I was in my room. He’s still out with my dad, but he’ll be back soon.”
“That’s fine.” Minghao shrugs off his puffer jacket, placing it on the coat rack while you make your way to the kitchen.
“Do you want a drink? It’s cold outside, so I can make some hot chocolate. Jun got the nice kind from the cafe down the street.”
“That’d be great, thanks,” he says, sitting down at one of the stools in front of the kitchen island as you take out some milk and hot chocolate powder. It’s silent, and you chew your lip while thinking about how this is the first time in a really long time that you and Minghao have been alone together.
Nearing the end of his twelfth year in high school and just like the first time you met him, he’s as enticing as ever. Dancing competitions with Jun, left and right, smart and respectful with the teachers, popular among the students—you're lucky you get to talk to someone as cool as him, even if it is only on the account that you’re his best friend’s little sister.
“How’s high school?” he asks casually as you boil some milk over the stove.
“It’s alright … English is still hard as ever,” you admit, dropping the powder into the frothing milk.
Minghao chuckles softly when you turn around to face him, and a small smile makes its way onto your lips. “Yeah, it was never my strong suit either. You still friends with … what’s her name? Sorry, I’m not good with names—the girl who lost her voice at karaoke when she came with us?”
“Yiren?” you giggle softly, recalling the memory. “Yeah. Still friends, still as loud as ever,” you say with a sigh, mixing the milk as it turns light brown. “How are things with you? Jun’s been telling me the dance practices you guys have is pretty intense. He always looks like he could eat a horse when he comes home.”
“That’s good to hear, and yeah, it’s all going good. It is pretty tiring, but it’s a lot of fun,” Minghao replies, stretching his arms behind his back as you pour out the hot chocolate into two mugs, bringing it over. “Thanks,” he murmurs, grabbing from your hand sitting down at your regular spot, one extra chair seated between the two of you as always.
Arm’s length, you think for a moment, before shaking yourself of the thought. “I’m sure the practice is paying off though—seems like Jun is always talking about some new kinda competition or something.”
“Mhm,” Minghao hums, taking a sip of the hot cacao. “This is really good, thank you,” he says with a soft smile, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel some sort of giddiness erupt in your stomach. “I think … I think we can really take it somewhere—our dancing.”
It’s a sparing thought that Minghao and Jun’s dreams are far beyond yours, and you have a bit of a difficult time trying to understand what he means by somewhere and if that somewhere includes you or not.
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“You’re going to Korea?” your eyebrows furrow as you glance between Jun and your parents.
“Nothing’s finalized yet—” your mother says, but when Jun’s eyes flicker between you and the ground, you already know that this is set in stone.
“Yes it is.” Your voice is small when the words come out. “You—” you take a deep breath, “—you’re going.”
“Not now, of course,” your dad says, patting your back as he stands up, your mother following suit. “Talk for a few minutes, yeah?” he says as both your parents walk out. When your whole family walked into your room ten minutes earlier to tell you they had big news, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly was not this.
And now you’re sitting with your brother on one end of your bed while you’re curled up against your pillows on the other, unable to meet his gaze.
“When are you going?” you ask quietly, finally breaking the silence.
“August.”
“That’s in a month and a half,” your shoulders deflate as you say it. “How long?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You bury your face in your hands in hopes that it’ll muffle your cries. It doesn’t.
Jun scoots over to you quickly when he sees your shoulders shake, one arm going around your back to pull you close to his body, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “How are you going to do it?” you blubber as your brother pats your back. “You can’t just go to a whole different country alone and—”
“I won’t be alone. Minghao is coming with me,” Jun tells you quickly. Now that brings your head up. You don’t care that your nose is snotty and that your hair is all over the place and that your face burns, you just need to see the look on Jun’s face to see that he isn’t messing with you.
The way his own eyes are glossy gives you your answer. “Y-you both got accepted into tha-that company?”
Jun nods. “We applied together.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were applying? I-I would’ve understood. You could have given me more time to process this and—” You look down at your hands, “Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, not finding the words in your throat.
“We didn’t even know if we would get accepted. Me and Minghao promised each other that we’d only follow through with it if both of us got in and we didn’t think that there’d be a high chance of that because it’s so competitive … I only told Mom and Dad because until we got the acceptances, I really didn’t think it was going to actually happen.” You gulp at his words, trying to let it all sink in.
“I think … I think I just need to go on a walk. Take a breather, y’know,” you mutter under your breath as you stand up. Just as you're about to walk away, you stop yourself, looking back at Jun who stares down at his hands. You don’t think twice before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. “I’m really proud of you,” you say quietly before rushing out of your room and down the stairs.
You shove your feet into some slippers in the foyer, rushing out onto the street soon after. You aren’t sure what you’re doing or where you’re headed, but you continue to trudge along the sidewalk until you’re walking down the main road.
The summer air is hot and stuffy, and you wonder if you feel so suffocated because of the sun’s onslaught or because of thoughts that run through your head. It’s surrounding you, breathing it in, it fills your lungs, courses through your veins, rushes to your brain—you don’t know what it is, but it’s uncomfortable and has you dizzy and your vision foggy.
You lean against a thick lamppost next to you, hands on your knees as you knit your eyebrows together as sweat beads down your forehead. What the fuck, you think as you breathe in through your nose.
You hear your own name bounce around in your head, and the sound only grows louder and louder until you’re muttering under your breath, telling yourself to shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up. And there are tears in your eyes but you furiously wipe them away because while you don’t mind crying, you do mind crying if you don’t know why.
And fuck, there’s that voice again, your name echoing over and over again until it’s growing lowder and ringing in your ears. You think you might start crying again until the voice sounds familiar and you’re whipping your head up and standing straight when you see a car pull up to the curb next to you.
“Fuck my life,” you mumble to yourself when you see Minghao in the driver’s seat of the car. He rolls down the window and god, he looks so pretty with his hair back and upper body fit into a loose yellow shirt.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asks you, brows pinched into a concerned expression as he looks at you, face flushed and sheen from sweat.
“I—” You’re about to smile at him and let the giddiness of having your crush talk to you take over, but then the words get caught in your throat when you remember the whole reason you’re out here. “—I’m just going on a walk.”
“In this heat?” He raises a brow at you. “Where to? Let me give you a ride. You don’t look too well.”
“Nowhere really,” you say with a shrug. “Actually, I might just head back home,” you rush out, turning on your heel to walk in the other direction so Minghao can’t pry any further, but he stops you.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he calls out, and you don’t have the willpower to ignore him. “Let me drive you home then. Seriously, you don’t look well—like you look like you’re ‘bout to pass out and shit—so just get in the car, please?” He says the last part with some sort of beggary etched onto his face and you just can’t deny him. Not now, not ever.
Pulling the door open, your limbs feel heavy as you climb into the car, air much cooler and fresher than outside. Leaning your head against the headrest, you let your eyes flutter shut as Minghao starts the car.
“Are you seriously okay? You look—”
“Sick, I know. I look sick,” your grumble, eyes still shut. You wonder if you should tell him Jun just told you everything.
“I’m sorry,” and you can tell from the way his voice doesn’t waver that he means it.
“Jun told me about Korea.”
“Oh.” Yeah, very big oh. “Just now?” You nod. “Is that why you were out here?” You nod again, finally opening your eyes.
“Hey, this isn’t the way to my house.”
Minghao keeps his eyes on the road. “C’mon, let’s get some pop,” he says, ignoring your statement and driving into the parking lot of a convenience store. He unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out his end, not saying a word, and you figure that you have no other choice but to follow.
Any other situation and you’d be grinning about spending some time alone with Minghao, but after hearing Jun tell you that he’s going to be traveling hundreds of miles and flying over borders within the next two months has your stomach churning in a way you don’t like.
You don’t know if you want to spend all the hours of the day with Jun and Minghao, or if you want to crawl up in your bed and pretend they don’t exist so it’ll hurt less when they’re gone. You feel stupid for thinking like this—you know it’s going to hurt either way.
You’re lost in your own thoughts as you walk into the store after Minghao, only snapped back into the present when he says something to you. “Hey, those are your jeans that you wore when we first did karaoke right?’
You blink once and then twice before looking down at your pants. They were those same jeans. “Yeah, how’d you know?” you ask him incredulously, and Minghao chuckles as he reaches into the cooler and pulls out a pink popsicle.
“I remember the flowers and how they matched your pink jacket. It was cute,” he says casually, and you hope he doesn’t catch onto the way your fingers twiddle together nervously and you avert your gaze. “Anyways, you like Cola right?” he clarifies when reaching into the drink fridge near the cooler. You nod shyly, thanking him quietly when he hands you a can.
As you make your way to the cash register, you fish around in your pockets for a few moments hoping you’ll dig up a dollar bill or something but then Minghao’s hand is on your wrist and he shakes his head with a smile.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll cover it.” He turns back so quickly you don’t have time to protest because he’s already sticking his card into the machine, throwing the cashier a thumbs up and walking out the store without a word.
“I could’ve paid for myself, y’know,” you grumble, following behind Minghao, watching to see where he’s headed. You think he’s going to get back into his car, but instead he plops down on the street curb, sitting on the ground. You just look at him for a few moments, contemplating what to do for a few moments before joining his side.
“Yeah, but I wanted to pay for it.”
The sun is bright and it beads down on you relentlessly, but you don’t complain. You both sit in silence as you both tend to your snacks—Minghao tries to lap up his popsicle quickly now that you’re out in the heat and you try to drink as much of your Cola as you can before it grows lukewarm. The air grows thick between you.
You can’t find the right words to say. You suppose there aren’t any right words or any wrong words, and that you can say just about anything right now and it wouldn’t matter.
Glancing at Minghao who takes a lick of his pink popsicle, you feel that uneasy feeling swarm inside of your chest.
You could kiss him right now. You could press your mouth against his sticky lips and lap at the sugar against his tongue. You could hold his face and run your fingers through his hair and cradle the nape of his neck. You could do anything right now and it wouldn’t matter.
Minghao, after all, was leaving.
But you’re scared and Minghao is mature and his dreams are big and he’s brave.
Your eyes linger on his plush lips for no longer than a second before you shamefully look down at the Cola in your hands, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach.
“You’ll remember this place, right? Like—if you get big and famous and stuff, you two won’t forget, right?” you resort to asking. You say ‘this place,’ but really, you mean ‘me.’ You don’t want to be forgotten.
Minghao watches you with his eyes clouded with something you can’t really make out. “Of course we won’t. We’ll remember forever.” Absentmindedly, you trace figure-eights into the top of your can of pop, and Minghao catches the motion.
Using his own finger, he traces the figure of the number eight over the cement of the curb. “See. Like infinity, y’know?”
You purse your lips together and nod, your mind going dizzy. “Can we … can we go?” you mumble softly, gripping the can in your hand. “I think the heat kinda got to me.” It’s not entirely a lie.
Minghao doesn’t question you, polishing off his popsicle and tossing it into the trash before unlocking the door so you can take the silent ride home.
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Jun and Minghao flew out two months ago. You went with your family and Minghao’s family to bid goodbyes. It’s not like you wouldn’t see them again—give or take a few months and Jun would be back at home, but he’d have to leave again. And again. And again.
It’s sad, you think, as you slump against Yiren on some random person’s couch. You miss them so much, but when you think about Jun and Minghao, all you can see is the hard work they’ve put into going where they’re headed.
You feel selfish as you bring a cup up to your lips. You feel pathetic and lame and if you weren’t already drunk, you’d be wallowing in self pity as well. The alcohol tastes just as bitter as your feelings, and while you wince when you gulp it down, you don’t hesitate to let some more run down your throat.
Yiren watches you worriedly when you clutch her arm and shut your eyes tight. “I miss them,” you whisper, and she doesn’t know if you’re talking to her or to yourself. She strokes your hair and coos to you about taking you to lie down somewhere.
Your head spins as she helps you stand, letting the cup fall to the ground, not bothering to pick it up. Yiren pulls you into an empty bedroom and sits you on the bed. “Drink this,” she instructs, handing you a bottle of water.
“Yiren, I miss them,” you repeat yourself.
“I know, I know you do. Do you want to go home? I’ll drive you and—”
“No, you go have fun. I just need to sit down for a sec,” you tell her, letting your back fall onto the mattress. Yiren gives you a warning look, but you shoo her off. “Trust me, I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need anything.” She looks like she wants to protest, but you both know you’re on a one track mind right now.
“Please don’t do anything stupid,” Yiren begs as she walks away and closes the door behind her. You’re still dizzy, but not nearly as bad as before. Sitting up, you glance around the room. It’s simple—probably a guest room in whoever’s house this is. Also probably why the door was unlocked in the first place.
You feel you might pass out until your eyes land on an open notebook on a table in the corner of the room. You don’t think twice before standing up and ripping a sheet out, scrambling for a pen.
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DEAR MINGHAO
I’m drunk right now. I miss you and I miss Jun. I hope when you guys come back again, we can go to that karaoke place again and sing to Radiohead. I’ve expanded my taste you know—my favorite song is Fake Plastic Trees now, and I even got a record player just so I could play the vinyl for it. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.
When you come back, we should really go there again. Yiren’s been getting really tired of me singing Creep every time, so I need a new duo partner. And she’s leaving too, so there’s that.
I really want to kiss you right now, but you’re in Korea.
I miss Jun a lot too. I think I hate you for it. He’s my brother but somehow you get to see him more and talk to him more and be with him more. Sometimes I call him and it’s for less than five minutes and I hear your voice in the background and I don’t know if I want to listen to you speak forever or strangle you so you can never talk again. I get that Jun is busy, and that you’re busy, but you guys get to be busy together.
Yiren told me she’s probably going to go to college out of the country next year. I’m going to miss her like hell. I think I already miss her, and so I drag her to karaoke with me so she won’t ever forget about me and Radiohead and how garbage I am at singing Creep.
Jun says he’s going to come visit home in two months, and that you might come along. I didn’t know home was a place you only visit, but I guess being an idol changes you. I probably sound super bitter right now. I’m not. Maybe I’m upset that you guys are gone, but I really am happy for you.Jun is happy, and you’re happy, and I’m so happy you have each other.
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It’s hard to focus on your exam—halfway through your degree and you still get the jitters every time you step into the testing hall. It’s probably the nerves. And the caffeine. And the fact that you’ll be seeing your brother and Minghao in three hours.
It’s mainly the third that has your leg bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you jot down your answers. The exam takes longer than you’d like to finish, but as soon as you’ve finished the final question, you’re bolting out of the large room and toward the parking lot.
Connecting your phone to your car, you call Jun as you back out of the parking spot. “Hey, you guys at the airport?” you ask when you hear him pick up.
“Yeah, we’re just getting out right now but there’s kind of a crowd so it might take a while to just get to the car.”
“I forgot you guys are, like, famous,” you mutter jokingly. “Where’re you headed first? Minghao’s place first?”
“Yeah probably. He’s gonna see his parents and stuff first and then I’ll go to Mom and Dad’s house, so you can just come there.”
“Okay … we’re still good for our dinner plans, right?”
“Yeah, actually I was wondering if Minghao could tag along,” Jun says, and you can hear some muffled shouting from the other side.
“Oh okay, yeah su—”
“Hey, look, there’s a lot of people here and I can’t hear much so just text me your response and I’ll get to you in a second,” Jun tells you quickly as the shouting grows louder. He hangs up soon after and you sigh heavily as you start driving to your parents house.
The ride is quiet but you’re happy to be met with gleeful parents when you get to their place. You’re all a bit spirited at the prospect of Jun coming home, so when you hear the old ringing of the door bell, you’re bolting to the door and swinging it open, jumping into his arms.
“What happened to ‘hi,’ ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’” Jun teases as he hugs you close, awkwardly trying to shuffle into the house. You poke your tongue out at him when you finally unwind your arms from around him.
“Hi. Hello. How are you? You seem obnoxious, as always,” you shoot back, and Jun only grins, pinching your cheek tightly.
“Oh how I missed my little insane sister,” he says before moving onto your parents, enveloping them in hugs as you all begin to settle down in the living room. The four of you spend a few hours catching up with Jun before he excuses himself to freshen up so he can get ready for your plans for the evening.
When he comes back all ready, you’re pulling out your keys from your purse and waving bye to your parents, promising them you’ll stop by the next morning as you and your brother make your way to the door.
“See you later!” Jun calls out before closing the front door behind him and following you to your car. Minghao’s house is close by, no more than a five minute drive, and it’s quiet as you take the familiar roads through the town to get there.
“Should we go in?” you ask when you park in Minghao’s driveway. “You haven’t seen his parents in a while, have you?”
“Oh yeah, you’re right. C’mon, let’s go.” You both slip out of the car and make your way to the front door. Minghao’s mother opens the door and you spend a few minutes exchanging greetings and catching up before Minghao is stepping out, clad in some black jeans and a grey hoodie.
He smiles when he sees you, pulling you into a hug, giving you a chance to feel the slightly damp hair against your cheek and the woody smell that always reminds you of him. “Hey, how’s it been?” he asks when he pulls away.
“I-I’m good,” you say shyly.
“Let’s talk more in the car, yeah?” Jun suggests, turning back to Minghao’s parents to give them a hug before you all wave your goodbyes and get into your car.
“Where’re we headed?” Jun asks, as you back out of the driveway. Jun sits in the passenger seat while Minghao slips into the back.
“It’s this new place—opened just a few months ago so I doubt you’d have gone there yet,” you tell him as you start driving.
“Is it the place next to the cafe?” Minghao asks you, and you nod excitedly.
“Yeah … how’d you know?”
“My mom told me about it, and said I should try it out. I guess now’s my chance, huh.”
“Yeah! It’s really good, I hope you both like it,” you say, reaching over to the AUX controls to flick on one of your playlists. “Okay guys … are you ready?” you warn, watching Minghao’s eyes brighten through the mirror.
“Oh my god, don’t tell me you guys are going to sign Creep again—” Jun starts to groan, but you reach over and press a finger over his lips to shut him up.
“Quiet,” Minghao hisses to his friend, scooting forward in his seat so you’re in his view, placing his hands under your headrest. His fingers brush against the back of your neck and you’re scared you might crash the car from the way his touch makes you shiver. Fuck, more than half a damn decade and you still can’t fight it off. “Turn it up,” he instructs from behind, and you can only grin as you reach over and pump up the volume.
The deep rumble of snare and guitar echoes through the car as the song starts and you already feel your heart begin to swell in your chest. So when the first lines of, ‘when you were here before,’ leave your lips, you aren’t sure if you feel your heart mending itself, or if it’s salt being poured on the wound.
Because from behind you is Minghao’s voice, so deep and velvety and angelic it has you almost in a trance. He’s been good at singing, always, but now his voice sounds … mature, and developed and … and you love it.
You think back to the first time you sang Creep with him, and the lyrics already have you reminiscing when you both sing, ‘couldn’t look you in the eye,’ because goddammit you still struggle to look at Minghao for too long because you’re scared you’ll get lost.
And when it gets to the part before the bass is blaring in your ears, Minghao and you are singing, ‘I wish I was special, you’re so fuckin’ special,’ at the top of your lungs and you can’t help but let the irony sink in.
Now you’re pretty sure when Thom wrote Creep, he didn’t mean it to be about your love life, especially not the non-existent one between you and your brother’s best friend, but Thom is speaking to you right now, and you wonder if Minghao can hear the way you’re singing from your heart. How you’re singing for him.
When the song comes to an end, Minghao’s fingers brush over the nape of your neck one last time before he retreats back into his seat. You try to not mull on the feeling any longer, shaking your head of all of those thoughts when you near the restaurant.
“Here it is!” you chirp, parking the car on the curb. The three of you shuffle out of the car casually, making your way to the entrance.
“Looks nice,” Minghao comments as he opens the door for you and Jun. Your brother hops in merrily and you and Minghao both share a soft smile as you go inside too, your body nearly jerking when you feel his hand on the small of your back as he follows behind you.
His touch is warm and gentle and—fuck, does he know what he’s doing to you right now?
You’re more relieved than anything when he finally lets his arm drop, the three of you making your way to the table you booked. You were scared that if Minghao stayed close any longer, he’d be able to feel your heart beating through your chest.
You guys sit down at the table, Jun next to you while Minghao settles across the two of you. “So how’s your classes going?” he asks you as you look through the menu. “Jun said you had an exam today, right?”
“Yeah, it was my final one,” you tell him with a sigh of relief. “It was stressful preparing for it but it went better than I thought.”
“Good to hear,” Minghao says as a waiter comes along to pick up on your orders. After he leaves, Jun turns to you.
“What’s Yiren up to?” Jun asks you curiously. “Haven’t seen that girl in ages.”
“She’s, uh, she’s good,” you reply. “I haven’t seen her in a while either … she went off to college in Korea, remember?”
Minghao chuckles, “Seems like everyone’s going there, huh? Maybe you should pull up too.”
You scrunch up your face and shake your head while you take a sip of water. “I think I like this place too much to leave. Plus, who’s going to take care of our old folks if I leave too?” you tease, nudging your brother in the side.
“Mom and Dad can take care of themselves just fine,” Jun shrugs, ruffling your hair as the waiter brings along some food.
“Looks good,” Minghao says, holding up some chopsticks as you all look down at the sizzling dishes in front of you.
“It is! See?” you say pointedly, looking up at Jun. “Imagine I moved to Korea—I wouldn’t be able to eat this.” Your brother only rolls his eyes and Minghao and you laugh together while you dig in.
As you work through your meal and catch each other up on your lives, Minghao eventually leans back in his seat and sighs heavily. “I’m really craving something sweet right now.”
“I’d say we should pick up some pastries from the cafe next door but they closed two hours ago,” you say sadly.
“Oh shit, I forgot about that place. They made the best chocolate buns ever,” Jun mutters to himself, polishing off his plate.
“Let’s go to the cafe tomorrow evening, yeah?” Minghao suggests as he takes a sip of water. At the suggestion, you chew at your lip.
“Uh, I don’t think I can go then,” you say, hoping they won’t pry any further.
Of course, your brother doesn’t allow you a second of peace. “Why not? Your last exam was today, right?”
“Yeah, but I have stuff to do,” you reply nonchalantly. Jun scoffs and tugs your ear, causing you to whine. “What was that for?!”
“You didn’t clear your schedule out for me? I thought you missed me! You know I have to leave in like a week,” he complains, and you and Minghao share an amused look as you nudge Jun on the side.
“Relax, you can have me in the morning and afternoon and everything … I just have to go somewhere for the evening.”
“You’re being really ominous about this, you know,” Jun retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where’re you going?”
You chew on your tongue, contemplating if this is the right moment to bring it up, or if you should even tell Jun and Minghao this at all. “I just have to see someone.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Jun groans. “You’re literally asking me to pry. Tell me who—a boyfriend?” You chuckle nervously, eyes flickering between Minghao and your brother, shaking your head.
“No—not a boyfriend,” you say dryly, scoffing at the irony. “Remember Renjun? I told you about him when I was in freshman year.”
“Vaguely. Remind me who he is again?”
“He’s just a guy, and he has some of my stuff I need to pick up.” Both Minghao and Jun cock an eyebrow at you after that. “What?” you huff, leaning back in your seat.
“An ex?” Minghao asks and your face burns.
“I—yeah,” you say casually. “An ex.”
Jun frowns deeply. “I didn’t know you and Renjun ever dated. I didn’t even know you ever had a boyfriend,” he says, voice evidently upset that he was left out of this.
“It wasn’t that serious,” you pat his shoulder as to soften the blow. “Plus it happened when you were on tour—we hardly talked then.”
“Still! You could’ve told me!” You bite back a, ‘But could I really?’ because this isn’t the time or place for that.
“It’s whatever. I just need to pick up some stuff I left at his place and—”
“So it ended pretty recently then?” Minghao piques, and your eyebrows furrow, slightly annoyed by both of their belated interest in your love life.
“What, no! It’s been months and—wait, I don’t see how that’s any of your guys’ business,” you huff and Minghao backs off a little, but Jun still stays curiously leaning in.
“Whatever. You’ll be available to come with us to the lake on Friday though, right?” Jun asks, pulling out his phone and holding it up to your face to show you a picture of a lake house. “I booked a place to stay the night and all.”
“Of course I’m going to come—I’ve been looking forward to it!”
“Good,” Jun says gruffly, still somewhat glaring at you.
You give him a funny look. “What?”
“I’m still mad you never told me—you’re supposed to tell me this stuff! How else am I supposed to know that you’re doing fine on your own and actually growing up.”
“Oh my god, Jun, I’m an adult! Did you think I would never have boyfriends?”
“No! At least not without telling me!”
You chuckle and Minghao follows in suit, enjoying the little sibling bicker. “Okay fine. I’m sure I’ll be telling you every detail of my love life when it gets resurrected.”
Minghao snorts at your use of words, and you revel in the way the sound makes you feel. Fuck it, it’s been more than half a decade and you still get butterflies—you can’t fight away the feeling, so you might as well wallow in it.
You wonder what Jun would think about this—your love life being pulled and shaken by his own best friend. Oh well, some secrets are best kept hidden anyways.
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“Here’s your stuff,” Renjun says softly, handing you a paper bag that’s stuffed with a wide array of your belongings.
“Thank you. Is my pink jacket in there? I’ve been looking for it for a while and I didn’t know if I left it at yours,” you ask timidly, holding the paper bag close to your chest.
He scratches the back of his head as he steps back, nodding. “Uh, yeah I think it’s at the bottom.” You peer down at the contents of your back, and give a half smile when you see the pink cloth peeking out from underneath.
“Thanks for taking care of my stuff. I know you’ve basically moved out and all.”
“No worries. Do you, uh, need a ride home or anything? It’s pretty cold.”
You purse your lips at the offer, but shake your head. “It’s fine …” There’s an awkward silence and you quickly wonder if you should say anything more. Renjun looks awfully … apologetic right now and you feel there’s some more you can say. “How’s your new place? Have you seen it?”
“Yeah, I flew up there a few weeks back to get some of my main stuff shipped. A nice apartment, way bigger than whatever I had here,” he says with an awkward chuckle. You appreciate the effort.
Nodding, you tighten your grip on the bag. “That’s good to hear. I hope it all goes well with you. I … I think I’ll be taking my leave now. My brother’s back in town so …”
“Oh yeah, I heard from Jianing. Hope you’re having a good time—I know you haven’t seen him in ages.”
“Thank you. Anyways, I’m gonna get going now. Thanks again,” you say as you step back, throwing out a small wave.
A half-hearted, “See you,” leaves Renjun’s lips as you turn on your heel and start walking back to the bus station. There’s no promise of seeing Renjun later, or ever again, and something cold sinks in your stomach at the thought.
The thought that this all could’ve been avoided if Renjun hadn’t gotten that stupid job offer hundreds of miles away. If he didn’t decide to pack his bags and fly away just like Jun, like Yiren, like Minghao. Renjun was leaving, just like everyone else.
You clutch the paper bag close to your chest as you make your way to the bus stop, one hand fumbling in the pocket of your jacket as you search for your wallet and within seconds you’re a frantic mess. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Shit, shit, shit!” you cry out when you drop your bag and pat frantically over your pockets to try and feel for your wallet.
Your digging into every crook of the coat and there’s a growing feeling of dread that washes over you once you realize that you lost your fucking wallet. Hands clenched at your side, you feel hot tears well up in your lash line as you stare down at the ground, letting in the shitty events of today sink in.
You don’t even know why you’re crying now. It’s hardly even cries, really, you’re downright sobbing as you plop down on the curb of the empty street, fumbling with your phone as you pull up Jun’s contact. Pressing the phone to your ear, you shut your eyes tight in an attempt to calm down your breath, but when you hear the line go dead you cry even harder, realizing that Jun is probably napping right now.
“Fuck my life,” you complain to yourself, letting your head hang low as you scroll through your phone. You aren’t even sure what compels you to click on him but before you know it you’re on speaker as you hear the buzzing of the phone as you wait for Minghao to pick up.
One ring. Maybe he’s busy.
Two rings. He might be looking for his phone.
Three rings. He probably won’t pick up.
Four rings, and you’re about to hang up but then it stops. “Minghao?”
Minghao’s voice is cool and calm when he says your name. “Do you—”
“I need your help,” you say so quietly you aren’t sure if he’ll be able to hear it. And then Minghao hears it: your soft pants and shaky breath and something about the sound has him squeezing his phone tightly.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m—” No, I feel like shit and I’m freezing my ass off and it’s so cold and I need you to help me. “Can you pick me up? I lost my wallet which has my bus card. I’m sorry, I know it’s a little late and you’re probably busy but—”
“Send me your location.”
Minghao is pulling up in his black car within twenty minutes and by then you’ve had enough time to wipe the tears from your face and piece together yourself to look presentable. Rolling down the windows as you wave over to his car, you hear the doors click and you’re roughly yanking on the door and throwing your stuff and yourself in.
Minghao raises a brow at your ruckus, asking once again, “Are you okay?” When you only sigh heavily, buckling yourself up, you hope Minghao will just leave it alone. You’d rather not talk about the stupid breakdown you just had in front of your childhood crush.
Minghao clearly doesn’t get the message, so when he starts the engine again, he murmurs, “Have you been crying?” You purse your lips together tightly as if the question itself as the tears bubbling up to the surface once again. “Did meeting with Renjun not go well?” You’re surprised he remembers his name—Minghao was never great with names. “Can you say something? I’m worried.”
“Sorry,” you say softly, letting your shoulder drop down, and from the corner of your vision you see Minghao watching you carefully. “I-I just got overwhelmed. And it was cold. Really cold. And then—” You take a shaky breath. “—and I lost my fucking wallet on top of it and it’s all so shitty and—”
His hand is on your shoulder and you hardly realize that Minghao has pulled over and parked so he can turn to face you. You’re crying again and you don’t even know how this fucking happened, all you know is that there’s so much going on in your head and Minghao is right there, he’s so close but then again, he’s so far.
“Hey, hey calm down for a sec’,” he says calmly, gripping your arm firmly. “Breathe slowly, and tell me what happened.”
You inhale sharply through your nose and scrunch your face up as you bury your head in your hands. In your right mind, you wouldn’t even think about telling Minghao about what’s on your mind but it’s been a really terrible past hour and you can’t control yourself.
“Renjun’s leaving. Didn’t want to do long distance and so he’s gone and—fuck, I don’t even blame him but why’d he have to leave,” you ramble, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as Minghao pats your back gently.
“Did he say something to you when you met with him?” he asked, tone laced with concern. “I’m sorry, I’m just—are you o—okay please don’t cry.”
You don’t know why, but Minghao telling you to cry only makes the tears fall faster. “And Yiren—” you hiccup, “Yiren left too, I haven’t seen her in months and Jun a-a-and you—you’ve all been gone.” You don’t realize when Minghao grabs both your shoulders and forces you to face him completely.
“Slow down, please. No one’s left you, we’re all going to be here for you, you know that. Did Renjun say something which made you think like this?” he asks, the grip on your shaking shoulders growing tighter as you desperately try to steady yourself.
“N-no, but you’re not here. I hardly ever get to see my own brother and Yiren and you and Renjun and everything is so shitty I just—” you cry out and suddenly you stumble forward in the seat and before you know it Minghao’s arms are around you.
It’s not like you haven’t hugged him before but this is the first time you’re blubbering into his shoulder about your feelings, and if you weren’t so sad, you’d be fucking appalled. His warm hand is on your back, rubbing up and down slowly until you’ve finally found the conscience to actually breathe and realize just what’s going on.
Slowly, you pull away from Minghao’s hold, furiously wiping away at your face to dry yourself, looking down at your lap bashfully. “I am so sorry, what the fuck, I-I don’t know what came over me,” you blurt out when Minghao drops his hands from your shoulder. You miss the warmth, but you’re quite very embarrassed with yourself and don’t have the will to chase after his touch.
“Please don’t apologize,” Minghao replies softly, watching you with wide eyes. “That … was a lot and—”
“I’m sorry, look, I was just having a shitty day and it all piled up and you just—I don’t know I guess, let’s just pretend this never happened,” you beg with him. Minghao’s face looks like he wants to say more, but you really can’t tell with the way his eyes are clouded.
“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me.”
You gulp at the irony. No, you really can’t. You can’t tell Minghao anything, really, because even after crying and sobbing and wailing in his car he still looks at you with so much care and it has these stupid fucking butterflies erupting in your stomach like you’re fifiteen with a massive crush on your brother’s best friend.
“Can you just please drive me to my place?” you ask, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I think I just really need to sleep.”
You can tell Minghao still has questions, but you don’t seem too willing to answer them so he doesn’t say anything when he nods and turns back to the road. The ride is silent, and when he finally parks he pats your shoulder.
You look out the window and furrow your eyebrows. “This isn’t my apartment complex …” you tell him, confused as you see a convenience store in front of you. The same one.
“C’mon, I know you love pop,” he says casually, unbuckling his seatbelt leaving you with no other choice to follow behind him. There’s an odd sense of deja vu that envelopes over you, shoving your pockets into your jacket shyly.
“Remember the last time we were here?” Minghao asks with a chuckle as you guys walk into the store.
“Don’t remind me,” you murmur. “That was a shitty day.”
Minghao gives you a nervous smile as he pulls out a can from the fridge and hands it to you, grabbing his own bottle as well. “Yeah, but Cola made it better, right?”
“I guess it did. Cola always makes things better,” you admit. “Hey, fuck you,” you say jokingly when Minghao pulls out his wallet. “You should’ve taken me here another time when I actually had my wallet—I need to pay you back for that day!” you whine with a pout. “Now I’m in debt to you twice! You’ve bought me two Colas!”
Minghao rolls his eyes playfully as he pays for the drinks. “Yeah well things are different now, and I’m pretty sure my wallet doesn’t care about the cost of two Colas.”
“Is Mr. Big and Famous too good for my money now?” you huff when you step back outside, opening your Cola. “I will pay you back, no matter how stupidly rich you get.”
“I’ll have to hold you to that,” Minghao laughs as you slip back into his car. The air is lighter as he drives you back to your place for real this time, and the lingering feeling of pop on your tongue is sweet and fun.
“Thank you for the ride. And the Cola,” you add when he’s in front of your building.
“You remember what I said?”
You nod as you step out of the car, picking up your brown bag. “Thank you so much for this. I’m sorry again.”
“Stop apologizing. Is there … is there anything else I can do? You want another Cola perhaps?”
“Very funny, but I don’t think I want to be jumping off the walls tonight …” you answer, closing the door but still peering through the open window. You think for a second as you chew your lip, nodding when you come up with something. “But do me a favor … don’t tell Jun.”
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Jun takes you out to the lake house he booked three mornings after you met with Renjun and sobbed to Minghao in his car. It’s a refreshing turn of events, if you’re being honest, and you’re eager to sink into a relaxing weekend after a stressful exam season.
Your brother drives the three hours on the way with the promise of you driving on the way home hung over your head. When you reach the house—a medium sized cabin perched right by the lake and surrounded by trees and mountains—you’re greeted with the sight of Minghao sitting in his car and scrolling on his phone.
As you and Jun pile out of the car and grab your bags, Minghao comes out too, walking toward you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Thought you guys would never come. If you were gonna be late you should’ve just given me the keys to this place,” he says with a huff.
“Don’t blame me,” Jun shrugs, locking the car after you’ve both taken out your stuff, walking up to the cabin’s entrance. “She’s the one who wanted to stop and buy some pop.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t want it either,” you retort, reaching into your tote bag to hand Minghao a can of Cola. “Here,” you offer with a smile which he returns gleefully.
“Okay actually, totally valid reason,” Minghao says, flicking open the can before taking a sip.
“Hey! Don’t be on her side,” Jun whines as he opens up the cabin. Minghao and you chuckle together, your heart warming at the sound as you three start to load your things into the house. Minghao doesn’t say anything about that night when he picked you up, and for that much you’re grateful. This much, you can manage.
By the time you all have settled your things into your respective rooms it��s noon and the sun pummels down with admirable strength. As you stick your head out of your room, you catch Jun making his way down the hallway toward the bathroom.
“You going for a swim?” you ask, gesturing down to your swimsuit that you’ve already eagerly put on.
“Nah, I’m gonna go later. I need to take a call right now,” he says with a sigh and you nod, about to retreat back to your room before Minghao walks out of his own room.
“I’ll go if you’re going,” Minghao tells you casually, and you don’t waste a second to nod. “Give me five so I can get changed and then we can go out.”
You jump down the hall excitedly after he closes the door behind him, making your way to the backyard porch which leads into a deck over the lake. As you place your towel on one of the chairs outside, you hear the sliding door open.
Minghao walks out shirtless, lower half only covered with his swim trunks as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair, shaking his head lightly as he makes his way towards you, placing his towel next to yours. “Thanks for waiting … shit, it’s hot as hell,” he murmurs, and you’re thankful that you’re facing away from him right now—you aren’t sure you’d be able to handle the proximity and the sight of his bare upper body.
“Yeah,” you agree, finally straightening your back and putting some distance between the two of you when you start walking towards the edge of the deck. “The water’s so clear,” you think out loud, looking down at the blue lake in front of you.
“It’s really pretty … you want a picture?” Minghao suggests, walking up behind you.
“I would, but I left my phone inside.”
“Let’s just take it on my phone,” he says casually, holding up his phone in front of you, waving at you to step back a little so he can take a picture. “A candid one would look pretty with this view—like you’re looking out at the lake and stuff,” he begins to say, placing a smooth hand on your shoulder so he can manually turn you around so that you’re facing away from him.
When he lets his hand drop, it brushes over the curve of your hip and you have to bite down on your lip to stop the pathetic whimper that threatens to escape your lips. Luckily, Minghao can’t see the pained expression that makes its way onto your face as he steps back holding up his phone.
“Okay ready …” he calls out from further behind. “Three … two … one!” You hear a faint tapping sound as you still, letting Minghao take the pictures as you wait patiently. It takes a few moments, and you’re about to ask him how much longer he’s going to go at it before you hear the sound of something being dropped, and then a few rattling thuds.
“Minghao, what—” you begin to question as you slowly turn on your heel but by then it’s too late. “WHAT THE F—”
Your scream is cut off short when Minghao runs forward and lunges at you, one arm wrapping itself around your waist as he jumps into the water, bringing you down with him. The cool water of the lake hits your body and the wind gets punched out of your lungs as you feel your limbs entangle with his. Instinctevely, your arms tighten around one of his as your eyes press closed tightly as you feel your warm body start to level with the temperature around you.
And so even as your legs kick around for a few panicked moments, you begin to feel oddly at peace when your head finally reaches the surface of the water, Minghao’s hand still steady over your hips as you gasp for air.
“You’re a bitch for that,” you say, a few choked giggles escaping your lips as you do. Minghao finally unwinds his arm from yours, and while you miss the contact, his body is still dangerously close to yours, and you figure that that is already more than you can manage.
Minghao smiles gleefully, pushing his face so close that it’s right up in front of you. “Mm maybe, but it was really funny. Got it on video too.”
“What?!” you screech, swimming backward so quickly that you hit  your head on the wooden platform of the deck. “Crap!” you exclaim, hand immediately flying up to press against the throbbing crown of your head. Minghao’s eyes widen with concern as he wades his way towards you, tall enough to still have his feet touch the lake bottom unlike you.
“Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?” he asks worriedly, his own hand coming up to feel the back of your head. His eyes are big and brown as he looks down at you, and for this moment, you forget about the dull ache and bask in the way the sun hits his skin so perfectly he glows.
“I’m fine!” you squeak quickly, letting your hand drop so you can tread in the water lightly, slowly moving a safe distance away from the deck.
“A-are you sure?” he probes, making his way to you, and you have a moment to admire him from afar—the way his hair is matted against his forehead and water drops gather at his lashes, making his eyes look prettier than ever.
You chuckle at the way his lips are pursed together apologetically, and you splash some water at him to lighten the mood. “Yes, Minghao, I’m great. I hardly hit myself.” Minghao’s face looks uneasy, and you laugh again.
It takes a few more minutes of you trying to convince him that you’re totally fine before he finally lets it go. Eventually, you find yourself on a big inflated duck-shaped floaty, laying down with your face up and eyes closed. You lose track of time, enjoying the white noise of Minghao splashing around in the water around you, drifting off into a hazy state until you hear a loud yell and feel yourself being flipped over and off your floaty.
“Jun!” you whine, rubbing your eyes as you furiously push hair off your face when you resurface, glaring at both Jun and Minghao laugh side by side. “You guys have to stop doing this to me,” you groan, eyes finally adjusting to its normal state.
“What are you talking about?” Jun asks innocently as you make your way over to the two of them, not bothering to turn your duck floatie back up right. “It was just an accident I fell on you—hey!” he yells out when you lunge at him. Minghao steps back quickly as you and Jun waddle and fight in the water, splashing water at each other while you try and get your revenge.
“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry,” Jun admits with a pout. “You didn’t do this to Minghao after he dunked you in the water,” he complains as you release him.
You narrow your eyes. “How do you know about that?”
“He sent me the video.”
“Minghao!” you exclaim, turning to the boy who is now treading around a meter in front of you. He only shrugs and grins cheekily.
“It was really funny,” Jun tells you with a laugh. “I might just post it on my story.”
“Oh my god, don’t you dare.”
Jun only shakes his head and starts slowly swimming further into the lake. “Don’t worry—I wouldn’t do that. Minghao can’t have any dating rumors, now can he?”
You chew on your lip, not responding. Minghao doesn’t say anything either, only chuckling along with your brother as he follows after him. You aren’t sure what to say to that, and the comment leaves some uneasy feeling hanging in your stomach.
Fuck, maybe you did hit your head hard.
You three spend a good few hours out in the lake until it’s evening. It’s a slow day and you start to realize just how much you missed spending time with your brother and Minghao like this—it isn’t often they get the opportunity to do things like this, so you’re grateful that they decided to share some of their few days of peace with you.
The second day is even hotter than the first, and you wake from your sleep early in the morning when the sky is still blooming with purple and orange hues. Crawling out from your bed, you make your way downstairs. If it was just you and your brother, you wouldn’t be so mindful about keeping your noise levels down because god knows that Jun can sleep through just about anything, but, Minghao is with you guys now, and you’d hate to sour his experience even just a little by accidentally waking him up for being too loud.
So you can imagine your surprise when you walk into the kitchen to see Minghao already leaning against the counter as he scrolls through his phone. He hasn’t noticed you and you contemplate leaving it like that for a few moments.
He’s wearing a tight fit, black, sleeveless top that shows off the curve of his shoulders and lets the sparkle of his silver chain glint under the morning light. Minghao is attractive—you and the millions of people in his comments know that—and you feel an odd sense of pride well up in your stomach that you’re one of the few people who get to see him like this.
With his hair messy and brushing over his eyes, legs crossed over each other as he presses his body weight against the kitchen island, bare skin glowing from the natural light, he’s beautiful.
Your face heats up when you realize you’ve just been staring at him, so you quickly clear your throat. “Good morning,” you chirp, walking into the kitchen so he can finally see you.
Minghao looks up from his phone, tucking it into the pocket of his sweatpants to greet you with a smile. “Hey, I didn’t know you were up. How’s your head doing?” he asks shyly, walking over to casually run his hand over that same spot on the crown of your head.
It’s an oddly intimate gesture, and if you didn’t know any better, your heart might have given out from the way he was touching you. Still, you know he’s just checking to see if it’s swollen, but your heart flutters anyways.
“I-it’s fine,” you reply, opening the fridge to pull out some orange juice as his hand drops. “I didn’t know you were an early riser. Jun always sleeps in whenever he gets the chance.”
“Yeah, well that’s why he’s paged as a literal cat by everyone,” Minghao says with a chuckle as you place a jug on the counter. “Do you want some tea? I’m just boiling the water now so I can add some more if you want.”
“Sure, that’ll be nice.” You pour yourself some orange juice. “Do you want to eat something? I brought some cupcakes to have for breakfast,” you offer, reaching into one of the bags you didn’t unpack to pull out a box.
“Are they those cupcakes?”
“Yup—the one and only!” you exclaim, opening the lid to show him. Minghao grins, pulling two out.
“God, I missed these. Y’know, Jun actually gave your recipe to Mingyu too, but he just doesn’t make them the same,” Minghao tells you, and your eyes light up.
“Really? Poor Mingyu,” you say with a sigh.
“If you ever end up visiting us in Korea, you should really make some,” Minghao suggests as he goes to take care of the boiling water, dropping some tea leaves into it before moving the water into a pot. Then, pulling out two small cups and plates, he says, “Me and Jun have told the others about how good you make them, but they really need to try them.”
“I’d love to,” you say with a grin, giddy with the way Minghao is boosting your ego. As he pours out the tea into two mugs, you put the cupcakes on the small plates, looking out to the glass sliding door which leads to the porch by the lake. “You want to eat outside? The sky looks really beautiful now, and the weather looks like it’s nice too.”
Minghao nods, holding up the two mugs while you grab the plates and follow him outside and onto the little shaded porch where you sit by two of the chairs and the small, knee level coffee table. The sky is still deep in its changing colors, and you pull out your phone to take some pictures.
“Can you take some pictures of me? For my WeVerse and Instagram and stuff?” he asks when you’re done, holding out his phone in your direction.
“Yeah, of course.” Leaning back after you grab his phone, you position yourself as Minghao poses. “Lean back a little more so the background can—yeah, perfect …” You take a few photos, and Minghao nods happily when you show him.
“Can you take some more candid ones?”
“Sure, let’s switch spots. I think it’ll look nicer if it looks like you’re looking out to the lake from here,” you suggest, getting up from your seat. Minghao complies without protest and you spend a few more minutes taking some pictures before finally handing him the phone. “You like them?”
“Hell yeah I do,” he says, looking through his phone. “You’re great at this,” he compliments sincerely.
“I’m used to taking the kinda pictures you guys like now … Jun has trained me well,” you joke, sitting back in the seat and reaching for your own cup of tea. It’s quiet for a few moments as you both relax and watch the sky grow brighter by the minute.
Jun wakes up an hour later, trudging out his room with groggy eyes as you poke fun of him. The morning is slow for a short while after that before Minghao is reminding you all that you need to start heading back home. The two of them are leaving for Korea in two days, after all, and that leaves them with only today and tomorrow to completely bask in themselves and the rest of their family, so you pack your things and end your stay at the cabin before the clock hits noon.
That night, after you drive yourself and Jun home and you retreat to the comfort of your apartment, you flop down onto your couch and pull out your phone. You’re met with a few notifications from WeVerse and Instagram, casually scrolling through the apps when your eyes catch a few familiar pictures.
It’s on Instagram and you recognize the bright orange of the rising sky that sits behind Minghao who is smiling into the camera. The next picture is a candid one of him looking at the lake while he drinks some tea, and the third is a picture of the cupcake you made.
You grin at the picture—the rest of the world won’t know it, but you definitely do—it’s a little piece of you that Minghao is sharing with the world. Though, you aren’t sure if he put as much thought into it as you are right now.
Brushing it off as Minghao just wanting to share a pretty picture of a nice looking cupcake, you purse your lips together only for them to be parted when you read his caption.
i’m a weirdo
Scrolling through the comments, you come across people saying, many among the following:
ur not a weirdo >:c fellow radiohead fanatic i see is the8 a certified creep? o: i didn’t know minghao liked radiohead … another reason to stan!
As you ignore the increased palpitating of your heart at the idea that Minghao quoted a line from, in your opinion, “your guys’ song.” you sit and think for a moment about what to do. You consider just liking the post and scrolling past it before a funny thought crosses your mind, and so you start typing into the comments.
i wonder who took these pics lol
No one’s going to see it. Minghao is definitely not going to see it, but you giggle to yourself anyways. You’re about to put your phone down when you get a notification of a reply to your comment. Curious, you open it up, and see that it’s just a random person.
imagine it’s his gf
You laugh to yourself. You wish.
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The last day or two with Jun goes as they always do when he’s here—slow, but all that you need. He spends his time at your parents house and you stop by for lunch and dinner the day after you both return from the lake house.
The afternoon, you both went down to the cafe and stocked up on chocolate buns—Jun’s request—and spent the rest of your time until evening going over your plans for the rest of the summer. You enjoy this part, always. Not Jun leaving—of course not—but spending these tame moments with him.
It makes you wonder what things would have been like if he never left. Maybe he’d move out for university someplace else, but you’d get to see him more, probably. Get to hang out with him every weekend, instead of every two months.
You shake yourself off the thought as you drive to your parents house. Having Jun around more often would be nice, but there isn’t any point in dreaming about the impossible.
As you pull up to the driveway and park your car, you notice Minghao standing out by the front door with his suitcase and a bag. “Hey, looking for Jun?”
“Well, yeah. Of course I wanna say bye to you both before you go … is the van here yet?”
“Nah, it’s still taking some time but Jun is on the other side of the house to see if the car is gonna come from that side,” he explains.
“I’m gonna miss you guys … you know when you’re both going to come next?” you ask, voice softer than you anticipated.
“I really don’t know—I’m sorry. You know how things are.”
“Yeah,” you mumble, shoulders deflating as you look down at the ground..
“I know—it’s not … it's not easy for Jun, either, I can tell. It isn’t easy for any of us to leave.” When Minghao finishes speaking you only nod, and as your eyes meet,you feel like there’s something he wants to say. “Hey,” he murmurs quietly.
A heavy hand is placed on your shoulder, and you feel you might as well sink to the ground and let the earth swallow you up. “If you’re going to talk about—”
“Hear me out, yeah?” Minghao cuts you off, and when you open your mouth in protest, he continues. “Don’t …” he inhales deeply before saying, “Don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way, okay?”
You cross your arms over your chest. “That really depends on what you’re going to say.”
“Okay, just … just listen. Jun, and me, and Yiren, and Renjun—” God, why is he bringing this up? “—we aren’t trying to hurt you.”
“Of course I know that.” Your eyebrows knit together and Minghao sighs at your reaction, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. You miss the touch, but your mind is a little too preoccupied with trying to decipher Minghao’s words to dwell on it.
“I’m just saying … you shouldn’t try to depend on anyone.” You open your mouth and then close it, trying to figure out how the hell he expects you to respond to this.
“What d’you mean?”
“Well I mean,” he huffs before continuing, shoving his hands in his pockets, “you obviously have been … upset about people leaving you and you can’t expect everyone to stick around forever.”
“If you’re talking about Renjun, he was my boyfriend. I think it’s okay for me to expect someone who I’m dating to ‘stick around,’ even though it might not be forever.”
“I guess, but it’s not just Renjun, right? Jun … Yiren … me …” he voice trails off.
“I basically spent my whole middle and high school years around you and Yiren, and Jun is literally my brother. Do you think me wanting the people I quite literally grew up around to be here for me is being ‘dependant?’”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I mean we were all going to grow up eventually? Look, don’t take this the wrong way and—”
“Excuse me?” you blurt out harshly, taking a step back, scoffing before you continue. “I wouldn’t be taking this the wrong way if you obviously didn’t mean it the wrong way. You basically just said I’m not independent.”
Minghao frowns at your reaction before responding, “I didn’t say that. I just said you shouldn’t depend on anyone.”
“Which implies that I am depending on people unnecessarily!”
Minghao adjusts his backpack straps as he says, “I mean you did cry for quite a while about how people are leaving you. I just don’t want you to get more hurt by being dependent on others.”
“Thanks for the concern,” you shoot sarcastically, “but I’m not dependent on anyone. I was upset that night because all the people closest to me have moved away and if you ask any normal person, I’m pretty sure they’d agree that that’s a valid reason to cry a little. So sorry if that was too much for you.” You say the last part with disgust laced on your tongue, and you watch Minghao’s face grow increasingly sour as you go on.
“Okay, now you’re just twisting my words,” Minghao huffs, glancing around to make sure that no one is close by.
“What the hell Minghao,” you scoff, clenching your fists at your side. You don’t want to be the person to jump down his throat, but you can’t help but feel like you’re being talked down to. “Why—why are you acting like I’m still a little kid. I’m more than Jun’s little sister, you do know that right?”
“Oh my god, seriously?” Minghao retorts, eyebrows rising in a mix of disbelief and irritation. “You think that’s what this is about? For fuck’s sake I’m just looking out for you.”
“Exactly!” you exclaim, pointing an accusing finger at him. “There’s no reason for that! Like I said, I’m not some little girl anymore and I’ve been looking out for myself for years. You just happened to catch me in a moment where I let myself be sad about it which, again, is a totally valid thing to be sad about.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Well congratulations! You were unsuccessful,” you mumble out, feeling an ugly knot build up in your throat. “I trusted you,” you say softly, and Minghao looks at you with eyes so apologetic you almost think about forgiving him. “That night after I saw Renjun—I-I trusted you,” you add more harshly this time. “And I cried to you even though we haven’t properly spoken in fuck knows how long and you take all that and make me out to seem like some sort of defenseless kid—”
“Can you stop—you’re putting words into my mouth. I never said you were defenseless or not independent or anything like that—I don’t even know why you think I would think of you like that because you know that’s not true.”
“Minghao, I don’t know if you’ve realized but it’s been years since we've talked properly. Just because—” You take a deep breath before continuing your bitter words. “—just because you get to live your stupidly amazing life with my brother by your side doesn’t mean that you know me and that I know you, because clearly we don’t know each other at all!”
“I’m sorry?” he says exasperatedly. “Sorry I care about you or whatever, even though things have changed.”
You scowl, and in your right mind you wouldn’t let your next words slip out of your mouth. “Well don’t. I’ve been fine without your sympathy so far, I’m pretty sure I can go on a bit longer.”
Minghao is about to respond, you can tell from the way his hands fiddle at his sides, but then there’s a buzzing and you reach into your pocket to pull out your phone. “Hey Jun,” you say, answering the call without meeting Minghao’s gaze. “… Yeah, he’s with me, we’re just waiting for the car … okay I’ll tell him.”
Tucking the device back into your pocket, you look at Minghao. “Jun is asking for you on the other side of the house. You should go,” you say flatly and you can tell from the look on his face that he wants to say more, but holds back.
Grabbing his suitcase, he tears his eyes from you and doesn’t look back after saying, “See you,” walking away and around the corner of the street. There’s that similar chill that takes over your body when Minghao says the same words Renjun said just a few nights before, and you silently wonder if this is history repeating itself.
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“So,” Yiren says as she plops down onto your couch, kicking her feet up onto your coffee table. “How’d meeting with Renjun go? He give you your shit back?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” you grumble as you walk over and nudge her legs to get her to put them down. “And you can’t just flop down and sit! Put your suitcase away so it’s not in the middle of the room,” you order, trying to be stern as Yiren sticks her tongue out at you.
“So bossy—your best friend is visiting your cute little abode and you can’t help her out with her stuff?” Yiren juts out her bottom lip into a pout as you sit next to her and wrap your arms around her waist, sinking into the couch. “Okay what’s going on. You’re being extra snappish …” she asks a bit more seriously, pulling away from your hold to get a better look at you. “Was it Renjun? Did he say something before he left?”
“No!” you say quickly, looking away bashfully, leaning back against the arm rest. You fucking wish you were in this sour mood because of Renjun because you could manage that. Renjun is gone, and it would hurt but you’d get over it.
You aren’t sure how long it’ll take to get over Minghao, if you ever do at all.
“Are you lying to me? You know I can tell when you’re not telling the truth.”
“I am telling the truth.” Just not all of it, you think to yourself.
Yiren sighs loudly, sitting up straight and facing you completely. “You are so bad at this. C’mon tell me—what’d he say? Or was it not Renjun—Jun? Which Jun was it? Did you and Jun fight?”
“I—”
“Like that one time two years ago and you didn’t talk to each other until he came back a month later and—”
You cringe at the memory, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Yiren don’t bring that up. I hated that.”
“Okay sorry,” she says sheepishly. “But seriously—what was it? Renjun? Jun? Which one? Or wait—Min—oh my gosh, don’t tell me it was Minghao!” When you take more than a second to respond, Yiren gasps. “Oh god, it was Minghao.”
She stands up quickly, looking down at your figure on the couch. Before you can say anything, she turns on her heel and walks towards your kitchen. “Hey, where are you going!” you call out to her, sitting upright.
Yiren doesn’t respond, only reaching into the fridge and pulling out two cans of pop. Walking back, she sits down in front of you and hands you a Cola, opening her own Sprite herself. “C’mon, you need to tell me about this. The pop is just here for emotional support.”
You narrow your eyes at her. You thought you were dealing with the effects of your argument with Minghao perfectly fine, but as you look down at the cold can in front of you, an uneasy feeling bubbles up in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you set the can down on your coffee table, leaving it unopened.
Yiren gapes at you with wide eyes. “You’re not going to have it?” Neck hanging low, you shake your head, and you hear her gasp quietly. “Oh my gosh, you just turned down a Cola,” she mutters, grabbing a pillow and pushing it in your direction. “Okay now you need to tell me what’s going on.” She pauses, shuffling closer, adding softly, “It’s okay, you can cry.”
And just like that, the dam breaks and stray tears fall from your lashes as you clutch the pillow close to your chest, blubbering your mind away to your best friend.
“I don’t even get it—I thought I was over him?” you question aloud. “Like when I was with Renjun I was happy and I didn’t think about Minghao because Renjun was great and he was so nice but he just—” you choke back a sob and Yiren pats your back.
“But he left,” she murmurs softly and you want to cry harder because Yiren left too, but then you remind yourself of what Minghao said. Taking a deep breath, your wipe your face of your tears and although your lips still quiver, you start to speak.
“It’s okay,” you mutter, because it isn't like you haven’t cried over this before. “I just—I guess I haven’t really tried hard enough.”
“Tried to … what exactly?”
You huff, throwing your back onto the couch as you look up at the ceiling. “You know: get over him.”
Yiren chuckles a little, and even through your sniffles, you laugh with her. “What are you saying—you gonna fuck around now?”
“Maybe not fuck around,” you say, crossing your legs. “More like … have some fun.”
“So basically fuck around.”
“Yiren!”
“Oh c’mon—you need me to set you up with someone? My sister knows a lot of—”
You nudge her playfully. “What happened to ‘Ms. I Want Half of the Proceeds from your Wedding with Minghao?’”
“First of all,” Yiren waves a finger at you pointedly, “I only asked for 25%, but if you two can come back from this, I will be asking for at least 50% because I have been rooting for you two since day one.”
“Aren’t you the one who’s trying to set me up with other guys?”
“That’s only because you come first to me. Your relationship with Minghao—”
“The nonexistent one,” you correct and Yiren glares at you.
“Okay fine. Your nonexistent relationship with Minghao comes second. I want to see you happy. If you get to be happy with Minghao that’s just an added plus because, you know, 50% of all the gifts and—”
“You’re getting 25% max.”
“Don’t worry. There’s still time for plenty of negotiation and—”
“Yiren!”
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You don’t live up to Yiren’s expectations—in her words, she wanted you to have a hot girl summer, but you couldn’t be bothered to go through with it. Well, sort of.
The next two months go along as your summers usually do. You take up a job near your apartment, working through the morning and afternoon, spending your evenings at home or occasionally out with Jianing.
Jianing doesn’t know much about anything when it comes to your (nonexistent) relationship with Minghao, and you figure she doesn’t need to. When you need a distraction, all it takes is a quick message asking her to accompany you for whatever endeavors you have going on for the night and she’s on board.
It’s a slow summer, but you don’t really mind. Not burdened with the stress of your classes and with Jun and Minghao gone for the next two months for their own performances and promotions, you have time to focus on yourself.
Occasional parties, indulging in hobbies, daily walks in the mornings, late nights of binge watching TV shows, outings with Jianing—it’s all a part of a simple routine that you’ve curated to do one thing, and one thing only: relax.
It’s only near the end of the summer, around three weeks before your classes are set to resume, that Jun calls you to let you know he’s coming home with Minghao. He seems pretty casual about it, and you’re reminded about how Minghao probably didn’t mention anything about your argument to your brother, which you’re thankful for.
It’s a passing thought that you’ll have to figure out how you want to act when you finally face him again. Whatever. That’s a problem for another time. Right now, you relax.
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That problem for another time seems to have become a problem for now. Jun came home two days ago and things were alright—no run-ins to Minghao and you spend time with your brother like you usually do whenever he returns: with bickering and meals.
It’s only on the third day that things become a little … a little iffy. Your brother texts you in the evening to get ready quickly because he’s stopping by with Minghao for dinner at his place, and it’s all happening so quickly that you don’t have time to come up with an excuse.
So here you are, throwing on your sacred pink jacket because it’s the first thing in your vision, some old jeans, and waiting outside your apartment building much less enthusiastically than you’d like. It’s only a matter of minutes before your phone buzzes with a text from Jun letting you know he’s here and you see Minghao’s car pulling up in front of you.
Making your way to the back door where you usually sit with the two of them, you furrow your brows seeing Jun sitting in your usual spot.
“Sit in the front,” Jun orders when you go to open the back door, “I wanna lay down.” You shrug, making your way to the passenger seat as Jun settles into the back, resting his head on the window while kicking his legs up onto the other two seats.
“Hi,” you say quietly to Minghao who nods and speaks his own quick greeting, averting his attention to the wheel in front of him without much more than that.
“Please,” he huffs, watching Jun through the rear view mirror, “don’t put your shoes on the seats. I just had the car cleaned.” Jun clicks his tongue and kicks his shoes off, continuing to lay back in the seat as Minghao starts the car. The ride is silent as he drives toward the restaurant, both you and Jun on your phones while Minghao has his eyes trained on the road.
Once he parks in front of the place, you watch from the corner of your vision to see Minghao unbuckling his seatbelt before your brother speaks up.
“You guys can wait here, I’m gonna grab the food,” Jun says, slipping in his shoes and making his way to the restaurant, leaving you and Minghao in thickening silence. His hands are resting on his thighs and you press your head on the window, looking out as you try to focus on anything but this.
“Uh,” Minghao clears his throat, and you silently brace yourself for what he might say. “Nice jacket.”
Oh.
Glancing down at what you’re wearing, you twiddle with the hem of the familiar pink jacket. You wonder if this is Minghao’s way of holding out a figurative olive branch, and then you think harder about if you’re willing to accept it. “Thanks,” you reply, matting a hand over your hair before turning your attention to Jun who’s walking towards your car now.
Slipping into the back seat, he shakes the plastic bag in the air as he buckles himself in. “Takeout secured. Let’s go back to your place now,” Jun says, tapping on Minghao’s shoulder from behind. There’s an odd tension in the air, and you don’t doubt that Jun feels it, although he keeps his mouth shut about it.
No one says a word until Minghao is parking in his driveway and unlocking the front door. You follow behind the two of them, Jun grabbing the food as you enter Minghao’s house.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jun asks, putting the takeout bag on the coffee table of the living room as you all begin to settle down.
You shrug off your coat as you say, “Uh, I have to go back to my place and go out for the afternoon and evening with Jianing. Me and her have this little monthly date day thing, and we’re going to the city.”
“Wha-a-a-t,” Jun drawls out, a frown etched onto his face. You narrow your eyes at him, shrugging.
“What? It’s not like you’re leaving right after tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but I’m not here for long. I wanted to do something tomorrow, since I might be doing stuff after that!” Jun whines, pointing at Minghao. “We might be going to this cool store and take some pictures and stuff.”
You huff, slightly annoyed as you flop down on a couch. “Okay well can’t you do that tomorrow then? I already have plans.”
Jun pouts, and if he wasn’t so on your nerves right now, you would poke some fun at him. “Why-y-y? You knew I was coming this week!”
“Well it’s not like I can clear my schedule for you. If you wanted to do something you should’ve told me earlier!”
“I let you know last week I was coming down!”
“Jun,” you say with a half laugh, noticing the way Minghao’s eyes have been flickering back and forth between you two through the whole conversation, “one week is not enough time to change some plans. I’ve been meeting with Jianing consistently at this time of month for over a year!”
“But still—”
“It’s not like if I showed up to Korea whenever the time’s convenient for me, you’d drop everything you’re doing to spend time with me!” you exclaim.
Jun’s fists ball at his side before he says, “That’s because my job is important and—”
“The stuff I do in my life might not seem important to you but it is very much important to me. Sorry I’ve made commitments to other people before I even knew you were coming, but I don’t know why you’d expect me to drop all my plans just for you. It’s not even like we aren’t going to see each other afterwards too.”
“Well I’d only hope that’s the case—I only ever see you once every few months so sorry for wanting to take some of your time.”
“Guys—” Minghao starts to say, standing between the two of you but when both you and Jun glare at him, he steps back.
“Do you think your time is worth more than mine or something?” you scoff at Jun, ignoring Minghao.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m sorry, what exactly did you mean it like then?” you hiss.
Jun sucks in a breath between clenched teeth and runs a hand through his hair. “You know what I meant. Things are just—they’re different. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Right yeah. I won’t understand because I don’t have all these girls throwing themselves at me, making me think I’m entitled to everyone’s damn time.” Maybe you crossed a line with that one, but you’re too angry to care now. Hot tears well up in your lash line, threatening to fall any moment now.
“You were the one who was being a brat when you found out I was going to go to Korea in the first place!” Jun exclaims. “Fucking hell, why are you making such a big deal out of me wanting to spend some time with you now?”
Your face screws up into some kind of ugly frown at the words, and you clench your fists as your side. “A brat?” you repeat. “A brat? Is that seriously what you think of me?
“Well you did make a pretty damn big scene about me leaving, so yeah, maybe I do feel entitled to some of your time seeing that you were the one who was desperate for it in the first place.”
“Desperate? Are you kidding me—desperate? I was sixteen and you dumped the fact that you were moving away in like less than two months on me —of course I was upset but desperate? Well fuck you too I guess.” You punctuate the last word by turning on your heel, grabbing your coat off and marching past Minghao and over to the door.
You don’t hear Jun say anything after you do, and for that you are grateful because you don’t think you’ll be able to handle hearing his voice again. Walking out the foyer past the door, you stomp your way to your car, forcefully yanking the driver’s seat open and plopping yourself down with a heavy thud.
Without a word, you press your forehead against the steering and scream a loud and painful, “FUCK!” You can’t even remember a damn thing you or Jun said but all that throttles in your head is the word brat and you feel you might just pull the steering wheel off your stupid car and tear just about everything else apart too.
The prospect is pretty tempting, actually, and in your red, you continue to hit your head, albeit gently, against the wheel as you mutter incoherent curses to yourself. The thud of your skull against the smooth letter rings in your ears until it becomes all that you can hear, so loud that it almost drowns out the knocking sound that comes from outside.
“Holy shit!” you gasp, when you see Minghao from the corner of your vision, standing outside your car with his lips pressed into the thin line. Rolling down your windows, you grimace. “You fucking scared me so bad. Please never creep up on me like that again.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t fucking storm out like that again then,” Minghao says, and your eyes widen slightly when you hear his voice. It’s harder, firmer, more serious than you’ve ever heard before.
“What are you—”
“You can’t drive when it’s night and you’re sobbing—”
“I am not sobbing,” you fruitlessly choke out, wiping some tears off your cheek as you straighten your back and glare at him.
“Look I get you’re mad at Jun and all but can you please calm down and talk to me so—”
You let out a humorless laugh as you begin to roll your windows back up. “Don’t even get me started on you.”
Minghao clicks his tongue as he sticks a hand into your window to stop it from going up any further, looking sideways for a second before turning back to you. “Okay well I don’t want you to drive yourself home like this. It’s not safe.”
“I am not staying here tonight.”
“Then let me drive you home,” Minghao suggests and you open up to object but no words come out. “You agree? C’mon, step out.” You let out nothing more than a huff as you open the door, slipping out quickly and shuffling to the other side where you sit with your arms crossed over your chest, bottom lip jutting out into a pout.
Minghao has already taken your spot, hands on the same steering wheel that you were planning on smashing with your head just minutes ago. He’s quiet for a few moments as he backs out of the driveway and starts driving down the street, the car echoing nothing but your soft sniffles that haven’t seemed to stop.
When Minghao opens his mouth again, you’re bracing yourself for a round of chiding, but all that comes out is a one-word question. “Pop?” He takes your silence as a confirmation, and soon enough Minghao is pulling up to that same convenience store. “Do you want me to get it for you?” he asks after he’s parked in front of the convenience store.
You purse your lips together, finally letting yourself turn to look at him. You really want to be mad at him but when you catch the way his fingers are shoved into his pockets, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he awaits your answer, you start to realize that Minghao might be just as apprehensive about this as you are.
“It’s fine,” you mutter, unbuckling your seatbelt so you can get out, Minghao following you quickly.
You’re the first to walk in this time, grabbing a Cola for yourself before looking at Minghao with a raised brow. When he nods, you toss him another can and he makes his way to the cash register. He’s about to pull out his wallet when you’re brushing past him and getting there first, holding up your card to the machine proudly.
“Just because I don’t want to be in any more debt to you,” you murmur, handing Minghao a can after you’ve paid for them both. You lead the way, walking out of the door and slotting yourself into the passenger seat of your car and Minghao gets into the seat next to you, turning on the engine.
You’re still quiet when he starts driving towards your apartment building, and you think that this is the perfect chance for you to drown in the silence. Maybe if you pretend you’re alone, you’ll be able to forget about all the thoughts running through your mind.
Pressing your eyes shut, you slump down into your seat and just as you’re about to let your mind drift into the silence, you hear a familiar rattle of the snare and guitar bridge and your eyes snap open, staring at Minghao directly. He faces forward, eyes trained on the road as he pulls closer to the curb in front of your complex, sighing deeply when the car starts to slow down.
“What are you trying to do Minghao?” you finally say weakly, burying your face in your hands. “You—you’re playing Creep and you took me to get Cola and all you were supposed to do was take me home so—”
“Can I not try to make you feel better? I don’t want you to be upset, so I’m sorry if I’m trying to do the things I know you enjoy,” Minghao responds with a heavy breath, parking in front of your building just like that night he did when he picked you up from the bus stop after you met with Renjun.
The deep strumming of guitar and vibrations of the bass bounce off the walls of your car, and you slip into your seat as the words of the song sink in.‘What the hell am I doing here?’ Glancing up at Minghao, your vision grows blurry. “Minghao …” your voice is quiet and strained when you call for him, and in that moment, you know.
All those years ago when you wanted to kiss him and hold him and pull him close, but you didn’t because you were scared. When you wanted to let your tongues collide and tug at his hair, but you didn’t because you had so much to lose.
You still have so much to lose, but you’re not scared anymore.
And it seems Minghao isn’t either.
Tonight, you get to taste the lingering drops of Cola on his tongue. You get to feel his arms fumbling over the armrest, slipping around your waist and yanking you onto his lap. You get to hold his neck and let your fingers sit in his hair. You get to indulge.
Minghao’s mouth is hot against yours, tongue lapping at your bottom lip when you take a sacred moment to breathe on top of him before your eyes are fluttering back shut and your lips mold into one once again. He hugs you so close you don’t know how you can still breathe, don’t know how your bones don’t melt into each other in this burning moment.
Your lips work fervently to slide against each other in a wet, calculated mess that has you whimpering into Minghao’s mouth when one of his hands cups your jaw. His thumb is soft against your cheekbone when he tilts your head to the side so that your noses brush against either and his lips delve deeper into the caverns of your mouth.
You don’t know how long you two go at it, fingers grappling at whatever skin you can, Minghao’s hand brushing under your shirt and stroking the plush of your hips. And when you feel like you can’t breathe anymore because your heart is so full, you pull away, letting the thin string of saliva connect your shiny lips.
Your brain is foggy and you and Minghao simply sit in the comfortable silence. Well, almost comfortable silence.
You shouldn’t try to depend on anyone.
“W-wait,” you stutter when Minghao leans forward in hopes to catch your lips in another fleeting kiss. “Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, pushing his shoulders back against the seat as you try to shuffle off his lap.
Minghao holds your waist tightly, but you break free of the grasp. “What are you doi—hey, wait a sec!”
“You said you’re trying to make me feel better but you just did exactly the opposite,” you scoff, slipping on your coat as you push the car door open.
“What are you talking abo—” You cut him off by slamming the door, and Minghao quickly grabs your keys and follows after you. “Slow down.”
You whip around to face him, tears streaming down your face for what feels nth time tonight. “Look, you left like two months ago spewing all this stuff about how I should be independent but the second you come back you act like you’re trying so hard to make me feel better and stuff and then—” You take a deep breath, “—then we makeout and you—fuck I don’t know, I don’t know what you expect from me! Do you just expect me to forget about this and not get upset when you leave again?” you choke out. “Just keep my keys and drive yourself back to your place. I’ll pick up my car later,” you mutter.
“Can you stop doing this? It’s just like what happened last time, and I don’t want to have to leave if you’re—if we’re not okay.”
“What ‘we?’ Weren’t you the one who told me to not expect anyone to stay? I’m not going to do this ‘we’ and ‘us’ thing with someone who is just going to leave all over again. I’m not going to expect you to stay.”
“Look, I just don’t want this to be hanging over your head when I’m gone.”
Ironic, you think to yourself. You want to tell Minghao that he’s been hanging over your head ever since you met him all those years ago, but you bite back the words.
“Minghao,” you say, your voice strained and tired, “I’m already exhausted and my brain isn’t working so can you please just give me my space.”
And if Minghao is one thing, it’s not pushy, and you know that this is all it takes to get him to back off. Though, you don’t miss the way his face falls as he steps back quietly.
“See you,” he mutters through gritted teeth as he turns on his heel, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or bothered by the way he leaves so silently.
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You don’t see Minghao or Jun after that night. They’rewere  supposed to leave for Korea in the next four days, and so you spend those four days lodged up in your apartment, not leaving unless absolutely necessary—you’re scared that you might run into one of them, as pathetic as that sounds.
Jun doesn’t text you and you don’t text him. It’s a bit abnormal, you two communicate at least once every two days, if not more. It’s a bit of an unspoken rule, but now that you’re both hot-headed and very much not in the right mind, you figure some rules are meant to be broken.
It’s two days after Jun and Minghao were scheduled to leave, the only confirmation that you got that they actually did leave being the group picture at the airport your father sent to the family group chat.
Jianing comes to your apartment when you finally call her over, quickly picking up on your sullen state.
“I don’t get it,” she says with a shrug after you explain to her everything that happened between you and Jun and Minghao.
“Well yeah, I guess you don’t, but this has been going on for a while,” you reply begrudgingly, sinking into your couch as she stares at you blankly from your armchair.
“Just—I dunno—talk to them?”
You give her a funny look. “How?” you groan, throwing your head back. “They won’t be back for like a month at least, and I don’t want to call them.”
“I forget they’re famous sometimes” Jianing mutters, rolling her eyes, and you laugh at the comment.
“You and me both,” you say, straightening your back.
“But still, I don’t get it. I mean just visit them?” she suggests casually.
“I can’t just fly up to Korea unannounced!” you exclaim, bewildered.
Jianing rolls her eyes at you and you frown. “Why not? I mean you just said this might go on for a while if you don’t talk to them so I don’t get it. Just go see them.”
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YOURS TRULY
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you: chan i need ur help [8:13 AM] chan: this is ur first time texting me in three months [8:15 AM] chan: so i am going to assume this is pretty important [8:15 AM] you: i’m at incheon airport [8:16 AM] chan: what [8:17 AM] you: what [8:17 AM] chan: jun didn’t say anything about u coming??! [8:19 AM] you: DON’T TELL HIM [8:19 AM] chan: what … [8:20 AM] you: i’m surprising him [8:20 AM] chan: ????? [8:21 AM] chan: who knows [8:21 AM] you: um you do [8:21 AM] chan: thank u [8:22 AM] chan: so what do u need [8:22 AM] you: can u pick me up [8:23 AM] chan: i don’t have a choice do i [8:24 AM] you: nope :3 [8:24 AM]
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When black SUV stops in front of you by the curb at the airport, you smile brightly, waving at the driver as the windows begin to roll down. You’re about to chirp a quick, “Hi Chan!” but the words get caught in your throat when you see who’s driving.
“Jeonghan?” you ask confusedly. He waves at you from the front seat, and Chan sticks his head in from the back to look at you through the window.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, opening the door to help you pull in your suitcase and get situated into the back seat. “Look, I tried to leave without anyone noticing but they saw me so I told them I was going to the gym, but he said he wanted to come and —” Chan glares at the man in the passenger seat, “— I don’t even know why since he hasn’t gone to the gym in ages—”
“Watch it Chan!” Jeonghan calls out from the front as the cat starts to move, pulling an eye roll out of the boy sitting next to you.
“Whatever. Basically, I had no choice but to bring him along and tell them I was actually picking you up.”
“You guys didn’t tell Jun, did you?” you ask worriedly.
“I—no,” Jeonghan says. “And even if we tried, he won’t be awake for another hour or whatever. That’s besides the point anyways—Chan is terrible at lying.”
“You caught me off guard! I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this morning, so I didn’t have any excuses prepared …” Chan huffs, sinking into his seat as you glance back and forth between them nervously.
“Thank you for trying anyways,” you say sincerely, adjusting in your seat. “I know this was all really sudden but I didn’t plan anything out and I kinda ended up here before I could even process anything,” you add.
“Hey, Minghao was telling us about these really good cupcakes you make—if you have time, can you bake them for us?” Chan asks, out of the blue.
You give him a funny look and then smile. “Sure, if I have the time. I’d like to—they told me Mingyu tries to make them for you guys.”
“Yeah! That would—”
“Thank you, but I’m going to assume that you are here for a reason other than making us your infamous cupcakes,” Jeonghan says, merging onto the freeway.
“As much as I’d love for that to be why I’m here, you’re right,” you mutter, resting your head against the headrest.
“Is everything alright?” Jeonghan asks.
As you’re about to respond, Chan chimes in. “This is about Jun, isn’t it?”
“Ai—Channie, don’t jump to conclusions,” Jeonghan reprimands but Chan shakes his head, holding his hand up as he turns to you with wide eyes.
“No, no, I’m not assuming anything. I’m right, aren’t I?” Partly. Chan continues. “Well it’s just—I can kinda tell. He’s being a little snappier. Jeonghan wouldn’t know but—“
Jeonghan gives Chan a warning look through the rear view mirror. “What do you mean I wouldn’t know?”
“Hannie, just listen to me. So me and Soonyoung and Minghao and Jun have been practicing at night right—for that next performance—and you know that Jun has a bit of a temper, especially in the night, but I don’t know—it’s just been different recently.”
You stifle a scoff when Chan mentions Jun having a short temper, looking out the window hoping no one heard. Jun does have a bit of a fiery streak, but the truth is that you’re just as sporadic as him.
Fire meets fire. Huh, wonder what that makes. More fire, probably. That’s what got you here, isn’t it? Unfortunately.
“Has, uh,” you pause wondering if you should ask this, but curiosity does kill the cat, after all. “Has Minghao seemed … off?”
Jeonghan narrows his eyes at you. “What’s Minghao got to do with this? Did something happen with him too?” Curse that emotionally intelligent man.
Chan eyes flicker between the ground and you. “It’s hard to tell when Minghao is upset. He seems normal even when he’s upset so I can’t really tell … why though?”
“Just—just a lot of stuff. I think I need to see them both. Separately.”
Jeonghan nods, pursing his lips together before responding, “Do you need our help?”
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Jeonghan takes you to his apartment first so you have a moment to drop your suitcase off somewhere, and you get to say hi to Seungkwan who you’re pretty sure didn’t even recognize you in his drowsy state.
“Where’re we going?” you ask when you get back outside of the building heading towards the car.
“C’mon, let’s walk,” Chan says, pulling you away from the car.
“Jun’s apartment building is just down the street here,” Jeonghan explains. “He should be sleeping right now, so just wake him up.”
“Are you kidding me? He might kill me!” you complain with a frown.
Chan huffs, “Well you did come here unannounced and without a plan, so you don’t have much of a choice anyways.”
You chew on your lip as you fruitlessly try to come up with an answer, sighing in defeat when you come up with nothing.
“Exactly,” Jeonghan concludes, stopping in front of a building that’s built similar to his. “Anyways, his suite number is 345 on the third floor. You should know the code to his apartment right?”
You nod, but then shake your head. “I know it, but I think I’ll just knock until he wakes up. He might actually kill me if someone shows up inside his home unannounced.”
Chan laughs at that when the two of you lead you to the elevator of this new building. “That, he might.”
“So encouraging,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out at them as the elevator door opens. “Anyways, thank you for helping me, really. I’ll make cupcakes if I make it out of this alive,” you promise while you step in.
“You better!” Jeonghan calls out as the doors slide shut and the elevator begins to take you up.
It’s now, when you’re alone, that it all begins to sink in. You’re in Korea. You’re about to see Jun. You might die—okay maybe you’re being a little dramatic, but you aren’t sure what to do with yourself so your mind is jumping towards the worst possible scenario as you reach the third floor and make your way to his apartment.
You stand in front of room 345 for a few moments once you arrive, not even sure if you’ll manage to go through with this. What the fuck are you even going to say?
(Un?)fortunately, you have a tendency to not think before you act, and before you have a second of thought your knuckles are rapping against the door. It’s silent for a moment and you wonder if you should go again.
Taking a deep breath, you continue knocking on the door at a steady rate before you hear soft footsteps growing louder in volume until they stop at the door. You hold your breath and let your hand fall, fisting it at your sides in anticipation.
When you see the door crack open, a wave of relief washes over you. But when you see Jun’s blank face as he looks down on you, a new sense of uneasiness takes over.
“What are you doing in my apartment?” Ah, how nostalgic.
“So cold. You aren’t going to let me in?”
Jun rolls his eyes, and you grow more anxious because you can’t tell if he’s being playful or not. He steps to the side though, and you quickly slip through the door so he can close and lock it behind you.
“What are you doing here?” he reiterates and you feel your tongue go dry.
“Uh, Chan told me that you’re being—well—how do I put this?” you mutter to yourself, rocking back and forth on your feet.
“Difficult?” Jun guesses, bitterness laced in the word and you cringe at the tone.
“I guess.”
“I don’t think you came all the way to Korea just because Chan told you I was being difficult.”
“I, uh, I talked to Jianing about it when she visited and … I guess I felt I should come see you.”
“So if Jianing didn’t talk to you about this, then you just wouldn’t have talked about it?” Jun asks harshly and you glare at him.
“Well it’s not like you would’ve come talk to me about it either,” you retort, and Jun goes quiet at them. “And Jianing didn’t make this decision for me, by the way, I made it all by myself.”
“Okay well you’re here now. What is it?” An uncomfortable silence sits between you two. “If you only came here to just stand there and stare off into space then—”
“Jun, please shut your mouth for like one minute,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I-I wanted to apologize. That night I … I was on edge.” Jun watches you intently as you finally meet his gaze. “There was a lot running through my mind and I was just—just fucking annoyed at everything and I took everything you said the worst way.”
A feeling of worry climbs up your throat—you and Jun don’t often apologize, at least not like this. Apologies usually come in the form of figurative olive trees—you buy him a LEGO set, he buys you a gift card to your favorite cafe, or something among that. Then again, this isn’t your usual argument with Jun, and maybe sometimes resorting to more traditional methods are most effective.
Jun sighs softly, not looking at you, and you grow worried that he’s even more angry than you anticipated. You brace yourself for his next possible words. “I … I did say some mean stuff too. I’m sorry—I just—I have a shitty temper. You know that. Chan probably told you that too.” Jun is silent for a second before continuing. “Is … is everything okay?”
The question isn’t quite what you’re expecting and you press your lips together tightly because you want to cry. You want to let the tears stream down your cheeks and tell Jun that you have no idea but also the perfect idea of what you’re doing and it’s all jumbled up mess in your head.
“I guess—I mean, I hate fighting with you,” you admit. “But, that’s why I came here and we didn’t say goodbye the last time and I know that was partly my fault but also I missed you.”
“But are you okay?”
“Jun—”
“Because I know you’re stubborn—it really is annoying sometimes but I’m not one to complain,” he adds with a huff, “and I know you’re a little weird—”
You both laugh and you point a finger at him, “Watch it—you and me both.”
“Whatever,” he says lightly before turning to a more serious tone. “But I never thought we’d fight again like that one time two years ago and—”
“Why does everyone keep bringing that up!? Yiren said that too,” you sigh.
“To make a point. Which, by the way, is me going back to asking you if everything’s okay. I just … I know that you’re a little crazy but I never thought that you’d fly over here for something that we could probably sort out over the phone. Not that I’m not glad to see you here, I mean, I am, I’m just … worried.”
“I kissed Minghao,” you blurt out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth after you do.
“What?!” Jun’s eyes go wide for a moment before he relaxes a little. “Is that what’s been up with you?”
“What do you mean ‘up with me?’”
“Moody. Cranky. Like you’re in high school again.”
You cross your arms over your chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You chew on your lip as you try to read Jun’s expression. He doesn’t seem mad nor happy nor confused, and you’re running out of emotions to label him under.
“I knew you liked him in high school, you know. Thin walls, plus Yiren is loud as hell.”
“Ugh, I always told her to keep it down! She didn’t believe me!”
“Doesn’t matter now. What you or him do isn’t much of my business anyways,” Jun mutters, awkwardly stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodies. “I mean I guess it is, if it makes you all upset and not okay like this,” he continues.
You can tell he’s encouraging you to explain more, and you press your eyes together trying to figure what and what not you should say. “Has Minghao … has he seemed different?”
“I mean not really, but also it’s hard to tell with him because—” Your whole finger droops and Jun quickly places a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, what is this about? Did something happen? You know you can tell me.”
“It’s a lot,” you confess. “I don’t know, I-I came here to talk to the both of you but I haven’t even thought about what to say to him. I kind of booked my tickets last night.”
“Last night?!”Jun exclaims. “Are you stupid or what?”
“Maybe I am!” you murmur, slapping your palm against your forehead. Jun looks down at your pained expression and frowns.
“You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?”
“What happened to, ‘I don’t care what you guys do it isn’t my business?’”
“Well it is my business if you’re upset! I’m the only person who’s allowed to be a bitch to you.”
“Well ditto to you too!” You follow with a sigh. “I think I just need to talk to him.”
“He’s at the gym right now. Do you want to get coffee instead?”
“Hogging me all to yourself? I know you missed me but don’t you think this is a little unfair—I’d like to at least say hi to the others first. Or maybe have some time to sleep. I kind of got here at like seven in the morning.”
“Be grateful! I’m actually looking out for you, because they’ll literally hound you, plus I want to make up for not spending time with you last time I visited.”
You grin at the words, rolling your eyes playfully. “Fine. But you’re paying.”
“When do I not pay for you?”
“Loads of times!”
“That’s because you insist on paying for yourself.”
“Irrelevant!” you exclaim triumphantly, waving a fist in the air before Jun locks his arm around your neck and traps you in a headlock. Good times.
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“We have afternoon practice, then recording in the studio in the evening, but we should be done by like eight,” Jun explains, taking a picture of the coffee in front of him.
“Must you take a picture of everything?” you sigh, taking a sip of your own drink. Jun rolls his eyes, flicking your knee from under the table.
“I am a celebrity. I kinda need to keep records of everything I do.”
“Okay well I’m your sister and I kinda need you to help me talk to Minghao.”
“Just like—I dunno—find him and talk to him. Can’t be that hard.”
“You—ugh, you’re just like Jianing,” you groan. “No help!”
“Okay fine, fine. What do you want me to do? Corner him? Lock him into a closet and keep him there so you can talk to him? Force him to—”
“Junnie what the hell,” you mutter, slapping a hand to your forehead. “I think I’m just going to have to ask Jeonghan and Chan for help again because—”
“Okay no. I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”
“Have you been listening to me? Tell me when and where I can talk to him!”
“Well I already suggested the closet but you turned that down so—”
“Jun.”
“We can try the meeting room? He’s there a lot and it’s usually empty in the evenings. He responds to emails and shit there, I don’t know, so you won’t be interrupting much.”
“You sure it’ll work?”
Jun cocks an eyebrow up. “You don’t trust me?” You kick him under the table and he winces. “Okay yes, yes, it’ll work so would you stop kicking—hey! I said stop kicking!”
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“We have afternoon practice, then recording in the studio in the evening, but we should be done by like eight,” Jun explains, taking a picture of the coffee in front of him.
“Must you take a picture of everything?” you sigh, taking a sip of your own drink. Jun rolls his eyes, flicking your knee from under the table.
“I am a celebrity. I kinda need to keep records of everything I do.”
“Okay well I’m your sister and I kinda need you to help me talk to Minghao.”
“Just like—I dunno—find him and talk to him. Can’t be that hard.”
“You—ugh, you’re just like Jianing,” you groan. “No help!”
“Okay fine, fine. What do you want me to do? Corner him? Lock him into a closet and keep him there so you can talk to him? Force him to—”
“Junnie what the hell,” you mutter, slapping a hand to your forehead. “I think I’m just going to have to ask Jeonghan and Chan for help again because—”
“Okay no. I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”
“Have you been listening to me? Tell me when and where I can talk to him!”
“Well I already suggested the closet but you turned that down so—”
“Jun.”
“We can try the meeting room? He’s there a lot and it’s usually empty in the evenings. He responds to emails and shit there, I don’t know, so you won’t be interrupting much.”
“You sure it’ll work?”
Jun cocks an eyebrow up. “You don’t trust me?” You kick him under the table and he winces. “Okay yes, yes, it’ll work so would you stop kicking—hey! I said stop kicking!”
You twiddle your thumbs nervously behind your back as you wait in the elevator with Jeonghan. Jun had to take care of something with one of the other members, so he sent you off with the older boy to take you to the meeting room.
“He’ll be there, don’t worry,” Jeonghan tells you as he pats your shoulder lightly. “I just checked his location and I’m positive he’s there right now.”
“Thanks,” you say with a sigh, shifting your weight from leg to leg, “but I’m more worried about what I’m going to say. I think you already know but I planned like zero percent of this.”
“It’s becoming increasingly evident, unfortunately,” Jeonghan admits when the elevator dings and the door opens onto a floor full of rooms. “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure, seeing as you’re just like Jun.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jeonghan chuckles and leads you to a door a few steps down the hallway, pointing to it. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be in there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be down on floor three making some ramen,” he says cheerily, waving at you before retreating to elevatory before you have even a moment to protest.
So now you’re left with nothing but yourself and yet another door. This time, instead of knocking your life away, your hand is pressed against the knob as you debate whether or not you should turn it or not.
Once again, your body acts without your mind and you’re quietly opening the door and poking your head through the crack. Inside is Minghao with headphones over his ears, sitting at the end of a long table with his head crooked down as he scrolls through his lap top.
He doesn’t hear you, but you aren’t sure if it’s for the better or the worse. In some ways, you still have a chance to run, but in others, you’ll have to call out to him if you want him to notice you. Gulping, you realize that you’ve been too scared for too long and so you clear your throat.
“Minghao,” you call out.
It only takes a second for his eyes to shoot up, hands flying to his headphones to take them off as he takes in the sight of you in front of him. You’re at opposite ends of the room right now, and you nervously shut the door behind you as you finally meet his gaze.
“What are you doing here?”
“I—” You inhale sharply. “—I don’t know. I just think we both needed to talk.”
You can see him visibly gulp as he stands up, and looks away as if trying to figure out what he should do with himself.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, dread washing over you.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, face burning. “I know I just showed up like this without warning and I know that’s not fair so if you don’t want to talk you know I totally get it and—” you start to blabber so fast you hardly notice him walking over and down the length of the table, “—I just really wanted to see you and talk to you but I couldn’t do it over the phone because—”
“Slow down,” Minghao says firmly, now standing in front of you as he gazes down with wide eyes. “Is everything okay? When did you come here—wait, did you come here just to talk to me?”
“Well yeah. And Jun.”
“Are you okay?” Minghao asks softly. “This doesn’t seem like you.”
You wince at the familiar words but shake it off. “I know, I just had so much to say and I’m sorry because you were right, and when you said you didn’t want this hanging over my head I was angry and I thought I could ignore this and ignore you but I was wrong and just really needed to sort things out. And the night you picked me up after Renjun and all—I know you told me to not depend anyone or anything—and I know I’m not listening to you right now and I don’t want you to be disappointed but—”
“Stop,” Minghao says, holding a hand up. “Disappointed? I—please don’t think that. The stuff I said that night was …” he sighs before continuing. “You were so upset that night because you didn’t have us around and I felt so bad but also, there wasn’t anything I could do about that.”
“I …” your eyebrows knit together as you try to find the right words. “… I know that. I didn’t mean to make it feel like you had to change anything, or that it was your fault.”
“I know and—”
“Wait, please hear me out. I don’t want to ever make you think that I blame you or Jun for leaving—I-I’m so happy for you guys you don’t understand. I was just … I was bitter,” you admit. “And I was jealous of you because you get to be around my own brother more than me and … I guess I was also jealous of Jun because he gets to be around you so often too.”
You finish your confession by burying your face in your hands, face heating up as you can only imagine the look on his face. He says your name softly, and you peek up at him through the gap between your fingers.
“Hey, no, I get it. I mean, I guess I don’t exactly understand how you’re feeling but I don’t blame you either.”
“I wrote you a letter,” you blurt out, a hand digging into your pocket as it toys around with the folded paper inside. Minghao raises a brow, and you pull it out and hold it in front of him. “Right after you guys left,” you explain as he takes the paper from your hand, carefully unfolding it. “Don’t open it now! That’s … embarrassing. Just read it when I’m not here or something because I might just die out of humiliation.”
When Minghao chuckles, you feel some of the tension in your shoulders dissolve. “Noted,” he murmurs, tucking it into the pocket of his sweats before turning his attention back to you with a more serious expression which has your stomach tying up in knots.
“You know how my job is. I can’t promise how often I’ll be home and when I’ll be able to make time and I know that people leaving hurt you so much and … I guess I just didn’t want to give you hope that I would be able to give you a ‘normal’ relationship, because I can’t, even though I want to. I think when I told you all that, I just—fuck—I hoped that you’d be able to focus on someone better for you.”
You want to cry and tell him that you don’t want someone ‘better,’ but choose to save those words for a different time. “T-then why’d you kiss me that night?” you ask quietly.
“I—” Minghao pauses, looking down as he searches for what he’s about to say. “I only have so much self control.”
You chew on your lip, debating if you should frown or grin at his statement. “So you—you wanted to kiss me?” Minghao responds in a heartbeat.
“Of course I did,” and then he clears his throat, “I wanted to for a while. I still do.”
Chuckling nervously, you start to say, “I don’t kn—”
The air is successfully sucked from your lungs when Minghao slides his hand around your neck, angling your jaw up with his gentle thumb. You think you might just go dizzy from the way he’s touching you until his warm mouth presses against yours, and this is the moment you feel every last muscle in your body let go.
He kisses you softer than the first time, his tongue running against your bottom lip for only a moment before you let your hand grip at his torso instinctively. “Sorry,” Minghao murmurs sheepishly when he breaks away. “Told you. Only so much self control.”
“I-I won’t complain,” you admit quickly, and though you let your hand drop to your side, Minghao keeps his where it is: cradling your cheek. He’s quiet for a moment before whispering again, and the words make your face burn and your heart fly around in circles.
“Can I kiss you again?”
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link to smut!
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“You have everything? Your tickets?” you ask as you lean against the doorframe. You’re both standing outside your parents house right now, waiting for Jun to finish his last bit of packing (why he was so insistent on you two coming quickly when even he wasn’t ready is still a mystery to you) so you can call over the van to take them to the airport.
Minghao shrugs at you, pulling out his wallet to look through the pockets to double check. As he’s shuffling through them, a familiar piece of paper sticks out and grabs your attention. “You keep my letter in your wallet?”
Minghao nods, seemingly unbothered by your surprise. “Yeah. Where else would I keep it?”
“Well, I don’t know but—”
“It’s a cute letter!” Minghao reasons. “And I like having it with me. Like a little good luck charm.”
You press a kiss to his cheek when he says that, but continue to say, “I don’t get what’s so cute about me getting drunk and writing to you.”
“Okay that part, I don’t like. Seriously. Underage drinking is not cool,” Minghao mutters. “But the rest of the letter is pretty nice I guess,” he teases, tucking his wallet back into his pocket.
“Pretty nice?” you scoff, trying to snatch the wallet back from him to grab your letter. He swipes it away too quickly though, and you’re left pawing at his chest to try and get it back. “You don’t deserve that letter! I put my heart and soul into it!”
“Heart and soul? I think you mean you poured five shots of vodka into it.” You frown deeply, and Minghao relaxes his shoulders. “Okay I’m sorry—you know I love the letter.”
“Do I?” you huff stubbornly, looking at the ground.
Minghao traces a hand down your face and tilts your chin upwards. “C’mon look at me,” he murmurs, and you begrudgingly meet his gaze. “I love the letter.” He pecks you on the lips. “Do you believe me now?”
“You might have to kiss me one more time for that.”
Minghao grins and presses his lips on yours again, a little harder this time. “Good now?”
“Yes—you got lucky.”
“Okay good … but just for extra measures, I have something that might sweeten the deal,” Minghao tells you, pulling a folded paper out of his pocket and handing it to you. Carefully, you take it and unravel it, glancing over the words.
There’s a lot—like a lot—and Minghao’s face flushes as you skim over the paragraphs he wrote, slapping a hand over the paper. “Okay don’t read it in front of me!” he whines, and you beam because history has a tendency to repeat itself.
“Fine, fine,” you sigh, looking down at it one more time when your eyes catch a little note at the bottom.
Pursing your lips, you glance up and find Minghao watching you with wide eyes and a bright smile, and you can’t help but fling yourself into his arms. Your heart swells when you feel him wrap his hands around you rightly pulling him close as the words cast their imprint into your mind.
You’re happy. So, so, so happy.
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Yours truly, Xu Minghao (weirdo)
P.S. I love you.
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a/n. okay wow i can't believe this is done ... genuinely put so much into this fic i hope u all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! i definitely might be writing more about these two bc i loved them so much😭 i had like 2 more ideas for a smut in mind but decided not to add them but if you'd be interested in reading them, i might post them as a oneshot/bonus, so lmk what you're interested in! please reblog if u did, and let me know ur thoughts—it would mean a lot to me :3
tags. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @ming-h0e @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @junhui-recs @ichorjeon (strikethrough could not be tagged)
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dolldefiler · 2 months
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Hey :)
I just wanted to say truly how incredible your writing is. I find myself refreshing on tumblr desperately looking for a new story from you whilst I mindlessly rub myself away to all the dirty things on here because it just works like no other if I’m honest..
Also wanted to say thank you for seeming like a genuine person on top of all the sex-stuff, a lot of people abuse the space with this sorta stuff so it’s refreshing to see a double edged sword type thing I suppose.
Now I guess onto the reason I gathered the courage to ask (even though I’m still on anonymous…) I was wondering if you’d be up for letting me share my fantasy and if it sparked any inspo, if you’d be open to doing a request whenever you got the free time?
One of my biggest fantasies in the world is being kidnapped, raped and gaslighted, with heavy heavy tones of misogyny. Idk something about a sexually fuelled patriarchal society really does something to me :0 but unfortunately it’s kind of hard to communicate that desire to anyone at risk of it being taken completely the wrong way (oh the joys of having these kinks) and so I fear I’ll never really get to live out any variation of this fantasy with someone I trust
I just imagine being taken one day, because I’m just a girl and it’s a man’s right to take me if they choose. He takes me back to whatever secluded hole he’s got to keep me in, and it’s brutal and harsh at first - tied, bruised, etc etc. Then as the days, weeks, months go by I begin to develop Stockholm syndrome or I’m just plain old gaslighted into thinking this is all women are made for. Maybe he recorded me saying degrading things about myself in the first few days, which I said out of fear but you play them back for me and convince me that I meant them and you never asked me to say those things, it must just be truly who I am. Maybe he’d reward me when I gagged on his golf with the most simple thing like a stroke of my hair while he brutally fucked my face, but the small sign of affection (even when being used so aggressively) would be the gentle touch that I had been craving in the months he had kept me locked away. Besides the first time he raped me (so he could hold my pleasure during it as a tool against me), he would edge me from the very start, breaking me, making me crave the pleasure against everything screaming in my body saying not to. Taunting me by saying if I could cum just one more time, he’d let me go.. but of course he’d never let me. Teasing me by saying if I do as I’m told he’ll think about letting me get extra close to the edge that day, because at this point being allowed that would be the closest I would ever get. By the end of it my rewards would no longer benefit me, I’d be thankful when he said I could cockwarm him whilst he worked, or if he said I could be spend hours and hours worshipping his cock with my mouth, even when my jaw began to hurt. He’d only fuck me ass unless he wanted to edge me and get me close, or to breed me full of cum. If I ever took a misstep, like missing a single drop of cum after he came, I’d be punished. I’d be thankful to serve him, I’d learn to speak to him as my superior and all my pleasure would come from serving him. I could be completely rewritten and by the end of it he could let me go with no worry, and I’d be his forever..
ANYWAYS… ahem. I think I may have got carried away.
Even if you don’t write anything like this, honestly it was kind of fun just typing it out.
Other than that, I hope you are doing good!
From a very horny anon (who maybe recently has maybe weirdly started subconsciously picturing some imagined version you in this fantasy)
-🍒
Aww, this is such a cute message to receive (and as ever with these asks, I apologise for taking a century to respond).
I would love to steal some girl away from her home, snatching her up like she's property to be claimed. Snatching it up, like it's property to be claimed. She'd struggle at first, screaming and crying, violently thrashing against her ropes and threatening to call the police. What a silly little sex doll. The police wouldn't care about her. They'd probably stolen away their own little fleshlights.
I'd beat her of course. Stupid fucking rapetoys need it sometimes. They need to understand that they're nothing until I give them a purpose. I'd lock her in a dark room with no clock, no water, not a single sound to accompany her but the sounds of soft sobbing and heavy breathing. She'd mark the passing of days from my sharp footsteps as I'd come down to feed her. Beat her. Abuse her.
I'd speak to her sometimes, whispering degradation into her ears. Taking off her gag to encourage to degrade herself for me, if she wanted food. The only human contact she'd know would be intensely degrading. Every vile word of degradation she'd whisper about herself would earn her a pat on the head or kiss on the forehead. I'd reward her for breaking.
I would record every trembling word of hate she'd say about herself and rape her to the sounds of it. I'd spread apart her cunt on my cock and pound away at her, recording even that, raping her endlessly to our homemade porn. To our rape videos. She'd watch her own face become stained with tears. She'd hear the nasty things she'd hear about herself. She'd lose her mind. Did she truly want this? Did she really hate herself?
I'd reassure her that this was normal. That it's okay to hate yourself. That all she needed was me. I'd strap a vibrator against her clit and drill into her ass, jerking off inside her to the sounds of her intense degradation, to the her loud, screaming in those rape videos. I'd teach her to love the feeling. Then I'd leave her again. I wouldn't speak to her for days, silently feeding her. She'd have to choose between eternal silence or... something that made her feel alive. Something that made her feel like a woman. Something like a pathetic fucking rapemutt.
I'd choke her out, squeezing her tighter and telling her that I'd stop if she only just told me to. I'd stop if she degraded herself. I'd stop it if she just said anything. But my hand would stop her. I'd watch her become unconscious and limp every time, and wake her up to my cock raping her ass violently and my palm slapping her sharply. I'd only use her cunt to reward her. To train her into loving my cock stirring up her insides in a way that didn't leave her screaming.
I'd rewrite her so thoroughly she wouldn't even be able to consider disobeying me. The police might stop burying their cocks into their own fleshlights and knock on my door. They might question her. They'd get nothing. She'd defend me and tell them she ran away with me. She'd fervently tell them how I'd saved her from her old life. How I'd helped her. They'd take one last look at her and leave my house. Perhaps I'd breed her as a reward.
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bookshelf-dust · 9 months
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kiss it better
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steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 3,176
warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)
a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.
————
The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 
You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 
You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 
“Hello?”
Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 
“Hey, it’s me.”
The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.
“Steve?”
Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 
You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 
“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”
“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 
Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 
“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 
His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 
“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 
You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 
“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 
“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”
You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 
“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
————
Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 
Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 
He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 
And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 
He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 
Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 
He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 
Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 
When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 
“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 
He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 
“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 
You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 
You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 
Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 
He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.
You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 
Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 
You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 
“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 
“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 
You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 
One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 
“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 
He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”
You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 
“Hey. Look at me.”
He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 
You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.
Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 
Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 
“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 
You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 
“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”
He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 
By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 
You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 
He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”
You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”
His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 
“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”
He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.
When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 
You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”
“Steve?”
“Huh?”
“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”
His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 
“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 
You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.
“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”
————
When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 
But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 
“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”
He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 
“Hit me, I can take it.”
You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 
“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”
He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”
His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”
Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”
You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”
“Hm?”
“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”
Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 
He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 
Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 
Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”
You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”
He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”
“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”
“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”
You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 
He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 
He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 
“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”
Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.
“What?”
“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”
“How come?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“Best friends.”
“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”
His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 
“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”
You blink. “Huh?”
Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”
You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 
“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 
“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”
Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 
“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 
“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.
He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 
Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 
You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 
Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 
You have made him whole. 
He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 
“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”
You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 
Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 
When you pull away, he whines. 
“All better?”
Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 
“I’m healed.”
————
please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
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kuiinncedes · 2 years
Text
the candymakersssss 😭
#thank u wendy mass for my like middle school reading and also this amazing book still now asjdhgklabfgjkdhf#lowkey thought i might cry at one point 😂🤪😭 BRUH i love this book sm like there's nostalgia kinda i read this book so many times#but also i love these characters and their friendship sm i want more 🥺 i'll probably reread the sequel too#which i don't remember anything of basically lmao but i do own it so i assume i read it XD#my brother said he kinda remembered it being weird and multiverse-y idk lol but idc i want more of them#(however i've been rly wanting to reread they boht die at the end lol so i might do that first)#(and let the candymakers sequel be like my pick me up after XD)#LOGAN SWEET BELOVED MY CHILD EVERYTHING GOOD IN THE WORLD DESERVES THE WHOLE UNIVERSE THIS BOY#i love him sm and it's funny considering his last name i guess lol but rly the only thing i want to say to describe him is just#sweet sweet boy. sweet wonderful lovely angel boy 💗#also the writing like i sorta remembered the end or at least that everyone was good at the end lol#but at the beginning of philip's pov like when he had the wrong idea tho i rly did want to hate him lmao#but i was like girl stop he's 12 he's a lil misguided#his dad's a bit of a dick lol#AND HE'S ALSO SO SWEET THE SECOND HE FINDS OUT THE TRUTH HE'S LIKE SO#great about it idk lol ajkhgldfhbg#miles and daisy also beloveds <333333 they're all so wonderful#the friendship oh my goddlkjakdfgnkadfhguqreighndfjkbvjkdffha#the end w logan and philip does he have one or two l's i could check the book right next to me but i won't apparently lol#the end w them seeing each other's candies in the clouds and just the whole lil group hangout thing at the end#and a lil before the end like miles realizing the truth abt daisy and his reaction is so sweet 😭#i'm probably running out of tags lmfao bye i could talk about this forever apparently a;skjdhgirbgqilerugbsjkfhaf the candymakerssss <33333#jeanne talks
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corvidae-00 · 28 days
Note
Please some jealous (kind of toxic ) joost but with a happy ending 🙏🙏🙏🙏
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A/N: **fiddles fingers maliciously** this- I love this- He would so be sorta toxic and totally let his ego get ahead of him- this is gonna be fun to write! I hope you like it!!!!- GN!Reader x Joost :> CW: Toxic mannerisms, Marko is being used as the reason Joost gets worked up- (I love Marko I swear-), swearing, Angry Joost, tinny witty bitty bit of angst, Joost overthinking, smoking. (Let me know if I missed anything!! Word count: 1,747
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The after party for eurovisions semi final was packed with the singers and the energy in the room was for sure through the roof. Joost your good friend and his group invited you to come with, Joost wanting to share this moment with you more than anything- the excitement and hype of everyone putting their hearts out there and competing only to come together to talk about how much happened, having you there would make it even better, if that would be even possible.
You agreed to come along, not that you had much choice, the Dutchman having begged and nagged and spammed you until you agreed. Not that you didn't want to come! But you knew you would stand out like a sore thumb, probably hang out by a corner waiting for the delicious food to be available or not so crowded. Looking over your outfit and the time you smile pleased with how you look and wonder slightly if Joost would too. You have had the biggest crush on him since a few months after you got to know him, the feelings having appeared and clung onto you with every ounce of power possible, and honestly? You were fine with that. Smoothing out your clothes you look at the time and decided if you want to make it in time you absolutely had to leave.
Grabbing your bag you left your hotel you had booked for the event and quickly drove over to the Venue like Joost told you it would be, not leaving the Malmo Arena, I guess the hosts didn't want to spend more money renting another place out for the singers, at least it was well know and easy to find. Stepping out of your car you hurry inside showing the security your invite from Joost and entering the main lobby reading your friends text to find the way glaring at the device unsure of what Joost was even trying to explain
"Are you looking for someone?" A strong accented and shy voice came from behind you causing you to turn around and blink a few times at the man in a very midevil looking outfit and gentle eyes holding a cup of what you assumed was water, but could be vodka- maybe he was crazy like that "Sorry- Im Marko.." He quickly introduces himself before continuing "You look extremely lost- Im sorry for spooking you" He says with a genuine tone leading to a smile pulling its way onto your lips. After introducing yourself you look back down at your texts "Im actually here for the after party? my friend- one of the performers invited me and he is quite the character when it comes to instructions..." You rub the back of your neck trying to explain the situation to the stranger who was just as bashful as you "Oh! I was just heading back! I'm not very talkative so I got some air but I can take you to the area they have for us" He offers running his hand through his hair that is surprisingly still in good shape like he had maybe applied hairspray not too long ago "Oh would you??" You put away your phone letting Marko nod and wave his hand indicating you to follow
"So who is your- eh- friend?" Marko looks over at you trying to make small talk. "Oh! His names Joost, he is representing the Netherlands." You explain and Marko's face brightens a little "Oh yes! I enjoy his company!" Marko nods with a smile "Makes sense you two are friends! it seems he can befriend almost everyone" He explains putting a finger to his jaw in what seems to be thought "Do you like cats?" Marko questions as you two get closer to the room, music can be heard from inside. nothing too crazy or club like but maybe just background ambiance "Oh yeah! They are so cute! I don't have any of my own but I like visiting my friends kitty's" You smile watching Marko excitedly pull out his phone "Oh let me show you mine!" He says as you two enter the room Marko going through his camera roll leaning into you to get closer so you can see better
Joost Turns to look at the door, hearing the squeak of the hinges that whines under the weight of it being even cracked open and furrows his brows seeing you walk in with Marko...What was he doing out there? Realizing he must have left the party Joost grows even more confused as to why you two were together- wasn't his directions perfectly understandable? His large blue coat long since shedded, Joost rolls up the sleeves of his white button up and crosses his arms leaning on a table watching the two of you interact. 'he is very close to you' he thinks to himself, a sour taste in his mouth watching you laugh at something he had said 'why is he, the shyer one of the bunch all buddy buddy with you? I mean you always have been so approachable- but that's not fair.' Joost clicks his tongue growing more and more impatient 'what if you are leaving me for him? what if you even forget who invited you here?' Joost can feel his patience thinning and the party getting quieter the more he focuses in on you two. Marko with a big grin on his face and you laughing at a photo he had shown you.
"Hey there you are!" Joost doesn't even recall when he had took strides over- or when he was so close to you he could feel the warm body heat emitting off of you "Marko! How nice of you to find my nieuwsgierig hertje". he purrs looking down at the man who is staring up at him "Oh uh-" Marko looks over at you and then slowly puts his phone away and wraps both hands around his drink "Yeah no issues" Marko nods. "No issues." Joost repeats grinding his molars together forcing a grin. he had never any issues with the Croatian- until he was basically in your arms "Bye-" Marko waves at you with a small smile wanting to escape the current situation and looking at Joost before entering the party again "Joost- You spooked him away" You sigh wrapping your arm around your friend leaning into him and Joost can feel his mind calming "He was too close to you" Joost huffs taking his glasses out of his chest pocket putting them on and pushing them up his nose
"He was showing me his cats-" You raise a brow and Joost looks down at you "that close? I think he just wanted to be up on you" Joost rubs his arms and looks away with annoyance lacing his voice "Whats got you in a mood?" you tug on his shirt and Joost grumbles "Nothing." He reply's and you frown "Nothing my ass, what's wrong" You stand your ground not expecting the tall blonde to drag you out into the hall not caring about his grand exit.
"Nothing is wrong." He snaps once you both get out into the hall "You were all emojis and smiles before you saw me walk in with Marko! he was very sweet." you huff and Joost crosses his arms "Sweet huh? sounds like you have a crush." He fixes his glasses that are slipping off his nose "I just met him Joost, what's up with you?" you frown walking towards him "This is a new side of you" You observe and Joost shakes his head "Im always like this okay?" he throws his hands up and you shake your head
"What- is wrong." you demand and Joost glares "Maybe I don't want to see someone I think highly of with some other guy." He says sarcastically "Highly of?" You push and Joost shakes his head "What are you talking about." You reach for him and Joost grabs your wrist, not hard- you could actually pull away if you wanted too "Someone I have wanted as mine forever, walks in with a guy who clearly was hanging off your every word." Joost pushes through his teeth.
you both stand there still as a wall and Joost observes your face, his pupils scanning you over and avoiding eye contact " you- want me?" You repeat and Joost sighs "onoplettend" he mutters and you shake your head "You cant use your mother tongue to get out of this Joost-" you say and take a shaky breath "Do you like me? like- like like-" You mutter and Joost swallows hard "Ja." He responds and you can feel your face grow hot "Really?" you mutter and Joost drops your wrist "Really. and it really- shook me I guess seeing you come in with him.." Joost grumbles and you shake your head "Your directions were ass" You laugh a little upon noticing Joost's offended face "They were eligible-" He defends and you sigh "I- feel the same- I have for such a long time-" You admit with a small smile "I never thought it was possible-" You shrug and Joost blinks at you like you are speaking in a whole other language
"Not possible-??" he repeats in pure shock "You are the most funniest, smartest, good looking, talented, and so much more of a person that I have ever met." Joost says his eyes going soft and you cant help the silence that comes after your brain still playing catch up with the new information "I wanted to tell you properly- a way you would see me as the same ways I see you..." He rubs his forearms nervously tracing his scattered tattoos. "but I guess-" He smiles "This might do?" he chuckles and you rub your mouth slightly with your hand "It does more than might do- I'm so happy-" You mutter and close your eyes taking a deep breath before walking towards him and embracing him in a big bear hug "You don't know how happy I am that you feel the same way" Joost says exasperated "Next time just tell me you goof than getting all jealous" You tease and Joost shakes his head "I was NOT jealous lets get that straight right now" He states playfully "Okay Mr.Not jealous" You chuckle as Joost wraps his arms around you "how does dinner sound tomorrow night-" He smiles and you nod slightly into his chest "consider it a date." you hum
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Dutch translation: Curious deer: "nieuwsgierig hertje". Yes: Ja Oblivious: onoplettend A/N: heheheh I'm just cranking these out!!! I hope you liked it Anon and I hope it was what you were wanting! if not feel free to request again and I'm more than happy to keep writing!!! Thank you all for the love and the requests and everything! it makes my day seeing how many of you like my stuff....thank you! i love you all!!!!!
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cherubfae · 4 months
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Can you write Alastor x a Reader who works in radio? I don't think Alastor would let them on air since he doesn't seem the type to have a co host to me but maybe he'd have a intern who gets him coffee or a script writer.
Good To Be Back On the Air || Alastor x reader
tags: gn!sinner!reader (described to have horns but is an otherwise ambiguous demon!!), fluff, pre-established relationship, mentions of death, true crime, vox being vox lmao, jealous alastor, blood/bloody play (sorta??), Valentino is his own warning (threats of SA but nothing happens), mentions of injuries and being kidnapped (use of chloroform), implied VoxVal
a/n: I hope you enjoy!! This got a bit long!
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Much like Alastor's life before he died, you were also quite the popular radio host for your time. Engaging, funny, and respectable. Your audience loved tuning in the early hours of the morning to you recanting the strange occurrences of the multiple killings of men from the late 1920s until that stream suddenly stopped during the year 1933 within New Orleans, Louisiana.
True crime has always been your passion, in life and in death. You certainly didn't think you'd end up in Hell for taking the life of someone trying to mug you on the street. A tall, masked man who saw to it that you'd never see the light of day again. A couple gunshot wounds to your abdomen proved effective as you rest against the wall, bleeding out onto the concrete with your soon-to-be killer lying facedown and dead mere feet from you. Killed by the very thing you sought to bring awareness towards. Quite poetic in a way.
As your gaze clouds and vision becomes unfocused, you look up at the stars. The ares around you was beautiful. It was one of your favorite parts of town, even your death wouldn't taint the beauty of the stretching oak and maple trees reaching tall towards the skies. The faint sound of smooth jazz playing from the record shop only a few paces away mixing with the swirling scent of coffee. At least you were dying in a place that you loved.
Now, here you are. In Hell. Doomed to total damnation for all fucking eternity. You'd been down here for a couple months, taking up residence near Cannibal Town, yet still unsure of what to make of all the carnage, debauchery, and depravity. You didn't think you belonged in Hell, even if you took the life that simultaneously extinguished your own.
"What's wrong, dearie? I've known you to be quiet but today you are exceptionally so." Mused Rosie, her gentle tone pulling you out of your reverie. You glanced down at your tea, sighing.
Leaning your cheek against your palm, you meet her charcoal-black eyes. Genuine concern etched onto her politely beautiful face. "I'm just feeling lost is all, I guess. I told you how I ended up in Hell, right?" Solemnly, Rosie nods.
Placing down her tea cup, Rosie wiggles towards you a bit. "Maybe you just need to find that old spark again! Something that roused you when you were alive! I have a friend who was a radio host, same as you. He may be able to have a job for you! Alastor is as charming as they come!" She grins, her mouth full of pointed teeth on full display.
Your brow quirks. "Alastor? The Radio Demon?" Rosie nods, excitedly. Alastor had been the prolific serial killer that haunted New Orleans back in the 1920s. It felt weird that the main man-- subject, you studied in life would soon be your acquaintance and potential boss in death. You'd heard many hushed tales about the aforementioned Radio Demon dealing in bartered souls and how he wreaked havoc against his fellow Overlords overnight. He definitely seemed like the kind of demon you didn't want to make light of, or worse, be on his bad side.
"He's a quirky one, for sure, but don't listen to all those rumors and gossip!" Rosie waves her hand with a laugh. "Alastor is still a gentleman and I'm sure he'd be delighted to offer you a job! Maybe you can intern for him? Besides! If he's ever rude to you, ol' Rosie will kick him in the shins! I'll wear my extra-pointy boots!" She giggles, holding your hands in hers. "You'll be in good hands, my dear! I'll let Alastor know you're coming right away!"
Staring down at the neatly folded paper in your hand, you double and triple check the address scrawled in neat calligraphy.
Hazbin Hotel.
Was it normal for a former serial killer slash radio host to become a hotelier that's trying to rehabilitate sinners?
With a shrug, you made your way up the incline taking note of the rather ominous looking radio tower jutting out from the far-right side of the hotel. A sign displaying the words on-air was currently unlit and it looked quite dark inside from what you could see from the ground. Perhaps the great Alastor wasn't at home.
Knocking on the front door, you're greeted by a tall, deer-like demon with two-toned hair and sharp yellow teeth dressed in a dapper red-pinstripe suit complete with a microphone-like cane. Scarlet eyes stare down at you like a lion watching a gazelle. You feel utterly and completely exposed, like he's peeling back your every layer, surveying you, before he even said a single word.
"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear! Quite a pleasure! You must be the little darling that dear Rosie sent, yes?" Alastor places his hand on your lower back, guiding you past the hotel's front doors and into the welcoming comfort of the establishment's front lobby and reception area. "This is a place where wayward sinners such as yourself can find peace and be led on the path of redemption to ascend to Heaven by Hell's very own princess, Charlie Morningstar!"
On queue, a blonde-haired girl sprints up to you squealing and flailing her arms a bit. She takes her hands in yours and offers you a big, delighted smile. You like her immediately. "Oh, my gosh! Welcome, welcome to Hazbin Hotel! I see you've met our gracious host Alastor! He's mentioned that you're going to be interning for him-- how exciting! We are so thankful to have you!"
To think, all those months ago had been the start of your journey with your friends. You had felt so out of place in Hell, in your new skin, uncomfortable with the weight of sharp horns protruding your skin and the strength of your clawed hands. You were quite pleasantly surprised at what you could withstand now as a demon.
With the attention directed back at him, Alastor grins with a whine of radio static. It was the equivalent of a lazy smirk with his half-lidded scarlet eyes taking you in one more, searching for any potential risks you may pose though you didn't intend any of that sort. You felt your skin begin to heat the longer his gaze remained on you, and hesitantly break the eye contact with the demon in favor of Charlie, who has been excitedly talking about all of the hotel's features.
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"I brought your coffee, sir." Alastor hums out a soft 'thank you' yet continues to fiddle with the buttons and tracks on his console, not raising his head to look at you. "Rosie gave me some venison for you. She said aid it's your favorite when it's fresh and raw." Placing Alastor's simple black coffee on a small side table, you revere your boss with a fond expression. Rosie had been truthful she said he was the charming sort. There certainly was an air of respectability about him that men lacked from your time.
"Our dear Rosie is certainly a clever one, and she is quite correct. There is no better way to enjoy meat than having it served fresh. Preferably off the bone but this will do." Alastor tilts his head, turning to the side to regale you from the corner of his eyes. Those damn beautiful scarlet gems. "Something the matter, my dear?" Alastor's voice is a soft crackle.
Stumbling in surprise, you wrack your brain for a plausible answer. When you find none, you shake your head from side to side cursing the heat that sets your cheeks ablaze.
Alastor smirks, standing from his stool and approaches you. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger; his claw lightly dragging across your lower lip. Blood beads up following the path his claw created. He swipes it up, licking it in front of you.
"Tasty," Alastor grins, leaning down and bumping his nose into yours. "As I said, meat is best when fresh." He squeezes your cheek lightly, chuckling at the exudes into his palm. "If I wasn't certain, I'd say you have a little crush on me, hmm?" He turns his back to you, those damned scarlet eyes that see straight through your soul strike you where you stand. "That'll be all now, dearest. Thank you for your time and your blood."
You couldn't get out of there fast enough. You weren't afraid of him, no, you were more scared of kissing him now more than ever. A fantasy of both of you pressed tight to one another with mouths soaked in blood would be all you can think of for hours.
Whatever was going on between you and Alastor continued on much like a game of cat and mouse only he seemed to be going out of his way more and more to fluster you, saying things that would catch you off guard.
"I don't think of myself as much of a man who desires a relationship beyond friends and family, but cohabitating with you as lifelong partners does sound desirable."
"Hmm, tell me. Are your horns sensitive?" His breath ghosts then one day, causing you to shriek and cover them. You pout, turning your head to glare at him. Alastor's grin only seemed to stretch further. "Only teasing, darling, no need to get so uppity."
It was a slow evening, Alastor had sent you off on another errand. There was a sense of apprehension worrying his brow, glancing at the analog clock. The hour hand strikes the 3am mark. He'd sent you off almost an hour and a half ago, so where were you?
Interference crackles onto his radio, Alastor hissing as the feedback screeches. With ears pinned back, his eyes narrowed further when a familiar voice crosses.
"Ugh, I will never understand why thr fuck you use this shit, Alastor." Groaned Vox. "Anyway, I got your cute assistant here. You should see them, shaking like a leaf." The radio glitches in tune with Vox's laughter. "Valentino here has been itching for a new plaything, doesn't that sound good, sweetheart? Maybe we can broadcast that for all of Hell to see, right Al--"
Smash. Alastor's fist smashes through the radio cutting off Vox's boastful rant.
On the other side of the city, Vox blinks in confusion. "I lost the radio signal? Oh, fuck, God this shit is so old." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. Spinning around, he gives you a wry smirk. "Guess we'll see if the Great Alastor comes to rescue his lost pup, hmm?"
Glowering at him, left bound and gagged, sitting on the cold, hard floor. Valentino gives a harsh tug on your hair, your teeth sinking into the cotton gag shoved in your mouth, a muffled grunt leaving you.
An electric feeling in the air has your hair rising. Vox and Valentino share a confused look. A large fist blasts inside of the V Tower, claws sharp as they did through the metal like it was butter.
"Oh, fuck, it's Alastor!" Vox shrieks, scrambling to get away from the broken window. A second fist smashes through sending Vox into the opposing wall with a deep thud. Valentino runs to his friend's aid, helping him up.
"Well, this is what you wanted, honey."
Vox groans in protest. "I know."
Green electricity crackles, a dark shadow pooling into the room and with a shriek, manifests into Alastor.
Paying the two no mind, Alastor crosses the threshold and kneels down before you. His clawed fingers are gentle as he removes the gag around your bruised mouth. "Sorry it took me so long, mon cour." A tentacle bursts through his back, spiraling directly into Vox and Valentino, sending the two into the neighboring room with a loud crash.
Scooping you into his arms, Alastor calmly walks through to the next room, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Rest." He regards the other two males with a snarling crackle.
"If I didn't have more important matters to attend to, I would eviscerate you two gents. Touch what is mine again and I'll broadcast your fucking screams all over Hell." Alastor hums, exiting V Tower.
"Holy shit! Did you see?? He finally sees me as his rival!" Vox cheers, tossing both arms into the air in celebration.
"This may sting, but I trust that you can handle it." Alastor says, rubbing off the blood from your brow with a cotton ball doused in isopropyl alcohol. Wincing softly, you take the moment to look at him closely. You'd never seen Alastor so disheveled. Even with dealing with enemies, he was always composed. But, tonight, he had been anything but the picture of composure. He looked positively feral.
Valentino sighs, "Honey, you need psychiatric help."
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"Is there something about my face you find interesting, dearest?"
Squeaking, your face flushes, shaking your arms frantically. Gasping you quickly place a hand to your ribs. Guess they really did fracture something when they knocked you out.
Alastor stills your hands with his own. "Easy now, pet. You're in no state to be moving around like an interpretive mime. I was only teasing you, my dearest. You had me worried tonight."
Hanging your head low, you turn your gaze away. "I'm sorry, Alastor. I don't know how they got the drop on me. I was walking home and smelled something odd--," you gasped in realization. "Chloroform. It had to be."
Alastor growled tensely at that. He tied the bandage around your arm and with a snap of his fingers the medical kit disappeared and a serving tray appeared carrying a kettle full of hot chocolate and a staple 1920s dessert: pound cake. This one was drizzled with a bitter chocolate and filled with strawberries.
Alastor takes your hand and gently kisses your knuckles. "Care to join me for a treat?" His tone was a touch more gentle than it had been a heartbeat ago. You smile, nodding eagerly. He grins and begins to cut the cake, serving you first. "One more thing."
|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024
Softly, Alastor kisses your cheek. It was the lightest of touches and over as soon as it happened. He busies himself by pouring two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, the apples of his cheeks were a rosy hue.
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