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gyuswhore · 7 months

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Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom.

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin.

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice.

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly.

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands.

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers.

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter.

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her.

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?”

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.”

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future.

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt.

“Sure, yeah. What is it?”

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all”

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway.

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring.

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-”

“I have class tomorrow.”

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.”

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now”

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night”

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building.

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically.

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down.

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process.

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding,

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed.

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself.

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids.

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.”

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.”

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted.

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done.

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation.

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand.

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way.

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express.

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display.

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you.

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night.

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew.

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head.

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.”

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe.

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines.

You deserved to wallow in this pit.

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath.

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds.

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock.

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name.

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond.

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.”

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears.

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut.

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call.

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response.

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.”

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over.

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows.

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?”

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further.

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands.

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.”

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.”

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh.

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot.

The doorbell rings.

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling.

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!”

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door.

Mingyu’s brought a girl.

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later.

“This is my sister”

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky.

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit.

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge.

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her.

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.”

There it is.

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence.

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance.

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over.

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you.

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister.

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from.

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun.

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”.

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder.

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression.

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already.

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?”

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!”

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going.

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect, “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away.

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.”

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you.

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity.

“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you.

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.”

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice.

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.”

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice.

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion.

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?”

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter.

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances.

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles.

“What? Is it bad?”

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?”

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?”

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face.

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside.

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later.

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her.

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight.

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside.

There’s no Nayeon in sight.

But there is Mingyu.

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both.

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears.

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him.

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?”

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?”

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?”

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.”

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny.

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest.

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck.

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up.

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.”

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream.

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.”

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral.

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see.

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure.

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting.

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality.

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school.

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner.

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner.

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose.

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand.

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself.

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?”

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!”

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland.

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit.

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does.

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.”

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form.

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart.

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear.

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed.

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite.

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.”

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again.

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet.

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you.

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.”

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.”

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus.

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…”

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.”

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation.

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses.

“Especially when it’s none of my business.”

“Charming.”

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major.

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.”

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.”

“Are we getting paid?”

“You get to say you modeled for me.”

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans.

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you.

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh.

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?”

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices.

“I am,” You confirm.

“For what?” He sputters.

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?”

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question.

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?”

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks.

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.”

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.”

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.”

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-”

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika.

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk.

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.”

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that.

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table.

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch.

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.”

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.”

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers.

“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause.

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in.

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face.

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face.

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it.

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort.

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points.

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!”

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor.

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat.

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over.

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite.

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.”

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?”

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes.

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.”

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.”

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar.

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance.

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last.

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive.

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time.

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all.

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers.

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity.

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence.

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week.

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information.

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone.

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins.

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.”

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name.

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you.

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t.

—Kim, Mingyu.

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes.

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was.

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him.

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here!

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off.

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true.

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up.

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him.

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand.

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus.

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously.

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.”

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually.

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything.

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin.

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you.

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?”

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back.

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?”

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour.

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?”

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly.

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.”

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.”

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?”

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.”

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.”

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.”

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod.

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared.

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.”

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing.

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling.

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is.

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry.

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat.

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake.

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human.

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on.

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash.

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness.

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch.

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice.

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard.

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to.

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else.

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh.

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help.

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention.

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor.

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her.

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house.

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more.

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked.

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down.

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention.

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel.

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car.

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further.

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns.

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.”

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard.

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed.

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended.

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister.

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.”

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat.

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride.

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.”

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought.

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip.

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results.

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.”

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair.

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done.

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you.

“What?”

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation.

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?”

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.”

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes.

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.”

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years.

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night.

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there.

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing.

He’s probably fine.

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu.

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos.

“Oh, hey,” he says normally.

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room.

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.”

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.”

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway.

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.”

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you.

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round.

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour.

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.”

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself.

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.”

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?”

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it.

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff.

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.”

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.”

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch.

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night.

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car.

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest.

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip.

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!”

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks.

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants.

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak.

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.”

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.”

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise.

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried.

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them.

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room.

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked.

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you.

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping.

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it.

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room.

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry.

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls.

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots.

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn.

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces.

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break.

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time.

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts.

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.”

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?”

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.”

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out.

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.”

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights).

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away.

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.”

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood.

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare.

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine.

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today.

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera.

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it.

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound.

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket.

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see.

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?”

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.”

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least.

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off.

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route.

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing.

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.”

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?”

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.”

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting.

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends.

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day.

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home.

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little.

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!”

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here.

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in.

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.”

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm.

“Ah, I see.”

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?”

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.”

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.”

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.”

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.”

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection.

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.”

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation.

“When does your shift end?”

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that.

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously.

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.”

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.”

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.”

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.”

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement.

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible.

Truly.

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention.

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?”

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial.

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.”

“Seok!”

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!”

Beep.

The bastard hung up.

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu.

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle.

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy.

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night.

“Babe?”

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?”

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long.

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word.

“Fifteen.”

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected.

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it.

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?”

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.”

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.”

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.”

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms.

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her.

“What now?” she groans.

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!”

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours.

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally.

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy.

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up.

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.”

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past.

It doesn’t.

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.” Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully.

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice.

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated.

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!”

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place.

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!”

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it.

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!”

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.”

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done.

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it.

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project.

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful.

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card.

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece.

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

#mingyu #mingyu fluff #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu angst #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #svt #svt fluff #svt angst #svt smut

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munson-blurbs · 7 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Summary: Still questioning your mothering abilities, you finally agree to take a pregnancy test. But when you run into an unexpected familiar face, it leads to some intimate conversations.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), angst, misunderstanding, mention of alcohol consumption, nausea, Reader takes a pregnancy test, mention of menstrual periods/tampons, panic attack, use of medication (prescribed), dirty talk, mutual masturbation, breeding kink, choking, submissive!Reader, mention of public sex (this chapter has a lot so please let me know if I missed something!)

WC: 10.1k

A/N: Thank you to @pastel-pillows, @corroded-hellfire, and @vintagehellfire for beta reading and helping with some dialogue. Y'all make me a horny better writer.

Chapter 17/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

It’s been one week since you’ve seen Eddie. The phone is silent on the hook, regardless of how strongly you will it to ring.

A wave of nausea ripples through you and has you lunging for the Saltines box on the coffee table. It isn’t unusual for you to feel sick when you’re anxious, and this entire situation definitely has you on-edge. The Jerry Springer audience chants his name from the TV set, though you can barely pay attention to the brawl that’s about to occur.

One week ago, you and Eddie broke up. One week ago, you realized you might be carrying his baby. One week ago, you began what you’d dubbed Self-Pity Spring Break, which was essentially a week of you wallowing in misery and ignoring the nagging question that constantly infiltrates your thoughts.

The movement for the crackers allows you to get a whiff of the pajamas you’d been living in. You’d convinced yourself there was no need to shower since you were barely leaving your apartment, but the odor emanating from your clothes—and your skin—says otherwise. You resignedly stand up and grab a towel from the hall closet, scowling at the box of tampons that’s seemingly taunting you.

Fine, you silently relent, I’ll get a test today.

There’s a forceful knock on the door, and your heart leaps. Eddie. Eddie’s here, we can talk and figure this out–

“Hey, Hermit, you alive in there?” It’s Jess, speaking even as she knocks.

“Coming, coming,” you grumble, not even trying to feign excitement. Maybe it’s better that it’s not Eddie; you’re not sure what you’d even say.

“Jeez, you look awful,” Robin comments, clamping her lips together when Jess shoots her a glare. “Sorry.”

“You’re not wrong,” you mutter. You haven’t looked in the mirror in days, not wanting to confront the reflection staring back at you. Fingertips greasy with old potato chip residue, you wipe them on your pajama pants and sigh. “I feel like shit, too.”

Jess grabs your hand and gives it a little squeeze. “C’mon, let’s get you some wine,” she says kindly, already padding towards the kitchen in search of an open bottle. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

You shake your head, throat dry. “I, um, I shouldn’t.” An unspoken plea floats from your lips, begging her not to ask further questions, but you know better than to get your hopes up.

She stops in her tracks, swiveling back in your direction. Her eyebrows pinch together, creasing in the middle. “No.” She waits for the punchline, and when there isn’t one, she envelops you in a hug. “Oh, honey.”

You feel another gentle hand on your back as Robin’s palm rubs comforting circles between your shoulder blades. You can’t pinpoint the moment she became one of your close friends, too; it happened naturally as the relationship between her and Jess became more serious and they spent more time together. Yet it feels as though she’s always been an integral part of your life, and you couldn’t be more thankful, especially in moments like this one.

“I don’t…I haven’t taken a test yet,” you admit bashfully, blinking away rogue tears, “but I’m super late. Like, almost two weeks late.”

Robin scrunches her face, unsure of her response but plunging ahead anyway. “Does Eddie…”

You shake your head. “No, and I’m not telling him either way.” The vitriol in your voice is biting, and both of your friends are taken aback by your anger. “He said that taking care of Harris was too much for me to handle; you think he wants to raise a whole other kid with me?”

“Okay, okay,” Jess softly interrupts your tirade, not needing to hear your break-up story for the fourth time. “First things first: you gotta take a test. Do you have one here?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Then Robs and I will go with you to the pharmacy.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you whine, sounding more like Harris than ever.

Jess sighs. “You’re leaving this apartment whether you like it or not.” She motions towards her girlfriend. “She’s stronger than she looks, so we will use force if we have to.”

“Fine.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Can I at least shower first?”

“Please,” Jess mutters, grateful that she didn’t have to make the suggestion herself.

The shower water is scalding hot, but you don’t have the energy to fiddle with the knob until it’s a decent temperature. Instead, you stand underneath the stream and idly sway back-and-forth. You grab the Dial bar from the soap tray, lathering your body and taking good care to scrub under your arms. The suds slide down and swirl around the drain before disappearing entirely. You can only wish they took your problems with them.

You dry off as quickly as you can, throwing on the first pair of sweatpants you can find and a faded concert t-shirt from when you saw Joan Jett perform in ‘89. Dragging your tired body back out to where your friends are waiting, you grab a jacket out of the closet, stomach turning as soon as you put your arms through the sleeves. You haven’t worn this since last weekend, and the smell of Eddie’s cologne still faintly lingers. It’s like he’s there wrapping himself around you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Except he’s not here, his scent only serving as a painful reminder of what you used to have.

If he was here right now, what would he be doing? Cursing the broken condom that led to this chaos? Berating himself for getting another woman pregnant? And not just any woman; this would be the second woman he’d knocked up who’d failed to be a decent mother. This time; however, he’d know about your shortcomings before the baby could even arrive, before it could develop fingers and toes and have its own little heartbeat…

With a heavy sigh, you drag your feet out the door and into Jess’s car. Nausea creeps up on you the closer you get to your destination, and for the first time in your life, you pray it’s only carsickness.

Murphy’s Law states that “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” and that’s exactly what happened to Eddie this week.

First, he’d all but gotten confirmation that you were overwhelmed at the prospect of being a family, of being his partner, and eventually being a parent to Harris. Your silence when he’d asked if it was “too much” was deafening. He’d thought about calling you, even picked up the phone and dialed the first few digits on more than one occasion, but ultimately hung up. There’s no sense in trying to force you into a life you have no interest in, no matter how badly it hurts him to be without you.

Then, this morning, Harris had woken up at 6:30 AM, howling in pain. Eddie had nearly fallen out of bed at the sudden burst of sound, rushing to his son’s side to figure out the issue.

“My ear!” Harris wailed, pressing a tiny palm to the side of his head. “It hurts so bad!”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie murmured. He tried to pull Harris’s hand from his ear to get a better look, but quickly stopped when the boy cried out in agony, rivaling a Wilhelm Scream.

He called the pediatrician and got the earliest appointment available, arriving at the office before they’d even opened. The receptionist had given him a strange look as he barreled through the doors, Harris hoisted in his arms.

Forty-five arduous minutes later, the doctor took one look inside Harris’s ear canal and diagnosed him with an ear infection, scribbled out a barely-legible prescription for antibiotics, and sent the Munsons on their way.

Now, Eddie slams the sedan door shut as he walks into the pharmacy for the second time today, mumbling about his shit luck. He’d brought Harris to Wayne’s trailer after dropping off the prescription once they informed him that it would be a two-hour wait. There was no sense in forcing the poor kid to sit around the drugstore when he desperately needed a nap, Eddie reasoned, ignoring his own exhaustion. He makes up his mind right then and there that, in addition to whatever bubblegum-flavored concoction he’s picking up for Harris, he’s getting a pack of Camels. The stress is just too damn much for Nicorette to handle.

He makes a beeline for the pharmacist, nodding along as she explains that the medicine should be taken twice daily with food.

“Do you have any questions?” she asks patiently, a kind smile on her lips.

“N-No,” Eddie stammers, the paper bag crinkling in his grasp. “Thanks,” he throws out haphazardly, already hyper-focused on securing the cigarettes. He can practically taste the tobacco on his tongue, smoke filling his lungs. He’ll quit again tomorrow, once all of this is–

“Is this it? EPT?” A familiar voice briefly grabs Eddie’s attention, but he quickly brushes it off. It’s a small town; everyone’s bound to recognize each other after a while.

It’s the response that truly draws him in, a timid, “y-yeah, I think so.”

Eddie swivels around, cigarettes long forgotten, peering down each aisle until he finds you. You’re standing with Robin Buckley—the voice he’d recognized earlier—and Jeff’s sister-in-law, Jess.

“Hi,” he blurts out, shoving his free hand in his pants pocket. His heart breaks at the defeated look in your eyes, swollen from days of crying. He wants to pull you in for a hug and feel your arms wrap around him, relishing in your safety.

It only takes a half-second for his gaze to drop to the pink box clenched in your death grip, a pathetic attempt to hide it from him. “Wh-What’s that?” He’s suddenly all-too aware that you’re all standing in the Family Planning section, and unless science has made some extraordinary progress lately, it’s unlikely that Jess and Robin need anything here. “Are you—”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” You regain as much composure as you can. “But whatever I am, I can handle it by myself.” You’re unsure of the truth behind that statement, but you refuse to let him see you waver.

Eddie takes another step forward, removing his hand from his pocket and taking the test from you. You’re hesitant to relinquish it, but you ultimately concede.

“Let me pay for this, at least,” he says softly, not waiting for your reply before tucking it under his arm and heading to the cashier.

“Eddie—”

“You’ll take it at my place,” he continues as though you hadn’t just spoken his name, “and if you’re…if it’s…we’ll, uh, we’ll figure out where to go from there.”

You shake your head. “I don’t need your help,” you protest, firmly but not unkindly. “Seriously, I’ve got this.” Be done with me. Just let me go, Eddie. Find someone who deserves your—and Harris’s—time.

Eddie places the test on the counter, digging into his wallet for the dingy MasterCard he keeps tucked away for emergencies. You cringe at the cost; if you’d known Eddie would insist on footing the bill, you would have chosen a cheaper option.

“I can take this at home. Robin and Jess will be with me,” you push on as the four of you leave the store. You turn to them for back-up, frowning when Robin gives you a tight smile and Jess shrugs.

“I…think you should take it at Eddie’s,” she offers, trying to ignore the death glare you’re sending her way.

“If you need us, just call, and we’ll pick you up,” Robin hurriedly adds, quickly squeezing your upper arm before the two of them leave you and Eddie alone.

Without thinking, Eddie’s hand slips into yours. Maybe it’s because you’re more scared than you’ve ever been in your life, maybe it’s because his gentle demeanor has breathed new life into your love for him, but you let him keep it there.

The hum of the sedan’s engine is the only sound until Eddie speaks again.

“How long have you known? Or, thought, I guess,” he asks, drumming his ringed fingers on the steering wheel.

You don’t want to answer truthfully, but you’re too tired to lie. “Since last week.”

“Last week?” He slams on the break, instinctively putting an arm in front of you to protect you from injury. No matter that your seatbelt had been clicked in place since you’d sat down. “Shit, sorry.” He clears his throat. “Like, before the trip? Or…”

“On the bus ride home,” you clarify, shame seeping through every pore. It had seemed so natural to keep this information to yourself, but now you just feel stupid for not letting him in earlier. The baby–if there even is a baby–is his, too.

Eddie breathes out a long sigh, followed by silence until he poses yet another question. “Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah, I rented out a billboard in Times Square,” you quip before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, that was bitchy.” Maybe you’re just trying to fool yourself, but you swear you see a faint smile on his lips. “Um, no. Just you, Jess, and Robin.”

He nods. “Harris’s at Wayne’s, so it’ll only be us.” Eight days ago, that statement would be associated with passion; punctuated with a grab of your ass, a kiss to your neck, fingers gliding over your breast. Your heart lurches with longing, but you shove it deep down. That’s what got us into this whole mess, you remind yourself.

Still, his grip on the gearshift as he throws the car in park has you internally shouting for him to grasp your knee in the same manner. You’re moving in slow motion, providing him with ample time to get out and open your door for you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, but when he extends his hand to help you up, you fight the urge to accept it. Whatever the results of this test are, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’d said that parenthood was too much for you to handle. And you refuse to selfishly burden their family with your inadequacy.

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair, casually playing off the rejection, but you don’t miss the brief pained expression in the scrunch of his nose.

Neither of you utter a word as you walk up to his apartment, your footsteps echoing throughout the stairwell. His hands are trembling so violently that he drops the key in front of his door; it lands on the floor with a tiny ping.

“Y’okay?” It’s an absurd question, but you’re unsure what else you can possibly say.

“Um, no,” he admits with a terse laugh. “I went into Rite Aid to get medicine and came out with a possibly pregnant…” He almost says girlfriend, but stops himself just in time. “So, yeah, I’m far from okay.”

He finally manages to open the door, pushing it open so you can go in first. You stand in the living room, feet glued to the floor. Your legs are weak beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment.

“I can’t do this,” you mumble, words catching in your throat. Your vision goes blurry with tears. “I just…” you trail off, shaking your head incredulously. “We were so careful, and the condom went and broke that one time…”

Eddie’s palm cups your chin delicately, calloused skin grazing smooth. “Listen to me.” His voice is calm despite his body brimming with nerves, “what’s done is done, okay? You’re either having my baby, or you’re not.” My baby, my baby, my baby. As he says it, his gaze flits down to your stomach. “But we have to know.”

You nod, unable to fully accept the weight of his words. “Do you have, like, a paper cup or something for me to pee in?”

“Yeah.” He shuffles over to the small linen closet next to the bathroom and grabs a Dixie cup from a stack. “Did you want me to go in with you, or wait out here…I, um, don’t really know the protocol.”

You manage a tiny laugh at his candor, despite the unfavorable circumstances that brought you back to his home. “You can just wait out here,” you tell him. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Your heart skips a beat as you close the bathroom door, and lock it behind you. Eddie’s voice is muffled outside the door as he talks on the phone, ending the conversation with, “thanks, Old Man,” before you hear the soft click of the receiver being replaced on the hook.

You lay everything out on the countertop in front of you, scanning each object in disbelief. The words on the instruction sheet swim away, leaving only tidbits in their wake.

If two lines appear, this indicates a positive result. Call your doctor for further evaluation.

You read that line over and over. If two lines appear, you’re pregnant with your ex-boyfriend’s child. It’s going to take a lot more than an obstetrician to evaluate that chaos.

You pull down your pants, then your underwear, nestling the paper cup between your thighs. Eddie’s reminder replays in your head: what’s done is done.

It’s easier for him to say; it’s not his body, but the sentiment remains true. All you have to do now is find out exactly what you’ve done.

You gingerly drop the paper strip into the cup, watching as the control line begins to darken. The instructions advised you to wait twenty minutes for the results; according to the digital watch adorning your wrist, that will put you at 12:18 PM.

You don’t have to wait that long.

The familiar reddish tinge that stains the toilet paper is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. It almost seems too good to be true, so you take a fresh square and wipe again. This time, it’s even more pronounced.

An involuntary laugh that bubbles up from your throat, scaring even yourself. You can hear Eddie outside the door, stumbling over his feet to stand.

“Wh-What’s going on? What happened?” His hands twist the knob with no success. “Can I come in?”

“Y-Yeah,” you manage, smiling so wide you can barely speak, “I just got my period.”

There’s a long pause, then, “like…now?”

“Right now. At this very second,” you confirm, sending you into a fresh fit of giggles. You grab a tampon from your bag with far too much enthusiasm, unlocking the door once you’ve washed your hands and put yourself back together.

“We can still wait for the result, if you want,” you tell him. A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes when he nods in agreement; without thinking, you brush it away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble. You feel yourself shrink inwards, palpably embarrassed of the intimacy of your slip-up.

“Do it again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“Do it again,” he repeats, and when your fingertips make contact with his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear, his own hand slides into place against your cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

You say nothing, letting your body language speak for you in the slight upward tilt of your head as your lips find his, noses almost colliding in haste. Your hand slips down to his bicep as you accept his touch, parting your lips to allow his tongue to enter while your own breathy moan exits.

The sound has him tugging you closer, grabbing the hem of your shirt and inadvertently pinching a bit of skin in his hurry. The sudden twinge of pain snaps you out of the moment, and you take a step back.

“We can’t…” You take a deep breath, gathering the thoughts that have been jumbled by his touch. “We’re not together anymore,” you finish dumbly, cracks splintering through your heart as you hear it aloud. Not together.

Eddie’s voice is hardly above a whisper. “I know.” But his thumb traces over the plush of your lips in memorization. “Can I ask you something before you go?”

You contemplate it, rolling it over your tongue and finally relenting when you remember you’re still waiting for the official test result. “Sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s hurt in his voice, and more than a hint of anger, though you certainly can’t blame him.

“I didn’t want to worry you in case it was nothing…which it was,” you hastily add, needing to hold on to the lightness of the false alarm.

“No, I’m not talking about that,” he rebuts, continuing when you cock your head in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me that taking care of Harris was too much for you?” Realization floods his body, carefully curated thoughts giving way to a horrified stream of consciousness. “Or was I too much?”

Bewilderment raises your eyebrows. “I never said that taking care of Harris was too much for me. You did.”

“Me?” He scoffs, pushing his body back with a slight bend at the hips, hands shoved into his pants pockets, rings peeking out over their seams. “No, I didn’t. I asked you, and you never gave a straight answer. Any answer, really.”

You think back to that confrontation, trying to remember the inflection in his voice: ‘s too much for you, isn’t it? In your insecurity-laden state, you’d assumed that it was a declaration of your shortcomings; now, you’re able to see what he’d actually meant.

He was trying to reach out, his own self-doubts bleeding through, but you were so consumed with all of the ways you’d failed him and Harris that you couldn’t see it.

“I…” Your brain is scrambled, unable to catch a single thought. You inhale for three, lungs expanding under your ribcage. The exhale is slower; you need all the time you can to collect yourself. “I messed up so badly…the donut…the elevator…the market…”

Spots dance across your vision as your breathing becomes more rapid and shallow. All you can picture is Eddie’s fear when Harris ran off; your chest is heavy with the same sinking feeling that as when you’d turned around and he was missing.

Your legs wobble beneath you, no longer attached to your body, but a separate entity.

Eddie’s voice is an echo in a tunnel, loud but far away. “I got you,” you hear him say as he leads you to the couch. Your feet move robotically, left right left right until you’re sitting on the lumpy cushion, the same one you’d gotten well acquainted with on that fateful August night.

Donut—elevator—market. Donut—elevator—market. An internal chant that served as a reminder of your failures. “I’m right here, okay? ‘M not going anywhere.” The couch dips a bit as he sits next to you. He hesitates for a split second before his hand is making small, concentric circles on your upper back.

Safety’s warmth crawls in as your physical and psychological worlds slowly merge. You’re in Eddie’s apartment, on his couch, next to him.

“Eddie…” you croak out, but he silences you with a shake of his head.

“Let me talk for a second. Please.” He sighs, not out of impatience, but as a means of gathering his thoughts. “You…you’re everything I ever wanted for myself and for my son. And, I’m gonna be real honest with you here, that scares the shit outta me.” A peal of disbelieving laughter accompanies his confession. “I shouldn’t have had you take him to the playground by yourself or leave you alone with him at the market. Not,” he hurriedly adds, ‘because of you, but because, sometimes, he needs the supervision of two people.” His hand drops from your back and lands on your own fingers, splayed on the couch next to him. “I think I just got so excited that I finally wasn’t parenting solo, y’know? And I relied on you too much.”

You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “You’re supposed to rely on me,” you counter. “That’s what partners do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if I wasn’t acting like such a dick, you could’ve told me you felt overwhelmed. Partners tell each other those kinds of things, too.”

“You’re not a dick because you got upset that I lost Harris.” You roll your eyes, not wanting him to downplay his own emotions just to protect yours.

Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Maybe not,” he acquiesces, ‘but I was a dick when you bought him a donut in the morning, like it was the worst thing that kid’s ever eaten for breakfast.” You both smile at that, knowing full well that Eddie’s had to bribe his son with a Pop-Tart on more than one occasion. “And then you took him to the playground without me even having to ask, just so I could get some rest. And don’t even start in with me about the Great Elevator Meltdown of 1997, because we both know he just would’ve flipped out about something else.” He scoots a millimeter closer to you, wanting to bridge the gap between your bodies without barging past any boundaries. “He was tired and in a new place away from home. A tantrum was damn near inevitable.”

As much as you’d like to wallow in self-pity, you know that it’s true.

“Speaking of the playground,” he continues, “all I heard about for the rest of the weekend was how much fun he had with you.” He throws his voice up an octave to mimic Harris’s tone. “I had the BEST TIME with Ms. Sweetheart! She pushed me on the swing SO HIGH!”

The corners of your mouth tug upwards at the memory. “He said that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, contemplating the next piece of information to divulge. “He, uh, also told me that you love me. Not a little, but a lot.” You watch as the tips of his ears turn scarlet, visible even underneath his layers of curls. “Not sure if that still stands.”

You let your knee gently knock into his, a sliver of an olive branch. “Do you want it to?”

“So fucking much.” It’s a plea, breathy and desperate. “I love you, too.”

You crack a small smile before teasing, “A little, or a lot?”

A ridiculous amount, he thinks. I wake up thinking about you, go to sleep thinking about you, and most of my day in-between is spent thinking about you, too. “A lot, baby. More than I ever thought I could.” His gaze doesn’t leave your lips, chocolate brown eyes drawing you in closer. “Before we…I just need to know. For Harris and for me.” He rubs his palms on his denim-clad thighs, hoping to push away his nerves. “Being in it for the long haul…is that what you want? Because if it’s not, I can’t…y’know…”

You know. You know he can’t muddle through a relationship that has a certain expiration date. You know he can’t bring you into his son’s life any more than he already has if you don’t plan to stick around.

“I’m in it for the long haul,” you tell him, relaxing as a smile overrides the anxiety previously etched into his features. “I’m just scared that I’ll fuck it all up. That I can’t be a good mom to Harris.” You realize too late what you just implied, but judging by Eddie’s unwavering expression, it’s unlikely that this is the first time he’s thought about you filling that position. “At the playground, um,” you fidget with your fingers, suddenly entranced by the ridges of your knuckles, “Harris said that he wants me to be his mommy, but you and Wayne told him not to ask me yet.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist before flexing his fingers, rings gleaming in the lamplight. “And that freaked you out?” he supplies, noticeably shocked when you refute his assumption with a shake of your head.

“Not in the way you think,” you say, gnawing on your inner cheek. “He was just so excited, and I started thinking–”

“That was your first mistake,” he jokes, wincing overdramatically when you swat at his chest.

“I started thinking,” you continue, throwing him a playful glare, “that he’d eventually be let down by me, that you’d eventually be let down by me, and that both of you would regret ever meeting me.”

His face falls at your admission, eyes losing their sparkle as he recognizes your fear. He’s been there: anxious about not living up to Harris’s expectations; the inevitable fall from grace when he realizes his dad is flying by the seat of his pants when it comes to parenting. Yes, he knows the feeling all too well, and it shatters his heart that it weighs on you, too. And the fact that you hadn’t told him–hadn’t felt like you could tell him–forms a knot in his gut.

“Baby,” he murmurs. The warmth of his palms envelops your face as he rests them on your cheeks. “Oh, my sweet girl. Don’t you know that that will never happen?” He sighs at your downcast eyes. “I need to tell you a secret, but you have to promise you won’t get weird about it.”

That captures your attention. What does he mean by ‘weird’? Angry? Annoyed? Scared? “What?” you ask, extending the word with an abundance of caution.

“When you told me you might be pregnant…the thought of being responsible for another kid fuckin’ terrified me. But not,” he swallows, a huff of air sufficing for an incredulous laugh, “not the thought of having one with you.”

Your eyes widen, eyebrows practically reaching the edge of your hairline. His unspoken words reverberate in your head: I’m not scared of parenting with you. I’m not scared of whatever journey lies ahead, as long as you’re beside me. I’m not scared of loving you.

Without warning, you press your lips to his. Tangled, messy curls find their way into your fists as you draw nearer to each other in a blur of hands and mouths. Though he’d kissed you only moments earlier, Eddie treats this one like a novelty; a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

To your chagrin, he abruptly breaks the kiss. “Wait right here.” You scrunch your nose as he dashes into his room. You can hear him rummaging through drawers, swearing loudly before slamming it shut and jogging back to the sofa.

“This,” he announces, holding out a small paper bag, “is the reason I asked you to watch Harris at the market.”

You take it, curiosity sufficiently piqued by the air of mystery. Tipping it slightly, you feel a delicate chain snake into your palm. Dangling from the center is a tiny heart pendant.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” Eddie explains, trying to gauge your expression. “I know it’s not, like, the fanciest jewelry. There’s no diamond or any—”

“I love it.” And you do. God, you do. You quickly bring it to your neck, fumbling with the clasp for a half-second before you feel his strong fingers atop your own.

“I got it,” he murmurs, and you shift slightly to give him a better vantage point.

He adjusts the heart so it’s centered just below your collarbone, lingering a beat longer than necessary before pulling away. “Perfect.” He clears his throat and offers an apologetic smile as he ruefully adds, “I have to get to Wayne’s and give Harris his medicine,” he explains, nodding towards the paper bag on his countertop.

“Eddie!”

“What?”

You laugh, fingers dancing across the prickled stubble along his angular jaw. “You should’ve told me that Harris was sick!” This whole time, you’d just assumed he’d been on a playdate, but now you have an explanation as to why Eddie was in the pharmacy and who the medication is for.

“It’s an ear infection,” Eddie says nonchalantly, standing up and stretching his back. “Besides, when I told Wayne that you were here—I didn’t tell him why, don’t worry,” he throws in for good measure, “he said, and I quote, ‘don’t come back here until you make things right with your girl.’”

Your girl. You’re still Eddie’s girl. “We probably should check on the test before we go.” It’s been soaking in the cup of urine for twenty-three minutes. Padding to the bathroom, you double, triple, and quadruple check the singular pink line. Not a second one in sight, and you breathe out a sigh of relief before cheerfully announcing. “Officially negative!”

Eddie’s still fixated on one word. “You, um, wanna come with me?”

“If that’s okay.” Feeling out boundaries, a toe timidly dipped into the water.

“‘Course it’s okay. Fuck, ‘m just so happy you’re mine again. Missed my girl so much.” He plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “Harris is gonna be so happy to see you.”

Happy might be too strong a word to describe Harris’s reaction when you walk through the door of Wayne’s trailer, squeaking hinges waking him from a restless sleep.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” His voice is thick with grogginess and disbelief. “What’re you doing here?” He clumsily wipes his eyes with his little fists, sweaty from fevered sleep.

You sit next to him on the couch, pushing his sweat-logged curls from his face. “Just came to check on you. I heard my favorite Munson wasn’t feeling well.”

Harris giggles, delighted to be so highly ranked. “Yeah, I got an ear ‘fection. But I just gotta take medicine for it and it’ll go away.”

“Got it right here.” Eddie holds up the bag. “Did you eat anything?”

Harris looks over at his grandfather, not yet awake enough to answer the question.

“Had some toast and jelly right before his nap. ‘Bout…half an hour ago?” Wayne confirms.

Eddie nods, taking the bottle of amoxicillin out of the paper bag and giving it a good shake. You watch as he unscrews the cap and meticulously pours the medicine just to the dosage line. “Here ya go, Har Bear,” he says, walking over to the sofa where his son is half-sitting, half laying. “This’ll make you feel better, okay?”

That’s not a strong enough sell for Harris, who promptly crosses his arms over his chest, wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head in protest. “Yuck.”

“C’mon, please?” Eddie’s face falls in desperation and exhaustion at his son’s refusal. “It’s bubblegum fl–”

“No!” The ferocity in Harris’s objection could rattle the entire trailer.

You take Eddie’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Can he have a cookie?” you whisper in his ear, hopefully low enough that Harris can’t overhear.

“What?” There’s no way you’re going to reward his behavior with a treat, right?

“Just trust me.”

He can do that. “I think Wayne keeps some in the pantry.”

Sure enough, you find an open package of Oreos, the same off-brand kind that Eddie had brought over on Thanksgiving, right on the top shelf. You slide the plastic shell from the case and pull out a cookie, carefully breaking it in half over the sink to avoid spraying crumbs all over the floor.

“Hey, Har, can I tell you my secret trick?” Harris perks up a bit at this, though he doesn’t give an outright answer. “Okay, so you take the medicine, and then you pop the cookie in your mouth super fast so you barely taste it.”

He considers this, mulling it over silently before warily agreeing and holding out his hand. Eddie gives him the medicine-filled cap and holds his breath that your trick will work.

Harris takes the medicine in one grimacing gulp, and as soon as he swallows it down, you give him half of the cookie. “Go, go, go!” you chant excitedly, grinning as he shoves the treat in his mouth, assessing whether it successfully masked the chalky aftertaste.

“Well?” you ask earnestly, heart beating in your chest as you await the outcome.

Harris purses his lips in contemplation, fueling your anxiety. After what seems like decades, he returns your smile tenfold, cookie crumbs wedged between his teeth.

“I did it!” he chirps with a level of enthusiasm that has you and Eddie doubting he’s even sick. “I like that trick.”

You feel Eddie’s arm snake around your waist as he grabs your side in appreciation. “You can have the other half when you take the next dose,” you tell the little boy, lovingly ruffling his curls. “C’mon, let’s get you home so Grampa can get some rest before work.”

The laugh lines around Wayne’s eyes crease in gratitude as Eddie scoops his son into his arms and thanks his uncle for the childcare. You grab the medicine bottle with the hand not holding the Oreo half, echo Eddie’s statement, and close the door behind you.

Eddie buckles Harris in and starts the car, peering through his rearview mirror while the engine grumbles to life. “Y’good back there, Har?”

“Mhm.” There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before he speaks again. “Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me a story? Like a made-up one from your head?”

“Sure.” You lean back into the seat, thinking of a plot that will last until you get dropped off at your place.

“Once upon a time,” you begin, donning your best narrator voice, “in a tiny little village, there lived three princes who were fighting to be the village’s next king. The villagers didn’t know how to choose between them; after all, they loved all three princes dearly—”

“Daddy’s turn!” Harris interrupts, pointing at Eddie, hands clapping together in gleeful anticipation for the game he’s created.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie stammers, clearly caught off-guard by the request. “So instead of doing a normal vote, the villagers decided to have them battle the evil, ugly troll that lived up on the hill.”

“Now, Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Each prince would try and defeat the troll, and whoever won would be king,” you continue the story, improvising as you go. “The princes packed up their shields and swords—”

“Daddy!”

“And rode their horses up the hill until they reached the troll’s house.” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glimmer as he adds, “but when they got there, the troll refused the typical duel. Instead, he insisted on battling the only way he knew how: a competition of throwing balls into laundry baskets.”

Harris cackles at this but doesn’t ask you to take over, so Eddie keeps talking. “The princes were like, ‘um, this isn’t what we prepared for,’ but the hideous, grotesque troll didn’t care.”

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You have no idea where this story is headed, but Harris is having the time of his life, so you plunge along. “The troll bared his teeth and hissed to try and frighten the princes, but it didn’t work. They each picked up the ball and tossed it into the laundry baskets, easy-peasy lemon squeezy.” You pause there to see if Harris calls on Eddie, but he doesn’t make a peep. “The troll was so surprised at their skills that—”

This time, Eddie doesn’t wait for his son’s instruction and takes the story over. “—that he stumbled backwards off of the edge of the hill, plummeting into the piranha-infested waters below. The end,” he finishes proudly.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Eddie!” you hiss, clapping a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. “You’re gonna traumatize the poor kid!”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, not even bothering to mask his laughter. “He’s out like a light.”

Sure enough, you twist around in your seat to see Harris sound asleep, head tilted against the headrest and mouth agape. A speck of drool collects in the corner of his lips, but he remains undisturbed.

“Medicine must’ve kicked in,” you agree, shifting back to look out your window. The trees flourish with leaves in various shades of green, a colorful promise replacing winter’s barrenness. Hawkins may not be the picturesque postcard town, but there is still some beauty in it.

“Yeah, about that.” Eddie’s brown eyes dance as he steals a glimpse of you before returning his attention to the road. “Do me a favor, ‘kay? Never worry about your parenting skills again.”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a brief moment. “Oh, you mean the trick?”

Eddie nods, tongue unconsciously swiping over his suddenly dry lips.

“That’s just something Grandma did to get me to take medicine as a kid,” you shrug. “She usually gave us Nilla Wafers, but it looks like Oreos make a worthy substitute.”

He doesn’t respond to that directly, simply rests a hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, the hangnail on his thumb scratches against your cotton sweatpants as he tenderly rubs the spot. “It’s okay if you’re not ready to officially take on the ‘mom’ role in his life,” he starts, even and reassuring, “but whenever you are? God, you’re gonna be the fuckin’ best.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “Y’already are.”

With Harris still snoozing in his booster seat, you press a kiss to Eddie’s jawline, just below his earlobe. Your nose smushes into his cheek, tickled by the stubble of a few days of missed shaving. It will take more than a compliment to quell your anxiety, but you refuse to ignore the way it ignites a small fire within you. Self-assurance is a flame, soft and flickering, burning from the inside out. Insecurity is a rigid block of ice, one that has been poking at you for years, but it begins melting against the blooming bundle of warmth.

Wednesday’s post-tutoring pizza party had an extra guest this week. Wayne helps himself to a pepperoni slice, humming some Bob Dylan to himself as he brings his plate to the table. Harris eagerly climbs into his lap, heaving a dramatic sigh as he plops down and steals his grandfather’s pizza slice. His ear infection has cleared up, thanks to the amoxicillin and your cooke trick.

“Hey!” Wayne barks out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What’re you doing?”

Ever unfazed, Harris works on a mouthful of mozzarella cheese. “Eating,” he replies nonchalantly, a dot of sauce staining his nose. He barely swallows his giant bite before starting on another.

You giggle, handing Wayne a new slice before sliding into the chair next to Eddie’s. “I’m really glad you could have dinner with us tonight,” you tell the older man before tucking into your meal. Wayne had decided to cut back to part-time at the plant, citing older age and the desire to spend more time with his grandson, leaving his Wednesday evenings wide open.

Eddie’s the only one who hasn’t started eating yet, too busy soaking in the sight in front of him. He’s sitting around a table with his son, his father figure, and his girlfriend. The three people he loves more than anything in the world. He watches as Wayne presses a kiss to Harris’s messy curls, the little boy giggling into his piece of pizza. He watches as you lean over to wipe the sauce off of Harris’s nose with a napkin, shrieking happily when he sticks out his tongue and licks the side of your hand. “Gotcha, Ms. Sweetheart!” the little boy cackles, but while he’s distracted in his victory, you manage to clean his face.

This is happiness in its purest, most unfettered form. Maybe it won’t always be this easy, but he realizes now that he’s willing to fight like hell to get through the hard times if it means having more of these moments.

“Eds?” your soft, inquiring voice tugs him from his thoughts. “You feeling okay?” Your fingertips find his under the table, concerned by his preoccupation.

“‘M good,” he reassures you, holding your hand and using the other to fold his slice. Once again, the room is filled with silly banter and kind conversation.

Yeah, he’s good.

You expect the three Munsons to leave altogether, so when Wayne tells Eddie that he can take care of Harris for the evening, you’re caught off-guard.

This apparently deviates from Eddie’s plan, too, because he cocks his brow at his uncle. “Y’sure, Old Man?”

“Sure as sh—sugar,” Wayne says, catching himself at the last second. He scratches at the whiskers on his chin, an itchy reminder to pick up some new disposable razors at Melvald’s. “What good’s all this free time if I don’t spend it with my grandson?” He holds out his hand and Harris takes it eagerly.

“Bye, Daddy! Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” he chirps, already pulling Wayne towards the door.

“Hold on,” Eddie pipes up, forehead creased in feigned agitation. “Let me give you a kiss goodbye.” His jaw drops when Harris shakes his head in defiance; this time, he’s genuinely shocked.

“I want a squish kiss. From you an’ Ms. Sweetheart.” Harris tells him, eyes darting between the two of you.

You turn to Eddie, feeling like you’re missing a crucial piece of this puzzle. “What’s a squish kiss?” you ask quietly, but Harris still manages to overhear.

“‘S when Daddy kisses one cheek, an’ you kiss the other!” he informs you, clapping his hands together giddily. “An’ it squishes my face, like thith.” The last word is obscured with a lips when he pushes his cheeks together to emphasize his point.

You walk over to him and crouching down to his level. “I can definitely do a squish kiss,” you say, wincing slightly when he excitedly squeals in your ear.

Eddie counts down from his other side. “Squish kiss incoming in three…two…one!” Leaning in simultaneously, you both feel the apples of Harris’s cheeks as he smiles, giggling again when you and Eddie pull back with an exaggerated, mwah!

“Now we gotta give Ms. Sweetheart a squish kiss!” the little boy announces. Heat creeps up your neck, and you silently place the ball in Eddie’s court. Before this, he’d always been cognizant to avoid displays of affection in front of his son. And while you’re not opposed to getting a squish kiss from them, you don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on him.

“You heard the man.” Eddie’s response is near-immediate, wasting no time directing Harris to your left side and shuffling in closer to you. “Count us down, Har.”

“Three…two…one!” Harris smushes his whole face into yours, little nose pressing into your cheek before his lips can. Eddie’s contribution is much less aggressive, but there’s ample love in both kisses.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Harris skips back to his grandpa. Wayne just throws Eddie a wink as he grabs his car keys from the hook and closes the door behind him.

Eddie puts his hands up in surrender when you turn to him, the sounds of his uncle’s and son’s respective footsteps gradually diminishing as they walk down the hall.

“I swear, I didn’t ask Wayne to take care of Harris tonight,” he says with a laugh, looping his pointer finger across his chest to make an X over his heart. Lithe fingertips broach your waist, drawing you closer into him. “Not that I’m complaining, though…”

“Me either,” you murmur, lips finding their way to his collarbone, sucking so harshly that they threaten to leave a bruise. Your own fingers fumble to unbuckle his belt; a difficult feat considering your eyes are watching the vein that runs along his neck, beckoning you to mark it next. You crave the thrill of make-up sex, to allow hunger and desire to fuel your every move.

You grimace at the cool sensation of his rings against the bare skin of your stomach, a painful reminder of one frustrating barrier. “Fuck, my period,” you grumble, taking a small step back. He doesn’t let you go far; instead, he grabs your ass and pulls you towards him. “Eds,” you whine, trying to focus on your words rather than the way he’s beginning to strain against his pants zipper, “did you hear what I said?”

Eddie nods, tongue prodding at your mouth so he can kiss you deeply. “We can put down a towel,” he mumbles into you.

You sigh, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you, quelling the fierce ache settling between your legs, but it seems like Mother Nature is making up for the two weeks she’d lagged behind. Still, you don’t want to leave your boyfriend turned on without any reprieve; he’s practically quivering with anticipation to explore you already.

“C’mere,” you whisper in his ear, though it’s wholly unnecessary given his absurdly close proximity. You hook your forefinger into his waistband and lead him to your bedroom. “Pants off,” you order, and he obeys without hesitation, exposing plaid boxers that fail to constrain his hardening length.

You give him a little shove onto the bed, sensing his heart beat faster underneath your palms. Locking onto his widened eyes, you straddle his waist as he sets himself up against the pillows.

“Can I ask you a question?” You nibble on his earlobe, grinning when a shiver courses through his body.

“A-Anything,” Eddie manages, hissing when your clothed core drags over his tented shorts, the newfound pressure only weakening his resolve.

You hum your approval. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

His breath hitches, hands clamping down on your hips so possessively that his fingerprints might be etched into your skin. “You,” he whispers. “Always you.”

“What about me?” You wrap a curly lock of hair around your finger and give it a playful tug. “What do you picture me doing? Or what are you doing to me?”

“Fuck.” He starts to palm himself over the fabric but you swat his hand away.

“You tell me, and I’ll make you feel so good.” Your fingers tug at the elastic band until his cock springs free. He’s mouthwateringly hard, but you don’t allow yourself to taste him. Instead, you wrap your hand around the base, lean over, and spit directly onto the tip. “‘M ready when you are, baby.”

He needs a moment to collect himself, to allow his mind to create coherent thoughts. It takes too long, apparently, because he hears you softly snicker.

“Cat got your tongue?”

And, fuck, all of the blood in his body rushes south at that. He’s reminded of the dream he’d had all those months ago; the one that catapulted his feelings from schoolboy crush to full-blown lovesickness. Dream You had said the same thing.

“At work,” he croaks, twisting his fists into your bedsheets, desperate for your hand to glide up and down his shaft, “you surprise me a-and suck me off behind the counter, and a c-customer walks in.”

“And then I stop, right?” you tease, thumb swiping at the pre-cum pooling at his slit. “I let you attend to the customer because I’m a good girl?”

“N-No.” Eddie furiously shakes his head. “You k-keep going; such a bad f-fuckin’ girl. Keep your pretty little lips wrapped a-around me.”

You finally relent, giving him what he wants, and he bucks into your hand with a groan. His fantasies flow freely now with each stroke. “Once he leaves, I grab you, spin you around, and–f-fuck–flip your little skirt up.”

“Am I wearing anything under this little skirt?” you coo, tightening your grip on his cock.

He shakes his head, curls already beginning to stick to his temples with light perspiration. “Not a thing. J-Just on display f’me.” He sucks in a harsh breath as he moves you so you’re sitting next to him, knees grazing one another. He quickly shifts to unbutton your jeans, meticulously working the button like he’s opening the gift of his dreams. “And only me.”

“Eddie, I–”

“Gotta touch you,” he mumbles. The way your panties cling to your cunt makes it easy for him to find your clit through the fabric. “Gonna lose my fuckin’ mind if I don’t touch you.”

And, God, you might lose your mind if he does. His nimble fingers rub your sweet spot, a delicious friction created by your underwear. Desire oozes from his pores, only heightening when you whimper at his touch.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” Eddie’s voice is low in his chest, “‘m gonna make you feel good, too.” He pushes your panties to the side; the cool air hitting your pussy makes you shiver.

“Wish you were inside me right now,” you moan, almost drooling just thinking about being stretched open as he pushes into you. “You always fill me up perfectly.”

His cock twitches at your words, and you take the initiative to quicken your pace. “Is that what you think about?” he asks, groaning in pleasure when you lean in to spit on his dick again, saliva messily snaking down his shaft and nestling in the thatch of curls on his pelvis. “Y’think about me filling you up?”

“Mhm.”

“M-Me too, Princess. Want to fuck you full of my cum.” Eddie leans back onto the headboard. “You’d look s’good filled with my cum.”

Your widened eyes and the way your stroking motions end abruptly inform him that that was not the response you’d been expecting.

“Shit, I—”

You recover from the shock remarkably fast. “Yeah? You’d like that?” You resume your pace, fist sliding up and down his length, paying special attention to the overstimulated head. Your breath tickles his ear as you whisper, “tell me about it.”

He’s suddenly shy, softening slightly in your hand. “You sure?” His gaze shifts to your lower stomach; only a few short days ago, there was the possibility of you carrying his child there. “‘S not weird?”

You shake your head, trailing kisses down the side of his throat. “Tell me about it,” you repeat with a bit more charge, inciting him to let go. “I want to know all of your fantasies, Eddie.”

His name is so pretty coming from your lips, accompanied by a gentle smile. “Never thought about it until you,” he admits, the weight of anxiety lifted at your insistence, and you feel his length begin stiffening once more. “Keeping you bent over, coming inside your perfect little pussy, and fucking it all back into you so it…” he trails off, still too sheepish to compete the sentence.

But you have no problem with finishing it. “So it sticks?” you ask innocently, as though you have no idea what the mere utterance of that phrase will do to him. He nods, unable to speak. “Do you think about everyone knowing what you do to me? Hmm?”

There’s so much that he wants to say, but he swears there’s no blood flowing anywhere but his cock. “You’d look fuckin’ gorgeous havin’ my baby,” he manages, mind filled with images of you in maternity dresses, bump pressed against his stomach as you kiss him deeply.

There’s further implications; namely, that he wants you and only you to bear his children, which you quickly make a mental note to unpack at a less sensual time. For now, you focus on taking his words at face value. “Bet you’d show me off everywhere we went. Wouldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Can barely keep them off of you now,” he says, finger circling your aching clit to prove his point, “but seeing you pregnant with our kid…” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years, enveloping your busy hand with his free one, wrapping it around his erection and moving it faster. “Jus’ like that, fuck, sweet girl. Tell me what gets you goin’ now, yeah?” When you bite your lip apprehensively, he sighs. “Don’t be shy; I know you’ve been holding back on me.”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce with a knowing smile, “I think about you taking control. Just…using me however you want.”

Your toes curl as he rubs faster, clearly just as turned on as you are. “Y’need me to boss you around? Treat you like my little toy?”

“Mmm,” you agree, settling into the mattress. “Want you to choke me, too.”

His eyebrows raise at this, and his lips soon curl into a mischievous smirk. “Come ride my thigh an’ tell me more.” He pats his leg, his gaze never leaving your body as you reposition yourself to straddle it. You keep your hand on his member, spitting on it once again while moving your hips back and forth. “Take what you need, baby.”

“Need you,” you moan, the cotton fabric of your panties dragging along him. “Need you to decide if I come…” It’s a delectable thought: Eddie pounding you into the mattress, reminding you that good girls take what they’re given, and nothing more. Quieting all of the noise in your head. Day after day, you’re supposed to make choices for others; some major, some minor. All you want is for someone to tell you what to do.

Eddie’s rings are cold on your neck, giving it a hesitant squeeze. “That good?” His eyes are kind but fiery, willing you to beg for it.

“More; more, please.” And give you more he does, only stopping when you cough. “‘S good now.” Words barely audible between his tight grip and your own descent into submission.

But Eddie hears you loud and clear, voice firm when he orders: “Come with me. Don’t wanna come without you.” He’s pulsing in your grasp. “An’ if you don’t come now, don’t even think about trying to get yourself off later.”

Relief floods you as the coil snaps, his dominance scratching an itch too often left untouched. You come with a cry of his name, feeling his own hot release coating your hand. You’re both giggling and gasping for breaths as you float down from your respective highs, lips crashing together in sloppy, needing kisses.

“I love you so much,” Eddie mumbles into you, blindly reaching for the Kleenex box atop your nightstand. “I’ve never trusted anyone like this before.” He wipes your hand clean before brushing his thumb across your lower lip.

“Me either.” You kiss him again, tongues mingling before you confess, “for the record, the thought of having a baby is a little less scary when it’s yours. Someday,” you add for good measure.

Eddie smiles, cocking his head and looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. “I can live with ‘someday.’”

The school week draws to a close on Friday. Coming back from a break is never easy; the kids act like they’ve never been to school before. Just nine days out of the classroom and you’re fairly certain they’ve lost the ability to stay seated for more than ten seconds at a time.

Will is cleaning the tables with Clorox wipes, washing away crayon residue and softly whistling to himself. You’re filing away some paperwork, scrawling For Monday on a Post-It note and sticking it on top of a stack of handwriting practice worksheets.

There’s a light tap on your classroom door followed by an enthused voice.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

You look up to see Harris and Eddie standing in the doorway. Harris excitedly waves you over, holding a piece of construction paper tight to his chest.

Eddie clears his throat, hands tucked into his back pocket. “Harris has something for you,” he says softly. His eyes light up when he notices the heart necklace that drapes over your collarbone. “Go ‘head, Har Bear,” he encourages his son with a tiny nudge.

“Um, well,” Harris starts, uncharacteristically nervous, “I know you’re still just my almost-mommy, but Ms. Marion had us make cards for Mother’s Day. An’ we learned that mommies love their babies, an’ take care of them when they’re sick, an’ cheer them up when they’re sad, an’ read to them, an’ play with them–”

“Har,” Eddie prods gently, not wanting him to lose himself in a tangent.

“Oh, yeah. An’ I don’t have a mommy-mommy yet, but you do all those things for me, so I wanted to give you this.” He hands you the paper. Two handprints, one pink and one purple, serve as flowers in a pot.

One of the teachers–Marion or Paula–has neatly written at the top, Thanks for helping me grow! and Mother’s Day 1997 on the bottom. In the pot, Harris has printed his name.

“I love it,” you manage, blinking away the tears that spring to your eyes. “It’s the best card I’ve ever gotten.”

Harris wraps his arms around you in a hug, and you embrace him with everything you have. When you look up at Eddie, he grins and mouths, thank you.

You just smile back, feeling as though you should be thanking him. Thank him for allowing you into his little family, for letting you make mistakes, for being there to help you fix them. Thank him for that fire inside you, burning a bit brighter each day, reminding you that this is where you belong.

taglist (closed):

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @lost-in-the-stars03 @aysheashea @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

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farfallasims · 5 months

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Paradise Palm Villa, built by FarfallaSims ♡

Take a break from the cold and buy this newly renovated villa in Oasis Springs. Oasis Springs is known for its stunning desert landscapes and balmy weather, making it an enticing location for potential buyers seeking a serene and picturesque setting. This miniature paradise is the perfect place to start anew whether it is for newly weds or starting a family.

With 2 bedrooms & 2.5 bathrooms, this home is also met with a finished basement as well as a private pool to enjoy the scolding hot days underneath the Arizona sun.

All Information & Link Under Cut

Gallery ID | FarfallaSims

$279,841.00

2 Bedrooms

2.5 Bathrooms

Lot Size 20x15 in Oasis Springs

Move-In Ready

Used BB.MoveObjects On

Packs in the Build | Island Living, Get Together, StrangerVille & Spa Day

CC Used

Other Notes

GShade Preset | Pearl by PixelGlam

Lighting Mod | Sunblind by Softerhaze

Enable BB.MoveObjects Before Placing

Floorplan shown on Patreon.

Kindly, please let me know if there are any missing mods or issues with the build!

Link to Build | Paradise Palm Villa

Massive thank you to the CC Creators! @harrie-cc @pierisim @peacemaker-ic @mrolkanyt @syboubou @lorysims @xelennsimblr

༄ simstok | simstagram | simblr | simterest | switter ༄

#farfallasims #mydownloads #sims 4 build #ts4 build #sims build #the sims 4 build #sims 4 interior #ts4 interior #sims 4 #the sims #sims 4 download #sims 4 downlaods #the sims community #the sims 4 #sims #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 maxis match #showusyourbuilds

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months

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Check it out. Actress Zsa Zsa Gabor's 1964 home in Palm Springs, California is back on the market with a new paint job (all white - the former color was the pink pic). 3bds, 4ba, it was $3.8M and is reduced to $2.795M. Let's look at the before & after. I love that.

Okay, so they left the front door black & gold.

The black marble fireplace is intact, along with the mirrored walls.

They left the kitchen as it was.

They left the table here. The black wall was painted white.

This bath remained the same.

The black was painted white, but they left the wallpaper in the shelving.

The bedroom still has the pink carpet, and has been painted white.

The closet consists of 3 rooms.

This bathroom wasn't touched.

The home is pretty much by itself. There's this large pool and patio.

There's also a grassy area.

Some landscaping, but you can see that it's surrounded by mountains. The lot is 1/2 acre.

#celebrity homes #zsa zsa gabor's house #estates #before & after homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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mychampagne-mybubbles · 1 year

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Harry Styles • Acrisure Arena, Palms Spring • 31.01.2023

Popcorn & red (Lou) pants • Harry’s bday kick off shows • he aproved 👍🏻 a MATH shirt • Therapy talk • finger guns • unlabeled & pride flag • business night with the Kardashian & Azoff representation.

#harry styles #lot 3.0 #Acrisure Arena #lot palms spring #lot Palms spring 1

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daisiesonafield-blog · 1 year

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Harry was having a birthday party with his friends in Palm Springs before his show - Feb 1 2023

#harry's 29th #harry february 2023 #feb 1 2023 #feb 2023 #harry's birthday #harry receipts #harry receipts 2023 #lot palm springs

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iconicharry · 1 year

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he silly, he cute

#what’s the face at the beginning?#hs3lot: palm springs 1 #lot moments us23 #harry styles

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jeannineee · 10 months

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Hey! I’ve seen a bunch of Azriel prompts, hope you won’t mind one more! (It’s totally up to you)

so let’s see… Azriel, letter A, numbers 14, 18, and 1 (if it’s not too much)

I think I did that right?

love you!

Good for Me

Azriel x Reader

a/n: this will probs be the last Azriel prompt for now, he’s had a lot (I’ll take requests for him unrelated to the prompts.) I’m still accepting requests for other characters. I have ones coming for Cassian, Lucien, and Manon. Prompts here.

nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

A: throatfucking

1: “You look so pretty when you take my cock.”

14: “Get on your knees.”

18: “Put your smart mouth to use.”

~~~~~~~~

Azriel practically dragged you into your bedroom when the two of you returned home from dinner with your friends.

You’d been teasing him all night, and you knew he was at his limit.

“You think you’re funny?” Azriel asked, gripping your chin to make you look at him.

You frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Az,” you replied, voice feigning innocence.

He brought your hand to the hardness in his pants. “You see what you fucking do to me?” He hissed as you palmed him.

“I mean, it is pretty obvious,” you teased, regretting your words instantly as his expression hardened.

Azriel chuckled darkly, as if amused. “Get on your knees.”

The tone of his voice told you he wouldn’t tell you twice. You kept your eyes trained on his, gazing at him through your lashes as you sank to your knees in front of him.

Azriel wasted no time in undoing his pants, pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring free. “Put your smart mouth to use, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, grasping the base of his cock, swiping your tongue over the precum that leaked from the tip.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, tracing his thumb over your jaw.

Your face heated at his words, and you wrapped your lips around the head, sucking on it gently.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” Azriel said, grabbing the hair at the back of your head, pulling slightly.

A garbled ‘sorry’ left your lips as you slowly took him down your throat, gagging slightly at the feeling.

You bobbed your head at a steady pace, wetness pooling between your legs at the sound of Azriel’s moaning.

“So good for me,” Azriel murmured. “Can I fuck your throat, baby?”

You nodded, pulling away for air as Azriel bunched your hair in his fist. He guided his cock back into your mouth, and you braced your hands on his thighs as he started thrusting. Tears stung your eyes as you tried your best not to gag.

Azriel groaned, bringing a hand to your throat to feel the bulge each of his thrusts made. “Fuck, you look so pretty when you take my cock,”

You hummed in response, fighting the urge to gag as his pace quickened.

Azriel’s grip on your hair tightened. “Gonna come down your throat, baby. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Azriel’s release painted your throat only moments later, his entire body shuddering as you continued sucking him off even after he stopped thrusting, milking him for every drop.

“Did so well for me,” Azriel said as he helped you stand, guiding you to the bed. “Relax, baby. Wanna take care of your pretty little cunt.”

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #smut #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #female reader #azriel shadowsinger #Azriel smut #azriel fanfic #shadowsinger #acomaf

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autistook · 1 month

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DAISIES - pt 1

Merry Brandybuck x fem!hobbit!reader/soft oc

Words: 3.1k

Summary: You have been best friends with Merry (and Pippin) for several years. You see each other on almost a daily basis and have been referred to as the unseperable trio, as you do almost everything together, and have all been there for each other, through thick and thin. Slowly, you start to feel something shift. Something feels different when you look at Merry.

SLOOOOOOOW burning romance, pre - the Fellowship of the Ring.

Possible TW's: panic attack, anxiety, mentions of drowning and death, dead parents

English is not my first language, and this is the first fanfiction I have written since I was 10 years old, so I apologize for any errors or confusion. 😭 Treat me gently, I am sensitive to critisism lol

The sun glistened on the leaves, making the raindrops that fell on them the night before look like diamonds. The grass was damp under your feet, and the slight breeze felt comfortable on your skin. The sounds of the Shire were as usual: lots of Hobbits doing their regular chores, children running around and a few groans here and there, when the sleepiest of all were forced to get up early. Your gaze followed a beautiful bird flying from one tree to another. The bird was a beautiful one, with a bright-red chest and a grey back, the feathers on the wings being different shades of grey and black. It's melodic singing as it sat on the old willow branch, is always a reminder for the Shire folk that spring has arrived. There was a fresh lavender smell in the air, and as you stopped on your feet to enjoy it, you noticed another familiar scent.

Your gaze moved to a pastry shop window, and as you started walking towards it, you could see your best friends enjoying a couple of scones, filled with strawberry jam. Your lips curved into a smile as you opened the wooden door, and the bell above it rang to announce your arrival.

The friendly Hobbit lady behind the dusty, old counter greeted you gleefully. Her hair was grey, curls all the way down to her shoulders, and the smile lines nearing the corners of her eyes revealed just how happy of a personality she must have. But your eyes weren't focused on her, but to the two young Hobbits now noticing your entry. Pippin's green eyes sparkled with joy as he noticed you enter the room. More happy than Pippin to see you, was Merry. You had been best friends with the two for a number of years, and almost every week, the three of you would sit at the bakery, planning some mischevous pranks and talking about any new happenings around the Shire.

"We were wondering where you were!" Pippin exclaimed, mouth full of the delicious scone, and some red jam from it that had decided to settle on his lips. Amused at the sight, you smirked but still decided to not say anything, as usual. It would be funnier to see how long it would take him to notice his messy appearence.

"Sorry, I had other things in mind," you said in serious tone, pulling up a chair and sitting between the two. The round table was full of crumbs and there were two empty plates. You looked at the plates and then at your dearest friends, raising one brow as if to question how on earth they could have this ritual without you.

"We got hungry, I'm sorry!" Merry said, wiping his palms on his cream colored cotton shirt.

"How dare you!" you answered with a playfully offended tone. You turned to look at Pippin for an apology, but the young Hobbit just shrugged his shoulders, and kept munching the last piece of scone in his mouth. You shook your head and chuckled slightly, leaning back on your chair.

"What did you mean when you said you had other things in mind?" asked Merry, curiously, now wiping his mouth with a napkin. You took a deep breath and crossed your arms.

"It's been twenty years," you stated, as if Pippin and Merry were supposed to immediately understand the rest of that sentence. The two locked eyes. Their faces could only be described as curious, but utterly confused.

"Twenty years since what?" Merry inquired. His blue eyes looking straight into yours, his gaze making you feel like he was almost concerned.

"Since my parents died," you sighed. Pippin immediately turned to look at Merry, flustered as the two completely forgot about this tragic event in their best friend's life.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Merry apologized, his tone full of shame. "I completely forgot that was today."

"It's quite alright. You couldn't have known," you said with a faint smile. Your head might have told you to act fine, but the sadness behind your eyes revealed your true feelings: how tragically heartbroken you felt at that moment and how twenty years still wasn't enough of healing.

"But we should've remembered!" Merry cried in guilt. Pippin apologized, mouth full of scone, then finally swallowing the last piece. You reassured both of them that they did not offend you in any way, and that you would be fine.

"Is there anything we can do?" Merry asked, like he was in a rush to cheer you up.

"Yes! We could do something fun!" Pippin said cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He slammed his hands on the table, making the empty plates clink against each other. "How about we go for a swim?"

"You know I can't swim, Peregrin!" you cried, arms still crossed, your fingers fidgeting with the soft fabric of the sleeves on your favorite yellow dress.

"Didn't you say you have had practice?" Pippin asked, puzzled.

"It doesn't mean I can."

"Well, we could always just go just hang around the water, you know?" Merry suggested, trying to not make your mood any worse. "We used to do that all the time when we were just little innocent Hobbits." You smiled at him with gratitude. Merry's lips curved upwards and his eyes had a glimmer of pride in them.

"That actually sounds great," you finally responded to him. "When should we go?"

"How about immediately?" said the young Took suddenly, and before either of you could answer, he was already up from his chair, quickly whisking away the empty plates from the table.

"I guess we're going?" you chuckled. You and Merry got up and before you could make a leave, he put his palm on your shoulder. His warm touch gave you a sense of comfort.

"But seriously, are you okay?" he asked, looking at you from under his brows, his eyes full of concern. You nodded and gave him a soft smile.

On your way to the river, the sun was rising higher in the sky, warming your skin. The spring breeze had settled, the lavender scent no longer lingering in the air.

"I can't believe you still can't swim," Pippin said, shaking his head. You groaned in frustration as a response. "You should know at this point!" he teased, skipping ahead of you and Merry. You shook your head. Still fidgeting with the fabric of your dress, Merry took notice of it.

"Can I help your anxiety in any way?" Merry said suddenly.

"How do you know I'm feeling anxious?" you asked, looking at him full of confusion. Merry smiled softly and compassionately.

"You always fidget something with your fingers when you feel anxious," he responded and gestured towards your sleeve, where the tips of your fingers now suddenly had stopped rubbing the dress, like they almost felt shy for being caught. You blinked slowly, moving your eyes to look at your delicate hands.

"I never realized that it was noticeable," you mumbled, slightly embarrassed. You were aware of it, but did not know it was a telltale sign of anxiety for others.

"We've been friends for years," he said, as the three of you kept walking towards the water on a gravel path, Pippin just slightly ahead of the two of you. "Of course I notice things like this."

You smiled at him, impressed by this small detail that he had noticed. Pippin was still slightly ahead of you two, every now and then stopping to gesture for you two to move faster. "That's kind of endearing, actually," you smiled and Merry let out a small snicker, turning his face to the ground.

"You actually have a lot of tells for how you're feeling," he said in a confident and knowing tone. This made you plead for him to tell you what he had noticed. "I'm not going to tell you what they are!" Merry smirked visibly amused. "Where's the fun in that?"

"If I have a tell, I will have you tell me what it is!" you said in a commanding tone, horrified of this revelation.

"I think not!" Merry exclaimed, his tone mischevous. "You just have to wonder about it for the rest of your life!" he laughed, and then in a mocking, high pitched voice, imitating you, he said: "Oh no! How did Meriadoc know I was exceptionally happy today? How did he notice I was nervous? Whatever will I do? How will I ever figure it out?"

"You jerk!" you laughed, elbowing his side gently, making him stumble a little to the left. It made him want to continue teasing you, still mocking you.

"Oh, how will I ever know? Merry is such a master at reading people!" he continued, making you crack up a little. You gave him a gentle push. You then suddenly bumped into Pippin, who was standing there, waiting for you.

"What took you so long?" Pippin asked.

"You were practically running!" Merry responded, still a wide smile on his face from teasing you. He gestured towards you and smirked. "And as I can tell from her expression, her old age has caught up to her, and her body gave up, forcing us both to slow down."

"Excuse me?" you said as your jaw dropped. "I am younger than you, Merry! I will have you know, if someone has any problems with their old age, it's you, Mister Brandybuck! Now, you old prune, what are my tells? Tell me!"

"My dear friend," Merry said, putting his hands on your shoulder. "I absolutely will not tell you."

"What are you two on about?" Pippin asked confused. Merry just chuckled, and gestured you both to follow him to a shallow part of the river, so you could safely sit with them without going too deep. You scrunched your nose at Merry, and walked behind him and Pippin to the water.

You had sat on a large rock, smoothed down by the flowing water, making it sparkle under the rays of sunshine. Every now and then some water ran over the rock, drenching your dress from the parts that were laid on the almost black stone. Twenty minutes had passed, and Merry gestured you to come closer to the slightly deeper water. You shook your head, fidgeting the sleeve of your dress anxiously. The water had finally washed away the jam from Pippin's lips as he kept plunging into the water, diving for what seemed like a forever. Pippin's head ascended from the cool water and he shook his head like a wet dog, trying to dry his curls.

"Come on, it's just waist deep!" Pippin tried to pursuade you. You just shook your head again. Pippin locked his eyes with Merry's. They both nodded in unison, turning to look at you again. "I bet you a small pouch of Southern Star that you don't have the courage."

Your ears perked up at the mention of pipe-weed. It was a delicious offer, but just the thought of going in any deeper made your heart pound faster. Pippin and Merry also knew just how to press your buttons right; they knew how competetive you were. "How much are we talking?" you inquired, your ears doing one small wiggle as your body started to show signs of peaked interest. This made Pippin and Merry chuckle.

"Does it matter? You don't have the guts!" Merry cried with a wide grin on his face. This made your fingers stop fidgeting the dress, and instead your fingertips squeezed the fabric tightly. You stood up, careful not to slip on the wet rock, and tipped your toes in the water, moving them on the surface lightly. You gave a challenging look to both mischevous hobbits, and hopped in the water, ankle deep. You took one deep breath, inhaling the warm air to help calm you down. One step after another, you slowly waded towards Merry and Pippin, who looked rather amused and impressed. The water rose as you waded in deeper and as the cold water touched your hips, you froze still.

It felt like the world stopped for a moment, and the surrounding noises of the river flowing suddenly sounded like an ominous threat coming closer and closer, about to swallow you whole. The bottom of the river was muddy and it felt like you would slowly sink, inch by inch, until you would be under water, unable to escape. The water felt like it tried to push you down, make you stumble and fall. It would laugh at your struggles to try and stay on the surface, making you regret ever taking even one step towards your best friends. How foolish of you to take up on a challenge, knowing the water was your enemy, who would smother you the first chance it got.

Suddenly you felt Merry's hand on your arm, shaking you softly. All you could hear was mumbling. Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry, as you tried with all of your strength to not collapse from fear of facing the same destiny as your parents. Your feet lifted from the mud as Merry and Pippin lifted you by your armpits and waist to get you off to the dry land immediately, taking notice of your looming anxiety and inability to move even an inch.

What felt like forever, you soon got back to dry land and your hands gripped to the grass like it was the only thing that would keep you from falling into the flowing river. Your vision still blurry, you could distinguish the familiar voices of Merry and Pippin, but not one word was coherent. The grass felt safe and warm, pieces of dirt clinging to your wet palms and feet. You were starting to shake a little, still not able to move.

Soon you felt a warm palm on your cheek, turning your gaze to the direction of it's owner. Merry caught your attention enough to lock your eyes on his. His blue eyes felt comforting as they looked at you with compassion and care. You could see his lips moving, but not one word made sense to you. He gently brushed your cheek with his thumb, looking guilty from pressuring you.

"You're okay," you could finally decipher some of his words. Your brain felt fuzzy, and your lips were quivering with fear and anxiety. "You're safe, just breathe."

You took a deep breath, slow and steady, trying to push away the panic attack that was taking over your body. You followed Merry's guidance as much as you could make sense of it, slowly starting to feel more air in your lungs. The grass started to feel like grass again, instead of an anchor you had to hold on to, unless you wanted to drown. You felt Pippin's palm gently rubbing your back, as Merry was still caressing your cheek, guiding your every breath. You could slowly focus more, but you kept your gaze on his blue eyes, scared that if you turned your face away, the water would somehow jump on you and try to pull you back. It took you several minutes, but finally the two managed to calm you down. Your body still trembling lightly, you took one more deep breath.

"Well that was embarrassing," you jested, trying to lighten the mood immediately. Merry chuckled with relief and shook his head, lowering his hand to your shoulder from your face. Pippin didn't laugh, but instead made his way in front of your face next to Merry.

"Are you okay?" he asked nervously, clearly feeling some guilt for the second time that day. You nodded, looking at him reassuringly. Pippin's lips curled into a small smile. "Good, I thought you might feel embarrassed." You laughed loudly, voice slightly shaky.

They both got up on their feet, clothes drenched and every curl on their head dripping with water. You slowly got up, taking some support from the two hobbits and straightening your back. After a small discussion, you all agreed it was time to go home and calm down a little. Pippin did promise you that he would still give you some pipe-weed as a 'consolation prize.'

You made your way home alone for most of the journey, as Merry headed towards his home in Buckland and Pippin made his way to, in his own words, 'somewhere secret.'

The green round door of Bag End was there waiting for you, immediately providing you comfort at the sight. You entered your home and called your brother by his name. He was not your brother by blood, but being adopted to the same household and growing up together most of your lives made him as much of a brother as someone who was a blood relative would.

"Hello?" you shouted, the hallway echoing, seeming empty. You took just a few steps before Frodo's head popped up from behind a wall. He gave you a soft smile and let you know there was tea at the ready in the kitchen. Frodo had made it for himself, but so much of it was left that he decided to just let it sit there, knowing how much you liked his chamomille tea.

You made your way into the kitchen and poured some still warm tea into a small cup you inherited from your parents. It was decorated with yellow flowers and had been hand painted by your great-grandmother. You stirred it calmly, looking out of the round window, admiring the green grass and the butterflies flying around, enjoying the spring as much as any being would. The small silver spoon your uncle Bilbo had given you as a birthday present (that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins kept trying to steal) was softly moving in circles, creating music-like sounds when it hit the porcelain on the edges. Your dress had mostly dried up on your way home, but it was still slightly moist, making you do a small squirm as the slightly wet fabric of it kept clinging to your thigh.

With the tea in your hand, you started making your way to your room, but something stopped you in your tracks. As you passed a small round mirror, you noticed something behind your ear that was not supposed to be there. A small daisy was decorating your frame on the left side of your face. You touched the soft flower lightly. Merry had put it there while calming you down. A small chuckle escaped your throat. He really knew how to cheer you up, even if it took some time to notice the gesture.

Next chapter

#lotr #please do not judge me i feel very proud but i am scared its shite LMAO #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #tolkien #merry brandybuck #pippin took #peregrin took #Meriadoc Brandybuck #merry x reader #lotr fanfic #Merry Brandybuck fanfic #jrrt #fanfic #fanfiction #slow burn #lotr merry

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months

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Can you imagine having a Palm Springs, California address, like the wealthy, for less than $750K? Well, here's the chance. Two rock homes are for sale - 1 for $749K and 1 for $699K - both have already been reduced by $50K. 2bds, 1ba.

They were built in 1930 inspired by Hopi and Navajo homes. The owner passed away and the family has had them on the market since 2022. They are historic and eligible for tax abatement under California's Mill Act Program.

The listing is focused on the smaller one, listed for $699K.

So, you have a large living room with a fireplace. There's a nice big alcove, too.

You could do something with this. The alcove has a little stage-like elevation.

I'm not sure what this is, but there doesn't seem to be a kitchen. Maybe that's why this fireplace is higher, like an oven?

This looks like it would make a good kitchen, especially if you want a huge one.

A patio is outside the potential kitchen.

Here's a table by an old heat stove and there's also a cabinet.

The larger home, built in 1929, features a casita.

The real estate photos are terrible. They don't show bedrooms, baths, or which house is which.

A private road with limited access leads to the homes.

The property looks neglected and overgrown, with lots of dead weeds.

You can see here how the private road veers away from a Palm Springs neighborhood with pools and stuff.

Looks like you can't access it from that main road. It's like the black sheep of the family that has to use the back door.

The lot is 3.33 acres. I know that they reduced the prices but it still seems a lot for just a couple of stone shells. What do you think?

#stone homes #unusual homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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themsthenow · 8 months

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Ok so this is kinda a tutorial but not really cause I don't recommend doing some of the things I did, cause it's not safe.

The pic on the right is 1 out of 12 thingys I cut out of ply wood

I used a saw to cut them out.

you could probably just use something slightly wider than a regular lollipop stick to get the overhang , like the free wooden utensils at a cafés.

You'll probably need 2 or 3 if so for each finger joint

The claws were cut out of some board I found in my house, but a clipboard should probably work, maybe double up just incase idk.

I don't recommend getting a knife and hammering out the outline of each individual claw thing, a scissors should hopefully be enough.

I dont have a photos of:

1. drilling holes into each end of all of the stick joints(the black dots were holes I burned, until my wood burner died, they're also held together with bent nails)

2. Cutting out the board for the palm part where my hand is

3. Taking a bunch of clothes pegs for the springs to attach the fingers to said palm board using a long piece of metal? To hold it like the bent nails, you could probably just use a skewer

4. Tying wires like a cm apart from the drilled holes(you can't really see it in the image) to thread string through, so it can move the joints when pulled, you can see the twisted part on the outside of the finger joints, once they're tight just flatten them into the joint and put hot glue over them so they don't catch on anything like your clothes or skin

5. Gluing a foam sheet and elastic band to the palm board

6. Gluing the half pegs on to the outside of each of the finger joints so they don't go backwards

I added another Layer of foam to the board to cover the elastic and the painted them.

There was a lot of trial and error (and hot glue) trying to get these things to not overlap when moving them but they work now

Hopefully this helps someone somehow, be careful and stuff

Each finger joint was made with 2 lollipop sticks and 1 ply wood cut out thing, with the ply wood thing hany out . The holes were put in at both ends

The wires on the joints can be any type, I think, as long as its sticks

The claws and hand board can be made out of layered clipboard(probably)

I used acrylic paint, idk if it matters though

When drilling or burning the hole be careful, for both your safety and not breaking the lollipop sticks

Idk if the bent nails could be replaced with anything. Wooden skewers?

The thread I used is actually fishing wire because it's thin, strong and passes smoothly between the joints

Soo for 2 hands

Lollipop sticks x 24, bring spares

Ply wood cut outs/ an alternative x12

Clipboard board cut outs of claws x6

Pully wire /fishing wire

Craft Foam x1 sheet

Clothes pegs x12

Nails /an alternative x12

A bit of elastic fabric

Paint

A glue gun with lots of glue sticks

A SAFE way to cut out everything

A SAFE way to drill the holes

#murder drones #cosplay #i think #n murder drones #v murder drones #j murder drones #Any of the disassembly drones tbh #I don't know how to make an under cut so apologies if your scrolling through too much #tutorial #except its me

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burntheedges-updates · 8 months

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over again, chapter 5: staying over

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges Joel Miller x f!reader summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it) 18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, angst, implied heavy angst (sorry), kissing, pet names (darlin’, baby, honey, pretty girl), Joel calls reader a good girl, neck grabbing (no breath play), light manhandling, grinding, spit kink, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v sex (no condom this time, he’s 56 and she’s 49, but use a condom, y’all), creampie, masturbation, praise kink, light anal play, face sitting, if I missed anything please let me know! a/n: Well, this is part 5 of the 5+1. I can’t believe it. Next week we have the +1, which is the epilogue. I’m sorry in advance for the first part. Check ao3 for notes to skip the smut. word count: 5.5k | series main post | series playlist | ao3 | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4

Chapter 5: Staying Over

Boston, September 26, 2003

Your phone rang at 6:30 AM, rudely interrupting a dream that involved Joel, no pants, and a very sturdy table.

“...h’llo?” you mumbled into the receiver.

“Morning, darlin’.”

“Joel?” You yawned. “Baby, it’s 5:30 in the morning in Austin. Why are you calling me?”

“Well, baby, you see, it’s my birthday, but my fiance is all the way across the country in Boston at some fancy conference. I thought maybe she might like to help me start my day right, put me in a good mood before our daughter wakes up and makes me eat one of her culinary science experiments.” You heard what sounded like sheets rustling on his end of the phone and you started to smile.

“Joel, she cooks the eggs that way because it’s how you taught her.”

He hummed and murmured your name. “Come on, baby.”

“You looking for a little phone sex, Miller? What are you wearing?”

He laughed, but he answered, “Nothing, pretty girl. What are you wearing?”

As he asked, you were already kicking off your pajamas. “What a coincidence! Nothing here, either.”

“Mmm wish I could see it.”

“Just one more day, baby, and then I’ll be home and you can keep me naked in your bed all night.”

“That’s our bed, darlin’. For the rest of our lives.”

You smiled, just like you did every time Joel reminded you that you’d be waking up next to each other every day from now on. He’d done this a lot since you’d moved in at the start of the summer, taking advantage of your free time after the school year ended. Though really you’d spent almost every night together since he proposed in December.

“Well, tell me what you’re doing, baby. Or what you want me to do. What do you want, birthday boy?”

“I want you to touch yourself. Tell me everything you’re doing and how it feels. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?” You hummed, and slipped your hand between your legs. “Of course you can. That’s my good girl.”

...

Jackson, Spring 2024

(the same night you went to the bar)

You feel like you’ve lived a thousand lives since you met Tommy and Joel outside your house earlier. First the dance, then the panic attack, then the kiss. The almost-more-than-a kiss. Outside. Where people could see you. Your face gets hot again at the thought of it.

Slumped by your door, you tell yourself to breathe and calm down. You put your palms over your eyes and tilt your head back against the door, taking some time to breathe deeply and slow your racing heart.

You’re afraid to let yourself think about it — you can feel the tears behind your eyes, ready to fall. You focus on your breath.

It sort of works, enough for you to get yourself together and stand, starting to move away from the door.

You’ve only made it a few steps away when there’s a knock, and your heart starts to race again. Your hands are shaking.

Before you even open it, you know who’s standing on the other side. You barely pull it open a few inches before you see his hand appear as he grabs the side of the door, and then his arm as he pushes it open, and then Joel himself is in front of you again, moving straight towards you. He doesn’t even step inside all the way before he’s kissing you, the hand on the door pushing it shut and the other grabbing you by the neck. You wrap your arms around him, opening for him and deepening the kiss immediately. He turns and pushes you against the door, from the inside this time, palm flat against your collar bone.

You gasp, chest heaving. Joel rests his forehead against yours. “I was standing in my empty house, frozen, and realized I had no idea what I was doing there, away from you.” He brushes his hands down your arms and around your waist, pulling you closer. “What the hell was I thinking? Can’t believe I kissed you like that ‘n walked away.”

You laugh, so, so relieved, feeling lighter than you have in years. “Me neither, baby.”

He turns his head, nosing along your ear and then down your neck, skimming his lips lightly across your shoulder. You shiver.

“You got plans tonight, pretty girl?” He says it playfully, knowing you’ll pick up on it, that you’ll remember it too. It makes you laugh again and tear up at the same time.

“Just s- some cowboy who wants t- to get in my pants.” You know your lines, but you can barely get them out past the emotions bubbling up inside of you. You can feel him smirk against your neck.

“Oh?” His left hand moves from your waist around to the front of your jeans, deftly undoing the button and starting to lower the zipper slowly. “And are you going to let him?”

“I dunno. You think he’s any good?” You’re smiling so wide it hurts.

At that, Joel moves his hand inside your open pants to cup your pussy firmly, holding you tight over your underwear. You’re on fire, blood rushing in your ears. “You know he is, baby.”

You have to ask, even when all you want is to let him fuck you right there, against the door. You push your hands through his hair. “Not taking it slow after all?”

He softens his grip on you and brings his lips to your ear, resting his forehead against the side of your head. Your eyes slip shut. “We’ve got a lot to work out, sure, but I was standing there alone and I just realized I don’t want to spend any more of my life away from you, not if I don’t have to. Not when you’re right here barely 50 feet away from me.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, just in front of your ear. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find you twice in this fucked up life, but I ain’t turning it down.” He brings his right palm up to cup your face. “We’ve never let fear take over before and I don’t want to now. I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to do this together. I want you.”

You inhale sharply and feel a tear run down your cheek. He sees it and thumbs it away. “What about you, baby? What do you want?”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze in the dim light of your hallway. Your hands are in his hair and his hand is still cupping your pussy, holding you gently. You know he can feel how wet you are, just from this. You curve your hips forwards and watch his eyes darken.

“Fuck slow. I never stopped wanting you, Joel. I want you to take me to my bed and make me forget the 20 years I spent without you in it. And I want you to do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and to keep doing it every night for the rest of our lives.”

His grip tightens on your pussy as he smiles at you, slow. You see a glimpse of that cocky cowboy who swept you off your feet in 2001 in the corners of his mouth and the tilt of his brow.

So fast it makes your head spin, he pulls his hand from your pants and goes to whisk you away towards the stairs with his arms around your waist. He pulls you close to lean on him, taking some of your weight. “Let’s get to it, then.”

“Joel Miller! Let me walk. We’re going to need those ancient back muscles, in a minute.” He laughs.

“Alright, alright.” He slides his hands to rest on your hips. “I know we’re old now, baby, but I bet I can still make you come at least three times tonight.” You laugh, even as you feel his effect on you running through your veins and pooling in your underwear.

“Big talk, cowboy. Don’t count on that everytime, not these days.”

He hums in your ear. “You know I’m good for it.”

You grab his hand and pull him up the stairs behind you and into your bedroom, turning and sitting on the bed. He’s on you before you can move, pulling your shoes off and your pants down your legs and tossing them somewhere across the room. You take the opportunity to strip off your shirt, moving your hands to his belt once you’re done.

He takes off his shirt and it makes you stop and stare, eyes roving over his strong chest and arms, somehow stronger than when you last saw him like this. You look up at him and realize you’re sitting frozen on the bed with your hands on his belt, and you smirk as you loosen it and then undo his jeans.

He inhales slowly and reaches forward to brush his thumb across your lips as you pull him from his underwear, shifting your gaze from his face to his hard cock.

You begin to lean forward, mouth opening, tongue darting out for a taste, when he catches you by the throat and your eyes dart back up to meet his gaze. He’s looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smirk on his face.

“Now, pretty girl, did I say you could do that?”

You squirm, so aroused you can feel the mess you’re making. “Please, baby?” You meet his eyes and run your tongue across your bottom lip. “It’s been so long.”

“You know I love that pretty mouth. But I think we should make sure of something right quick.”

You tilt your head, questioning. Not sure what he means. He shoves your shoulder, pushing you to back up and lie on the bed before kicking off his jeans and underwear and crawling over you. He lowers himself so that his cock is brushing your stomach and whispers in your left ear, “Only good girls get to suck this cock, baby, you know that. Are you still my good girl?”

You breathe in so sharply it’s almost a sob, and clutch at him. “Yes, Joel,” you breathe. “Always.”

He sits up a bit and smiles at you, and you can see it all there in his expression. This man is the love of your life, and it’s still mutual. You still fit together like this perfectly. You close your eyes against the swell of emotion you feel at realizing how well you go together, even after all this time.

“I thought so. Why don’t you show me how good you can be, pretty girl, and touch yourself.” You immediately move to do as he says, and he leans to the side to watch. “Let me see you get wet for me, baby.”

“I’m already wet, Joel.” You feel him settle in next to you as he watches your hand move between your legs. He pushes your left leg up and to the side, opening you up for his view.

“I want you so wet you soak the bed, baby. I want you so wet it feels like silk when my cock slips inside that pussy.” You moan at his words, watching him watch your hand. He sits up to get a better look.

You open your legs wider and use your fingers to spread your folds with one hand while you start to tease yourself with the other. You move your fingers lightly from your hole to your clit, dancing around it as you watch his reaction. You know your body looks different now, but under his gaze you feel the same as you did every time he looked at you back then – beautiful, desirable. Loved. Like he looks at you and sees you.

You circle your clit, letting the feeling build just a bit before moving your fingers down to your entrance. You push your hips forward slightly, watching as he leans forward. You slip one finger inside and he licks his bottom lip, gaze intent.

“So pretty, baby. Such a pretty pussy, always so pretty for me.” He doesn’t look away from your fingers as he says it.

You slip a second finger inside you, starting to pump them in and out, but it’s not enough. Your fingers aren’t big enough, never have been, not after having his. You squirm a little, trying to go deeper. He sees your struggle and smirks. “You need help, pretty girl?”

You bite your lip, nodding. “Please, Joel. I need your fingers, baby, I missed them so much.”

“Yeah?” He smooths his hand up your leg, closer and closer to where you want him. “You need it that bad?”

“Yes!” You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shhh, let me help you. I’ll give you everything you want, baby.” He pulls your hands from your pussy and pins them to the bed by your hips. He holds them here as he leans down, inches away from your open pussy, taking a good, long look. You squirm. “Joel–”

“Patience.” He nips at your thigh. “Let me look at you.” He does, and you watch him do it, helpless. “I missed this, so much. This right here.”

He leans down and slowly licks you, tongue flat and mouth wide open, lingering over your clit and meeting your eyes. “You taste so damn good, baby, thought I’d never get to taste this again.” You revel in the feeling of his beard scratching against your pussy as he licks you again, slow. You feel yourself getting wetter as you clutch the sheets in your fists.

He lifts one hand but eyes you, so you know he wants you to keep your hand where it is. He uses his fingers to spread open your folds, and looks down again, licking his lips. He looks up to meet your eyes again – you can feel yourself staring, mouth open, breathing hard but silent – and he smirks. “I don’t think you’re wet enough yet, baby.”

You know what’s coming before he does it, but the anticipation makes you squirm. He opens his mouth and lets you see him gather the spit on his tongue before he lets it slip off the tip, right onto your clit, exposed by his fingers holding you open. You throw your head back and moan. “That’s my girl.” With that, he leans back down, and puts his mouth to work right where you both want it. You buck your hips up and he pushes them back down with his right hand. “Easy, pretty girl. Let me get my taste of this perfect pussy.”

He takes both hands and throws your legs over his shoulders, returning his mouth to your clit and sucking lightly. You whine, and it spurs him on. “Fuck, Joel.” He reaches down with one hand to tease you at your entrance while the other reaches up around your leg to pinch your nipple as he takes your clit in your teeth. He looks up and catches your eye, keeping eye contact as his touch sets you aflame – twisting your nipple gently, sucking and tonguing your clit, and slowly sinking his finger inside you, all at once. You stop breathing for a moment, overwhelmed at the competing sensations.

Joel winks at you and then returns to his work. He thrusts one finger inside of you, curling it upwards at the end of every thrust. You’re astonished to feel your orgasm building, right then and there, so quick and so strong. You know he can tell – your breath speeds up and you clench your fists tight. Your legs start to shake and you clench down on his fingers, a second joining the first, fucking you perfectly.

Joel plays your entire body perfectly, even though he hasn’t touched it in 20 years. It’s masterful, like he never forgot a single detail, and it brings tears to your eyes. Fuck.

You’re so close, but you’re teetering right on the edge. He smooths his left hand down your torso, pressing down gently on your pelvis. He lifts his head up, fingers twisting inside of you, and says, “show me how good you are, pretty girl. Come on my face.”

And you do. He immediately returns his mouth to your clit, sucking on it, and it tips you over the edge. You haven’t had an orgasm like this in 20 years and it launches through your body like a rocket. It overwhelms every bit of you, body and mind, setting you on fire in its wake. You cry out and lose yourself in it.

You’re slow to come down but as you do you realize you’ve locked your thighs around Joel’s head.

He seems happy with his plight, though, as he continues licking at your hole, teasing his tongue up inside of you as he removes his fingers. Like a man dying of thirst, finally given water.

You open your legs and tug him away by the hair, overstimulated. “I missed the way you taste, baby. Even better than I remembered.” His face is glistening and his eyelids are heavy, dark eyes watching you. He clears his throat. “That was one. You ready for another?” He grins. You shake your head at him, and laugh, incredulous.

“Show me what you can do, cowboy.” You’re breathless, boneless.

He turns his head and kisses your thigh, leaving a trail of moisture from his face as he moves slowly up to your knee. Then he licks, tongue flat, all the way from your knee back to your hip, where he digs in a little with his tongue at the crease of your thigh. You let your legs fall apart at the sensation. “I want you to give me another one, baby. Turn over.” You think you know what he wants, and your heart starts to race even faster.

You sit up, a little unsteady, arms shaking, and turn over so you’re on all fours. He nips at your ass and you know it’s because he approves. You feel him shifting around as you hang your head between your shoulders. Then you feel his hands smooth up the back of your thighs and you realize he’s on his back, face right under your pussy.

“Sit down, baby. Put that pretty pussy right on my face.” You shiver. You know he means it. He taps your ass when you don’t move right away.

You lower your hips, sliding your knees apart on the bed and feeling them ache a little, sitting up at the same time. You look down and you can see him waiting for you, a wicked grin on his face. “That’s it, be a good girl and sit down right here for me.”

He reaches up and pulls your hips down and you do. Back Before, you used to worry you’d smother him like this, until one night he made you sit down, weight dropped fully onto him, and he moaned louder than you’d ever heard him. He wanted you like that, all over him, smothering him, taking over all of his senses. You were happy to oblige.

You sink onto his face and you feel his mouth open to meet you. His tongue licks at you and then sinks right inside, smooth and soft. “Yes, baby,” you sigh. He twists his tongue inside and then closes his lips around your hole, kissing you there like he would kiss your mouth. And then he sucks, lightly, making your entire body shiver in response.

As you start to rock your hips he encourages it, squeezing your hips and pulling you up and down on his face, thrusting his tongue in time with your hips. His nose starts to catch on your clit and your breath hitches at every thrust. You moan, loudly. You start to lose yourself in it, head flung back, thrusting harder than you’d let yourself if you could think straight, but he moans in response and scrapes his teeth lightly around your hole.

The noises he’s making are obscene.

Joel’s hands leave your hips and sneak around to your ass, grabbing both cheeks and squeezing. On the next rock of your hips he lets go with his left hand and lightly trails his fingers between your cheeks, touching the pad of one finger to your asshole. You whine and push your hips back to meet it. You can feel his grin at your response.

He uses his right hand to pull you towards his face while his left toys with your ass and his tongue continues to stoke the fire inside of you. You grab his right wrist with one hand and his hair with the other as you grind down on his face. He sucks at your hole and pulls down with his hands to hold you down.

You throw your head back again, lost in the moment. Your orgasm is close, creeping over you, sending tingles down your spine. You clench around his tongue. “Fuck, Joel, your mouth. I’m gonna come, baby,” you whisper, overcome.

You don’t know if he can hear you, but you know he can tell. He always could, and he always knew just how to push you over the edge. He pushes you back a little with his right hand, and then tugs you back down, thrusting his tongue inside of you and curling it upwards.

His mouth is open wide, so wide you feel it everywhere as he sucks at your hole and grinds his nose into your clit.The tip of middle finger just breaches your asshole.

Your orgasm slams into you and you cry out, tensing all over and closing his head between your thighs. You clench on his tongue and his finger, holding him inside you in both places as the fire rushes over you again. This one is stronger but it passes more quickly and you find yourself toppling forward as it leaves you. You catch yourself on one hand, and look down at Joel.

He’s fucking wrecked, face covered in your juices, and totally blissed out. He looks like he’s achieved a higher plane of existence, eyes closed, breathing heavy and licking his lips. You both just breathe for a moment, completely winded.

And then he opens his eyes.

His gaze immediately locks on yours, and he growls. It happens so fast you barely follow it, but suddenly he’s up again and flips you onto your back. “Never thought I’d get to have this again.” His voice is low and you feel it rumble deep through your chest. He pulls you down the bed by the hips, spreading your legs and wrapping them around his waist. “This perfect fucking pussy, fucking made for me.” His left hand comes up and wraps around your throat, just holding you, as his right reaches down to rest the tip of his cock at your entrance. You can feel it there, just barely pushing at you, notched in place.

You gasp, overwhelmed, and beg him, “please, Joel. I need you.”

He leans over you, right hand coming to rest by your head, forehead pressed to yours as he whispers your name. “I want to live right here, in bed, with you. I want to pass my days with my face buried in your pussy. I want you to sit on my cock until you can’t take it, until you cry, until you forget what it feels like not to be full of me. I want you right here with me every day until I die. Just like we promised.” With the last word, he sinks into you, steadily, filling you all the way up until his hips meet yours. You sob and clutch at his shoulders.

“I want you just like this. Beautiful and overwhelmed. Full of my cock. So wet you’re dripping. Needy and at my mercy.” He squeezes your neck gently, just the way you like. He leans down and captures your mouth, tangling your tongues together as he twists his hips a little, keeping himself fully inside of you. You taste yourself on his tongue.

“I want you, honey. What do you want?”

You reach up and grab his ass in both hands, squeezing.

“I want that too, baby, want to do that, be that for you.” You take a deep breath and look him straight in the eye.

“And right now I want you to fuck me, Joel Miller, and I want you to mean it.”

He grins wider than you’ve seen him, since you found him again. He looks younger and a bit wild. “That’s my good girl.” His words sink into you like a stone falling into a pool, sending ripples down your spine.

And then he does.

He pulls out, almost all the way, and then pounds into you. He finds a rhythm and keeps it up, resting his forehead on yours and sliding his left hand behind your neck. You breathe each other in as you lift your hips to his, chasing the same high. You can feel it, dancing ahead of you, as his cock fills you just right with every thrust. He drops his head to your shoulder and moves his right hand down to your clit. “One more, baby,” he murmurs in your right ear. “Give me one more. I need to feel your pussy squeeze me tight.” You close your eyes and fall into it, letting him sweep you away. His hips speed up as his fingers match his thrusts in rhythm on your clit and you cling to him, just trying to hold on with your arms and legs.

He’s pushing you higher and higher, just about there, and you squeeze your pussy tight right when he squeezes the back of your neck. He opens his mouth and bites down on your shoulder and your vision goes white. You clench around him, crying out his name, and his hips stutter as he follows you upwards and over. You hear him say your name, over and over again, as your orgasms slam into you both and then leave you loose and tingling in their wake.

You’re both breathing hard when he reaches down to ease his cock out of you before flopping down on his back at your side. He groans. You can’t move your legs, and you tell him so. He huffs a weak laugh in response.

Somehow Joel finds the strength to roll over and reach for his shirt, which he uses to clean you both up. You smile, knowing he’s going to be annoyed with himself for doing that in the morning. He flops back down and pulls you into him on his left, hitching your thigh over his leg and pulling you close with an arm around your waist. The position is at once so familiar, like an echo, and so longed for that it makes you dizzy.

“Not sure our backs ‘n knees are up for all that vigorous activity anymore, darlin’.” He’s breathless as he says it, and you can hear his heart racing under your ear on his chest.

You know he’s right - your pussy is throbbing a little and you know it won’t go that way every time, not these days. But you tease him anyway. “Speak for yourself, old man, I’m still young and limber.” He laughs. “Got seven years on you, anyway.”

He nuzzles into your hair, squeezing the wrist you’ve thrown across his chest with his right hand. “Still blew me away, baby, even if my back is killing me. Fucking made for me, I told you.”

You inhale deeply, and settle onto his chest. His scent is comforting and it settles something inside of you that hasn’t been settled in a long, long time. “Made for each other, more like. I missed you so goddamn much, Joel.”

“I missed you too, darlin’. Every fucking day. Even when I pretended I wasn’t thinking about it.” He takes a deep breath, pulling you closer. “I hope you weren’t alone for all of it. I – well, I –” You know what he’s getting at, so you interrupt before he can twist himself up into knots.

“I know about Tess, Joel. Tommy told me. I’m glad you had someone.”

“Course he did. Well, I’m glad you know.” He sighs.

“I do, but Joel, I had someone too. For a little while, anyway. That’s why he told me, I told him first.” You take a deep breath. “It was in Atlanta. We were as much as we could be for each other, which wasn’t enough probably. But we did ok. She was…” You close your eyes, remembering Michelle. He brushes his hand down your back, soothing you. “She was good, and kind, even in the apocalypse when most of us were hard. Including me.”

“I’m glad you had someone. I wish I was there, of course, but I wouldn’t want you to be alone, all that time.”

You nod against his chest, agreeing. “We’ll tell each other all about it, eventually.”

He goes quiet for a moment.

“I didn’t let myself do it often, but sometimes I tried to imagine we were wrong. That you were alive. And what it would have been like if that were true.”

You reach over and grab his hand, squeezing. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“What it would be like to just run into you on the street. I… well. I didn’t think about it often. Because I was pretty sure you would have hated the man I’d become.” You try to pick your head up to look at him but he brings his hand up to smooth over your hair, keeping you where you are. “I wasn’t… they were never happy thoughts. I couldn’t imagine a reunion where you saw what I’d become and didn’t turn right back around and leave me there. ‘N I would’a deserved it. So I tried not to think about it.”

“Joel, I-.” He interrupts, continuing like he’s afraid he’ll stop if he doesn’t.

“In some ways I’m glad I found you now. I wish I’d known earlier, of course I do. But I’m more… me, now. I was a ghost, in Boston. I said barely living, but I felt barely human.” He pulls you tighter against him. “You wouldn’t have deserved being around me like that. No one did. Ellie didn’t, that’s for sure. Somehow she stuck around me long enough for me to remember how to be human again anyway.”

You push yourself up and don’t let him hold you down. Looking at him, you see that his eyes are teary, and he’s frowning.

“Joel, I used to think about it too. And I worried the same thing - that I’d become something you wouldn’t want anymore. Someone hard, and mean, and unyielding. But neither of us were right, baby. I didn’t fall in love with only one part of you. I fell in love with all of you. And I think we both know how ruthless we might have become at times in the last 20 years, to survive.”

He closes his eyes and nods.

“It was never a question for us back then, how much you’d do to protect us. How far you’d go. And I didn’t exactly shy away from it myself.” He huffs a laugh like he agrees with you, eyes still closed. You reach out to cup his face.

“I know we didn’t get to say it back then, baby, but we would have said for better or for worse, and I would have meant it. That’s what I used to wonder about and try not to let myself want too much - to have you there for the worst of it. Not to have to go it alone.”

He finally opens his eyes again and he’s looking at you with not a little wonder. He brushes his fingers down your cheek.

“I forgot, for a long time, what it was like to be trusted like that. To be someone’s safe place. I couldn’t, or wouldn’t maybe, let myself with Tess, and, well. She deserved more than I could give her.” You can see the regret in his eyes, and it’s so familiar. You used to think the same thing about Michelle, wishing you could give her more of you, knowing there wasn’t more to give. Not back then. “I remembered it, with Ellie. It was hard as shit, don’t get me wrong.” You laugh a bit, and he smiles. “Thought caring like that would take me out for good. Feels like it sometimes, still. But I’m remembering how, with her. And now with you.” He tucks your head back down on his chest and pulls you closer, almost on top of him.

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“This doesn’t feel real. It’s too… I’m too happy.”

“I know. I feel it too, baby.” He kisses you softly right at your hairline. “I feel it too.”

...

a/n: See you next week for the +1/epilogue! It's... not short. lol

ch 6/epilogue now posted!

Taglist:

@morgaussy @jay-zzle @bluetattoos @dins-riduur-anthe @huffle-punk (@poodlebae just realized I forgot to tag you!! Sorry!!)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #over again fic #tlou fanfiction #my fic #x reader

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