#(I did this instead of replying to asks and drafts RIP me)

[more-than-a-princess]

✧ ━━ Romance Headcanons.

Tagged by: Stolen from @electricea! Tagging: Whoever wants to fill this out! Steal it!

Name: Sonia Nevermind

Nickname: Miss Nevermind (Shinobu), Bluebird (Wylan), Dark Queen/Madonna of Darkness/She-Cat (Gundham), Princess (everyone she encounters while not working who wants to get under her skin)

Gender: cis female

Romantic orientation: Sonia is not straight.

That's about as specific as she allows herself to get because regardless of how she identifies, Sonia is not allowed to have a public romantic relationship, much less marry, a woman. While Novoselic does allow gay marriage, adoption for gay couples, and gender-affirming rights and care, the country does not allow for members of the Royal Family to engage in public LGBTQ+ relationships or marriages. The aristocracy tends to follow suit and keeps relationships that aren't heterosexual as affairs, or they marry their partners after the death or divorce of their spouse (preferably after they've produced their offspring).

Additionally, Sonia grew up in a very sheltered lifestyle and wasn't really exposed to people who publicly identified as LGBTQ+ until she was a teenager. As a teen, she still believes she's heterosexual (mostly. Check out her threads with Shinobu to see how that's working out for her) and is an ally to her LGBTQ+ friends. As an adult, she's become more aware that she is indeed Not Straight but struggles with the reality of what being the next monarch entails: she has to produce a biological heir with her spouse in order to keep the monarchy going. So it's hard for her to even consider a relationship with a woman, knowing her responsibilities will eventually hurt her partner.

Her love life and eventual choice of spouse are always so much bigger than her own happiness: it will reflect on her family, the citizens, and the nation, too. It's hard for her to talk about with others, so she mostly copes in private.

Preferred pet names: She's amenable to many of them, as long as they aren't royal or hinting at an aristocratic title: princess, queen, duchess, etc. She will be the first to tell you that having a partner who 'treats you like a princess,' is a Bad Idea, Actually.

Relationship status: Depends on the verse. In all interactions, she's single until a ship is in development. In terms of active ships, I think she's only officially in a romantic relationship with Wylan/ @dcviated right now.

She's in a developing ship with Shinobu/ @quickdeaths, Gundham/ @the-ultimate-muses, Gundham/ @phantasmalnightmare, Ryuji/ @electricea, and I think Lupin/ @scarlxtleaves? All of her other ships haven't had active interactions for quite awhile so I think they're dormant for now.

I do like ships, but I write the most slow-burn of slow-burn romances so I appreciate the muns who enjoy that too! I have romantic ships I'd love to write for her but it's a matter of finding an active writing partner whose style works with mine and is writing a canon or OC muse that I think she'd both be attracted to and would be fun to explore.

Opinion on true love: Sonia wants to believe in it. She's more optimistic about it the younger she is. The older she is and the more romantic attraction and relationships she experiences, the more she's less sure about it. Or at least, less sure about a true love that both satisfies what she's personally looking for in a partner and the responsibility she has as princess to choose a suitable spouse.

Opinion on love at first sight: Sonia was sure this didn't exist. Until the day she met Gundham Tanaka: that was the first and only time she fell for someone at first sight. She can be attracted to someone, yes, but really fall for them? That's a Gundham-exclusive habit.

How ‘romantic’ are they?: Sonia makes an effort to be romantic, because there's so much of her life where she's not allowed to be romantic. Public displays of affection, for one, aren't allowed, especially in her adult years unless it's for a specific purpose (engagement photos, wedding, etc.). Too much affection makes people uncomfortable, or so the Royal Family is raised to believe. So she makes up for it in private: messages to those she loves of encouragement, of admiration, of deep respect and adoration for everything they are. Quality time as soon as she's able to get it. Gifts she hopes they really like. And if they're sharing a bed, she will sleep with her arms and legs wrapped around them. As a child she was always afraid and unhappy when her parents left her behind for business trips or royal appearances that were unfit for children, and so she'd hug her pillow in response for comfort. In relationships, that translates to her partner. Good luck getting up to use the restroom, or use of your arm, once Sonia has locked on.

Ideal physical traits: Chest. Discourse.

Jokes aside, she likes people who are moderately to very physically fit (she wants to snuggle those muscles/chest), more on the taller (or at least above average height) side, and often gravitates towards brunettes or redheads. Also see: pretty goths.

Ideal personality traits: People who are kind to others! Living things of all sorts: are you good with cheering up and/or looking after kids? How about tending to wounded and/or neglected animals? Or volunteering for charities? Yeah, that is very attractive to her.

She also appreciates someone well-read, with a sharp wit, a sense of humor, and often a tender, soft side most people don't usually get to experience and appreciate.

A sense of adventure, an interest in other cultures besides their own, and respects, if not has a personal interest, in her hobbies? Please, leave her your phone number/Instagram/LINE info.

Unattractive physical traits: Sonia isn't usually physically attracted to people shorter and slighter than she is. Same goes for those who are often ill. She just...likes some muscles, ok?

Unattractive personality traits: People who put her on a pedestal/Kazuichi Soda, rude people, bullies, snobs, greed, selfishness, vulgarity, gold diggers, closemindedness, and much of the upper class who embody these traits.

There's a reason why my ideal rivals-to-lovers ship is Sonia/Byakuya Togami.

Ideal date: She's mostly just happy to spend time with the person she loves whenever she gets it!

But Sonia does enjoy: trips to the movies (horror and/or anime, if she's picking the film), visits to the bookstore (will you help her hold her bags because she always buys too much!), exploring a cafe (new or an old favorite. Desserts are a must!), riding every roller coaster and haunted house attraction at an amusement park, basking in the quiet of nature, perusing a city she's either never been before or absolutely loves, investigating haunted locations, and summoning demons.

Do they have a type?: Sonia says she doesn't, I disagree. Her ships tend to fall into one of three categories, and they can be combined:

Witty disasters (if they need to be muzzled because of their teasing or over-the-top flirtation, they belong here)

Muscled himbos/bimbos (applies to all genders. If your muse is sweet and kind but likely isn't going to graduate top of their class but are pretty physically fit, they belong here)

Goths. (This is occupied by Gundham and Shinobu so far)

There certainly have been outliers before, but in general, it's these three categories.

Average relationship length: Barring her first relationship, quite a long time. Sonia usually either marries her partner or they suffer a terribly emotional breakup that she is still, in a way, recovering from. She's not a one-night stand or casual relationships sort of person.

Preferred non-sexual intimacy: Curling up in their lap, sleeping with them, having them curl up in her lap while she strokes their hair, reading to them while interspersing kisses here and there (bonus if the scene is a spicy one), watching a TV show or movie together, eating food her partner has cooked (it is not advisable to do the inverse unless the date is ending at the hospital).

Apparently discussing serial killers in a 50 kilometer radius of their location, seeking out ghosts, and trying to contact demons does not count as non-sexual intimacy but Sonia has yet to accept this.

Opinion of public affection: She wishes she could, she really does! She would love to be able to kiss her partner in public, if just on the cheek, and snuggle in close to their side to keep warm (and feel their arms, let's be real). She would love to pull them close into a hug that lasts just a little too long to be platonic and friendly. She would love to whisper something terribly indecent, only for them to hear and be forced to think about the rest of the day until they are alone.

Instead, there's just a lot of lewd handholding going on. Intertwining fingers, reverent caresses, and maybe a little of looking at her partner's lips and wishing she could taste them right in that moment.

Patience is a virtue.

Past relationships?: You must obtain a certain amount of relationship time and experience with Sonia to unlock this trauma. So far, no one has reached that level (yet).

And in most of her ships, it's presumed she has dated Gundham in the past (except in her ships with Gundham).

Finally, my toxic romantic shipping trait is that our ship will get at least one (1) Taylor Swift song that gives me Their Vibes. This is non-negotiable.

[unkwndream]

of course mark is interrupting the pipe laying session. minors do not interact.

WC: 0.5k

pairing: haechan x fem!reader ft. mark

a/n: this is my first ever post! this was just gathering dust in my drafts so hopefully it’s not too bad. I had a bit of fun with it so enjoy plz!! ><

“Fuck~” Haechan is already gripping your hips, trying to ground himself from how tight you are. The overwatch game on the screen behind you has been completely forgotten at this point.

With your hands on his shoulders, you slowly slide yourself up and down on his cock. You can’t help but moan at the feeling of him stretching you so deeply. Haechan has his head tossed back against the gaming chair headrest, hips lifting to meet your cunt.

“You’re so good to me, baby. Fuck.” Haechan whines, his eyes squeezing shut. A loud ding echoes in the room and you falter for a second, but seeing the state of bliss Haechan is in, you choose to ignore it.

Ding.

Ding.

A huff leaves your lips at the distraction. “Hyuck, can you turn off your phone?” You stop bouncing on his cock for a moment. He whines but still gives in, “Hand it to me, then.”

Reaching behind you, you grab his phone off his desk and hand it to him but just as he went to mute it, it rings. Haechan groans at the interruption but answers the call, pulling the phone up to his ear while tapping your hip, motioning you to continue fucking him. You do what he wants and begin sliding back down onto him, giggling slightly as you watch his eyes roll back into his head.

“Mark, I’m quite literally in the middle of having sex. What do you want?” Haechan immediately speaks into the phone, his breathing heavy and uneven. You tried your best to hold in the moans that you were so desperate to release, the smallest whimpers escaping your lips.

“W-what? Are you being serious right now, Hyuck?” You faintly hear Mark ask. Haechan doesn’t even respond, just placing the phone down on the armrest and putting it on speaker and attaching his hands back on your hips. “Fuck, oh my god.” He moans, arching his back up into you.

“Dude, why the hell would you answer the phone? Oh my god.” Mark groans, clearly embarrassed to listen to what’s going on. “Not my fault you keep— m’fuck, blowing up my phone. Now, wha-what did you want?” Haechan quickly yet breathlessly replied.

“I was just gonna ask to hang out but-” Mark suddenly gets cut off by a loud moan that rips through your throat from Haechan rubbing at your clit with his thumb.

“I’m gonna hang up.” Mark speaks again, voice sounding slightly shaky. Grabbing his phone, Haechan clicks the FaceTime button, “Answer it, Mark.”

You hear the shaky sigh that leaves Mark’s mouth before hearing the sound of the FaceTime being accepted. Haechan flips the camera, showing Mark where your bodies are connected, “How about you come over instead?”

Mark gasps, watching intensely at Haechan slowly dragging his fingers down your body and attaching to your clit once more. The whimper you let out is enough to have Mark respond, voice strained, “y-you’re insane, Hyuck…”

“Wouldn’t it be fun, baby? You can take us both, can’t you?” Haechan asked, his tone teasing. You vigorously nod, and drop a hand to grab his wrist, feeling a bit overstimulated. “I-I… I’m on the way.” Mark mumbles, embarrassed at himself for even giving into Haechan’s antics.

© unkwndream 2025

[yanadolls]

BABYGIRL, I LOVED YOU ON A LONELY NIGHT

||| FEATURING: NAGI SEISHIRO X FEM READER

||| 18+, MDNI ── .✦ thigh riding, dry humping, praising, cumming untouched (kinda?), petnames, nsfw under cut

||| AN: this was requested by someone but i'm dumb asf and accidentally deleted the draft and lost the req 😭 to whoever asked for this i hope you see this and i'm sorry!!

ᯓ☆

"s-sei, please.." you whimpered, panties already soaking under your skirt. it would've been a normal saturday afternoon if you weren't currently on your boyfriend's lap, desperately humping against his strong thigh, which he only occasionally bounced to contribute. nagi's eyes were glued on his phone, the sound of shooting coming from it. was he seriously playing a game while you were over here, starving for him?!

"please.. want you so bad!"

your whining made nagi sigh softly, hazel eyes trailing to you. he wasn't intentionally neglecting you, rather, he was just exhausted after his practice today. his phone remained in his hands as he played his video game, attention half on you.

"mh. just grind against me, angel. m'too lazy.."

you wanted to protest, but knowing your boyfriend, this was the best you were gonna get when he was tired. nagi's eyes bored into you as he bounced his knee a couple times to rub his thigh against your sensitive cunt, making you squirm. your hands grabbed his biceps as you let out a sharp breath, slowly moving up and down against the muscle. whines left your mouth as your slick seeped through the fabric of your panties, wetting them even more. at this point, you would take anything.

"sei.." you moaned his name, grinding down against his thigh which flexed under your body. nagi was getting distracted by your movements, not that he was complaining, but it did eventually lead him to getting a game over screen. with another sigh, he placed his phone down and finally brought his full attention to you, larger hands moving to grab your waist to halt your grinding. before you could complain, he slowly dragged your body over his crotch, clothed pussy pressed against the growing tent in his pants. you cried at the feeling, head falling against his chest. god, how you wanted to ride him.

"aah, o-oh sei.. you feel so big already."

"i'm not even fully hard yet, though."

despite his words, he was incredibly flattered deep down. his hips jerked into yours, causing you both to groan out at the feeling. you pressed down against his boner, grinding down hard against your boyfriend to get as much pleasure as you could to get both of you more aroused. even without technically fucking you, he still made your head spin and made you feel so good with minimum effort. his dick grew in his pants, twitching as your wet cunt rubbed against his shorts- it made it difficult for nagi to not just rip off your sopping panties and thrust into you and take you on the couch right there. however, he held back, slowly rolling his hips against yours. moaning and grunts filled your living room as a surprising yet familiar tightness formed in your core, signaling your release was close. nagi's hands trailed down to your thighs, grabbing them and bringing you as close as possible.

"close.. think m'close!"

nagi gently pressed a kiss to your temple, sleepy yet lustful eyes gazing at you. he didn't reply verbally, instead just humping up against you in return, making a mess of you both. with a lewder moan, you came in your panties, pressing down harshly against the snowy haired man which only caused him to hiss out quietly.

"oh, seishiro!"

only after your high ran out did you feel embarrassment course through your veins, cheeks flushing. you hadn't meant to cum from just simple dry humping and grinding, but mistakes happen don't they? nagi's tongue clicked as your cum began spilling out of the tiny fabric, dripping onto his shorts.

"oh my god, i-i'm sorry sei-"

"nah, don't be," he immediately assured, "was so cute."

he eased your flustered emotion with a small peck to the forehead, picking you up in his stronger arms to take you to the bathroom to clean up. little did you know, he had stained his boxers in white as well, but was too shy to say.

AN: i really liked doing this request! as always, they're open and i'm very bored lol so feel free to give me something to write!

[lowaltitude]

Tonight I Might 🌐 | Min Ho Moon

- XO Kitty - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Min Ho x FEM!reader, in which Y/N, a sarcastic, occasionally shy but mostly chaotic American student at KISS, accidentally texts the wrong number after a bad date. The person who replies is unexpectedly charming — and weirdly invested. They text. A lot 𖥻 texting. includes social media profiles. American accuracy may vary as i'm an Australian that's never left the country. 𖥻 almost 15k WORDS. cringe? been in my drafts for a while.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

───── Thursday, September 12, 2024 – 8:13 PM

ME: If you ever want to humble yourself, go on a blind date set up by your aunt’s friend’s dog groomer. I repeat: dog groomer. remind me to never let anyone set me up again. he ordered for me without asking. he said i “looked like a salad girl.” SALAD. GIRL.

I hit send, fully expecting my roommate Jayne to send back an “omg” and a hundred skull emojis.

Instead…

UNKNOWN: …was he wrong tho? 🥗 also, hi. who are you and why are you telling me about your tragic salad-based love life?

I looked at the screen. Oh god, wrong number. I’d just trauma-dumped on a total stranger.

ME: OH MY GOD sorry!!! wrong number!!! please ignore!! (and for the record i am a fries girl) UNKNOWN: fries > salad. now i trust you. wait tho. how bad was the date? scale of 1 to criminal charges.

I hesitated. Then typed.

ME: a solid 7. he said his love language was “alpha energy.” i said mine was “not that.” then he asked me what i was doing in seoul and when i said “school,” he asked if i was studying how to be prettier UNKNOWN: wow. ok yeah. certified garbage man. 🚩🚩🚩

I laughed. Like, actually laughed out loud alone on the train.

ME: thanks, random internet therapist. you’ve been oddly helpful. do i owe you money or…? UNKNOWN: first session is always free 🤫

I shoved my phone into my pocket and trudged in to the dorms like a soldier returning from war. A war of bad vibes, unwanted kale, and weaponized masculinity.

When I walked into our room, Jayne was sitting cross-legged on her bed, face mask on, aggressively swiping on her phone.

“You survived,” she said without looking up. “I was about ten minutes from sending in a fake emergency text.”

I collapsed onto my bed with a theatrical groan. “Never again.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Blind date,” I said into my pillow. “Set up by my aunt’s friend’s dog groomer.”

Jayne looked up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh no.”

“He talked about crypto. He called himself an ‘alpha.’ And he ordered a salad for me because I ‘look like a salad girl.’”

Jayne ripped the face mask off her skin like a dramatic reveal on reality TV. “He did not.”

“Dead serious. He said it with full confidence. Like he was doing me a favor by denying me actual food.”

Jayne gagged. “That’s actually a war crime.”

“I’m swearing off dating. Forever.”

She tossed the mask into the trash and sighed. “Honestly, same. I found out today that the love of my life is apparently seeing someone new. Again.”

I sat up just enough to squint at her. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Jayne—”

“Let me grieve.”

“Please do not say—”

“Min Ho Moon.”

I dropped back down with a groan. “Jayne.”

“What? He’s beautiful. He’s got movie-star cheekbones and the emotionally unavailable energy of a K-drama second lead. I’m just a girl with dreams.”

“You’ve said, like, four words to him. Total.”

She shrugged. “They were impactful.”

“They were ‘Hi,’ ‘excuse,’ ‘me,’ and ‘thanks.’”

Jayne narrowed her eyes. “You don’t get it. It’s about the vibe. He’s effortlessly cool and also probably a little dead inside. It’s hot.”

I snorted. “He’s just another guy who doesn’t care to fall in love.”

Jayne flopped onto her back, clutching her pillow dramatically. “Exactly. And somehow… that makes me want him more. It’s giving Shakespearean tragedy. I’m Juliet. He’s… not even noticing me.”

“Yeah” I rolled over to face the ceiling, pulling out my phone again. “I think you’re reading the wrong Shakespeare if you think Romeo doesn’t notice Juliet” The unknown number stared back at me. No name. No face. But weirdly, not the worst part of my night.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

KISS had a special talent for making even the most interesting subjects feel like watching paint dry. My psych professor was currently monologuing about cognitive bias while I was staring at a half-dead pen doodle of a coffee cup in my notebook.

Jayne sat next to me, texting someone under the desk with a grin that probably meant chaos. I glanced over just in time to see her type “what if we put the frog in his backpack 😭🧪” before she locked her screen and leaned her head dramatically on my shoulder.

“Bored,” she whispered.

I was about to whisper back when my phone buzzed in my jacket pocket.

───── Monday, September 16, 2024 – 10:32 AM

UNKNOWN: The curiosity is eating away at me. Please tell me you’ve heard from the salad guy again.

I blinked. Oh. Them.

I hadn’t thought about wrong number in a few days. Life had been busy — new classes, Jayne’s ongoing delusion spiral, and a tragic lack of decent coffee on campus.

But somehow, the text made me smile.

I glanced around, subtly tilted my phone away from the professor’s view, and typed back:

ME: unfortunately yes. he dm’d me to say he had a “revolutionary second date idea” UNKNOWN: oh no. ME: he wants us to go on a “cleanse” together. 3 days. no caffeine, no gluten, no “digital distractions.” he called it a “soul alignment experience.” UNKNOWN: okay i’m calling the police. that’s a cult. ME: you joke but i’m 80% sure he’s one inspirational quote away from launching a podcast UNKNOWN: “bro with a bowl” live every sunday.

I covered my mouth with my sleeve, pretending to cough so I didn’t laugh out loud. Jayne narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously.

ME: he also said his “energy didn’t match with processed food” which is funny because i’m 98% made of pop tarts and spite UNKNOWN: so basically you’re a walking red flag to him and yet he STILL wants a second date??? this man fears nothing ME: truly. fearless. possibly just really dumb UNKNOWN: personally i think your second date with him should be a stock exchange like get each other a gift that keeps on giving from some 40-year-old broker 로맨틱.

I let out an unholy snort that made Jayne physically flinch. I waved it off.

ME: not the hangul. you did not bilingual-sarcasm me UNKNOWN: i contain multitudes. ME: my friends keep warning me not to talk to strangers on the internet and yet here you are texting me your weird finance date ideas mid-lecture UNKNOWN: you started it. ME: i’m not even sure how we got here tbh UNKNOWN: you trauma-dumped about a salad i stayed for the personality

I looked at the screen for a second too long.

ME: fine. what do i call you unless you want to be “??” forever

There was a long pause. The dots blinked, disappeared. Came back.

UNKNOWN: let’s not ruin a good thing mystery keeps it interesting ME: wow. so you like being a question mark ??: never said that. ME: didn’t deny it either

Jayne was watching me now. Fully staring.

“Okay,” she said. “Who’s texting you and why do you look like you just got proposed to by a mystery novel?”

I dropped my phone face-down on the desk. “No one. I’m in class. I’m being studious.”

Jayne raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Studious and suspicious.”

I ignored her. But under the desk, my phone buzzed again.

??: also i feel like you owe me for ruining my day with that cleanse story ME: you offered yourself as emotional support i just took you up on it ??: i want a refund ME: take it up with the dog groomer

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

KISS cafeteria energy was feral at best: people yelling across tables, someone blasting a remix of KATSEYE from their AirPods like we all asked, and my sad little bowl of rice getting colder by the second.

Jayne had vanished “just to grab tea” ten minutes ago, which meant she was probably stalking the path a cute boy took between physics and lunch.

Leaving me to mindlessly scroll instagram.

“Okay, but seriously,” I heard Kitty’s voice from a table nearby. “is it just me or are there way more Americans this year?” she said

Q glanced up from his tray. “It’s an international school, Kitty.”

“I know,” she said, exasperated. “But another one just moved into my dorm. Like late transfer. She’s… a lot.”

“A lot how?” Q asked, already grinning.

Kitty leaned in, lowering her voice like she was letting him in on state secrets. “Super bubbly. Big smile. Always saying things like ‘blessed’ and ‘God put me here for a reason.’”

“Oh,” Q said.

“Yeah.”

“Religious?”

“Extremely,” Kitty whispered. “She offered to pray for me when I told her my curling iron broke.”

Q snorted.

Kitty leaned back. “I mean, she’s nice! Like, so nice. But it’s like… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like she’s acting. Like she turns it on for different people.”

“Like code-switching, or like… fake?”

Kitty hesitated. “I’m trying not to be judgy, but—yeah. Kind of fake. Like, she’s one way when it’s just us, and then suddenly she’s a different person if boys walk by.”

“Sounds like someone you need to investigate.”

Kitty smiled. “Already on it.”

I looked back down at my phone, chewing slowly. I hadn’t met a new American girl yet. But I could already feel Jayne trying to befriend her in spirit.

Just as I was about to close Instagram, a notification buzzed at the top of my screen.

───── Tuesday, September 17, 2024 – 1:02PM

??: do koreans have something against soft bread i just bit into this roll and it fought back

My mouth twitched up before I could stop it.

ME: welcome to the land of aggressive carbs ??: it’s like eating a baseball with sesame seeds ME: bold of you to assume that wasn’t intentional maybe the roll has beef ??: now i’m imagining you in a food fight your weapon is a tray of emotional support carbs ME: you joke but i did once launch a bagel at someone in eighth grade it hit a priest in the face ??: oh wow that’s top-tier religious trauma proud of you

I laughed under my breath. Kitty and Q were still whispering about Stella a few tables over. Jayne was nowhere to be seen. And here I was, texting a complete stranger about bread violence like it was the most normal thing in the world.

??: I just got to my school cafeteria chaos. someone just ran past holding only a spoon and a juice box i fear for my life

Jayne dropped into the seat across from me like she was returning from war. Her iced tea nearly sloshed over the edge.

“You will never guess who I just saw with that new girl Stella,” she said, out of breath.

I barely glanced up. “Who?”

“Min Ho.”

I looked up.

“And they were talking,” she continued, like it was illegal. “Like, actual conversation. With full teeth smiles. He held the door for her.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds… nice?”

“That sounds like the start of betrayal,” she hissed.

“Jayne. You’ve spoken to him twice.”

“Once,” she admitted. “But we made eye contact another time, and there was something there. And now he’s out here entertaining America’s Sweetheart like I don’t exist.”

I tried not to laugh. “I’m sure he’s just being polite.”

“No one is that polite. And she’s too—peppy. I don’t trust it.”

“I think she asked if she could pray for me when I sneezed,”

“Exactly!”

I shook my head and glanced back at my phone, just as it buzzed again.

??: if i disappear it’s because i got taken out by a stampede of toddlers with kimchi bowls tell my story

ME: i’ll make sure they put “fell heroically in cafeteria chaos” on your headstone w/ honor and too much sesame oil

??: honestly? not a bad way to go

I was smiling when Jayne leaned across the table, her iced tea sloshing dangerously close to my tray.

“Who is that,” she asked. “You’ve been texting them for days.”

I shrugged. “Wrong number. Kind of stuck.”

Jayne’s face lit up like a conspiracy theorist who finally found a red string to connect two pins. “You’re still texting the wrong number person?! You’re in a full-on anonymous romance.”

“It’s not a romance.”

“Oh please. You’re blushing.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. You look like you just got complimented by a K-drama second lead in the rain.”

I stared at her. “That’s… horrifyingly specific.”

Before she could say something else dramatic, my phone buzzed again.

??: are all school lunches here this intense or is this just my karma catching up to me

ME: maybe cafeteria chaos is your penance for past bread crimes

??: harsh but fair

Jayne sighed dreamily, resting her chin on her hand. “This is literally a Wattpad setup.”

I ignored her, but deep down… I kind of agreed.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

My room was dark except for the low glow of my phone screen and the K-drama Jayne had passed out watching, still playing in the background. I couldn’t sleep. Blame the late-night iced coffee or the slow, soft pull of curiosity that was now a daily part of my routine.

───── Friday, September 20, 2024 – 12:48 AM

??: just saw a tiktok that said if you don’t order for the girl on a first date you’re not a real man he called himself an “alpha dating strategist” and now i want to launch myself into the sun

I snorted out loud and texted back immediately.

ME: please don’t i need you alive for more cafeteria commentary

??: sorry but he said “masculine dominance is choosing her salad for her” and i can’t go on

ME: do it for the bread rolls stay strong

??: fine i’ll survive but only because my bread-based trauma has made me emotionally resilient

I stared at the screen for a minute, smiling faintly. And then, before I could stop myself—

ME: so i figured out you’re in high school too but how old are you? and you’re a boy, right?

The three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

??: 17 boy unless i’ve been lied to my entire life and you?

ME: same and yes girl unless i’ve been lied to

??: glad we cleared that up i was starting to imagine you as a 47-year-old dentist with a tiktok addiction

ME: bold of you to assume dentists don’t deserve meaningful anonymous friendships too

??: no one deserves anonymous friendship more than dentists

I hesitated for a second, then typed:

ME: you figured out i’m not Korean, huh?

??: i had a feeling some of your phrasing is… creative lol you use “very much” in weird places also your sarcasm is aggressively western

ME: tragic and here i thought i was blending in flawlessly

??: it’s okay i like it

My heart did a small, dumb thing.

??: your korean’s actually not bad just not native guessing american?

ME: yeah came here for school i can usually follow convos unless people start talking fast or saying slang i’ve never heard

??: i’ll speak slowly if we ever meet in person in case you forget what a tray is

ME: you’re assuming i’d ever admit to being the bagel criminal in real life

??: i’d recognise you easy

ME: why

??: you’d be the one laughing to yourself in a crowded room typing something sarcastic about bread

ME: okay that’s… weirdly accurate

??: i’m very observant it’s my mysterious trait

I bit my lip, staring at his last message. Somehow, I felt seen in the most unexpected way.

ME: thanks for texting me tonight couldn’t sleep

??: same this was better than sleep tbh

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I got to class early — not because I was trying to impress anyone, but because I needed a win today, and “claiming the window seat” was an achievable goal.

Outside, the campus was buzzing: scooters whirring, music leaking from someone’s open dorm window, the faint sound of laughing somewhere nearby. Normal KISS energy.

I set my bag down, pulled out my notes, and reached for my phone out of habit. Nothing new. Not that I expected anything — we didn’t usually text during times I had classes, and I assume he did too. We had a rhythm. Chaos at night, mostly silence in the daylight.

Still. I looked.

Still nothing.

I locked my phone again and sat back in my chair just as someone dropped into the seat next to me.

“Hey,” said a voice.

I turned — and immediately clocked the smile before the face.

It was Dae.

He gave me a quick nod like we were already halfway into a conversation. “Didn’t realize you were in this section.”

I blinked. “We’ve been in this class for three weeks.”

“I know,” he said easily. “But you’re usually back there.” He pointed toward the second-to-last row.

I squinted at him. “And you just decided to move up front too?”

“Better view,” he said.

I stared at him.

He smiled, then reached into his backpack like he hadn’t just said something vaguely flirty in the middle of economics.

Dae wasn’t flirting though — that was the thing. That was just how he talked. Polite, glowy, diplomatic. The kind of guy who didn’t have to try very hard to be liked.

Not that I cared.

Not that I was thinking about whether this could be him — the mystery texter. I wasn’t. Because it wasn’t his vibe. He was too clean-cut, too sweet. My wrong number person was…messier.

Funnier.

A little unhinged, in a good way.

Still, I glanced sideways when he took out his notebook. Just for research purposes.

Just in case.

Back in my dorm, Jayne was snoring softly under a heap of pillows, one arm dangling off the side of her bed like she’d been dropped from the sky and forgotten.

I was curled up under my blanket with my phone screen turned down low, the way you do when you're about to send a text you’re not sure you should send.

But I did it anyway.

ME: so i sat next to the nicest guy in class today and it was… unsettling

He replied a second later.

??: unsettling how like “he says hi to strangers” unsettling or “he probably volunteers for things and has a bedtime” unsettling

ME: more the second one like he’s too emotionally stable and that’s suspicious

??: a man with routine and empathy? jail

ME: THANK YOU that’s what i said (in my head)

??: was he hot though i feel like this is key information

ME: cute mostly like... smile that could get him out of multiple crimes cuteness it’s almost manipulative

??: yeah okay now i’m suspicious no one is attractive and nice and aware of your existence

ME: right?? i kept thinking like is this a bit? is this a prank?

??: probably or he’s in a bet with god

I snorted out loud and had to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from waking Jayne.

??: does he know your name or was it a “hey… person” situation

ME: he knew it which was also suspicious i’ve literally never spoken to him before

??: okay now i’m fully convinced this is a social experiment stay safe out there trust no one not even the salad guy

I laughed into my blanket.

ME: speaking of the salad guy texted me again wanted to take me to “a place with vibes” which sounds like either a candle shop or a cult

??: or a crypto seminar

ME: i should’ve just left mid-date and ordered fries for myself it would’ve saved so much emotional damage

??: personally i still think your second date should be a stock exchange show up a nice romantic 40-year-old broker in a blazer moment

ME: you’re an actual menace

??: and yet you keep texting me

I stared at that one for a second.

ME: you’re better than salad alpha guy and probably “smile that could get him out of crimes” guy too

??: bold statement i could still be a 40-year-old dentist with a fake name and a tiktok account

ME: true but at least you’re funny and that’s worth something

I didn’t send another message after that.

But I waited.

And yeah.

He didn’t reply — not right away — but I had a feeling they read it.

Somehow, that was enough.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Y/N,” Jayne said, already half in her makeup mirror, “we’re not doing sad hoodies tonight. You’re at least brushing your hair.”

“I’m literally just the background character in your romantic tragedy,” I mumbled, flopping backward on my bed.

Jayne shot me a glare through the mirror. “Incorrect. You’re the best friend who gets complimented by a hot stranger and realizes she’s been hot all along.”

“That sounds like a rushed side plot.”

“Then let’s give it a main character arc.”

I groaned but sat up, reaching for my makeup bag anyway. “Where are we even going?”

“Some rooftop café-turned-lounge downtown. There’s neon. There’s music. And I need a distraction.”

“Because the guy you’re obsessed with hasn’t looked at you in three days?”

She paused her eyeliner. “Excuse you. It’s been five. And he accidentally liked my story from three weeks ago, so that’s basically a declaration of love.”

I snorted. “Totally. Let me find a wedding venue.”

While she adjusted her glittery earrings, I pulled on jeans and stared at my pile of clothes like something cute would spontaneously reveal itself. I grabbed a cropped black cardigan and hoped the city lights would do the rest.

My phone buzzed from the desk. I grabbed it instinctively.

───── Friday, September 27, 2024 – 7:12 PM

??: currently being dragged out against my will send help or fries

I grinned and flopped back on the bed, thumbs already moving.

ME: same apparently i’m “wasting my potential” by not wearing lip gloss and flirting with strangers

??: i mean that does sound like wasted potential

ME: you don’t even know what i look like

??: i know you have good taste in fries and bad luck with men the rest writes itself

I laughed, feeling the tiniest, stupidest flutter in my chest.

Jayne yanked my phone from my hand before I could respond. “Lipstick. Now.”

“You are terrifying.”

“And yet, you love me,” she said sweetly, tossing my phone back to the bed.

I picked it up again once she turned away, heart still fluttering.

ME: where are you being dragged to?

??: some lounge thing i wasn’t paying attention too busy thinking about disappearing into the night like a misunderstood rich boy

ME: sounds like we’re headed to the same kind of place

There was a pause before he replied.

??: maybe we’ll find each other

My hands paused over the keyboard.

ME: in a city of 9 million?

??: stranger things have happened (we are only speaking because of a typo)

ME: fair

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” Jayne said, swinging her bag over her shoulder and spinning in the mirror. “We’re late to being hot in public.”

As I followed her out the door, my phone buzzed again.

??: if someone weirdly insults your music taste tonight, it’s probably me

I smiled as we stepped out into the night.

Somehow, that didn’t sound terrible.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The lounge was louder than it had any right to be.

Flashing LED strips framed the walls, pulsing in time with a playlist that sounded like someone’s playlist titled late night chaos. A DJ stood behind a glowing acrylic booth like he was summoning demons through bass drops. And the rooftop heaters were definitely for the vibe, not functionality.

I tugged my sleeves down over my hands and leaned against a metal railing, watching Jayne twirl a straw in her drink while scanning the crowd like she was on a mission. (She was.)

“He’s not here yet,” she said, frustrated. “Which is rude. I made an effort. I wore shimmer.”

“You should sue,” I said, sipping my overpriced lychee mocktail.

“I might.”

While she kept looking for her “mystery” crush (spoiler alert: it was not that mysterious), I pulled out my phone and checked it under the glow of a pink neon sign that said BE THE DRAMA.

ME: i’m surrounded by people in leather jackets one of them tried to light a candle with a matchbook from a noodle shop

??: you're at noir?

I blinked.

ME: is that what this place is called wait are you here?

??: 👀

ME: that is not an answer

??: just know if someone asks for your number using a riddle it’s probably me

I froze for half a second, glancing around the rooftop.

Was this a joke?

Jayne was now talking to someone near the bar, so I took a few steps away, scanning the crowd — but everyone looked like… everyone. Leather jackets. Heeled boots. Puffer vests. Some guy doing an actual card trick. Neon made it impossible to focus.

I turned back toward the railing, heart suddenly weird in my chest.

What if he really was here?

Not knowing who I was looking for made it worse. Or maybe better. I didn’t know.

ME: what are you wearing?

??: that feels dangerously close to a cheesy pickup line

ME: i meant so i can identify and tackle you

I laughed quietly and tucked my phone into my coat. I turned back toward the crowd — just in time to be absolutely annihilated by Q’s elbow and a very full drink.

“Oh my—!” I jumped back, staring down at my soaked shoes.

“Oh no, no no no,” he gasped, flailing napkins from nowhere like a magician. “I am SO sorry— I didn’t see you, I was just trying to wave down Kitty and—”

“You elbowed her drink-first,” a new voice said, bemused.

I looked up.

Min Ho Moon stood a step behind Q, hands in the pockets of a navy bomber jacket, hair perfectly unbothered, and expression somewhere between amused and detached. So basically: the usual.

Jayne, to my left, blinked like a deer caught in ring light.

Q handed me a stack of flimsy napkins. “Damage report?”

“Mostly pride,” I said, patting my boots. “Also I think this was white grape soda?”

“Okay, but in my defense— actually no, I have no defense.” Q sighed. “I’ll buy your next drink. Please don’t sue me.”

“I’ll consider it.”

While Q turned to dramatically apologize again, Jayne stepped forward — right into Min Ho’s line of sight.

“You’re Q’s friend, right?” she asked, putting on her best nonchalant act.

Min Ho looked at her, surprised. “I guess that depends. Am I being complimented or blamed?”

Jayne smiled. “Depends how you answer my next question.”

“…Which is?”

“What’s your name?”

His lip twitched like he was trying not to laugh. “Min Ho.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m Jayne.”

??: …romantic

He nodded, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “Nice to meet you.”

Their conversation faded into the background — something about the DJ’s taste in throwback remixes — as I stepped back to check my phone.

ME: no, not romantic. it’s going to be painful.

I hit send just as Jayne laughed at something Min Ho said — her voice bright and too loud in the moment — and slid my phone away again.

Across from me, Min Ho’s eyes flicked toward his own phone.

And then— slowly— toward me.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t react.

But when he pulled his phone out, thumbed open a message, and looked up again — I wasn’t looking his way anymore. I’d turned, half-listening to Q talk to Kitty now. Oblivious.

??: painful for you or for me?

He hit send.

And watched.

My phone light up in my hand.

I picked it up — brows furrowed — and read. No smile. But a pause.

Min Ho’s head tilted slightly. His jaw twitched.

But then Jayne said something again — something flirty, probably — and his focus snapped back.

Q disappeared somewhere around the third remix of a song I swear was in every 2015 YouTube travel vlog. Kitty had wandered off with a boy who looked like a K-pop villain. And Jayne, who I thought was flirting with Min Ho by the bar, had reappeared at my elbow looking breathless and victorious.

“Come dance with me,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. “You’re not allowed to sulk in the corner anymore. That’s my job tonight.”

“I’m not sulking...?” I said.

“You’re standing still and looking pensive under neon. That’s peak indie drama behavior.”

I didn’t have a comeback for that. Mostly because I was trying to puzzle together the weird buzz of my phone earlier and how it had seemed… timed.

I followed Jayne anyway.

The rooftop had morphed into a dance floor in the way only lounges do—messy and chaotic, lit with LED roses and bad decisions. People moved like they weren’t being watched. Or maybe because they were.

I found Eunice in the crowd, her hair glowing slightly under a blue light, and she greeted me with a “Finally!” before pulling me into whatever rhythm she was vibing to. It was warm here, bodies packed too close together, bass pressing into my chest like a second heartbeat.

It felt good to let go a little.

To not overthink.

To just move.

I spun, laughing as Eunice pointed dramatically to the DJ like she was at Coachella, and raised my hands into the air. The song shifted—something hazy and electronic. Still danceable, but a little slower. The kind of song that made eye contact feel dangerous.

That’s when I noticed him.

Min Ho.

He’d crossed from the edge of the bar and was threading through the crowd, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning until they landed on… me.

My breath caught for no reason.

He moved like someone who didn’t need to try hard to be noticed. Like the night was a set and he already knew his lighting. Like he wasn’t used to chasing.

And yet—he was walking toward me.

I blinked, heartbeat stumbling in a way that had nothing to do with the music.

He stopped a step away. Tilted his head.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was low—warm but unreadable. “Do you—?”

Before he could finish, Jayne materialized beside him, sliding smoothly between us like she belonged there.

“There you are,” she said, like she’d just bumped into him by accident. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

Min Ho hesitated. His eyes flicked to her, then back to me.

Jayne was glowing. Her lip gloss caught the lights like glitter. She leaned closer, playful. “You dance?”

Min Ho’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.

“I was talking to her,” he said, glancing toward me again.

Jayne didn’t back off. “Oh, she’s my roommate.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more. She laughed—flirty. “Y/N,” she added, before I could say it myself.

Something flickered behind his eyes.

Recognition? Maybe.

But he didn’t say anything. Just nodded, once, and turned back to me.

“Y/N,” he said, testing it out like it was a secret.

And maybe it was.

Because the moment held.

It held for too long.

Jayne nudged his shoulder. “So? Dance with us.”

Min Ho looked at her. Then at me. Then back at her. But he didn’t step forward. He just stayed where he was, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t made up his mind yet. Before anyone could say anything else—before Jayne could loop her arm through his or throw out some perfectly timed flirt—someone called my name.

Loudly.

“Y/N!”

I turned, spotting Eunice by the booth near the DJ, flanked by two girls I recognized instantly: Yuri and Julianna. Eunice was waving both arms like she was signaling an aircraft. Her drink was dangerously close to spilling.

She pointed toward me, mouthing something I couldn’t hear, then grinned and gestured me over.

Relief bloomed in my chest like a sudden inhale.

“Looks like I’ve been summoned,” I said lightly, flicking a glance at Jayne and Min Ho.

Jayne blinked at me, distracted.

Min Ho’s eyes were already on me again.

“You two have fun,” I added, giving Jayne a small nod. I meant it. I wanted to mean it.

She smiled. Barely. Her hand was still near his arm.

And so, without waiting for whatever Min Ho was about to say, I turned and slipped through the crowd. It was easier this way—easier not to wonder if he would’ve kept talking to me, easier not to know what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.

By the time I reached Eunice, the DJ was handing over a pen so she could write a request on a napkin. Yuri laughed at something Julianna said and handed me a lollipop like it was normal to have candy at a rooftop party.

It was.

At least for them.

I didn’t look back.

But if I had… I might’ve seen Min Ho standing in the same spot, hands still in his pockets, watching me weave through the crowd. Watching me leave.

Jayne leaned in a little closer to him. She’d been waiting over a year for that moment.

“Juliana,” I said, nudging her as I leaned closer. “Yuri’s completely deranged.”

She didn’t even look surprised. Just smiled into her cup and said, “Yeah, I like it.”

We watched together as Yuri and Eunice argued with the DJ like it was a business deal, waving their hands and dramatically listing reasons their song had to be played. Juliana glanced sideways at me.

“You’re Jayne’s roommate, right?”

I nodded. “Unfortunately for both of us.”

“She’s… a lot.”

“Tell me about it.”

Juliana took a small sip, then tilted her head. “You seem pretty normal though.”

I laughed. “Thanks?”

“No, I mean—like, grounded. Which is weird at this school.”

“Well, give it time. I’ll disappoint you eventually.”

She smiled. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Before I could answer, a triumphant squeal came from the booth—Eunice and Yuri were victorious.

“Come on!” Eunice shouted, linking one arm through Juliana’s and one through mine.

Yuri grabbed Juliana’s free hand, and suddenly we were being pulled toward the middle of the floor, just as the opening chords hit.

“What’s the time where you are?”

My heart did a little flip. The lights dimmed to something golden and dreamy, like honey poured over a blur. The four of us moved in sync without needing to try, lost in the beat and each other’s laughter. The lyrics poured through the speakers like something confessional. Intimate. Bigger than the rooftop.

I caught a glimpse of Kitty and Q pushing through the crowd, joining us. Q threw an arm around Eunice, who pretended to shake him off. Behind them came Dae, a little too close to Kitty, and—

Min Ho.

His jacket was gone now, sleeves rolled up, eyes cutting easily through the haze of lights and motion. Jayne was trailing behind him, all red lips and focused intention.

But for now, it didn’t matter.

We were dancing.

Yuri spun Juliana. Dae glanced toward Eunice, smiling when he thought no one was watching. I closed my eyes and let the chorus wrap around me.

“This beat is making me move…”

I sang along, quietly as the song trailed to an end

A flash of motion near my shoulder.

A hand slid around my waist—light, barely there—and I spun, caught completely off guard.

Min Ho stood in front of me, close enough to feel the warmth off his skin in the chilled air. His hands disappeared back into his pockets the second I turned to face him, like he hadn’t just touched me. Like it hadn’t happened.

He looked at me.

Really looked.

Like he was piecing together every beat, every breath, every word, every maybe.

The music blurred at the edges of the moment.

Time slowed.

“But God, I wish it was you…”

His eyes flicked down to my mouth, then back up to meet my gaze. He tilted his head like he was about to say something.

And then—

“Min Ho!”

Jayne.

She slid between us in one graceful, practiced move, reaching up without hesitation and planting a perfect kiss to his cheek. Her lipstick left a neat, cherry-red mark on his pale skin.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t look at her.

But it didn’t matter.

Because I had.

And the spell broke.

I blinked, pulse still pounding, and turned away. Eunice was beside me again, hands in the air, eyes shining with music. I bumped her shoulder gently and smiled like it didn’t sting. Like the goosebumps still raising on my arms weren’t from him. She grinned back. The next song started. I didn’t look back.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We didn’t find each other that night.

Or maybe we did — maybe we crossed paths on the stairs, or bumped shoulders by the bathrooms. Maybe he stood behind me in line and didn’t say a word.

Maybe we were just… near.

But I left with flushed cheeks, the taste of mint and sugar on my tongue, and a message waiting for me by the time I got back to my dorm.

??: i think we were close tonight weird, right?

I stared at the screen.

Smiled.

And typed:

ME: not weird. maybe we’re getting warmer.

By morning, the magic had worn off.

The music was gone, the lights were off, and my room smelled vaguely of cheap perfume and the half a hair mask Jayne left open on the windowsill.

She groaned from the other side of the room. “Why is the sun so aggressive?”

“Natural consequence of staying out until two,” I muttered, brushing my teeth in the mirror.

She flopped dramatically onto her back. “Was it even worth it?”

I thought of the music. The mint. The way his hands had gone straight back into his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them after they touched me. The kiss on his cheek that I wasn’t supposed to see.

“Ask me later,” I said.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Monday came fast and cold.

Classes blurred. I stared at my notebook for an hour in History of Korean Literature without writing a single word, except for the name of a novel I hadn’t actually read. It wasn’t until I was halfway to the cafeteria, fingers digging through my bag for my ID, that my phone buzzed again. We hadn't spoken since Friday,

??: ok so now i need to know something important do you believe in fate or are you normal about things

I slowed down on the stairs, letting people pass.

ME: i’m normal about things. but i also believe that the universe has a dark sense of humor. so. middle ground?

A pause.

??: hm. disappointing. i was hoping you’d say yes so i could use it to explain why i can’t stop texting someone i’ve never met.

I bit my lip, smiling like an idiot.

ME: you’re very dramatic. are you sure you’re not a theatre kid? ??: first of all: rude second of all: i’m just passionate and mysterious third: you didn’t actually deny that you’ve been thinking about me too

I stared. Paused. Typed. Deleted. Typed again.

ME: i plead the fifth.

??: pleading the fifth is basically a confession btw like. you didn’t even try to lie suspicious behavior from someone who claims to be “normal” about things ME: maybe i just like to keep a little mystery too balance the dramatic energy you’re bringing to the table ??: i respect that as long as you admit the energy is impressive ME: fine it’s a solid 8.5/10 very main character, very "i journal on rooftops and have an Opinions playlist" ??: 😌 thank you wait hold on do you have an Opinions playlist? ME: obviously. don’t you?

??: ...i do now. ME: i’m afraid to ask what’s on it ??: mostly songs that would play during a dramatic hallway confrontation or while someone slow-mo walks away from an explosion they probably caused ME: wow. the emotional range. ??: i contain multitudes and also: like three Frank Ocean songs i don’t fully understand but feel important

I snorted, laughing under my breath as I walked into the library and dropped into my usual corner seat.

My phone buzzed again.

??: what about you? what’s on yours?

I hesitated, then replied.

ME: okay don’t judge me but it’s a mix of sad girl indie, early 2010s angst, and korean ballads i don’t fully understand but feel important ??: we’re the same ME: i was just thinking that

There was a pause. Long enough for me to wonder if that had been too honest.

But then:

??: i’m gonna say something and you’re not allowed to make it weird i like texting you

My heart did the most annoying little flip.

ME: not weird. i like texting you too.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Lunch was too loud for thinking and too quiet to get away with screaming into the void, so I compromised by putting in my headphones and staring into the abyss of my tray. Lo-fi hummed in my ears. I stabbed at my rice half-heartedly. A shadow slid into the seat across from me. Then another. I looked up—pulled one earbud out. Juliana. Q.

“Why do you look like that?” Juliana asked, pointing her spoon at me.

“Like what?” I blinked.

“Like you just found out you’re the tragic backstory character in someone else’s romance.”

“She’s always like that,” Q said, sliding into the seat next to Juliana. “That’s just her default face.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Before either of them could roast me further, the cafeteria door opened—and they both turned toward it.

“Min Ho!” Q waved.

My stomach did something I was determined to ignore.

He sauntered over, hair perfect, uniform half-buttoned in that somehow intentional way, and the air shifted a little as he dropped into the empty seat beside me.

"Hey." His voice was low, casual.

I nodded, pretending the side of my face wasn’t starting to feel warm. “Hey.”

Juliana immediately launched into some story about Yuri trying to hack the music system in the common room, and Q jumped in with commentary, so no one really noticed when I stood.

“Gonna grab a drink,” I mumbled.

As I walked toward the vending machines, Min Ho subtly glanced after me.

Then—without saying a word—he reached out and slid my chair closer to his.

It wasn’t much. Just a few inches. Barely noticeable.

But it was enough.

He pulled his phone from his blazer pocket, holding it low beneath the edge of the table. A message already typed out, his thumb hovering over send.

??: is it you?

He didn’t hit send. Not yet. Instead, he angled his body slightly, hoping he could catch a glimpse of her screen when she came back—just something. A name. A chat bubble. A clue. The seat next to him was warmer now. And closer.

She returned, drink in hand, not noticing the difference until she sat. Then she blinked. Looked down. Then at him. His hands were in his lap. His expression unreadable.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He gave her a look. Shrugged.

“Nothing. Just…” A slow smile. “You moved closer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No I didn’t.”

He looked down at his tray, smirking. Didn’t argue. Didn’t explain. The message still sat on his screen. Unsent.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

My lamp was on low. The room was dark aside from the glow of my screen and the twinkle lights taped to the shelf above my desk. Jayne was fast asleep, finally, her face smushed against her pillow, a tear-streaked face mask drying on her cheek.

My phone buzzed first.

??: you up? ME: unfortunately yes my roommate has been emotionally spiraling for the past two hours

??: oof what’s the drama?

ME: you know that guy she’s been obsessed with for like ever? the one she’s “in love with” despite having exchanged like zero real conversations with?

??: i feel very called out right now but go on

ME: well turns out he’s been spending time with this other girl like a lot of time and she found out through some story repost or something he didn’t even tell her he was seeing anyone

??: hey hold on! as a very attractive man who’s got many girls chasing him it’s not always black and white like that

ME: wow okay king of humility go off! 겸손한

??: i’m serious though sometimes people don’t know what they want or they think they do and then someone else shows up and everything gets blurry

ME: sure but if he liked her at all he would’ve said something instead of just letting her hope and spiral and hope again she’s not the type of person who handles maybes well

??: most people aren’t but some people live in the maybes on purpose because if you don’t define anything then technically you didn’t break anything either

ME: okay socrates damn

??: i’m just saying it’s easier to not know than to know and be the bad guy

ME: maybe. but silence still hurts.

??:. yeah it does ...so does watching someone fall for someone who’s not you

ME: is that personal?

??: maybe

ME: look at us two wise, heartbroken strangers with excellent taste in midnight conversations

??: speak for yourself i’m hot and emotionally unavailable

ME: you forgot mysterious

??: right. hot, mysterious, emotionally unavailable triple threat

ME: a real catch

??: careful you’re starting to sound like one of the girls chasing me

ME: maybe i am

(Pause. A long one. Then—)

??: ...that feels like a dangerous maybe

ME: good thing you like those

??: touché

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Jayne was pacing. Not dramatically. Not stomping. Just… pacing. Tight little circles across the dorm floor in her oversized socks, hair up in a claw clip, her hoodie sleeves flapping as she gestured like she was giving a TED Talk titled Why Boys Are the Worst (Especially Hot Korean Ones With Great Bone Structure).

I sipped my iced coffee.

“I mean, we had a moment,” she insisted. “Right? You saw it, didn’t you?”

I nodded vaguely. I had seen something. I just wasn’t sure what.

Jayne flopped onto her bed, groaning into her pillow. “I don’t get it. I touched his arm. I laughed at his joke. I looked amazing.”

“You did,” I said automatically.

“I did! And he was looking at me. I swear he was looking at me like... like something was happening.”

I scrolled through my phone, not really absorbing anything.

“And then he just... disappeared. No follow-up, no messages, no vibe. He hasn’t even looked at me this week. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

I hummed in sympathy. The ice in my cup clinked softly as I tilted it to get the last bit of coffee.

Then— My phone buzzed.

I blinked.

“Huh.”

“What?” Jayne asked, flipping over to look at me.

“Juliana followed me.”

Jayne frowned. “Yuri’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Jayne narrowed her eyes like this was a conspiracy worth solving. “Have you ever even talked to her?”

I shrugged. “Kind of. The other night at the club. We were with Eunice and Yuri.”

Jayne sat up straighter. “Wait. Is this, like, a sign?”

I blinked. “Of… what?”

“I don’t know!” She flopped back down. “Something. You’re always just casually connecting with people. Meanwhile I’m over here mentally composing sad poetry to a man who won’t even blink in my direction.”

I opened Juliana’s profile. Her grid was a soft rainbow of café pics, candids of her and Yuri, aesthetics, sparkles, and a highlight reel titled Angel Baby that was just blurry selfies of Yuri kissing her cheek.

My thumb hovered over Juliana’s profile, debating whether or not I should like one of her photos. Something friendly. Not too obvious.

Jayne was still talking, muffled slightly now by her hoodie as she dramatically flopped face-down on her bed again.

“I’m just saying,” she mumbled, “if he didn’t want me to like him, why did he smile like that? Why did he do that hair thing?”

“You mean… touch his hair?”

She groaned louder. I smiled, eyes still on my phone as I clicked 'Follow back' Juliana’s grid flickered for a second, then refreshed. A new follower count. And right as I started to lock my screen— Bzzzzzt. A message popped up.

??: what’s your go-to coffee order? i’m asking for very important character analysis reasons

I stared.

Then slowly looked over at my empty iced coffee cup.

Was he psychic?

ME: i don’t think revealing that kind of info is safe. you could figure out too much about me ??: exactly. that’s the goal ME: …iced americano. extra ice. minimal hope. ??: so you’re a tragic protagonist hot ME: hot and sad is kind of my brand ??: noted also just walked past someone in a hoodie that looked suspiciously like the one you wore out the other night had to resist the urge to tap their shoulder and dramatically confess i was in love with their posture ME: that would’ve been a bold move 10/10 would’ve panicked and run ??: maybe next time i’ll risk it

Absolutely — time to bring that nosy best friend energy back in. Here’s the continuation, right after the last text exchange:

I grinned at my screen, thumbs hovering as I debated a response.

Before I could type anything else—

“Okay,” Jayne said, lifting her face from her pillow with suspicious squinting eyes. “Who is it?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She sat up like a vulture catching the scent of a secret. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. You’ve been grinning like a weirdo for the past five minutes. And you were texting at the club too. And at lunch yesterday.”

“I text a lot of people,” I said casually, locking my phone.

She crossed her arms. “Mmhmm. Is it… Juliana?”

“What? No!”

“Then who?”

“No one.”

“You’re lying.” She leaned across the narrow space between our beds, eyes narrowed. “You only get that look when you’re texting someone who makes your stomach do the swoopy thing.”

“My stomach is not swooping.”

Jayne raised an eyebrow. “So it’s a boy.”

I made a face. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God, it is a boy.”

“I literally never said that.”

Jayne gasped. “Is it that guy from chem lab who asked to borrow your pencil?”

“What? No.”

“Please tell me it’s not the salad guy.”

“Absolutely not the salad guy.”

She squinted. “...Wait. Is it someone I know?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

Jayne squealed, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to her chest. “Okay, now I have to know. What’s his name? What’s he like? Is he cute?”

I smiled and leaned back on my bed, arms behind my head.

“Honestly?” I said. “I don’t know his name.”

Jayne blinked. “You’re texting a boy and you don’t even know his name?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re either insane or in a rom-com.”

“Can’t I be both?”

Jayne groaned. “This is the most frustrating thing you’ve ever done. And you once deleted an entire dating app just because a guy used the wrong ‘your.’”

“That was fair.”

“Ugh,” she said, collapsing back onto her bed. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But if you mysteriously fall in love and elope to Seoul Tower, I’m going to be so mad I wasn’t invited.”

“Noted,” I said.

I reached for my phone again, unlocking the screen.

One new message.

??: you’re quiet should i be concerned? or is this the iced americano talking

I smiled to myself, the grin creeping back without permission.

ME: just my roommate being dramatic ignore the background noise ??: too late i feel like i’ve already been cast as the male lead in something i didn’t audition for ME: i’ll send you the script you can improvise your lines ??: bold of you to assume i haven’t been improvising this whole time

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The classroom was only half full when I dropped into my usual seat by the window, notebook in front of me, earbuds in but no music playing. Sometimes I just liked the excuse not to talk.

Didn’t always work.

A chair scraped beside me.

“Hey,” Dae said, plopping down with an easy smile, “window crew today?”

I blinked, sliding out one earbud. “Apparently.”

He set his bag on the floor and leaned back like he did this every day. “You know this unit, right?” he asked, flipping open his notebook. “Because I definitely zoned out the last two classes.”

“I know enough,” I said, smirking. “Depends how much help you want.”

“Enough to not embarrass myself would be great.”

“Ambitious.”

Dae laughed. “Look, I can’t have Min Ho making fun of me again. He was quizzing me this morning like some sadistic pop quiz machine.”

“He’s invested in your suffering.”

“Right?” He grinned. “But like, with love.”

I nodded slowly. “Very loving of him to hope you fail.”

“Exactly.” He glanced at my notes. “Your handwriting is terrifyingly neat. That’s intimidating.”

“Guess you’ll just have to suffer through my legible explanations.”

“I will. Gratefully.”

Class started to fill in around us. Q shot Dae a thumbs-up from his usual seat, and Kitty plopped beside him a moment later, already rifling through her bag.

I flipped a page in my notebook, trying to focus, but my phone buzzed in my pocket. Once.

Twice.

I glanced around and carefully checked the screen under the desk.

??: is it weird if i say i think we’re in the same building not 100% but there’s a vibe

I bit back a smile.

ME: a vibe? super specific you sound like a ghost hunter ??: i just mean the air feels… suspiciously smart and a little sarcastic which means you might be nearby ME: or maybe you’re just sitting next to someone suspiciously nice that seems like he volunteers and has a bedtime ??: 🤯 caught did you bug my phone? ME: maybe i am your phone ??: ok that got existential real fast

Dae flipped open his textbook with a sigh. “Pray for me.”

I gave a half-smile, but my attention drifted almost immediately. The hum of voices in the room. The scrape of chairs. My phone buzzed, soft and low, against the desk.

I glanced down.

??: it’s probably unlikely we’re that close again unless we secretly go to the same school which would be wild

My heart jumped a little.

ME: yeah, that would be a pretty insane coincidence borderline stalker-movie levels of fate ??: exactly like the universe is shipping something which is honestly kind of rude of it

I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. The irony of sitting here — in class, texting someone in class — wasn’t lost on me.

ME: well tell the universe to cool it i’m trying to pass chem ??: same except i’m also trying to figure out if you like sour candy or not both are important for my academic growth

I shook my head, tucking the phone back under my notebook just as the teacher walked in. Dae leaned over to ask me something about electrons, and I tried — really tried — to focus.

"Alright," the teacher said, clapping her hands once as the last few students settled in. "New unit, new partners. I’ve randomized the pairings — no complaints."

A quiet ripple of groans moved through the classroom. I kept my eyes on my notebook, hoping for literally anyone who wouldn’t be obnoxious.

“Y/N and Dae.”

Dae turned toward me with a grin already forming. “Awesome.”

I sighed. Not obnoxious — just enthusiastic.

“Great,” I muttered, but I wasn’t mad. He was actually smart, and more importantly, not the type to make me do all the work.

The teacher rattled off the rest of the pairings, then gave us our assignment sheet.

“You want to do this tomorrow?” Dae asked, already leaning in. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Sure. Library?”

He winced. “My dorm is pretty big, and empty on Saturday mornings. You’d actually be able to hear yourself think.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So… your dorm?”

He shrugged. “If that’s not weird?”

I hesitated. It wasn’t weird… just unfamiliar. But Dae was one of the safest people I knew here.

“Alright,” I said. “Tomorrow morning. Don’t sleep through it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grinned, tapping his pencil against his notebook, and I gave him a small, amused shake of my head before looking back down.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Saturday morning was quiet on campus, the kind of soft stillness that only came with early hours and a school full of students who’d stayed out too late the night before.

I knocked lightly on the dorm door, gripping my iced coffee and trying not to look like I’d already checked my reflection four times on the walk over.

Dae opened the door in sweats and a lopsided hoodie, hair wet like he’d just showered. “Morning,” he said, stepping aside. “You’re early.”

“You said eleven-thirty,” I shrugged, stepping into the room.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come at eleven-thirty.”

I gave him a look. “I take chemistry — and punctuality — very seriously.”

He laughed, leading me to his desk. “That’s exactly why I picked you.”

The dorm was warm and smelled faintly of toast and body wash. His side was neat, laptop already open. The other side — not so much. Hoodie on the floor, charger tangled, a designer cologne bottle turned on its side on the dresser. A faint hum of soft music filtered from behind a closed door. I didn't have to guess whose it was.

We started working — him half-focused, me fully — and fell into an easy rhythm. It didn’t take long for Dae to relax. He leaned back as I explained something about molecular orbitals and made a dumb joke about chemistry being a better matchmaker than Kitty.

I rolled my eyes, laughing quietly. “Do you say that about every girl in your class?”

“Only the ones who don’t hate me,” he grinned.

And then— A door creaked. I didn’t turn, but I heard the shuffle of feet and the unmistakable thump of someone bumping into a table.

“Dae,” a familiar voice croaked, low and still raspy with sleep. “If you and Kitty are gonna be so loud this early, I’d at least like a warning.”

I froze. Dae laughed, entirely unbothered. “It’s not Kitty, man.”

Behind me, I heard him walk into the small kitchenette, bare feet on tile, a cabinet door opening. And then, silence.

“…Oh.”

I turned.

Min Ho stood there, blinking at me over the lip of a coffee mug he hadn’t poured anything into yet.

His hair was a full-on mess — fluffy and wild, like he’d rolled out of a dream and into the kitchen. Worse, he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

And unfortunately for me, I absolutely noticed.

His eyes met mine, and I could feel the second realization hit both of us. There was this brief flicker of something — surprise, discomfort, something close to curiosity — before he glanced away, rubbing his hand through his hair like he could undo the moment.

“Y/N,” he said, like he was reminding himself.

“Min Ho,” I replied.

Dae looked between us, confused. “You guys… know each other?”

Min Ho didn’t answer. He just reached for the instant coffee and turned his back.

“Sort of,” I said, forcing a small smile. “The school’s not that big.”

“Right,” Min Ho said, his voice casual — too casual. “Small world.”

I gave a quick shrug, casual. “We really met at that, uh… last Friday. When we were all at that rooftop place.”

“Ohhh,” Dae nodded. “Oh Right, yeah! You were there too. That makes sense.”

Min Ho set the mug down with a soft clink, not looking at either of us. “Small world.” He repeats.

I forced a smile and turned back to the desk, opening my laptop. “Anyway. Let’s figure out how not to blow up the lab on Monday.”

Dae laughed, pulling his notes closer. “You say that like it’s a possibility.”

“It’s always a possibility with you.”

Behind us, Min Ho padded back toward his room, slower this time. I didn’t look, but I felt it again — the shift in energy. Like he was still trying to piece something together.

He didn’t say anything else.

But the silence he left behind buzzed like a low frequency.

And maybe it was all in my head… But I could’ve sworn he lingered in the doorway just a second longer than necessary.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The moment I walked through our door, Jayne launched at me like a heat-seeking missile.

“YOU WERE IN THEIR ROOM?!”

I didn’t even get a chance to put my coffee down. “Hi to you too.”

She grabbed the cup straight from my hand and took a dramatic sip. “What was it like? Did it smell nice? How does it look? Did you see their beds? Did it smell like him? Or expensive soap? Or testosterone and wealth?”

I dropped my bag by the door. “First of all, you’re unwell. Second, no. I didn’t see their rooms.”

Jayne’s face fell. “What?”

“They’ve got one of those bigger dorms,” I said, toeing off my shoes. “Like… common area up front, bedrooms behind closed doors. I wasn’t invited past the desk, Jayne.”

“But you were in the apartment.” She grabbed a pillow from my bed and hugged it to her chest. “You breathed the same air.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you gonna frame that sentence?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered. “Was he there? Did you see him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Jayne bolted upright. “Unfortunately?! What does that mean?!”

I groaned and flopped onto my bed. “He came out halfway through studying. No shirt. Messy hair. Thought I was Kitty and told us to keep it down next time. Then he saw me and just… froze.”

Jayne stared at me, eyes huge. “That’s it. That’s the end of me. I’m deceased. You saw him shirtless and in his element.”

“I was not trying to see anything,” I said. “It was a jump scare.”

“But like… a hot jump scare?”

I rolled over so I didn’t have to look at her anymore. “You need help.”

“You need to appreciate how close you were to becoming Mrs. Jayne Min Ho Moon.”

I laughed into my blanket, but somewhere under the humor, the image of him standing in the kitchen — mug in hand, voice still rough from sleep — stayed burned in my brain.

And worse, I didn’t even hate it.

Later that night, I curled deeper into my comforter, my phone resting on my chest. The room was dim, lit only by Jayne’s lamp across the room — she was at her desk, humming along to a worship playlist, journaling with her usual rainbow of pens.

I hesitated, then opened my messages.

ME: can I ask for some crazy person advice?

A beat. Then:

??: always my specialty. what flavor of crazy we talkin

I chewed my lip, typing slowly.

ME: you know how my roommate is insane and believes she’s in love with some guy she’s spoken to for like half a second? ??: ah yes the delulu epidemic tragic but common ME: yeah well I think maybe I’m starting to feel something for him and I’ve said maybe five words to him am I losing my mind?

It took a little longer this time. I stared at the screen, wondering if I’d overstepped, if this was too weird or too soon or just too much.

??: i don’t think feelings are crazy they don’t usually follow logic they just… show up and sometimes the ones that come out of nowhere hit the hardest stay the longest I felt my heart thud unevenly. ME: so I’m not a total maniac? ??: you might be a little doomed but definitely not a maniac

I smiled down at the screen.

ME: doomed how ??: the fun kind the kind that might just be worth it

I stared at his last message, trying to keep from grinning too obviously. Across the room, Jayne had put on a face mask and was now lying upside down on her bed with her legs up the wall, completely unaware of the tiny storm happening in my chest.

Another buzz.

??: get some sleep we’ll continue our descent into madness tomorrow 🖤

I blinked at the little heart.

Not a red one. Not too serious. Just… a black heart. The exact shade of sarcasm I needed.

I typed back slowly, carefully.

ME: night, enabler

Then I locked my phone and rolled onto my side, heart stupidly full.

Because it was just a little emoji. Just a word or two.

But it felt like maybe… someone saw me. Even if they didn’t quite know me yet.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

It was one of those perfect slow Saturdays — warm sun, cool breeze, the low hum of the city moving around me.

I sat tucked into the corner of a tiny café patio, earbuds in, chin resting on one hand as I tore off bits of a chocolate croissant and sipped my Iced Americano. My table was shaded just enough, the noise of cars and bikes and passing conversation distant under my playlist.

I didn’t even notice him at first. I was mid-sip, scrolling idly through my camera roll, when a sharp knock-knock sound startled me — two knuckles rapping lightly against the metal tabletop.

I looked up. And choked. Only slightly, just stupidly choked on a mouthful of coffee. Min Ho was standing there, phone still in one hand, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I swallowed quickly, coughing into my sleeve. He raised an eyebrow.

“Can I sit?” he asked, head tilted slightly. “Or is your… friend here?”

I blinked. My brain lagged behind the moment.

“Jayne?” I said, wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin.

He gave a tiny shrug. “Yeah. The one who looks at me with big eyes like I ran over her dog.”

“It's definitely not in that way,” I said weakly. His smirk widened. I looked at the empty chair across from me, then back up at him. “She’s not here.”

“Good,” he said simply, and slid into the seat.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I tugged one earbud out. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned back in the chair, finally tucking his phone into his coat pocket. “I was walking. Talking to my mom. She was asking if I’m eating enough and if I’m dating anyone yet. I told her to lower her expectations.” I snorted into my coffee.

He nodded toward my drink. “Extra ice?”

“Is there another way?”

Min Ho smiled at me across the table, easy and soft, like he wasn’t the most intimidating boy at our school or the guy my roommate thought she was destined to marry. And for the first time, it felt like maybe… maybe he didn’t want to be that guy around me. Maybe he just wanted to be him. He drummed his fingers once on the tabletop before settling them in his lap. The silence that fell wasn’t awkward — just light. Quiet. Like neither of us minded it.

“So,” he said, glancing at the pastry still in front of me. “Chocolate croissant?”

“It’s a personality trait at this point,” I replied.

He grinned. “I can respect that.”

A breeze passed through, catching a piece of my hair and sending it across my face. I brushed it away, catching the way his eyes followed the movement, lingering for just a second too long before he looked away.

“What about you?” I asked. “What’s your personality pastry?”

“Pain au raisin,” he said immediately. “But I don’t eat them in public. It’s too… exposed.”

I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes wide with mock offense. “You can’t be Min Ho Moon and eat swirly bread with raisins in public. There’s a reputation to maintain.”

“You’re literally wearing sunglasses indoors half the time. I think your reputation’s safe.”

He cracked a full smile then — the kind that made his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. The kind that made my stomach dip a little. My iced coffee suddenly tasted sharper.

He leaned forward a bit, elbows on the table. “So what are you listening to?”

I hesitated, then turned my phone so he could see my screen.

“Troye Sivan,” he said, reading it aloud. “Obviously.”

“Obviously?”

“You just have that look.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What look?”

He took a sip of his drink like he was thinking about how much to say. Then: “Like you’d write entire essays in your Notes app if someone made you feel something.” A beat. “Not in a bad way,” he added quickly, watching my expression. “It’s… kind of cool. I also remember you kind of relaxing when Yuri got it played that night”

I blinked, caught somewhere between flattered and mildly exposed.

“I actually don’t even use the Notes app,” I said, recovering with a shrug. “Feels cursed.”

“See? Even that’s poetic.”

The waiter came by and dropped off his drink, offering me a polite smile. Min Ho thanked him in his soft Korean, a tone I only ever really heard in classes and from strangers — and I was reminded again how real he was. How lived-in this world was for him, while I still sometimes felt like a guest.

He caught me watching and gave me a sideways glance. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, then took a sip of my drink. “Just… wondering if you’re always this good at charming people.”

That got a low laugh out of him. “I’m not charming.”

“You kind of are.”

He looked at me for a second, as if trying to tell if I meant it. Then he glanced down at his coffee, suddenly quiet.

I didn’t press. A moment later, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. Excitedly expecting to see '??' pop up.

JAYNE: r u alive. need groceries (also want croquette). send funds.

I sighed, already pulling out my wallet to send her money.

“Friend?” he asked.

“More like a cryptid that lives in my room,” I muttered, and he smiled again.

“Sounds like a lot.”

“She’s… intense. But loyal.” I glanced back up at him.

He was already looking at me.

And it wasn’t a romantic look. Not entirely. It was just curious. Like he was still trying to solve something about me. Put a piece in place.

“Can I walk you back?” he asked, lifting his drink and gesturing toward the street. “If you're heading that way.”

I blinked. “Oh—uh. Yeah. Sure.”

I stood, grabbed my bag, and tossed the last bit of croissant into a napkin. When I turned, he was already waiting at the sidewalk, hand in his pockets, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, sipping from the plastic cup.

He didn’t say anything. Just gave me a small smile as I fell into step beside him. And we walked. The walk back wasn’t silent. We talked — easy things at first. Our favorite spots in the city, how much we missed decent cereal, the worst outfits we’d seen in the halls lately. Min Ho pointed out a store where he’d once bought a sweater “so offensively soft it made Dae angry,” and I told him about the time Jayne tried to smuggle a rice cooker into our dorm under her coat. But beneath the surface, something else simmered. Not quite tension. Not quite calm. Something that to me felt unspoken. Like we were tiptoeing toward something I didn't want to name. We reached my dorm too quickly. I stopped at the steps, turning slightly to face him. He didn’t say anything at first — just rocked on his heels, his hands tucked in the pockets of his coat.

“Thanks for walking me,” I said, my voice a little too polite.

“No problem.”

The quiet swelled. Not heavy. But waiting.

I looked up at him then, and he was watching me like he was memorizing something. My face. The sound of my voice. The way I clutched my coffee cup even though it was empty.

And for a split second, I thought — if I leaned in right now, would he meet me halfway? Jayne’s voice echoed in my head like a siren: He looked at me, Y/N. Like maybe it was fate. And then, just as loud: I think maybe I’m starting to feel something for him, and I’ve said maybe five words to him… am I losing my mind? My guilt crawled up the back of my neck like a cold sweat. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not like this. Not with him. Not when part of me still got a stupid fluttery feeling every time my phone lit up with a message from someone who didn’t even have a name. Min Ho smiled then — just a little. Like he didn’t want to scare the moment off.

“I’ll see you around?” he asked.

I nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Totally. 잘 자요 민호”

And before anything else could happen — before I could lose my nerve and say something reckless — I turned and jogged up the stairs. I didn’t look back. Not even once. My phone buzzed after I’d already curled up in bed. I hesitated before reaching for it.

?? : can i run a crazy person problem by you

I sat up a little straighter, thumb hovering.

ME : always. hit me.

A pause.

Three dots.

Gone.

Back again.

?? : i thought i was in love with a girl. like, fully. but i backed down because it didn’t feel right. not because of her. because of me. it just… wasn’t what i thought it was.

I read it twice. My fingers hovered, unsure of where he was going. I waited.

?? : now there’s this other girl. everyone thinks we’re together which we’re not. and i don’t want the rumor to grow legs especially when… i think i might actually have feelings for someone else.

My stomach flipped.

I tried not to let it mean anything. Tried not to over-read the spaces between his words.

But still.

ME : okay do you want my advice or do you want me to just say “that sucks man” and offer you a virtual cookie ?? : both. cookie first pls. ME : 🍪 ← gluten free because i care but real advice? you don’t owe the rumour anything and if this “someone else” is even kind of special you should be honest to the people spreading it and to yourself

There was a long pause. A minute. Then two.

And then:

?? : what if she doesn’t feel the same what if i ruin it My chest ached. ME : if she’s the right person you won’t ruin it by being honest you’ll ruin it by pretending you don’t feel anything at all

Another pause.

And then, unexpectedly:

?? : you always say the exact thing i need to hear are you sure we haven’t met? ME : not sure but i kinda hope we haven’t because this version of you? he’s becoming one of my favorite people ?? : careful. i might start catching feelings

My hands stalled.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Lunch was quiet. The good kind of quiet — a soft buzz of conversation around us, the distant clatter of trays, and the faint echo of laughter from a table somewhere behind me.

Julianna sat across from me, picking at a bowl of jjajangmyeon and humming under her breath to the music in her earbuds — one in, one out. Her lip gloss was a little smudged and her braids were tied back with a red ribbon today. Very main character energy, but in that effortless Julianna way.

I stabbed a piece of tteok with my chopsticks and leaned back.

She glanced up. “You’ve been in your head the whole time. Something up?”

I hesitated, then gave a crooked smile. “You’re scarily perceptive.”

She grinned. “It’s a gift. Spill.”

I exhaled, playing with the straw in my iced tea. “Just... stuff. People. Complicated feelings.”

Julianna raised a brow. “Ohhh. The boy-shaped kind of complicated?”

I gave her a look. “You’re relentless.”

“I’m right, though.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t even know if he likes me. And there’s this whole other layer of—” I stopped myself. Bit my lip. “Let’s just say it’s messy.”

Julianna nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Messy’s real. But I will say this—if he’s worth it, it won’t stay messy forever. At some point, he’ll either clean it up or you’ll realize you deserve better.”

I blinked. “That was surprisingly profound.”

She smirked. “I have layers. Like a parfait. Or an onion. Depends on the day.”

I laughed, and something in my chest loosened.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while before Julianna leaned in a little, voice low. “Okay but… it’s not that guy, right? Jayne’s guy?”

I froze for a heartbeat too long.

Julianna’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

“Shhh!”

“I’m not judging!” she said, grinning but not unkind. “Just… wow. That is some drama.”

“I know,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Feelings don’t wait for permission,” she said softly. “But maybe be careful where you step. Especially around Jayne.”

“I am,” I said. “I’m trying.”

Julianna just gave me a look. “Try a little harder. But also… be honest with yourself, okay? Don’t let guilt stop you from being happy.”

I nodded. And I almost meant it.

Eunice slid her tray onto the table with a dramatic sigh and flopped into the seat next to Julianna. “If I hear the word ‘midterm’ one more time today, I’m staging a walkout.”

Julianna snorted. “You mean another walkout?”

“I mean a real one this time. With signs. And chants.”

I smiled into my iced tea just as my phone buzzed against the table.

??: do you think we’d be friends if we were bugs?

I pressed my lips together, trying to smother the laugh bubbling up. I could picture him, wherever he was — probably somewhere equally chaotic — grinning like he’d just solved quantum physics.

Julianna narrowed her eyes at me, sharp and eagle-eyed as always. “Okay. Who was that?”

“What?” I asked, feigning innocence way too badly.

“You smiled at your phone like it paid you a compliment and a slice of cake.”

I hesitated, about to deny it again — but then Eunice leaned in, eyebrows raised with interest. “Who was what?”

“Y/N’s smiling-at-her-phone person.” Julianna glanced between before a gasp, mildly dramatic. “Oh my god, wait, is that him?”

I shook my head quickly, but I couldn’t stop the heat from rising up my neck. “No— I mean, maybe. But… not the himyou’re thinking of.”

They blinked at me in sync.

I sighed, tugging my chair a little closer to the table. We huddled like some secret council, the cafeteria noise bubbling around us like white noise.

“I maybe think,” I began slowly, “I sort of like Min Ho. A little bit.”

Both of them froze, eyes wide.

Eunice gaped. “Wait. Min Ho— Jayne’s Min Ho?”

“I know,” I whispered, burying my face in my hands for a second. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. And I haven’t told her. And I’m not doing anything about it— I’m just… it’s just a feeling.”

Julianna leaned in closer. “Okay but if that’s not who’s texting you…”

I looked between them, then let the words tumble out. “There was this date. Awful blind date. Like— ‘crypto bro anti-feminist’ level bad. And I was ranting to Jayne about it and accidentally sent it to the wrong number. But the person texted back. And we’ve been talking ever since. Like, really talking.”

They both just stared.

Eunice blinked first. “You’re telling me you have a mystery text person crush and a real life almost-crush on Min Ho?”

“Pretty much.”

“Girl.”

Julianna grabbed a fry off Eunice’s tray and popped it in her mouth. “Okay. What do you feel?”

I exhaled, pressing the cool plastic of my cup to my forehead for a second. “When we were at that rooftop place, and he came over, it was like… he really saw me. Like I wasn’t just someone standing next to Jayne. The way he touched my waist, how gentle he was— it felt special.”

They were both quiet, listening.

“And when we walked from the café… he didn’t have to come with me. But he did. And we talked. Really talked. I didn’t feel invisible.”

Eunice nodded, slowly. “Okay. That’s real.”

“And with the mystery texter…” I hesitated. “It’s different. It’s like—he knows me without seeing me. Or maybe becausehe hasn’t seen me. It’s easier to be myself.”

Julianna smiled a little. “Sounds like you’re falling for two people.”

“I think they might be the same person,” I said quietly. Like I hadn't quite decided if I believed it myself.

And that silenced them both.

For a moment.

Eunice blinked. “That would be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Julianna nodded slowly. “Or the most painful.”

“I know,” I whispered.

They exchanged a glance.

Min Ho dropped into the seat next to me without saying a word, his tray clattering down with a mix of fries and something that looked vaguely like it had been microwaved twice.

Dae and Yuri followed behind him, falling into easy banter with Julianna and Eunice like they’d all grown up together. I was about to turn to Julianna when I felt the light scrape of plastic—Min Ho sliding a small bowl of fries from his tray to mine.

I blinked. “What’s this for?”

He didn’t look at me, just shrugged, casual. “You seem like you’d like them, I suppose.”

I fought the smile that tugged at my mouth, picking up one of the fries and biting into it with an exaggerated crunch. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

Min Ho still didn’t look over, but the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Just a hunch.”

Before I could say more, a voice rang out across the cafeteria. “There you are!”

Jayne, trailing behind Kitty, arrived like a gust of over-perfumed wind, a big smile stretched across her face. “We were looking everywhere.”

“Yeah, all the girls should sit together,” she added pointedly, wedging a chair between me and Min Ho in a way that felt more strategic than social.

I shifted slightly to make room, trying not to feel irritated as her elbow jostled mine. Jayne turned immediately toward Min Ho, launching into some story about a film class or a coffee stand—I wasn’t sure which, I’d already tuned it out.

Instead, I caught Julianna’s eye across the table. She raised an eyebrow, barely tilting her head.

I glanced down at my phone, where a message sat unsent, hovering in the chat window with ??:.

ME: if you were a bug i’d probably give you to someone else but like… that’s because i’m panicking

Julianna nodded. Eunice gave a tiny thumbs-up beneath the table. I hit send.

We waited.

Julianna didn’t speak—she was watching him. Closely. Tracking the almost-imperceptible glance he cast toward me, the way his hand slipped under the table, thumb flicking across his phone. A second later, mine buzzed.

Min Ho kept nodding along as Jayne talked, smiling politely, but didn’t even glance down at the phone in his hand. My phone lit up on the table. He just put his away, turned slightly toward Dae, and then—

I opened the message without thinking.

??: i’d let you hang out on all my flowers and probably hand you my soul too tbh. no pressure tho.

I stared at the screen. A smile crept in before I could stop it.

“He knows,” Julianna whispered, her voice low and certain as she leaned toward me and Eunice.

Yuri, overhearing, turned her head. “What baby?”

Julianna barely skipped a beat. “Midterm! Eunice, Y/N, and I booked a table at the library. Completely forgot.”

Kitty frowned. “Do you guys even have a class together?”

Eunice was already standing, grabbing trays in a frenzy. “Remedial Romantic Tragedies. It’s new.”

I snorted and tried to cover it with a cough.

“We’ll be late,” Julianna said seriously, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “The metaphorical heartbreak section fills up fast.”

Yuri squinted at us but didn’t question it. Jayne looked over once as I stood, her smile faltering just for a second. But Min Ho didn’t look at her—he watched me instead, his expression unreadable, but his eyes locked on mine as if waiting for something more.

I turned and left with the girls. We burst into the quiet hallway like we were escaping a heist. Julianna led the way, sharp-heeled boots clacking dramatically against the tile, and Eunice clutched our half-empty trays like they were treasure chests.

“Midterm prep,” Julianna whispered with faux urgency as we passed a group of confused-looking first years. “Crucial.”

Once we were around the corner and out of sight, we collapsed against the wall outside the library doors, breathless with laughter.

Eunice smacked my arm gently. “Okay, let's go.”

I tucked my phone into my sleeve and ran both hands down my face. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“You like him,” Julianna said simply, staring at me. “Min Ho.”

“Maybe,” I mumbled.

She raised a brow. “Do you know how long Jayne has liked him?”

“Forever,” I said. “She’s told me every detail. Even when he sneezed in a 'weirdly attractive way.'”

“And yet.” Eunice gave me a slow look, mischievous. “You’re the one he gave his fries to.”

“I didn’t ask for them.”

“You didn’t need to,” Julianna said. “That boy practically put a bow on them.”

I leaned my head back against the wall. “This is a disaster.”

“Yeah,” Eunice said. “But like, the fun kind. The ‘slow-motion, hands-brushing-in-a-crowd, somebody-write-a-Netflix-script-about-it’ kind.”

Julianna stepped closer. “And he's totally texting guy?”

I sighed. “He’s still…”

Still in my head. Still making me laugh. Still texting me like we’re sharing some strange parallel existence, like we’re leaning closer without realising it.

“Still something,” I admitted quietly. “I just don’t know what.”

Eunice looped her arm through mine. “Well, the universe seems to be unspooling in your favour right now. Let it.”

“But Jayne—”

“She likes the version of him she’s created in her head,” Julianna cut in. “You like the real one.”

I went quiet, heart hammering.

Eunice nudged open the library door with her hip. “Now come on. We’re here to fake midterm prep and whisper about our love triangle in the reference section like well-behaved delinquents.” We slid into a booth near the back, the kind with high walls and soft cushions, and buried our trays beneath some borrowed books. We didn’t even pretend to study.

Instead, we whispered and scrolled and dissected every glance, every emoji, every possible meaning behind the word fries.

I didn’t text back right away. But I stared at the message more times than I could count. Eunice, Julianna and I talked for ages about our new fake class and understanding what I had gotten myself into when;

?? : do you think we’d still like each other if none of this was anonymous?

I read it once. Twice. I wasn’t sure if I liked him more in theory or in reality. Or if they were… the same. I took a breath, typed two words, thumb hovering before I hit send.

ME : Min Ho?

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

TO BE CONTINUED???????

this has been in my drafts for AGESSSSSSSSS sorry just wanted it out and didn't wanna delete it, no clue if there's gonna be an audience for this one

[smollkittykat]

JayVik S1 Act 2 Angst (1000 Words)

Viktor notices it like the creeping of Gas into the fissures. The way Jayce frequents the desk at his side less and less.

He hadn't minded it at first.

And then it was Friday and he hadn't seen Jayce all week.

A glance at the clock made Viktor vow he would only finish this last testing sheet before he would cut his losses and head home. He'd have to come back as soon as he'd slept, showered and eaten.

With Jayce gone, the work piled upon him has doubled and with nobody to forge the parts for the Prototype Jayce had promised he would have done two weeks ago, he couldn't start testing.

Viktor's back had been aching from bending over his magnifying lenses from working the gemstorm setting. A jolt of pain ran up his spine, when he heard the door to their lab and whipped his head up to look at the person entering.

Against all odds, it was Jayce.

"Viktor, you're still here?" came his voice echoing from where he stood, halting with the open door still in hand.

"I will take my leave in a bit. Just have to finalize the draft for the force field test." Viktor replied and turned back into his chair to face the papers in front of him. He faintly heard the door close behind him and Jayce approaching.

"What force field test?" Jayce asked, voice closer now, head turned to the blackboard. Viktor felt his chest tighten in anger as he lets out an audible breath.

"The one where we implement a dynamic force field to secure the gemstone in the setting of your Atlas Gauntlets to prevent power influction." Viktor supplied. He had never been good at masking his tone or expression, but he did not even try to hide the little scoff before he spoke up again.

"I've been rewiring the setting and the field is stable in it's current form but without the actual gauntlets there's nothing more I'm able to contribute."

"Ah, shit the Prototype! I'm sorry, I've meant to stop by yesterday after the council meeting about that labour tax but it just kept on and on with Salo-"

Viktor wanted to say it's alright. He wanted Jayce to be able to tell him all of these things and have Viktor hear and understand him. But Viktor had spent over ninety hours in this fucking room this week waiting for Jayce to complete the little work he couldn't physically take care of himself to finish a project that could potentially stabalize one of the biggest economic branches of the entire Undercity.

And instead of helping him, being there for Viktor for a dream that was once Jayce's biggest ambition, he spent his time debating a lax tax with the people who saw Viktor and his people as less.

Worse yet, Jayce had forgotten what they were working on.

The angry tightness in Viktor's chest, confined by the brace wrapping around his chest, explodes into rage as he reaches for the almost completed draft. He wants to rip it to shreds. He wants to lay down. He wants Jayce to leave. He wants to finish these gauntlets. Jayce was still talking, excuses falling so easily from his lips as if he truly was one of the politicians.

He takes the stack of papers and folds them, instead of ripping it to shreds or throwing it away.

"Just stop." Viktor finally says, after hearing Merdada's name for the third time. There's anger and bitterness in his voice that Jayce must be able to clearly make out. He stops talking for a second.

When Viktor glances at Jayce at the welcome silence, Jayce looks confused eyes widened, as he looks over his shoulder at the Zaunite. His upper body still turned to the blackboard.

"Wha- Why? Did I say something?" He looks so earnest. If Jayce had gotten here just a little earlier, if Viktor wasn't so tired and frustrated he might have been kinder.

"Nothing that makes a difference, Jayce. Just -" Viktor pauses, tries to readjust, to say something kinder.

"- fucking finish your work instead of piling it onto me while you're selling your moral compass to the highest bidder."

Viktor pushed with his hands at his desk to roll away from it, turning away from his lab partner turned wonderboy.

Jayce had turned around completely. Viktor didn't want to see his face. He grabs the papers and puts them carefully nonchalant into the jacket that was hanging from his chair.

Moving his spine hurts all the way into his toes, his muscles stiff. The doctors said he would have to be operated again.

"I'm leaving now. Maybe use the time to work on your life's dream, hm?"

Viktor used the momentum of his anger with practiced ease as he grabs for the crutch, throws his jacket over the handle for the short distance to the academy housing he was still living in, despite having graduated and working as a full-time scientist for years.

He stands, barely, if he's honest with himself as his leg feels almost numb with pain.

He gave Jayce one glance and sees him properly for the first time for over a week. He looked tired and a little scared. Hurt, most of all. With his eyebrows scrunched together and his mouth falling open gently. Strands of hair cling to his forehead, his tie is undone and the bags under his eyes almost match Viktor's.

An evil part within him feels satisfaction, something he has so little of these days. He's almost hurting as much as he is.

"Who knows. Maybe I'll even live to see it." He looked Jayce straight in the eyes as he said it. Then turned away when he saw the way Jayce's eyes started shimmering with tears, immidiately feeling the anger replaced with shame.

No use now. Viktor thought. What's said is said.

He flees from Jayce's teary-eyed expression as fast as he can.

[fanon-elio]

By your side.

Part 3

Summary: You are the CEO of a big company and hired Lycaon as your personal attendant, however it seems that your wolfish butler has developed a crush on you. So while you and him were on a business trip, both of you were forced to confront your growing feelings for eachother.

Tag: Green Letter (Sfw)

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional and is not canon. You are responsible for the content you consume, so if the following warnings trigger you, you may read at your own risk.

Warnings: Fluff, Slow burn'ish, long fic, mutual pining, reader is smaller than lycaon, lycaon is down bad horrendous, friends to lovers type stuff, some flashbacks here and there, spoilers for lycaon's agent story, lycaon is a teeny tiny bit possessive.

Angst, Mentions of injury, mentions of death, social anxiety, reader lowkey having a panic attack, trauma.

Other warnings: lowkey my first fanfiction, so bare with me here. (T^T)

I added some throw-away characters to the story as plot devices, no they're not oc's and they hold no importance to the story other than providing character development.

We don't know that much about Lycaon's past yet, so take everything you may read here about his backstory with a grain of salt.

This fic contains a lot of scenarios written in Lycaons pov cuz i eat this shit up for breakfast.

Welcome back once again.

I apologize for the short delay, i have been sick these last couple of days. But I managed to get it done, even though Tumblr ate my draft and I had to start from scratch. Shaking, crying, throwing up, ripping my hair out.

Once again, I apologize for possible mistakes you may find, and constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Enjoy!

The sun was slowly setting, bathing the city in a golden hue as you and Lycaon drove through the city. You occupied yourself by looking outside the window, hoping it would ease your nerves about tonight's event. Your eyes wandered with the movement of the car as you noted that the earlier rain had definitely left its mark, the outside area's of the various restaurants and cafes remained empty and the parasol's closed. The sun gently reflected in the puddles of rainwater that still covered the streets, and you watched as life slowly but surely returned to them, smiling as you saw a couple of children jumping into the puddles as the brilliant liquid flew everywhere as it glittered in the sun.

That reminded you of something. Earlier Lycaon had called home, wanting to make sure everything was okay with everyone and the caffee while he was gone "by the way, how's it going at home?" You asked curiously, his ear flicked as you caught his attention "Corin had assured that everything was going well" he answered "everyone is doing fine, and Rina had even kept herself out of the kitchen like I had requested" Lycaon replied with a hint of amusement in his voice, even though Rina accidentally poisoning someone was one of his biggest worries. It was true that Rina was an expert at her job, however cooking had never been her strong suit, and it seemed that no matter how many cooking lessons she took it never improved. So for the time that he was away, they had hired someone to do the cooking and baking in the caffee for them.

"Corin had also asked me to once again thank you for tutoring her" you gasped as you remembered that the exam you had helped her study for was yesterday "oh! How did she do?" You asked, and he smiled, "She has written an A" he responded, and you could have sworn to have heard a tinge of pride in his voice. Even though he was a rather strict boss, he was still very understanding and supportive, you always found it endearing how Lycaon took care of Corin and Ellen as if they were his own daughters.

You knew that Lycaon's employees could be a handful sometimes. Be it Corin's clumsiness, after a cup of coffee you had once ordered accidentally landed in your lap instead of on your table. Ellen's tardiness, when you would find her asleep in the most outlandish places. Or Rina's lethal cooking, you had once experienced first hand after having been offered one of her "Chernobyl cocktails" as Ellen called them. And goddamn, you think you could never forget that excruciating stomach ache.

But you knew that they worked hard and had the spirit to do well. And, if you were fully honest, Lycaon had his own lovable peculiarities as well. Like his obsession with cleanliness, the way he attracted the attention of all the dogs in the general vicinity, or even the way he would glare daggers at a squirrel if he spotted one.

The car ride slowly came to an end as Lycaon pulled into the driveway of the building the gala would take place in, you noticed all the expensive and extravagant cars all neatly parked next to each other which made you remember yesterday's mess with Mr. Goldman, much to your dismay, you really hoped not to run into him tonight since you were already nervous enough.

If you were fully honest, high society had always been highly exhausting for you. You came from a humble backround, not having been born into wealth but rather accumilated it over the years thanks to hard work. In truth, everything overly extravagant made you feel rather uncomfortable, you never really understood the appeal of wearing expensive designer clothes, and most of them looked hideous to you anyways. So much so that you and Lycaon would always joke about it when watching fashion shows on TV.

This humbleness reflected in your living situation as well. You lived in a normal house in a normal neighborhood a few minutes away from Lumina square, so if no one knew because you had deleberately told them, they would never suspect you to have a net worth over several billion dennies.

You enjoyed the freedom this gave you, being able to walk around undisturbed without being followed around and having your day to day life broadcasted to everyone on social media. This also allowed you to form genuine bonds with people who stuck by your side for you, and not for your money. And even though your best friend Zhu yuan was rather chaotic you did love her like your own sister. You wondered if your in-person-attendance today could potentially threaten that freedom of yours.

Lycaon seemed to notice your nervousness and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder "don't worry, whatever happens tonight I will not leave your side" you smiled in reply, your heart soared at the way he touched you, gentle as if handling porcelain.

Both of you exited the car and Lycaon offered you his arm as you walked to the front entrance, the smell of rain still hanging strong in the air, and you reminisced of a time before you two had met. Well, officially at least.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually had your eyes on him for much longer than he knows. All of it started when Zhu yuan was forced to take some time off and you tried to distract her from thinking about her job by going shopping. It had rained that day just like earlier, and you had walked down the street with your umbrella in hand. It was then when you had seen him through the window of his maid caffee. You had never actually believed in love at first sight, and always believed it to be a clichee.

Until it hit you pretty much square in the face.

And as luck would have it, your every so worried parents had hired exactly him to watch over you and your mental health, from which day oneward your feelings for the wolf thiren only seemed to grow stronger and stronger.

And since that day, he had never left your side.

You noticed the plethora of photographers and reporters standing by the main entrance, and you stiffen in response. The flashing of the cameras made you feel nauseous, as you made your way over the red carpet trying to stay as unnoticeable as possible "excuse me miss y/n!" But you had no such luck, it seems "I'm from Eridu today, and I must say it is a pleasure to see you this evening, it is not often that you give the public the opportunity to enjoy your company!" The reporter said, holding her microphone at you, and you looked at the cameraman who accompanied her. You noticed your reflection in the void of the camera's lens, and you swallowed, feeling your heart drop to your feet.

A new scent reached Lycaon's nose, one he didn't like. Fear. He had worried that this might happen, you weren't used to such media attention. Naturally, you were overwhelmed by suddenly having everyone's attention on you, with the knowledge that hundreds of thousands of other people were watching you behind their screens.

He discreetly placed his hand against your lower back, his warm palm gently signaling you that he was here, and that he had your back. He noticed you seemingly relax a little in response. Gathering all the confidence you had, you responded "O-of course, being here this evening is a matter of the heart for me" the reporter nodded, her emotions hidden behind a smile that you weren't able to pinpoint. "I see it as my duty to be present for tonight, in solidarity for the victims of the Vision cooperation" you continued, the thunderstorm of camera flashing once again flooding your senses. It was overwhelming. "That is wonderful! It's true that this scandal had shaken the community to its core" the reporter said, and you hoped a simple nod was enough of an answer for her "Master, we should get going" Lycaon responded, and you released a silent breath of relieve. You could kiss him for helping you get out of this situation, well you could always kiss him if you were being honest. With his hand still on your lower back, he gently guided you towards the main entrance.

As soon as Lycaon and you walked through the front door, you could instantly feel the stares of the other guests fall on the two of you; some in surprise, some in awe even and yet some others in confusion.

You tried to swallow the lump that was once again forming in your throat from your growing unease of being the center of attention at the champagne reception. You tried to focus on the feeling of Lycaon's hand on your back in order to distract yourself from the stares that pierced you from every angle. Lycaon himself was still worried of your growing discontent, however he was still so proud of you for having confronted your fears. He himself was used to having others attention on him all the time, be it because of his height and stature, or because of his prosthetics. But you didn't, why else did you keep yourself out of the public eye where you could. He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze as a small sign of encouragement. You smiled to yourself, squeezing his hand back. With him here, you were sure you could make it through this night.

Both of you took the drink you were offered, and made your way towards the main hall, you looked around, noticing some familiar faces you've seen once or twice on TV while a lot of the other guests present were completely unfamiliar to you, but you weren't that surprised, you normally never appeared on events like these, always dismissing the invitations, and only rarely ever gave interviews. You couldn't fathom how awful it must be not being able to go outside without paparazzi waiting for you like circling vultures, and wondered how all the famous singers and actors could live like that.

You wondered if Lycaon ever had to deal with them when he was working for other clients, and silently amused yourself on the thought of your wolfish butler trying to fend off a horde of camera wielding paparazzi.

After some time of walking among the sea of attendees, and being greeted by one or two, both of you finally reached your designated table. You thanked Lycaon when he pulled your chair out for you to sit, secretly gushing over his gentlemanly gesture as you went over tonight's schedule in your head again.

For starters, the host was going to hold a speech followed by dinner and afterward a charity auction. "Is everything alright so far, master?" Lycaon asked, and you gave him a playful thumbs up "so far everything is going well, knock on wood it stays that way" you told him, and he nodded in agreement, especially after having seen Mr. Evergreen and his wife amongst the attending guests and even though there was no bad blood between him and the Evergreens, the embarrassment he felt was still quite strong, even though he wanted to ask how Lilac's art classes were coming along.

"Say Lycaon, I'm curious about something" you started, his ears perking up immediately "please master, feel free to share your curiosity with me" he said reaching for his glass to take a little sip "could it be there are other clients of yours here tonight?" you asked mirthfully "there are indeed, may I inquire why you ask?" "Oh it's just that i saw the Evergreens earlier" you told him and he nearly choked on his drink.

Your little banter is interrupted by the sound of someone clinking their glass, blanketing the room in silence. While looking for the source of the sound, you let your gaze wander across the hall, briefly stopping when you noticed a familiar face amongst the crowd. Your brows furrowed in annoyance when you recognized Mr. Goldman and his wife, who looked equally as annoyed as you, sitting just three tables away from you. You silently saluted her for somehow miraculously finding the patience to put up with his bullshit... and his face.

"I'm honored to welcome you all" your eyes shifted to the front of the hall, now finally spotting where that earlier sound came from "it fills me with joy for having you attend tonight's celebration" a woman in a wheelchair spoke, and you could have sworn that you've seen her somewhere before "I dedicate tonight's gala to those who work tirelessly to help those in times of need" she continued "for those stricken with illness and injury, and those in poverty, who need our support dearly" as those words left the woman's mouth and entered Lycaons ears, he internally scoffed at her, wondering where all this support was that they were praising themselves for? Painfully clenching his jaw as he was reminded of his own past.

Where was it when his parents died, and he had to live on the streets, or when he had to join mockingbird just to survive, stealing from those who could have lent their aid but never did, always favoring status and profits above their humanity. Even after the violent injuries inflicted on his body, the memories of which still rob him of his sleep, it was due to his own diligence that helped him regain his life and that allowed him to now sit amongst the people he secretly loathed so much.

However... it seems that amongst the rubble, some gems can still be found; he glanced at you and his gaze softened.

You weren't like them, you actually cared about the lives of others and this is exactly what you modeled your business after, exactly why he loved you so dearly. It was your gentle nature and kind heart what made him fall for you in the first place, and god has he fallen hard for you. You give those stricken with illness and injury the oppertunity to walk through life on their own feet again. You work hard to give them back a shred of normalcy, trying to get them back on track after their life had been so crudely derailed. And yet, you still kept the delicacy of the moment, never prying neither your clients, nor himself for answers. Something he greatly appreciated about you, because he was aware that this question had burned on your tongue for the last one and a half years now. But, as graceful and as kind as you are, you opted to wait for him to open up to you, and he would eventually when he himself has found the courage to lay his heart bare to you.

His tail slowly swished from side to side as he once again marveled at the sight of you just like he had done yesterday in the car. Tonight however, things seemed different somehow, tonight you shined so much brighter; instead of being illuminated by the sun's rays, you have appeared to have become the sun, burning away the shadows of his pain and insecurity.

Memories of you two filled his mind has it really already been one and a half years? Time really does fly by when you're enjoying yourself he thinks to himself and recalls one special moment in peticular, the moment he had fallen for you.

Back then he had taken quite a beating during a comission with master proxy, breaking his prosthetics in the process, and having to spend a night in the hospital due to a concussion. He still remembered the shame he felt when he had called you to inform you about his sudden absence, and the suprise when you showed up not even half an hour later to check up on him. But most of all does he vividly recall the feeling blooming in his chest when you came back the next morning, with his prosthetic in your hands. Fully repaired. He had thanked you, having felt beyond gratefull that, not only had you taken your time, money and effort to get them repaired. But also because you had spared him the feeling of dread and hopelessness when he thought about having to leave the hospital in a wheelchair.

And even though you had helped him get back on his feet, by that time he had, figuratively speaking, already been on his knees for you.

You two had already experienced so much together, having gone through thick and thin, supporting eachother where you could. And he wanted to experience so much more with you. You turn your head, once again feeling his gaze on you, but this time he doesn't turn his head away, locking eyes with you instead and relishes in the smile you grace him with.

Maybe all of his past trageries were worth it if it ment he could remain by your side.

Applause replaced the silence as the host concluded her speech, and dinner was served, though it had been rather uneventfull. However Lycaon chuckled when you celebrated its disctinct lack of caviar. He felt a sense of satisfaction while he watched you eat. He was glad that now he was sitting across from you during an official dinner, instead of some desperate cretin who would constantly make a move on you - on his favourite person.

But not all good things can last forever. It seemes that said desperate cretin had read Lycaon's mind, thinking it a good idea to apporache your table.

"It's nice to see you tonight Ms. Y/n" both you and Lycaon had to fight the groan that desperately wanted to escape you both when Mr. Goldman appeared, sucking out all the positive vibes out of the current situation with his mere pressence alone. "I hope this dinner was more to your liking?" he inquired, which confused you that he had enough self-awareness about the abysmal choice of cuisine during your not-so-fun get together, but apparently not enough that he didn't see a problem in flirting with another woman that wasn't his wife. You were terribly tempted to snitch on him to his wife but scratched that idea, opting to get tonight over with while avoiding any inconveniences.

"It was" you responded shortly, hoping that he'd understand your unwillingness to talk to him right now, but he seems to once again lack the self-awareness necessary to understand. "I just wanted to once again inquire about possible business cooperations with you, since I'm going to be an investor and shareholder soon" he cackled, and you raised an eyebrow at his weird display, Lycaon watching both of you intently. "It is nice of you to inquire, we'll see if you qualify" you said taking a sip from your glass "what do you mean if I qualify?" he asked you rather uncertain if he had understood you correctly, while mimicking air quotes "I say so simply because our last meeting left me on a rather bitter note"

and you weren't just talking about the food, that was for sure

"was it because I didn't invite him-" he once again pointed at Lycaon "-to my party?" He asked "for one, yes" you said putting your glass down "please Ms. Y/n, a pretty Lady like you couldn't possibly be that petty-" you held your hand up, politely stopping his rambling "I have made my decision, please be assured that I will respond to your offer in due time, however-" you crossed one of your legs over the other, gently perching your hands on your knee "-I must disappoint you when I say that the possibility of you becoming a Shareholder has unfortunately never stood in question, I hope you understand" you explained "regardless, I wish you a pleasant evening" you finished.

Mr. Goldman was about to object to your words when Lycaon's voice coldly interrupted him "She wishes to no longer speak with you, I must kindly ask you to leave" Lycaon glared daggers at the smaller man in front of him who didn't budge an inch at first.

It infuriated Lycaon, he wouldn't let anyone ruin this special evening for the both of you, not when everything was going so well.

"Please don't make me ask twice" Lycaon once again sternly inssisted, his gaze rigid as it bore into the individual infront of him. For a while Lycaon and Mr. Goldman just glared daggers at eachother, both not saying a single word. You on the other hand were taken aback by Lycaon's sudden shift in attitude, but nevertheless thankfull. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wondered how he'd become even more attractive to you than he already was to begin. After a while, Mr. Goldman walked off with a huff, visibly upset and, you thanked Lycaon for helping you out. Internally giggling at his display of protectiveness over you.

After a while, the auction began, luring the wealthy participants with expensive artworks and antiques. Even though none of the shown items really interested you, exceptions being a few pictures you thought would look great on your wall at home, you still planned to buy some of the items to resell or donate them instead of letting them catch dust in your or someone else's attic. So around 700k lighter and happy you let the auction go by while you bemusedly observed two people battle it out over a kitschy rooster shaped lamp, while Lycaon thought that everything had come full circle after you bought the Evergreen's painting that had started the whole drama with Lilac, Master proxy and him in the first place, secretly he wondered if maybe he could persuade you to donate it as well so he wasn't forced to look at it while he cleaned.

The auction finishes and the night seems to be slowly coming to a close. Some people had already left; either because they were tired and just really wanted to escape this labyrinth of endless formality, or because they were just really curious about the contents of the goody bag the host had prepared for everyone to collect on their way out as a final little goodbye.

You on the other hand made your way towards the Woman's bathroom, having told Lycaon to wait for you at the table. He had frowned a bit, not liking the thought of you going off on your own while Mr. Goldman was still scurrying around the building like the Rat he is, but you assured him that you'd be fine.

As you walked through the bathroom door, you noticed Mrs. Goldman standing in front of the mirror, fixing her own make-up. You cringed, internally throwing your purse to the ground at mach speed as you cursed your bad luck... "oh hey! I know you!" ...but you were definitely in for a surprise.

---~---

Part 4 ->

To be continued->

Ah I'm glad this part is done, it was so much more complicated than it had to be honestly. A small part of me died when that draft suddenly vanished into thin air, it was so infuriating.

But all is well that ends well.

Speaking of ending, i think this chapter also marks the half way point. I think this fanfiction will maybe have 6 parts in total, but it depends if I feel like writing an epilogue or not.

Until then, I wish you a pleasant day/evening, and hope you'll stay tuned for the next part.

-Elio

[attractedtopeoples]

sweetheart

Zoro Roronoa

KINKTOBER - @ficsforgaza

prompt: subspace

warnings/tags: fem!reader, sub!zoro, bondage, riding, subspace, mdni, 18+, dont like dont read, minors. go away., no beta we die like my sanity, lemme know if theres anything more i should tag in the comments (pls dont say bad spelling im sensitive) <3

0.9k words

A/N: okay so i may have forgotten to take this outta my drafts and actually post it, so ignore this being a touch later than the 15th (it’s 1:33am on the 16th for me 🥲) but otherwise here you go!

“Fuck, oh- fuck, fuck,” Zoro groans out, although it sounded a lot more like his version of a whine from where you sat on his lap, not that you’d ever say that aloud.

“You okay baby?” You ask mockingly, tilting your head down to look at him as you rise and fall on his cock. He bites his lip in lieu of response, biting back a groan as your hands wander over his chest. 

Looking down at him with adoration you stop your hips, willing away your own frustration as you watched his eyes flicker up to you again, a mix of anger-horny-why?-anger staring at your smirk, hands still mindlessly wandering over his skin.

His hands clench from where they lay tied against the headrest, the fluffy green handcuffs Nami had given you as a gag-gift coming in handy as he whimpered beneath you. Neither of you had done much with bondage, minus his own hands wrapping around your wrists when the positions were swapped. But this was fun.

He groans again as you pinch at his side. You’d been doing this awhile.

You’d ride him, both of you having a lovely time when he’d bite his lip, shutting himself up despite your earlier statement of not wanting that at all. He wasn’t a very good listener. Then, just like now, you’d stop your movements, watching as he released his lip and stared at you.

At the start the look was a lot more pissed off, however the overwhelming pleasure being so intense and then suddenly ripped from him again and again was beginning to impact him (no shit). 

“I- fuck you,” he breathed out, shifting his hips up seeking friction but you simply lifted higher off of him. He let his hips fall back onto the bed with a small groan. 

“Hm? Well I can see you’re trying baby,” you tease, appreciatively flickering your eyes over him for the millionth time tonight as his cheeks blush at the words. You could admit you were rather lewd, but you were having far too much fun to stop fucking with him.

“Now c’mon, what did I say earlier baby?” You ask, referring to the rules you set early on before you started, fairly simply, but including a clear ‘I wanna hear you’ policy that you think was being ignored rather blatantly.

“You're an ass,” Zoro quips instead of replying, his voice cracking a lot more than you think he meant it to be as you lean forward, lips joining your wandering fingers on his chest as you kiss gently up his chest.

“Not quite right,” you reply, rolling your hips with the words just to watch him groan again, shoulders going tense as his arms tug at the cuffs again. You know logically he could just rip them off, but you also know he won’t. Definitely not right now, he is not risking the blue-balls.

“Annoying fucker,” he mutters under his breath as he glances to the side, blatantly avoiding eye contact as a pretty blush makes its way up his chest. “You- you said to not bite my lip,” He huffed out, sounding like it physically pained him to say as he begrudgingly turned his eyes back to you.

You grin at him, despite the slight inaccuracy in his ‘retelling’. He deserved some leeway, with this only being his third time subbing and first successfully, you made the executive decision he was allowed to be a little shy.

“That’s right sweet boy,” you say, beginning to rock your hips again, building the pleasure back up. His hips roll up to meet you and you don’t bother correcting him this time when he lets out an unabashed groan as your teeth reconnect to his skin, grazing over his nipples before biting into the soft flesh of his neck.

As your movements speed up, you release his skin, instead resting your head against his shoulder moaning alongside him as the crescendo of your pleasure crawls towards you. You were close, and by the way his hands were grasping onto those cuffs you could tell he was too, letting out the prettiest sounds.

Finally sitting back up you moan as it causes him to shift deeper within you, your movements barely coordinated anymore as you fall over the edge, him joining you not too soon after with a loud moan that makes you oh so thankful for the empty ship. 

The two of you remain quiet for a moment before you go to shift off him, knowing he probably wasn’t capable of doing so without his hands, but before you could go far you heard a low whine come from him and you paused.

That was new.

Looking back at him you noticed his eyes were drooping but stuck on you still, and after a moment it clicked in your head. Oh baby.

“Zoro? You okay in there sweetheart?” You ask softly, hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he groans again, leaning into the touch as he breathes, pressing soft kiss to your wrist. 

“Hmm,” he hums against you, his eyes slipping shut as his body relaxes. He was definitely in the subspace. 

“You did so good, baby, but I gotta clean us up m’kay?” You gently remind him, in a way that you knew you’d copied from him when you got like this. He lets out another little whine at the idea, and oh how pretty he was. “I won’t go far, promise.” 

You wince a bit as he slips out of you, rising on shaky legs as you make your way to the bathroom for a towel, snatching up a bottle to refill with water on your way. Your boyfriend was such a sweetheart.

[aislinrayne]

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: After a particularly rough case, Reader starts acting distant. Lockwood thinks giving her space will help. When he's woken by the phone ringing, George doesn't need to know what happened to know it's probably Lockwood's fault.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature/Explicit.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Alcohol consumption, strong language, sexual content (second base with intent to go further), anxious avoidant Reader, Reader is shorter than Lockwood, drunk Reader, Reader is harassed at the bar, brief touch without consent, no use of y/n.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Fuck I love playing with different kinds of dynamics. I've had this sitting partially drafted in my writing folder for a year now, and the brain-goblins wouldn't let me keep working on SM until this was done lmao Please let this be the year I finally get a handle on my creative flow fml

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 6.1k

    The first time the phone rings, both inhabitants of 35 Portland Row manage to remain deep in a well earned slumber.

  The second time the phone rings, it successfully rouses one George Karim.  Muttering a string of colourful insults under his breath that - had he been in his family home - would have earned him a smack over the head with his mother’s slipper, he reluctantly drags himself from the warmth and comfort of his duvet.  Letting out a long suffering sigh that lasts through the entire shuffle from his room to the phone on the floor below, he lifts it from the receiver and greets the caller with a noise somewhere between ‘hello’ and ‘fuck off’.

  “Evening, sorry to wake you.  This is James, calling from The Royal Oak.  Is there a, uh-”  Even over the numerous voices and the clinking of glass in the background, George can hear the gruff sounding man being interrupted by a woman’s voice mumbling incoherently before all sound is muffled by a palm being pressed over the mic on the other end, “-sorry, did you say…?  Really, sweetheart?  Alright, but don’t try to blame this on me tomorrow when you sober up.”  

  Then the phone is back to full volume. “Sorry about that, I’ve got a young lady here who says she lives at this address?  She’s too drunk to get herself home and this is the number she gave for someone she trusts to come get her.  But, uh, she-”  James seems like he’d rather not say the next bit, “well, she just keeps asking for ‘that selfish wanker’?  Won’t give me a name otherwise.”

  There’s not a lot in this world capable of rendering George completely speechless, but that…  That does it.  He allows the phone to drop from his ear for a moment, resting it on his shoulder as he attempts to compose himself and reply to the nice man on the other end of the line.

  “Uh…  Yeah, she- she’s ours.  Probably talking about our boss, then.  I’ll, uh…  I’ll go wake him.  I’m sure he’ll be there very soon.”  He has to speak up over the sound of James choking and sputtering in surprise to say a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, before slamming the phone down and jogging up the stairs to wake his friend.  

  He pauses for a moment halfway up, considering heading back downstairs to grab a boot to throw at the door.  Unfortunately his need for immediate answers outweighs his urge to be petty, so he settles for pounding loudly on the door instead.   There’s quiet rustling and not so quiet cursing on the other side before it’s ripped open.

  “What?!”  A dishevelled Anthony Lockwood snaps, blinking sleep from glaring eyes and leaning on the doorframe in an endeavour to keep himself upright.

  “Just got a call from The Royal Oak, down on York Street?  Turns out they have a resident of this address drunkenly calling for a ‘selfish wanker’ to come pick her up.”  George crosses his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow at the taller man.  

  Lockwood’s expression shifts from its existing irritated frown into confusion, then straight to alarm.  He wastes no time flipping the light switch beside the doorway, bathing the room in light as he crosses it to tug one of his dresser drawers open.

  “Can you call me a Night Cab, please?  Offer them double fare to prioritise.”  He calls over his bare shoulder, searching for a t-shirt and hoodie to toss on.  His researcher says nothing as he complies, deciding to save the interrogation for later.

  Anthony is properly worried.     Their third roommate had come back from their last job acting distant.  They’d been separated by a pair of particularly nasty Spectre’s for close to an hour, but she’d succeeded in securing the Source’s and they’d all made it out in one piece.  He’d been so caught up in pride for his team he hadn’t noticed the effect it had on her until days later.  When he tried to approach her with his concerns, she clammed up and looked as though she was about to cry before excusing herself to her room.  None of the members of his agency, himself included, had seen her exit her room for two days after that.   He hadn’t asked about it since, and while giving her space seemed to be working by way of not making her cry, he was starting to wonder if it had been upsetting her in a different way.     Even taking all of that into consideration, there’s still no way he could have seen a phone call like this coming at 2:56 AM on a Tuesday.

  All he can find is a sleeveless black undershirt.  With a huff of frustration he pulls it over his head, kicking the drawer closed simultaneously, then pulling open the one above it.  The joggers he fell asleep in are fine enough, so after a fit of undignified hopping across the room to cover his feet with pink socks he grabs a random hoodie off of the armchair by the window, shrugs into it, and zips it on his way down the stairs.

  George is waiting for him at the bottom, staring at his watch.

  “Your cab should be here in three minutes, mine should be here in thirteen.”  He looks up from his wrist, meeting his boss’s confused look with an exasperated one.  “I’m heading to Flo’s for the night, so whatever you fucked up, mate?  Fix it.”  Karim claps him on the shoulder, walking past him to pack an overnight bag.  It might not be conventional, but Anthony knows it’s the closest thing to encouragement he’s going to get.

  The next several minutes pass in a blur of waiting and worrying, until finally it’s 3:14 AM and he’s slipping the cab driver an extra twenty quid to wait for them, swearing to be no longer than fifteen minutes.  The ungodly-early morning air is sharp and cold, cutting to the bone as soon as he steps out of the comforting warmth of the vehicle.  It’s plenty enough encouragement to hurry his way to the building, pulling the door open to slip into the soft golden warmth and loud ambiance of the pub.  

  He hesitates on the doormat, catching sight of the other patrons.  Thankfully it isn’t a particularly highbrow establishment, but it's nice enough for him to feel noticeably underdressed in black joggers and a grey zip-up.  And then he lays eyes on her, and all insecurities are immediately banished by the sharp knife of shock burying itself in his gut.  

  She’s balanced on a table, wearing a little black dress he’d never seen before.  Her arms are raised above her head, fingers combing through her hair as her hips sway to the bass of the music in a way that probably would have had his mouth watering if it wasn’t for present circumstances.   He isn’t the only one noticing her.  There’s a group of men standing around the table, watching her with hungry eyes that make his skin crawl with disgust.   A tall blonde man pushes his way past the rest of the crowd, deep set ice blue eyes chasing up her legs.  She seems to either be unaware of his presence, or too lost in the music to care.  Even from his position across the room he can see her eyes are out of focus, drifting away for split seconds every few beats from the speakers on the wall.     The man raises a hand and grabs her thigh, using enough pressure to leave visible fingermarks.

  Lockwood finds himself frozen in place, blood boiling as he mentally considers how challenging talking his way out of a murder charge could really be.  Surely not that much harder than talking his way out of an arson charge, and he’d done that often enough to be confident in his abilities.

  Before his sleep deprived mind can break free of its indecision, the girl spins around abruptly and slaps the lecherous limb away from her.  The slime of a man attached to it is none too happy about that, making a move to grab for her arm.  Her normally impeccable reflexes are slowed by the alcohol, she can’t move fast enough to avoid the attack.  When his fingers close around her wrist, he pulls.  Hard.     She teeters on the edge of the table, her short cry of pain audible even over the music.

  Huh.  He’d always thought the whole ‘seeing red’ thing was entirely turn of phrase, but as it turns out, there’s actually a modicum of truth to it.

  He’s halfway across the bar by the time he realises he’s in motion, but he’s not about to stop.  Closing the remaining distance in a few purposeful strides, he grabs the creep’s arm in a vice grip.  The blonde releases his hold on her immediately, instinctively trying to pull away from the pain.  Lockwood lets him stumble away in surprise, wasting no time placing himself in between his friend and the threat to her safety.  At first he’s optimistic he might have a chance to vent some anger when the wanker locks eyes with him, but whatever he’d seen in Anthony’s was enough to make him back down and stumble off with an insincere apology.  

  Reminding himself to focus his attention where it belongs, he turns to look up at the girl on the table.  Her face lights up with delight when she recognizes him, then swiftly sours the longer she looks at him.   He feels like an absolute prick for not noticing the dark circles around her eyes sooner.  Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reaches up to offer her both of his hands, palms up.  She sways in place for a moment, scowling pensively at the proffered appendages.  He studies her face while he waits patiently, trying to find any hint of what could be bothering her enough to take this approach to forgetting.

  With a tiny hiccup she finally caves, placing her hands in his and allowing him to help her to solid ground.  Once both of her feet are securely on the sticky floor, he offers her his arm for support.  She gives him another little glare, but just like before, she eventually accepts his help.   Scanning the other tables and chairs around her makeshift stage, he sees no sign of a purse or jacket that he recognises in the slightest.

  “Did you bring anything with you, sweetheart?”  He asks her directly, leaning closer to her ear to be heard over the noise.  If he didn’t know any better he’d say she looks almost flustered; eyes glazed, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, looking through him rather than at him as she tries to filter his words through the haze of liquor clouding her mind.     Although he’s prepared to wait as long as it takes for her to answer, he can’t help but feel a touch relieved when the bartender waves him over holding a familiar leather clutch.  Gently taking her by the arm, he guides her to a nearby chair to sit and wait for him to collect her belongings.  Giving a final warning look to the remaining crowd for good measure, he leaves her side to approach the bar.

  The man behind it is average height, with mid length dark hair as well kept as his perfectly trimmed goatee.  He abandons the glass he’s polishing, tossing the white cloth he’d been using over his shoulder and offering Anthony a calloused hand.  “I take it you must be-”

  “‘That selfish wanker’?  Present and accounted for, though I also answer to ‘Anthony’.”  He replies, accepting the handshake.  

  The other man’s grip is firm but friendly, and he throws his head back in merriment at Lockwood’s unexpected introduction.  “James, pleasure to finally meet you.  I’ve heard a lot about you from your little Songbird over there.”

  Lockwood winces.  “Not all bad, hopefully.”

  “No, not all bad.”  James soothes before leaning in conspiratorially, “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

  He shoots him a wink as he settles back, and now it’s Anthony’s turn to laugh.  It’s decided then and there; they like each other.

  He reaches behind the lip of the bar, grabbing the clutch he’d tucked out of sight until he could determine Lockwood’s identity.  “This is all she brought with her.  You’ve got a safe way home?”

  Anthony takes it from him with a grateful smile.  “Yeah, paid the driver to stick around.  I consider myself pretty good at multitasking, just not ‘keeping her upright and not getting ghost-touched’ good.”  James lets loose a hearty laugh in response.

  The screech of wood against the floor draws their attention back to the woman formerly in the chair, now standing unsteadily a few feet away.

  “And that’s my cue.  Pleasure to meet you, James.  And, uh-”  He glances back at her involuntarily.  “Thank you.  For keeping an eye on her, calling us, the lot of it.”

  The bartender smirks, quirking an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look.  “It's what any decent person would do.  Don’t be a stranger now, either of you.”

  Lockwood departs the bar, clutch in hand, with a salute and a promise to be back another time.   She seems confused at first when he tries to get her attention, switching to stare at him reproachfully when she recognises him again.  He sighs, trying to tuck away his own feelings of exhaustion and defeat.  

  “Let's get you home, love.”  He murmurs, offering his arm again.  She takes it without hesitation this time, leaning heavily against him as they make their way to the exit.  Pausing on the doormat, he carefully extracts his limb from her grip, soothing her little noise of protest by assuring she’d be using him as a crutch again momentarily.  The metal of the zipper is cold against his bare arms as he shrugs his hoodie off, blatantly ignoring her attempts to argue with him and draping the grey fabric over her shoulders.

  The cold breeze cuts into him once they’re outside, but he carefully schools his expression to avoid showing her it's affecting him at all.  Despite having paid the man extra, he’s still pleasantly surprised to see the black cab still waiting at the curb.   It’s easier than he’d expected to load her into the comfortable back seat.  She doesn’t even try to swat his hand away when he places it on top of her head to prevent her bouncing it off the roof in her attempt to get in.   Once she’s scooted to the far side, he climbs in after her.  She seems lost in thought, staring absently at the headrest in front of her.  He leans closer slowly, giving her ample time to move away if she doesn’t want him in her space.  When she remains stationary, he reaches across her body to grab her seatbelt, gently buckling her in and tightening the belt over her hips.  

  She finally looks at him, expression blank as she studies his features.  It’s clear her mind is elsewhere, and she returns to staring at the black leather so quickly he wonders if he’d imagined the whole thing.   He gives their driver the all clear, directing him to drop them off where he’d first picked him up before slumping back into his seat for the uncomfortably quiet ride home.

  They’re half-way there when he can stand to ignore the elephant in the room no longer.  The words slip out before he can think of a more tactful way to ask;  “What’s going on with you?”

  She turns to look at him so slowly it’s almost unnerving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She answers bitterly, her voice laced with the same steel as her eyes.

  “That’s bloody horseshit!”  He scoffs, far too tired to hold back.  “If there was nothing wrong, I wouldn’t have gotten a call tonight.”

  Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly for several seconds, seemingly overwhelmed by the number colourful insults she’d like to hurl at him.  

  “Like you care.”  She finally mutters, shaking her head and turning away from him to stare pointedly out her window.

  “...What?”  He manages to put his frustration on hold for a moment, making room for his growing concern.  “Of course I care, what makes you think I wouldn’t?”

  She laughs darkly, shaking her head.  “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”  He cries in exasperation.

  She whips around to face him.  “You knew I was struggling!  You knew, and you ignored it because it was easier than dealing with me!”  Her eyes are wild, chest heaving as she draws in air like she has to fight for every breath.

  All hostility drains out of him in an instant, leaving him uncomfortably hollow in its absence.  He’s intimately aware of her eyes searching his face, trying to gain some kind of insight into his mind.     He feels like he’s just stumbled into a minefield, and in a way he has.  If his next words aren’t carefully chosen, he could detonate one and destroy his friendship with someone he can’t live without.

  Organising his thoughts and taking a deep breath, he plunges ahead.

  “I’m sorry.  I thought by giving you space I was giving you what you needed, but I should have just talked to you.  And you’re right, I was being selfish, just… not in the way you’re thinking.”  She looks like she’s about to interrupt, but he ploughs on.  “I was afraid if I pushed too hard you’d shut me out.  I thought it would be safer to stay silent and let you come to me when you were ready, but it was my responsibility to communicate that to you, and I failed.”

  They sit in stillness for far longer than he’s comfortable with, his words hanging in the air between them.

  When she finally puts him out of his misery, he has to strain to hear her over the rumble of the car.  “It wasn’t two Spectres.”

  It feels like someone’s poured ice down his back.  “...What?”

  “The last job?  We thought it was just two Spectres, but it wasn’t.  It-”  Her voice shakes, then dies.  She has to stop and breathe, looking like she’s about to be crushed by the weight of the words on her tongue.  “One of them was a Fetch.”

  Staring down at his hands, he searches for the right words to say.  Is he supposed to say anything at all?  If he interrupts now, will she shut him out?  If he doesn’t, will she think he doesn’t care?     A point of personal pride for him is being able to read people, to shape himself into whatever role they need him to fill, but… he has no idea who she needs him to be right now.  

  She hesitantly continues.  “It was you.”  

  He looks up at her only to find her eyes already on him.  “It wasn’t.”

  She laughs sadly, but doesn’t look away.  When she tips her head to concede the point, the light catches at the corner of her eye.  “Right.  It did use your face, though.”

  “Whatever it said, it isn’t true.”  He can’t resist the urge to reach across the seat between them, wiping the tear from her cheek and hoping she can feel the truth in his words when he says;  “A Fetch will find your worst fear and exploit it.  And I swear to you, I will never allow anything to make you feel afraid like this again.”

  Silence stretches on between them, becoming heavier with every second passing them by.  His thumb continues stroking her face slowly, absentmindedly.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think her eyes had drifted to his lips. 

  “Kiss me.”

  His hand falls from her face.   For a second, he thinks it’s him that’s said it.  When he realises it wasn’t, the potential implications of her words make his heart stutter.  There’s a chance this is just a drunken impulse, a need for comfort in a moment of vulnerability.   If it is, what the hell is he supposed to do about it?  If he gives in to her, will he be able to carry on working beside her once he’s had a taste of the life with her he doesn’t even allow himself to dream about?   On the flip side, there’s a chance that this is an actual confession.  The Fetch had chosen his face to torment her, and as horrifying as that had been to hear, it only would have done so if she felt something for him.  Maybe she feels the same as he does.  Maybe the reason he can never figure out what mask to put on for her, is that she’s only ever needed him to be himself.     Hope fills every inch of him as he stares at her, enraptured.

  Then, he realises he’s been quiet for long enough for panic to fill her eyes.

  “Ask me in the morning.”  He breathes, feeling as perplexed as she looks when the words come out of his mouth.  She’s confused that he hasn’t directly shot her down.  He’s confused that he’s capable of this kind of restraint while sleep deprived.

  “What?”  She frowns, blinking as her eyes lose focus for a split second in her bewilderment. 

  Feeling more confident in his decision, he smiles softly at her. “Ask me when you’re sober, and when we’re not in this nice man’s cab.” 

  The driver laughs, trying and failing to cover it with a guilty cough.

  Once they reach 35 Portland Row,  Anthony covers the fare and slips the man a generous tip for enduring their antics before exiting the cab.  The emotional intensity of the ride home had been enough to partially sober up his companion, but he still isn’t sold on her ability to climb stairs without assistance.     He keeps his arm wrapped tightly around her waist until they reach the door of her room - formerly Lucy’s - on the top level of the house before reluctantly removing it.  She wobbles for a moment, but it seems to be more from her leaning to chase his touch than any serious instability.  They stand there for a while, neither willing to walk away from the other, until a large yawn overtakes her.

  He chuckles, suddenly remembering James’ nickname for her.  “Goodnight, Songbird.”

  “That’s a stupid nickname.”  She complains, scrunching up her face in distaste.  When all he does is laugh some more, she sighs and carries on.  “Goodnight, Anthony.  Sweet dreams.”

  He disagrees completely, of course.  From her lips, his name is the sweetest song he’s ever heard.   Turning away from him, she places her hand on the doorknob but doesn’t make any move to twist it.  He’s about to ask her if something is wrong when she turns back to him swiftly, closing the distance between them and standing on her toes to brace her hands on his shoulders as she presses the ghost of a kiss against his cheek.  By the time he’s raised trembling fingers to the tingling skin, she’s already in her room with the door closed behind her.

  He spends his early morning dreaming of the flutter of wings, and birds gently pecking him on the cheek.

  When he’s woken by persistent knocking on his door once more, Anthony Lockwood finds himself wondering what precisely he had done to piss off Hypnos in a past life.

  Still on high alert from his unusual evening, he’s out of bed and across the room without a second thought.  When he pulls the door open he’s entirely expecting another emergency, not to find the girl of his dreams standing there staring steadfast at her feet.

  “I am so sorry about last night, I should have told you what was going on instead of going on a bloody bender.  That was incredibly immature and irresponsible of me and I completely understand if you want to fire me.”  She starts slow, but by the end of her apology the words are flying out of her mouth.  Despite her best efforts, the misery in her voice as she says the last bit is tangible.

  Why would he want that?  Still not entirely awake, the first thing out of his mouth is the first thought in his mind.  “Please don’t leave.”

  “...What?”  Not even remotely prepared for that response, she finally looks up at him.  As their eyes meet, reality sets in and time seems to slow.

  When he takes a proper look at her, he completely forgets the entirety of the English language.  Her hair is mussed from sleep, remnants of last night's makeup smudged under her eyes.  She’d apparently had the mental faculties to change into her pyjamas the night previous, and while he’d seen her in those shorts often enough to control the urge to stare, something about her wearing his hoodie zipped over them was making him feel like a moron.  He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.   On the other side of the doorway, she’s having a very similar crisis.  His sleep tousled hair only doubled her ever present urge to rake her fingers through it.  And not only had he been in such a hurry to answer the door he hadn’t bothered to slip on a shirt, his joggers were also sitting dangerously low on his hips.     Their eyes snap back to each other's faces in tandem, both flushing almost comical shades of red.

  “Did you mean what you said last night?”  He asks hurriedly, heart pounding in his throat.

  “I said a lot of things.”  She wraps her arms around herself, laughing nervously.  “Which part?”  

  He keeps his eyes fixed on hers, searching them for some clue to tell him what comes next.

  Mustering more courage than she thought she was capable of, she answers honestly.  “Yeah, I did.  Every word.”

  Mimicking his actions from the night before he extends both of his hands towards her, palms up.   She tilts her head quizzically, but places her hands in his.  He uses them to pull her close enough their bodies are almost touching, guiding her arms to rest on his shoulders, releasing them to place one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck.  She inhales sharply when he leans in, his thumb lightly stroking her jaw while her gaze flickers between his eyes and lips.   He’s studying her face like he never wants to forget a single detail, but he doesn’t get any closer.  She’s lightheaded and pretty sure she’s going to die if he doesn’t kiss her soon, which is probably why it’s not until she sees the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile that she realises what he’s waiting for.  

  “Kiss me.”  She breathes.

  He doesn’t need to be told a third time.   He leans down and kisses her like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, like the world is falling to pieces around them and the only thing that can save them is the feeling of her lips against his.     The hand on the side of her throat slides back to bury itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head to take the strain off her neck from their notable difference in height.  Her hands wander the expanse of bare skin across his back, mapping every muscle and scar like it’s the braille translation of his life story.  He shivers under her touch, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her body tight to his in a desperate attempt to fill the yawning pit within him that had grown larger with every day he believed he’d never get to hold her like this.  

  As she runs her hands down his sides to his hips he gasps involuntarily, deepening their kiss with enthusiasm.  Driven by curiosity, she lets her nails graze his skin as she retraces her previous path.  The noise he makes in response is downright sinful, but so is the feeling of his rapier-calloused skin against her back as he slips his hand under the hem of his hoodie.  Her breath catches as his fingers trace featherlight patterns up and down her spine, feeling him grinning between kisses when he notices she’s not wearing anything beneath the grey material.  When he nips at her lower lip, she drags her nails down his back, and the last of his restraint abandons him.  

  Both of his hands drop, fingers dimpling the flesh of her upper thighs.  As in sync as they are in the field he’d never dared to imagine the same would apply to the bedroom, so he’s a little blown away when she understands his intentions immediately, jumping as he lifts her up to wrap her legs around his hips without breaking from each other.  Now he’s the one craning his neck to capture her lips, the floor creaking beneath his feet as he crosses the short distance to the wall, pressing her back against it and groaning at the restrained whimper that slips free from her.

  “Please don’t hold back.  I want to hear you sing for me, my little Songbird.”  He urges, adjusting his grip to slide his hands up her sides under his hoodie, palming one of her breasts and swiping a thumb experimentally across her skin to carefully catch one of her nipples between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.  She finally breaks, back arching away from the wall, head falling back against it as she moans unabashedly.  All of his strength threatens to leave him when she rolls her hips against his, dropping his free hand to grab at the plush of her ass and pull her impossibly closer as he whispers praise between frenzied kisses pressed to her throat.  She buries her hands in his hair, gasping for air as his ministrations travel to her collarbones then slowly down the centre of her chest, placing an open-mouthed kiss to swell of her breast-

  The front door slams open, startling them apart.  There’s the sound of shuffling beneath them as someone kicks off their shoes.

  “OI, MATE!”  George’s voice calls from the base of the stairs, “Did you fix it?”

  They look at each other, dazed and drunk off each other.  A confused frown decorates her features, mouth falling open to ask him what the hell their other roommate is talking about.  He shakes his head in exasperation, shooting her a look that reads ‘I’ll fill you in later’ and dropping his head to rest on her chest.  They take as many seconds as they dare like that, her fingers combing through his hair soothingly as he wraps his arms around her back, basking in the warmth of her body against his.  Reluctantly, he lifts his head and steps away from the wall, gently setting her back on her feet and pressing a kiss to her temple.  She seems hesitant to move away from him at all, back to staring at her feet instead of looking at him.  He’s known her for long enough to know she’s overthinking.

  “Hey, look at me.”  He slips his fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his concerned gaze.  “What’s on your mind, darling?”  

  “I don’t-”  She starts strong but stops suddenly, shifting anxiously.  “I really don’t want this to be a one time thing, or - or just a way to blow off steam-”

  He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, cradling her face and pressing a brief but searing kiss against her lips.  She softens, melting into his touch.

  “Good,” He murmurs as he pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her a peck on the cheek like the one she’d given him the night before, “because I don’t think I can survive another day of not being able to kiss you.”

  George chooses that moment to begin his ascent of the stairs.  They break away from each other, struggling to make themselves presentable before he makes it to the landing.  Anthony rushes to grab a shirt from the foot of the bed, throwing it over his head haphazardly  She squeaks when she finds the zipper of his hoodie down to her navel, shooting him a teasingly chastising look when he snickers and crosses past her to greet their researcher in the hall, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it.  She yanks the zip as high as it will go, trying to smooth her own hair as she approaches the bookshelf and grabs something at random.  She throws herself into the armchair in the corner of his room just in time, flipping the book open to roughly the halfway point and staring intently at the page as George reaches the top step.

  “Good morning!”  Anthony greets him far too cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to obscure the other man’s view of his room.  

  “...Morning.”  George replies, not even trying to disguise his attempts to peer around his boss.  “How’d it go last night?”  

  “Um - fine!  Yeah, just fine.  Perfectly fine.  Everything is… fine.”  She closes her eyes, letting out a slow quiet sigh at his obvious nerves.  

  Adjusting the book to make sure it’s in his line of sight, she grits her teeth and bites the bullet.  “Morning, Georgie!”  

  Lockwood looks over his shoulder at her in alarm, but at her reassuring nod he steps hesitantly out of the way so she’s in clear view.

  George inspects her with narrowed eyes.  “You are significantly less hungover than I’d expected.”

  She winces, not able to fault him in the slightest for the disappointment in his voice.  “Yeah, pretty sure it just hasn’t hit me yet.  Sorry about that.  It won’t happen again, Scouts Honour.”

  “Why are you in Lockwood’s room?”  His brow furrows almost imperceptibly.

  She doesn’t miss a beat.  “I was so drunk last night he was worried I was going to fall asleep on my back and choke on my own vomit, so he made me sleep in this ridiculously uncomfortable chair.”

  Both men fix their eyes on her.  Anthony looks horrified, while George looks strangely impressed.  The bespectacled man studies her for another moment and she holds her breath, hoping he’d bought it.  Shrugging a ‘fair enough’, he bids them a temporary farewell and walks into his own room, closing the door behind him.  

  She huffs a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and slumping back in the chair as the tension drains from her body.  When she cracks an eye a few long moments later, Anthony is still standing in the doorway with the same look of horror plastered across his face.

  “What’s wrong?”  She asks, worry laced in every syllable.  

  “I didn’t even think of that!  I could have let you die!”  He seethes, throwing his hands up in annoyance at himself.  

  She has to fight the urge to laugh at him, focusing instead on gathering her strength to stand and walk over to take his hands in her own.  

  “I appreciate the concern, my love, but I wasn’t that drunk by the time you got me home.”  She smiles fondly at him, lifting his hands to press soft kisses to each knuckle.  When she glances up at him even his ears are flushed pink, looking at her with a lovesick smile.  

  “Call me that again?”  He implores, pulling her against him.

  With a quiet laugh, she drapes her arms over his shoulders before replying.  “My love.”

  They lose themselves in each other for another several minutes, only parting grudgingly at the rumble of his stomach and the threat of another interruption.

  George waits until later that morning when Lucy, Kipps, and Holly have joined them and they’re all in the kitchen eating breakfast to comment on Anthony’s inside out shirt, and how impressed he is that the sixth member of their agency has learned to read upside down.   As Lucy slowly turns to look at them, eyes wide and jaw seemingly aiming to touch the floor, Anthony lets the red-faced young woman beside him hide her blush in his shoulder.  For some reason, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed.  Grinning proudly, he winks at the Listener, causing her to shriek loudly and demand to know the full story.

  When his girlfriend looks up to shoot him a warning look, he mimics zipping his lips.  “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Luce.”

  Lucy’s demands are finally met five years later when James taps the side of his champagne flute with his knife, drawing the attention of the room full of guests to tell his favourite story about the bride and groom.

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

taglist: @tessas4 @chloejaniceeee @shakespearseclipse @ettadear @kassandra1000

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

[starry-on-ao3]

Okay, my last ask still stands, but the more I think about it, number 1 (“So… Do you actually like me—” “We have been together for seven years. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?”) sounds really cute for Edward x Paddy, so I'd like to add that if you'd like to write that.

Aweee thank you for the asks!! 🥰 I absolutely absolutely adore this prompt, I kinda was secretly hoping you'd pick this one!!<3 hope you enjoy!

"And then - do you know what he did next? - let me tell you what he did next - he started polishing the brass pipes on the engine."

Paddy didn't look up from the dishes he was methodically washing: he had gotten used to Edward's rants about his fellow crew members over the years, and had learned when to spot when it was a serious rant and when Edward just needed to offload at the end of a long day.

This time, it was the latter: he hummed sympathetically, allowing Edward to continue.

"Do you know what polishing brass pipes does to the brass?" Edward scoffed. "It wears them down over time - the engine could explode!"

Paddy slotted a dripping plate in between China mugs on the dish rack.

"I'm just so sick of these new recruits - thinking they know everything." Edward ripped into a packet of shortbread, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Do you want some?"

Paddy nodded, and held out his open mouth for Edward to place a biscuit into.

"Anyway, enough about my day," Edward sighed, munching on a biscuit. "How was yours?"

"Much less interesting - I had a go at a first draft of our wedding guest list."

"Oh? How are we on numbers?"

"Eighty-seven. If we include the Navy chaps."

"And if we don't include them? I don't want people from work at the wedding."

"Well, that brings it down to sixty-two."

Edward nodded as he processed this, and munched on another biscuit. "I'm happy with sixty-two. Nice and small and intimate."

"Low-key," Paddy hummed.

Edward fed him another biscuit. "A low-key wedding. I think that suits us."

"We're low-key people."

"But - you do want to get married, don't you?"

Paddy sighed affectionately. Edward had always been like this: needing an extra push of reassurance when his mood was low, always needing somebody to tell him things straight.

He finished washing the dishes, dried his hands on a teatowl, and glided over to Edward, taking another biscuit when offered.

"Of course I want to get married," he replied earnestly.

"I'm sorry - I know I can be like this sometimes - I just get anxious– so– do... Do you actually like me–"

“We have been together for seven years." Paddy looped his hands around the back of Edward's neck, gently pulling his forehead down to plant a soft kiss on it. "We’re getting married next year. I mean this in the nicest possible way: what the hell do you think?”

Edward smiled softly. "I know. I'm sorry– it's just been a long day."

"At the end of a long week."

"At the end of a month that feels like it'll never end," Edward sighed. "But the best part is I get to come home to you."

"Absolutely," Paddy beamed, "and the best part of my day is welcoming you back home."

He kissed the tip of Edward's nose, making his fiancé giggle adorably, and pulled him in for a hug.

"How about you get out of your uniform, into something more comfortable, and I'll put us on a pot of tea and we can watch a movie?"

"Sounds good. Nothing to do with boats, please."

"So not Titanic?" Paddy pouted.

Edward paused. "Oh, alright. I can't refuse Titanic."

"But I don't want a lecture about the historical innacuracies in the film, alright?"

Edward chuckled. "Alright, then. Can I talk about Titanic trivia instead?"

Paddy rolled his eyes, grinning. "Oh, alright."

"It was built in Belfast."

Paddy stepped back, grabbing another biscuit, before popping on the kettle to boil. "I know."

"It made its last stop in Ireland before sailing across the Atlantic," Edward added.

"I know." Paddy couldn't hold back a grin.

"Its last stop was in Queenstown - which now goes by the name of Cobh - but the Titanic–"

"–was too big to fit into Cork Harbour so they sent a smaller boat to Queenstown to pick up the passengers - I was there when we did the Titanic tour, you know. Both times," Paddy chuckled. Edward giggled through a mouthful of shortbread. "Now, get upstairs with you and relax. You can tell me all about it later."

Edward pushed himself away from the counter, crossed the kitchen to give Paddy a peck on the cheek, and skipped away, mumbling more Titanic trivia over his shoulder.

[z4nstories]

Continuation of July 1st's Post

This is a draft of a story I'm working on. If you came from Insta, green marks the start of the excerpt.

He moved swiftly out of the shadows towards a grand mahogany door. Once he reached the door he gave it three firm knocks. He paused for a second before knocking twice more. There was no reply. The watch ticked and eventually its hands had met the first gilded index. One minute had passed with no answer. He frowned slightly before opening his mouth to speak

“Zoya, it’s me” His voice was low, almost fatherly, as it echoed through the empty meadow. A few seconds passed before there was a reply in the form of a sharp metallic click which cut through the silence. The man recognised it as a gun cock. He reached down into his coat pocket, grasping the cold metal of his own weapon and began to unsheath it - then stopped when he realised he couldn’t kill yet and of course even if she chose to shoot, the bullet would go right through him. 

“I know it’s you. How did you find me, Rio?” She spoke coldly, with a sense of urgency. Rio was indeed the man’s name. It was the name detailed on all his legal documents and certificates. If anyone asked, he was Rio Hawk, a Californian Park Ranger. He had the stories and experience to support his alibi, so it worked just fine.

“Way to greet an old friend after 5 years, eh?” Rio chuckled before adding on.

“That’s not old man Ronny’s revolver you got pointed at me, is it?” 

“You killed Ronny.” Her voice was muffled, as she spoke from the other side , perhaps to her favour as in actual fact she was actively forcing herself to stop shivering from behind the door. She continued on speaking, her voice growing louder till she began to shout. Rio did not reply. Instead his lips curled in a smile upon hearing his old friend’s accusation.

“You killed all of them didn’t you? While I was in hiding. I know you did, you filthy vermin. You- you!” She trailed off as her voice began to quiver and grow quiet. Rio took note of this.

“You’re getting emotional.” He mocked. He spoke as if oblivious to the gun pointed at him on the other side of the door.

“No I’m not” She retorted promptly

“It’s been five years and nothing has changed.” Rio continued in a condescending manner. He had meant to say ‘you haven’t changed’, though this worked too.

Zoya aimed the revolver slightly above her own head, towards the door. She had stood beside him for many years in the past and his height was engraved into her mind so much that, as she aimed the gun towards the door, it was as if she was looking right at his two diamond eyes.

“So what? You’re here to kill me then?”  Her voice grew sharper, though she quickly found herself unable to formulate a sentence as her heart thumped, almost ripping through her chest. There was no reason for Rio’s visit, other than to kill her, and kill her he would, if she didn't comply. But how could she? After so many years and after such a grave threat how could she open the door to the tyrant on the other side. In her eyes death was growing to become the most viable option.

Rio gazed at the silver doorknob as it sparkled under the sunlight. There were no fingerprints or smudges. It was clean, which was rare for Zoya. She was not exactly unclean herself, rather she simply didn’t have the time to spare for household chores. Rio was acutely aware of this. It would have been easy for him to bust open the door, but he knew that she would not be so foolish as to leave her own home unprotected, which is why, upon seeing the door move slightly with the wind’s breeze, he shuddered. With an unlocked door, what plan did she have to protect herself from him?

“How did you find me?” In the short period of silence, her cold tone resurfaced. Rio continued to ignore her and instead looked down at his watch once more. The gold hands read 10:05 and reflected in the watch face the blue sky was gradually painted grey, dark and murky like a pool of filthy water.

“Just let me in Zoya,” he tapped his shoe in beat with the tick of his watch as he spoke. 

“Zoya!” He shouted.

Though she was not the sensitive type, Zoya, still clutching onto the revolver, began to reminisce about that day fourteen years ago. The last time she had seen Rio. The memories drowned out Rio’s demands.

The next time I see you, you’ll be dead,  the words were still fresh in her mind, echoing in her soul. She still did not know why he had changed, but the fact that he stood just a few metres away separated only by a wooden door, meant that the past fourteen years had been for nothing. Rio had changed and that meant their past no longer meant a thing to him. If he didn’t care anymore then why did it hurt her so much? Why did she still care when everything around her told her that she shouldn't? The thoughts and memories echoed in her mind as she wobbled slightly, almost falling over as her eyes began to tear up.

“Why..” Her finger curled tightly around the trigger, as tears began to drip from her face. Whether they were tears of fear, sadness, or regret did not matter to her. She just wanted to escape but her legs would not move.

“Just open the-” Rio was interrupted by a loud bang, accompanied by the hurried squawks of fleeing birds. Instinctively, he leaped back, though it would not be unwise to attribute his retreat as a transfer of energy from a bullet to his body, as he had been stood mere inches from the door. Nevertheless, he landed a few metres away from his position, no wounds chiselled into his body. This wasn’t how things were meant to go! He scowled in frustration. Now a safe distance away from the home, he examined the door. There was nothing. There were no holes. The watch read 10:10. There was still nothing. Approaching the door again, this time unaccompanied by the chirping birds, he opened his mouth to fill the silence.

“Zoya!?” The watch ticked yet there was no answer. This time there were no chirping birds nor soft, whistling wind. In the absence of Zoya's reply, the air bowed to Rio’s presence.  The tree; the meadow; the home, they were now ghastly ornaments to decorate Rio’s eerie domain

10:11 AM. The skies darkened, devouring all sunlight in their path. Like ravenous vultures, the clouds feasted upon the light as the sky gradually dyed black. Nestled comfortably among the shadows was the man, Rio. He threw his flowers on the floor and stuffed the brown envelope into his coat pocket. With the same hand, he pulled out a silver revolver. He held it tightly in his right hand as it gleamed under the sun’s clouded, dull light. The other hand moved towards the doorknob as the tree glared, its spectral branches reaching out to grab hold of him. His finger wrapped around the revolver’s static trigger, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Inside there was a body; and a mirror. 

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[my85volvo]

Prompt!

Okay so I reblogged this a few days ago and accidentially posted the unfinished version instead of saving it in my drafts, then accidentally deleted it, which is embarrasing but whatever. So here it is again. I didn't follow the prompt exactly but I was so inspired by all this angst!

Thanks @faladrast for the inspo!

"I...didn't think you'd come," Stiles whispered to the ground.

He was still tied to the iron chair that was bolted to the floor, his wrists and ankles burning from the tightly bound rope. The dead bodies of 3 hunters lay across the dimly lit cellar, and Derek stood over them with his claws unsheathed, soaked in blood. His eyes were glowing a deep Alpha red, brighter still against the contrast of the poorly lit room.

"Of course I came," the wolf spat out while striding toward Stiles. "Why the hell wouldn't I?"

He seemed...angry. Derek moved behind him and cut through his restraints.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, voice shakey.

When Derek came back around to face him, he was still panting from the effort of ripping the captors apart. Stiles could tell he was concentrating on pulling back his shift, because he took a few breaths to close his eyes and sheathe his claws.

Once Derek opened his eyes again, they were back to the hazel green that Stiles remembered. Derek moved his hands to cup Stiles' face and rest their foreheads together.

"What the hell were you thinking? Don't ever run off on your own again. I thought--" Derek choked on his last words, choosing to gulp down the rest of his sentence rather that say it aloud.

When Stiles felt the pain in his aching muscles and raw skin start to fade, he pulled away from Derek's hands.

"I'm okay, really. You don't have to."

Derek scowled, but he stepped back to let Stiles stand on his own. He was a bit shakey at first, then managed to take a few steps with only a slight limp. What hurt more was knowing Derek came here and risked his life for someone he didn't even want to be with anymore. Stiles was glad that Derek still saw him as a friend, but he chastised himself since all he seemed to know how to do these days was be a burden on the wolf.

"Come on," Derek said, heading toward the door. "Stay close, there's probably more coming."

Stiles followed dutifully up the stairs, measuring his every breath, trying with all his willpower to just be good. He wanted to crack a stupid joke about being a damsel in distress or hug him so tight that Derek's stubble would imprint on his cheek. Honestly, he was so damn happy to see him that he almost forgot how much Derek must hate his rambling and clingy-ness.

Suddenly, Derek stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head to listen for something, then reached back and grabbed Stiles' hand to pull him along. The pair moved silently the rest of the way up the stairs, through the kitchen, out a sliding glass door, and into the dark tree line past the back yard. Derek didn't let go of his hand, and he didn't speak a word until they reached Stiles' rental sedan parked on a dirt path 20 minutes later. He noticed that his duffle was packed and tossed in the backseat. Derek must have found it at the motel, where it was left behind when Stiles was taken.

Refusing to hand over the keys, Derek sat on the driver's side and waited for Stiles to buckle himself in before speaking.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Derek asked with a frown. "Why did you just leave?"

"I just thought that it would be easier for you, if I left. I'm sorry that I...I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here."

"Why the hell would leaving make things easier for--" Derek stilled, his knuckles going white around his clenched fists.

When he turned toward Stiles, his face was blank. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but must have thought better of it. Stiles waited, expecting more anger or annoyance or disappointment or all three. Instead, he stared at Stiles with an unreadable expression for several moments before finally speaking again.

"I see," replied Derek.

He started the car and slowly made his way down the muddy dirt path, eventually hitting a narrow, paved road a few minutes later. Stiles had no idea where they were, somewhere inland in Nova Scotia based on the lack of the salt-brine smell in the air, and they rode the entire way in silence. Derek would flex his hands and occasionally growl under his breath, but otherwise kept his eyes on the road. Stiles let quiet tears fall while he looked out the window, grateful that Derek didn't comment it.

Derek drove extra carefully, seemingly unconcerned that they would be followed, and ended up taking just over 3 and a half hours before pulling in front of a small cottage. It was going to be awkward staying here together, after everything. Stiles made a mental note to find an alarm and wake up early, so they could get out of here and to an airport as soon as possible. When they were parked, Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt but made no move to get out. Derek just sat there, staring straight ahead, frozen with a clenched jaw and rigid back.

"Just tell me what you want," said Derek.

"What?"

"Do you not feel safe with me? Do you need more space? I won't climb in your window anymore, if you want. I can also get you an apartment--something that's just yours, without me or your dad. I'll hire a coven to ward it, too. We can even install mountain ash frames if you need them." Derek turned toward him, his stern eyes transformed into ones of hope and longing.

"No, Derek, that's not--"

"Were you afraid to talk to me? Did you think I would get violent? Because I would never, Stiles. I would never hurt you, no matter how angry I got." Derek reached out to grab Stiles' hand, but withdrew before the touched. "I can go to therapy, or we could go together if that would help. I know I have a hard time talking, but I'll be better. I can learn, I can be better for you."

"Derek, you're fine. You don't have to keep trying. It's okay, really."

"Maybe it's okay for you, but it's not okay for me. Please, Stiles. Just tell me. Tell me what I have to do to get you to stay."

Stiles didn't want Derek to stay with him out of pity or obligation.

"Derek, you..." he started, unsure of how to continue without breaking down into sobs. "You deserve happiness. You don't have to stay with me because you think it's the right thing to do."

"...the right thing to do?"

"Look, I won't run off on my own again, okay? I really wasn't going after those hunters, I just needed to get away for a while and see the aurora borealis, but I guess one of them saw me at a bar and thought they could score some points with the Argents. So, if you want to be with someone else... I won't let it affect the pack. I just needed a bit of time to, you know, adjust to the idea."

"Stiles, what the hell are you talking about? I don't want to see anyone else. I want you, and not out of obligation. Because I--I love you."

They had only been together for a few months, and Derek never even said he liked him. Never said anything close to that, really. They just sort of...fell into bed together after a particularly close call with a pack of chimaras, and when Derek kept sticking around, Stiles thought they could be something more. But then the phone call, and the date, and...it made more sense that Derek would find someone better.

So, when Stiles heard those 3 little words come out of Derek's mouth, his heart felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest. He made a noise somewhere between a gasp and sob, and then the tears came. Derek dove across the bench seat and held him, pressing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck.

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "I'm sorry if that was too much, we don't have to be anything you don't want us to be. Just stay, Stiles. Please. I'll be whatever you want me to be."

"B--but," Stiles stuttered between sobs. "You s--said I was t--too much, and--and that woman, she--you looked so happy with her."

"What woman?" Derek pulled back to look Stiles in the eyes. "I never said you were too much, why would I ever say you were too much?"

Stiles wiped his eyes and looked at Derek. He seemed so vulnerable, so broken, and Stiles was only just beginning to realize that it was his fault. He was so, so wrong.

"I heard you on the phone talking about me. You said, 'He's too much, all the time, and I don't know what to do with him,' remember? Then I saw you on a date, smiling at some woman... you barely even smile at me, so it just seemed like... you were happy with her."

Derek sighed and rubbed his forehead, letting out a light chuckle.

"The thing that was 'too much' wasn't you. It was my instincts every time you left. Did you know I had to stop myself from following you home every time you walked out my door? Obviously I kept failing, because I was at your window every other night."

Derek lightly held Stiles' hands and looked straight into his eyes. Stiles listened in disbelief and tried to tamp down the constant flutter in his chest.

"And the woman? She was a party planner. I don't know how to... I wanted to do something nice for your birthday. Something you would really love. So she asked me to tell her about you. Our meeting was supposed to be 30 minutes, but I spent nearly an hour just talking about everything you like and how amazing you are."

"I'm sorry," Stiles threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his back and clutching onto the leather jacket as tightly as he could. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry--I love you, I love you so much, and I thought you didn't want me anymore, and I didn't want to be a burden, and I was so miserable since I left, and I couldn't find a decent burger anywhere in that stupid little town, and I just thought of you the whole time and how I missed your cooking and the smell of your loft and how you liked to hold my--"

Derek stopped his rambling with a kiss so desperate that it had Stikes reeling. It wasn't gentle by any means, but it still felt like he was pouring every single ounce of love and want and need into his lips. Stiles melted under him, letting his mouth go lax as Derek held onto his jaw and guided his tongue where he pleased.

When he finally pulled away, they were both a little out of breath.

"If you ever thought I didn't want you, then that's my fault. One I will remedy immediately. And frequently," Derek said as he slid back to the driver's side and opened the door.

The slam was a bit excessive, but Stiles had no time to dwell on it because Derek actually leaped over the hood to open the door for him, then grabbed him around the waist and headed him over his shoulder.

There were many playful protests on the way into the cottage, but Derek didn't set him down until they were in the bathroom. He stripped him, somewhat rudely, and herded him into the shower. Derek removed his own clothes to join him, and he spent the next 20 minutes gently scrubbing every single inch of Stiles' skin. When Stiles made a move to turn their shower time into something much sexier, Derek pushed his hand away and continued to clean like he was on a mission, despite the very obvious growing situation between his legs.

Derek barely let him take a step the rest of the night. He got him dried and dressed, then bundled up and fed, then tucked into bed. If Stiles had any doubt about Derek's desire for him, it was squashed that night. The wolf spent hours worshipping his body with slow fingers and measured licks. He marked his pale skin with little bites and bruises covering his neck and shoulders. When they finally, finally made love, Stiles cried and begged and melted into him, and Derek whispered a never-ending stream of 'I love you' and 'you're perfect' and 'you're mine.' They didn't leave the little cabin all week.

I love misunderstanding fics.

Teen Wolf Sterek Prompt:

Stiles and Derek are in an established relationship. Stiles then overhears Derek on the phone, saying something like “I don’t know what to do about him.” Stiles assumes Derek is talking about him, and decides to surprise Derek during his lunch break and change his behavior because he assumes Derek is getting sick of him, when he sees Derek laughing with some girl. 

Stiles assumes Derek has been trying to break up with him/was cheating on him, and so he leaves Beacon Hills to go to Europe for a while, leaving just a note for Derek that says something like “Be happy.”

Derek is freaking out, not understanding what is going on, (because he wasn’t cheating and wasn’t talking about Stiles on the phone)

Nobody can get in contact with Stiles, but finally someone finds out where he went and Derek goes after him. 

There are a few just misses of almost running into each other. Maybe Stiles is practicing his magic or research skills with the packs he is running into or something. 

Then they meet. Maybe Derek saves Stiles’ life, and its super confusing what Stiles is talking about while they are still fighting the monster, before Derek figures out what happened, somebody kills the dang monster, and then there is lots of comfort and fluff and better communication all around. 

[fanficonly]

Wenclair -One Shot-

"Jealousy looks hot on you"

Did a jealous Enid so thought a jealous Wednesday would be fun to try out.

What would a jealous Wednesday look like and what would it lead to I wonder?

I have a few drafts of different ways she would respond ... Here's number 1.

A quick one-shot while I'm tweaking my other fics enjoy😋

"Stop asking me Yoko!" Enid replied frustrated

"I'm sorry I just-" she looked across the courtyard to the sinister girl who was currently staring daggers at the tortured Artist who wouldn't leave her alone "I don't get it" she scrunched her eyebrows and shook her head lightly. The thought of her bubbly and VERY innocent bestie falling for Nevermore's resident Psychopath was troubling to say the least.

"Yeah well neither do I but who am I to argue with my brain I'm very rarely wrong" she smiled widely but it was immediately lost the second Yoko choked on her drink in response.

She laughed and Enid replied offended " What's so funny?" Her hand on her hip questioningly.

"You believing you're always right of course" she let out a "HA" after the answer and mimicked Enid by putting a hand on her hip.

"I never said I was always right I just said I'm rarely wrong" she corrected her bestie and draped an arm across her shoulder, kissing her cheek playfully. She jokingly squeezed her, acting angry and Yoko chuckled in response. They stood like this for a moment smiling at their banter and mumbling that the other was an idiot.

"Enid" her ears pricked up at her name being spoken by the raven haired girl who had appeared like a magician behind the two girls. Wednesday ducked between them both grabbing Enid's arm and placing it on her shoulder instead.

Enid giggled at Wednesday's sly attempt to separate her from Yoko. "Wednesday" she smiled at her new girlfriend nodding and then looked across at Yoko who shook her head and massaged her temples in response, taking a light step back.

"I just came to see how you were mi amore " she explained, not breaking her pokerface even as Enid gave her a questioning look. Wednesday did however peel her eyes away from Enid to transfer a somewhat menacing look towards Yoko.

"And detach me from another person?" Enid responded, looking across to Yoko who now had her head in her hands at the obvious jealousy she had just witnessed.

Wednesday looked back at Enid and not being one to hide her bluntness and usually unnecessary hostility towards others Enid gave affection to, she just smirked.

"I cannot help it" Wednesday admitted rather bluntly "Ever since we defined our relationship I have yearned for your touch and become uncomfortable when you show the same affection towards other, lesser beings" she explained, flicking her eyes to Yoko who just let her mouth fall open in shock at the hurtful comment. Wednesday seemed confused at the feeling herself but she was never one to fight an urge so she ran with it, accepting it as normal behaviour.

"Hey don't be mean to Yoko." Enid defended her bestie as usual. Then looked at Yoko and said "Sorry Bestie" she smiled innocently apologising for Wednesday's actions. Also, trying to convey the fact that she had yet to find a way to control Wednesday's malicious tendencies on a consistent level.

"I'm not" Wednesday hadn't ripped her eyes away from Yoko who still remained close enough to Enid that Wednesday felt uncomfortable. She felt no shame in drilling her eyes into Yoko's to deter the touchy feely 'bestie'. Wednesday wasn't stupid, she knew she was being unreasonable and that Enid was a very physically affection little werewolf towards all those she cared about but that was irrelevant. Enid was her girlfriend. Hers. And she selfishly wanted the right to her affections to be solely hers and no one else's.

Wednesday's inner battle with her illogical thoughts were interrupted when Enid giggled "Jealously, looks hot on you babe" she smirked flashing her fangs at her girlfriend and winking.

"I am not jealous" She crossed her arms like a child having a tantrum,lying through her teeth. But had to look away to hide the fact that Enid would be making her blush if her cheeks had the ability to turn pink.

Enid removed her arm from Wednesday's shoulder and was immediately attacked with her signature death stare and Wednesday pulling her arm back into its position.

Enid giggled again wrapping her other arm around Wednesday neck

"urgh get a room" Yoko complained but the 2 girls were too caught up in eachother to even bother to respond. Wednesday got lost in Enid's eyes for a split second admiring her features fondly.

"Jealous?" Enid questioned turning away from Wednesday to look at Yoko, wiggling her eyebrows. She remained in place though her arms still securely wrapped around the shorter girl's shoulder.

"No I don't get Jealous that's just Wednesday here" Yoko pointed at the pale girl smirking herself.

"Tread lightly Vamp" Wednesday threatened turning her head towards Yoko as well. Up until now she had only been focused on Enid's face, admiring her girlfriend's features and ignoring the rest of the student body. But she had side eyed Yoko as she spoke this time, directing her bitterness towards the vampire.

"Hey" Enid scolded the jealous girl as if she was a child. She was aware that Yoko and Wednesday had a troubling friendship before she had started dating Wednesday and now with the unnecessary competition for Enid's affections it seemed things were very unlikely to get better.

"I'm not sorry" Wednesday silently rolled her eyes and turned her focus back to the werewolf in front of her, believing everything else around them to be irrelevant compared to her beauty.

"Whatever she's just mad because I've seen you naked and she hasn't yet" Yoko knew she should have just left it alone but she had finally found something that would get under Wednesday's skin so she had to take this opportunity, it would be wasted otherwise. It was the only thing she could think of to spark a reaction from her Bestie's lowkey possessive girlfriend, however off topic it was.

"What" Wednesday couldn't hide the pure confusion and rage that built up inside her at a slow burn.

"YOKO!" Enid pulled away from Wednesday to slap her best friend on the arm disapprovingly.

"What it's true!" She laughed recalling the few times she had found Enid after a full moon, sprawled across a floor and passed out.

"You're so bad" she joked in the typical girly way causing Wednesday to physically cringe. She loved Enid but sometimes Wednesday was astounded that she had fallen so deeply for a girl who spoke as if she was in a 70's housewife commercial.

Wednesday took this opportunity to step forward

"I am not going to give into the temptation to ask" she said but inside her jealousy was burning at an overwhelming speed. "Enid come with me" she demanded before grabbing her hand and dragging her away from Yoko, who just chuckled and walked across the courtyard to the rest of the vamps.

"Wens I get your jealous but-" she started before being cut off.

"I am NOT jealous." Wednesday lied, biting her tongue and continuing to drag Enid along behind her. Stubborn and jealous? Boy did Enid know how to pick 'em.

"So what was all that about?" Enid giggled, skipping along behind Wednesday, a wide smile still on her face. As toxic as some people might find the jealousy trait Enid enjoyed it for 2 reasons:

1. It confirmed Wednesday's undying love for her which she was mildly terrible at expressing due to her lack of relationship experience.

And 2. It was hot! And Wednesday would now be doing everything in her power for Enid's attention which she slyly enjoyed. Especially since she's usually the clingy one.

"I have no idea what you are referring too" Wednesday out right deflected the matter at hand still pulling Enid along behind her.

"Mmhmm okay" she giggled again "So are you gonna ask?" She spoke as Wednesday continued to drag her through the corridors of nevermore. Upon reaching her destination she hurried inside slammed the door and pressed Enid up against it.

"No" she responded before connecting thier lips in a passionate kiss. This was not where Enid thought this was going, in fact she half expected a lecture on relationship etiquette from the highly inexperienced Wednesday Addams. But she was also NOT complaining in the slightest sinking into Wednesday's embrace happily.

Enid also spoke between kisses "You- sure -you don't-wanna- know" she pulled away from Wednesday to catch her breath. She felt dizzy with the scent of the intoxicating woman in front of her. God Wednesday really had a compelling effect on Enid, so much so that she actually enjoyed her jealousy.

"Very" Wednesdays soulful eyes penetrated her soul with certainty as she pulled away.

"Here" Enid spoke. She then placed a kiss on Wednesday left cheek then another on her right. "You get two" she beamed knowing exactly what had triggered Wednesday's jealousy in the first place.

Wednesday exhaled out of her nose and was pleasantly surprised at how comforting the gesture made her feel.

She raised her hand to place it upon Enid's cheek and whispered a small but effective "Thank You". She wasn't sure how to react to someone receiving affection from her girlfriend, no matter how platonic it was. But something about what Enid just did, settled the emotions that threatened to bubble up from deep within the depths of her dark soul.

Enid noticed this and smiled knowingly. Crisis averted. However she did miss the love struck, Jealousy ridden Wednesday who had made an appearance only moments before.

You might say that's why she said what she said next but also Enid was a firm believer of full honesty and she didn't want this to bite her in the ass later.

"So listen about the whole seeing me naked thing Yoko was-" but Wednesday moved her index finger to place it upon Enid's pink lips to silence her

"I do not wish to hear the details" she spoke and before Enid could speak again that feeling rose up in Wednesday again and she connected their lips once more.

Enid pulled away for a moment, pushing Wednesday's shoulders back to look her in the eyes and talk to her.

"No details it's not what you think-" she really needed to tell Wednesday it was not a sexual or romantic thing AT ALL before she burned the whole school down, or at the least stop her from plotting to stake her best friend in later days.

Wednesday clasped her hands around Enid's wrists and lifted them up to slam them against the door behind her and kissed her again to keep her quiet. Enid happily let Wednesday dominate her, enjoying the reaction she got from the girl who insisted she did not like physical affection.

'What a lie' she thought to herself. They pulled apart for a second to catch their breaths, panting restlessly. Even Wednesday was shocked by her own actions, but she couldn't think of a better way to claim Enid as hers.

"Okay" Enid spoke again and Wednesday's ears twitched "but it's nothing weird it's just-" Enid tried to explain again this time much more breathless than before but Wednesday just rolled her eyes

"Enid." She interrupted plainly again. She was done playing around

"Yeah?" She looked innocently at Wednesday, her usual smile warming Wednesday's cold dead heart.

"Shut up" Wednesday spoke before trailing her hand up into Enid's hair and pulling her towards her lips to connect them once again.

Enid finally submitted. If Wednesday was gonna be jealous there's nothing she could say or do to stop her so why not just enjoy the outcome. She didn't know when or if it would happen again so she decided to sink into Wednesday's embrace and kiss her back.

"Happily" Enid smiled into the kiss draping her hand around Wednesday's waist and letting her continue to passionately kiss her in a jealous frenzy.

'See sometimes jealousy is hot' she thought to herself melting into the kiss as Wednesday made certain Enid knew what she was to her.

[babydaddyleorio]

Hungover

genre: comedy/crack

pairings: reader x nanami

synopsis: Your big day is right around the corner, and you were beyond happy to finally tie the knot with your fiancee, Kento Nanami. As his best friend and best man, Gojo insisted on throwing Nanami a bachelor party before he gets married to you. Of course, chaos is bound to happen if Gojo is in charge of anything, though.

warning: adult situations, profanity, and grammatical errors!

and... this is a rip-off of the movie “The Hangover” if it wasn’t obvious lol sorry not sorry

final note: this story is very random and has been sitting in my drafts for the longest. I’m probably not going to continue this, and it's rushed because I was too lazy to edit lol. Anyways, enjoy the crack.

How could one bachelor party end up going so wrong?

Although Gojo was typically a lightweight when it came to the very mention of alcohol, he still never in a million years expected to become this shitfaced when downing the few drinks he did have last night. His head banged violently as if to constantly be beat like a drum, and his stomach bubbled with irritation as he twisted around in this small space he was enclosed in.

Gojo then retched back in abrupt confusion and slowly wiggled his butt in a side-to-side motion before a frown spread across his lips at how restricted his body felt.

And as Gojo’s palms curiously felt around the foreign walls that surrounded him, it dawned on him that he was no longer in his soft, cushioned bed– but instead sitting in something hard and uncomfortably narrow. His sore eyes slowly peeled open to reveal that he was sprawled in a bathtub, the water from its faucet slightly dripping onto his socks and the railing for the shower curtain sitting across his lap.

“What the hell?” He rasped as he struggled to sit upright, an ache traveling across his lower back as he slid against the tiled wall. However, the unsettling sound of what seemed to be a low growl caught his attention just before he could move an inch further. Gojo’s forehead scrunched in confusion at the sudden commotion before he slowly turned his head to the side, his blurry vision making the unclear figure beside him multiply into threes.

“Who… are you?” Gojo asked in a strained voice, but he was left with no reply. He languidly took his balled fists and rubbed his eyes to clear his foggy sight before blinking them open to see the person beside him.

Only, there wasn’t a person standing beside him.

No, what stood beside Gojo was none other than a Kangaroo.

Gojo squinted his eyes before drunkenly shaking his head.

“Nah, can’t be right.” He hiccuped as he shut his eyes once more, thinking that he should try again since he obviously still couldn’t see straight.

And after about 5 seconds, Gojo peeled them open again.

Just to see that the Kangaroo was still in the same spot he had left it.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he cautiously stood up, the Kangaroo also lifting its arms in a predatory stance at how Gojo raised to his full height. Now Gojo was really regretting drinking as much as he did because his intoxication was making him hallucinate.

“Tuh, the Tequila must be fucking with me.” He sighed before gripping the bridge of his nose in irritation. He looked back up to see the Kangaroo still sneering at him and Gojo chuckled tiredly. He figured he should entertain this idea, you know, since he was still dreaming right now.

“You are seriously one ugly motherfucker.” Gojo suddenly snorted as he examined the oversized rodent in front of him, and the Kangaroo's eyes slowly narrowed into slits as if to understand Gojo’s insult.

“What, got a staring problem, little dude?” Gojo taunted before laughing at himself again, his cocky aurora resuming. His long legs stepped out of the bathtub, wobbling slightly on his balance before he stood face to face with the growling animal.

“Oh, pipe down.”  Gojo scoffed before he flicked its nose. “You’re not even real. You’re in my mind.”

Gojo then made a poof sound and moved his hands as if to emulate an explosion beside his head.

Though, the Kangaroo merely snorted before quickly slapping Gojo across his face.

Gojo gasped loudly as his head flew to the side and he slowly squinted his eyes at how real it felt.

“Um… ow?” Gojo spoke while holding his cheek in disbelief. “That felt a little too real.”

Gojo suddenly stiffened before his gaze hesitantly trailed back towards the animal.

“Hold on a second,” Gojo’s eyes widened as if finally clicking pieces together. “Are you real?”

The Kangaroo nodded its head at Gojo’s question, a mischievous glint now present in its eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

Next thing you knew, Gojo was screaming at the top of his lungs as his body flew out of the bathroom, a result of being completely manhandled by the kangaroo.

Gojo sucked in a deep breath as his body collided into the back of the couch in the living room and he winced at the pain now erupting in his ribs. Normally he would’ve had his infinity on to protect himself, but he was way too out of it to get it activated in time in his defense.

“Hey, could you keep it down? I'm trying to sleep.” Getou yawned while peeking his head over the couch, his eyes still closed and slob crusted on the side of his mouth.

“Considering I just got assaulted by a fucking Kangeroo, no– I don’t think I will keep it down, Suguru.” Gojo hissed in response, causing Getou to knit his eyebrows together in confusion.

“The hell are you talking about? It’s too early for your nonsense, Satoru.” Getou groaned while sluggishly opening his eyes, but all his movements stilled completely once he saw the menacing animal glaring at him from the bathroom's doorway.

“Holy shit, that’s a Kangaroo.” Getou whispered now fully awake, eyes quickly darting towards Gojo. “Since when did we have a Kangaroo?”

“I don’t know where it came from, but it’s fucking evil, that’s for sure.” Gojo spat as he held his side, bitterness leaking from his tone.

The Kangaroo snarled before bucking at them, causing both Getou and Gojo to jump in their spot.

“What do we do?” Getou whispered frantically and Gojo pondered for a second before he snapped his fingers.

“I think I heard on National Geographic that his name is Joey, so maybe If we address it as that he won’t be as mad,” Gojo suggested, thinking that maybe being polite would help.

“You dumbass, his name isn’t Joey, that’s what they call their kids.” Getou rolled his eyes, wondering why he had even bothered asking Gojo in the first place.

“Oh,” Gojo frowned his lips before snorting disapprovingly. “Well, who came up with that?”

“Look, as long as we don't move or make a sound we should be fine. Anything can set him off.” Getou whispered in assurance and Gojo slowly nodded in agreement.

“Okay, I won’t make a peep.” Gojo said while folding his lips inward.

Their plan would’ve been solid, that was if the blare of a ringtone didn’t abruptly sound two seconds later.

The Kangaroo’s eyes shot open and he hopped after them, making Gojo and Getou scatter around the room while yelling in unison. The Kangeroo aggressively bounced after them with absolute murder on his mind.

“WHY IS IT SO VIOLENT?” Gojo screamed before he avoided a punch that it suddenly sent his way. “AND WHY IS IT ONLY AFTER ME?”

“I DON’T KNOW JUST OPEN THE DOOR. OPEN THE DOOOOORRRR! ” Getou’s scream was high-pitched as he jumped on the kitchen counter, grabbing the nearest spatula and waving it around to defend himself.

“Think fast!” Gojo shouted before throwing a pillow at the Kangaroo’s face, causing it to stagger backward. Gojo took this as an opportunity to run towards the front door and swing it open.

“Alright, you want a piece of me, huh, Joey? Well, bring it on, bitch!” Gojo waved a red solo cup that was beside him in the air, copying how he had seen the people on TV try to capture a bull's attention. The Kangaroo threw the pillow to the floor and turned to face Gojo, his beady eyes glaring daggers at him.

It was like a scene out of one of those western movies, where a tumbleweed fell between Gojo and the Kangaroo in the middle of their standoff. Gojo wiped the side of his mouth, and the Kangaroo thumped its foot before thundering towards the white-haired man. Gojo waited and just as it got close, Gojo stepped from in front of the door and the Kangaroo ran out into the hallway. Gojo immediately shut the door and put his back against the door while locking it, breathing in and out heavily before throwing his head back.

“What the hell did we do last night?” Gojo asked while out of breath, turning himself to face Getou. His best friend sighed while dropping his head, but before Getou could answer, they heard a loud bang come from the back room and then footsteps following suit.

“What’s with all the ruckus?” A deep voice called before sucking their teeth in annoyance. “You’re fuckin’ with my beauty sleep.”

Gojo and Getou’s heads turned to see a figure waltzing out of the master bedroom, but their eyes widened once they saw that the figure was also booty butt naked.

“Dammit Toji, put some clothes on!” Getou fussed while covering his eyes with a plate beside him and Gojo whistled lowly at the lethal weapon Toji possessed, and he wasn’t referring to his gun either.

Toji’s gaze lowered down to his exposed area before chuckling deeply to himself.

“My fault.”

Gojo smacked his hand against his forehead because of the pounding headache he still had. The hotel room was completely trashed and Gojo cringed at the damages he would surely have to pay for. Getou slowly eased off the counter he was standing on, scooting away from Toji in disgust as he passed him, and went to grab the phone to check who had called. But as soon as he picked it up, he froze once he saw the many notifications on the screen.

“Well, this is bad.”

Toji stuck his head out of the refrigerator he had just opened with a slice of bread now hanging out his mouth.

“What is?”

“There’s so many missed calls from y/n.” Getou stared at the screen before slowly looking up. That’s when he noticed that someone important was missing.

“Guys…where’s Nanami?”

Everyone in the room paused, those words seeming to snap all their memories back in place. They had come to Vegas for Nanami’s bachelor party, giving the stoic man a little surprise before his big day. Nanami’s wedding was in less than two days, and Gojo wanted him to go out with a bang before he would be tied down for the rest of his life. Though, he figured that he must’ve gotten a little carried away last night.

“Fuck,” Getou groaned out loud while dragging his hand down his face.

“Alright, okay– everyone just calm down,” Gojo stated, although he was inwardly panicking himself since the hotel room was empty of the blonde man. “Maybe he went to go get breakfast.”

“Breakfast isn’t open yet, plus this is his phone. He would never leave it behind.” Getou countered while shaking his head in protest.

“Is he anywhere in the back?” Gojo tried again, but Toji clicked his tongue.

“Didn’t see him when I came from the bedroom. And all the doors have been ripped from the hinges so it’s impossible not to notice anyone.” Toji commented and Gojo sighed since there were no traces of him in the bathroom either.

“Well check his phone, there might be something on it.” Gojo quipped, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. Toji shrugged his shoulders before going back to fixing a sandwich. Luckily Nanami was too square to put a lock on, so Getou effortlessly scrolled to the camera roll to see the many pictures they took last night.

“Woah, this is insane,” Getou spoke once all the pictures were populated. There were pictures of them partying, and each one just seemed to get even worse the more he swiped.

“I see Nanami in some of these,” Getou commented the more he progressed, though he paused once he saw himself tonguing down an old lady, a look of horror now spreading across his face.

“Huh, never knew you were into Gilfs,” Gojo commented as he peeked over his shoulder and Getou sucked his teeth before hastily deleting the picture.

Yet the next picture they saw was of Choso drinking on the roof.

“Oh no… we forgot about Choso.” Gojo murmured in realization and luckily the roof he was on looked to be the Hotels. The three men all darted out the front door, well after they made Toji put on some pants, to go find Choso.

They ran up the escape exit stairs and burst through the door, and the harsh sunlight made them hiss painfully.

“Choso?” Gojo craned his neck as he pushed his sunglasses down, and Getou cupped his hands to his mouth as he continued to shout for him as well.

“Choso, where are you, man?” Getou yelled, eyes squinting in distress.

“Choso!” Toji sucked his teeth loudly while patting his knees enthusiastically. “Choso, here boy!”

Gojo and Getou immediately stopped and turned to face him.

“Toji, what the hell are you doing?”

Toji paused before looking at them as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “What does it look like– I’m calling Choso, duh.”

Gojo and Getou slowly turned their heads to look at each other before slowly turning back towards Toji.

“No… Choso, Nanami’s best man for the wedding.”

Toji raised an eyebrow.

“He drove with us here… remember?”

Toji raised his other eyebrow.

“Wait… so you mean to tell me that Choso isn’t a dog?” Toji asked in utter disbelief because this was news to him.

Gojo and Getou sighed loudly.

They weren't even going to start with Toji right now.

They ended up splitting up after that and after a few long minutes, luck seemed to fall on them.

“Hey guys, I think I found him!” Getou eagerly called over his shoulder. Choso had his body leaned against the cement door, his arms wrapped around his legs as he sat on the ground rocking himself backward and forward. The three men all stared at Choso with wide eyes before awkwardly clearing their throats.

“Hey, buddy… you alright?” Gojo cautiously asked as he slowly crouched down next to him.

“You guys… left me out here… all last night,” Choso muttered, hair stuck to his forehead and bottom lip trembling.

He truly looked traumatized.

“Jesus, he’s shaking like a stripper. The hell happened to him?” Toji squinted before chuckling lowly.

“Choso, we’re sorry we left you, okay? But we really need your help, right now. None of us can remember where Nanami is, so do you have any idea where he could be?”

Choso slowly shook his head. “No.”

“Great.” Getou breathed while dropping his head because they still didn’t have any leads. Toji stretched his muscles, honestly bored at where this was going. Though, Gojo noticed something under Toji’s tank top.

“Wait, did you get a new tattoo?” Gojo asked with squinted eyes.

Toji looked over his shoulder in confusion to see the tramp stamp that was now on his back.

“Must’ve got it last night.” He scoffed while tilting his head to see it better.

“Wait, what does it say? It could be a clue.” Getou perked up, thinking this could help them find their lost friend.

“It says… property of Monique.” Gojo read out loud before scrunching his face. “Who the hell is Monique?”

Toji furrowed his eyebrows and his gaze flickered to his finger. “Wait, is this a ring?”

“Don’t tell me you got married.” Gojo snorted jokingly before his face fell in realization once he realized everyone around paused with seriousness. Gojo rubbed the back of his neck before looking away. “Damn.”

“There’s a symbol on it.” Getou pointed out, ctrying to change the subject.

“I think I remember seeing that symbol in one of the pictures, it was on a building.” Gojo mused. Getou pulled out Nanami’s phone, pinching his fingers to zoom in to see the symbol that they were talking about.

“There it is!”

“Then let’s go, we need to find him today otherwise we’re screwed.”

The men jogged towards the door in haste, happy they finally got somewhere.​​ Though, Gojo paused since something still felt off.

“I feel like we’re missing something.” Gojo hummed as his pace slowed.

Getou halted before looking around and then sucked his teeth in realization.

“We forgot Choso again.”

Getou and Gojo ran back to go get their traumatized friend, but Toji simply rolled his eyes at the two.

“Some people just don’t deserve pets,” Toji tsked, shaking his head and trailing lazily behind them.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

that kind of morning, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re really bad at waking up. Big sleepyhead with foggy memory kind of bad. Your brain is on autopilot. Hm, kind of hard to pilot when everything seems out of place. And you’re mildly hungover. Ow. You just ran into a muscular chest. Who could that be?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; morning after a wild night; graphic descriptions of sexual acts and a tiny bit of smut–while on the phone (fem reader, nipple play, dry humping, hint of a handjob); non-idol!BTS; basically sleepy and slightly hungover reader trying to piece together life lmao

–

Most people make their worst decisions at night.

Not you. You make your worst decisions in the morning. 

Maybe it's because you don't drink coffee.

"Ow!"

Was your bed always that high? Huh. You squinted in the sunlight filtering through the window, far too bright for your sensitive eyes. Instead, you occupied yourself with sniffing the t-shirt you were wearing. It smelled clean, like fabric softener. Also, it was white. Generally, you didn't buy white shirts since they dirtied easily. A miracle that this one wasn't stained. 

You stumbled through the bedroom door – was it always that far? – and smacked your nose into a wall. 

"Ow!"

"Ah!"

A moving wall. Wait, not a wall. A shirtless guy. Oh. It had been that kind of night. 

You rubbed your nose. "Erm, hello. You're still here, huh?" you mumbled. 

The guy blinked at you. "What do you mean? This is my apartment."

Oh. That's why everything seemed unfamiliar. Now that you looked at him, he was pretty attractive. Long dark hair, large brown eyes, dark brows, shapely pink lips with a mole underneath his lower lip. He had two more on his nose and cheek. Lightly tanned skin and a cute confused face. Huh. Nice muscles too. Good for him. 

"Alright, I'll be on my way then, uh..." you trailed off awkwardly, pushing past him. The events of last night were hazy and your head hurt a little, although not so bad that you couldn't function. You were just poorly functioning because you weren't a morning person. 

"Do you want coffee or something?" the guy asked, following you. He sounded a little worried. 

"Nah, I don't drink coffee," you muttered, holding onto the wall as you walked down the unfamiliar narrow hallway. "Stains your teeth."

Speaking of teeth, your breath was probably awful. Hopefully that poor guy didn't breathe near you. Come to think of it, this wasn't what you were wearing last night. It was probably his shirt, considering the large size. Where were your clothes? Oh, look, a bathroom. 

"I could order us some breakfast," the guy continued as you stuck your head into the bathroom and saw the sink. There was a black toothbrush and a crumpled tube of toothpaste, definitely not yours. A black cup for rinsing one's mouth, with a winking emoji printed on it. A black shirt bunched up and half-falling off the sink. Deodorant. Cologne. You picked it up and sniffed it. A clean scent. Didn't make you want to throw up. Awesome. 

You flicked on the faucet and shoved your hands under it. Cold. Fuck. Whatever. You cupped some and brought your hands to your face, dripping water everywhere, and cursing under your breath before gargling some. Best you could do. You spied something red out of the corner of your eye. What was that? You squinted at the towel rack through the mirror, water trickling down your chin. There was a thin scrap of ripped lace fabric on the hanging white towels. 

The guy was still talking. 

"I can get you a spare toothbrush? Do you want some cleanser to wash your face?"

He had a pleasant voice, a little deep. Clear, smooth. Made you think of a cool, refreshing breeze. 

Wait. 

Were those your red panties on the towel rack?

You winced at the mirror. Welp. Those were done for. Didn't look like you could salvage them. You suddenly felt a chilly draft on your bare ass. Your arms were still dripping water as you leaned down and splashed your cheeks. Guess you'll just have to figure something out. You turned off the water and wiped your face off with your palm. A white hand towel appeared. You took it, seeing the guy's tattooed hand and arm. Sexy. He had an emoji tattooed onto his knuckle of a sheepish, crooked smile. 

Kind of looked like you, at the moment. 

You dried your face and hands. 

"Thanks, but it's fine, I'll just go home so I don't bother you," you said, folding the towel and placing it on the sink before moving past him and his curious expression. 

"You're not bothering me. I want to make your morning comfortable."

You noticed your red dress from last night on the ground. The thin straps were torn off and there was a distinct, dark stain down the front. Hmm. You vaguely remembered scooping your tits out and smashing them against his hard dick and dropping a stream of spit down your chest for lubrication before furiously tit-fucking him and making him cum all over your collarbones and neck. 

Ah. 

Well. 

That dress was fucked. 

"Can I borrow this shirt? I'll give it back," you said, turning around to see the guy's face bright pink, staring at your dress on the ground. 

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want," he rambled, shifting awkwardly. He was wearing light gray sweatpants. You looked down. He shifted away quickly, but it was pretty hard to disguise that tent. 

You scratched your head. Hm. "Say, uh..." you trailed off again. 

He blinked with those big chocolatey eyes. "Oh, um, Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." 

He stuck his hand out. You shook it, fitting your hand in his, suddenly remembering when you grabbed it and put it between your legs, smearing your juices from his wrist to his forearm and grinding onto his muscle, flexing your opening on his skin as he moaned darkly into your ear.

Ah.

You let go.

You were probably past handshakes, but, oh well?

"Right, erm, Jungkook, do you know where my jacket is?" you asked sheepishly. 

Jungkook whipped his head around, sending his black hair flying everywhere. "I think... it's in the living room?" You remembered running your hands through that hair, panting in his face as he shoved you against the wall, two fingers on your clit and rubbing furiously, those big chocolate eyes watching you come undone under him. 

He moved past you and you flattened against the wall, not touching him. Hm. This increased clarity as you continued to wake up was starting to make this more and more, uh... less chill? Weird? Awkward? You followed him at a slight distance, lifting your head to see his back. Your eyes widened. Long red scratches up and down his defined back, caused by your fingernails as he fucked you violently into his bed, your thighs clasped around his waist and his name in your mouth, his thick cock making your pussy so tight and full that you felt like you were going to explode, so completely jammed with pleasure that you couldn't stop moaning. 

Erm. Hm. You kind of needed panties with the sudden leakage happening down there. 

Oh shit, did you use protection? You frowned as you screwed up your eyes to think. Yes. You did. Jungkook had grabbed them from his nightstand and spilled the whole box, thus causing you both to scramble to detach one in your and his haste.

For. 

Er. 

Fucking like animals. 

You both got one condom and ended up using both.

"Ah, here." 

You reached out and took your long-line black leather jacket from Jungkook. That's right. You'd worn that red satin dress with this jacket and black high heels. You spied them by the mat at what you assumed was the front door. Jungkook wasn't looking at you. His face was red. You slipped on the jacket. Smelled the rum still sticking to it. Right. You went to the club, got a drink, and Jungkook had knocked into you, spilling it into your jacket. It was an accident, but that was fine, because Jungkook was hot and you bribed him into talking to you by asking him to buy you another drink.

Super cute with his apologies, nervously speaking to you all night before loosening up with a few drinks and beginning to tease you, little by little, until you were in his apartment, getting your jacket slipped off your shoulders and his mouth on your newly exposed skin. 

The memory made you reach up to touch your left shoulder. You winced. Peered under the jacket and shirt to see a giant purple hickey. 

"Oh... er, sorry..." Jungkook sputtered sheepishly. "You seemed really into it at the time."

There was damn waterfall between your legs now.

"I was," you replied, a little too quickly. "Uh, I mean, I am. Was great."

You facepalmed. Jungkook jumped, startled that you slapped your own face. 

"Sorry, I'm not a morning person. What I meant to say was last night was amazing and I had a great time," you sighed. "You were wonderful. And hot. And sexy. And I'd do it again."

Jungkook blinked at you with those big chocolatey eyes. 

"O... oh." 

He seemed torn on whether to believe you or not. To be fair, your voice was hoarse and you sounded half-dead. Plus, your speech was a little cliché. Sigh. You struggled to retain brain function, shaking your head roughly. It always took you a long time to wake up and it was worse when you weren't home doing your usual routine. You furrowed your brows, raising your head to frown at Jungkook. 

Hold on. 

"Don't you work for my dad?"

Jungkook started, eyes shifting. 

"Er... yeah."

Did you just fuck one of the waiters at your dad's high-end restaurant? All night?

Huh.

What are the chances?

You were going to have to see Jungkook later that night, since you were the hostess.

"You know, Jungkook," you said, realizing why you had spoken to him last night, why it was fun and familiar banter, why he was so cute to you, and why it had been such a good chance. "Let's not tell my dad about this."

Jungkook's eyes went shifty again. "Yeeeeeeeah... let's not."

Your dad meant well. He was loud and brash by nature and scared every human being that hadn't lived under his roof for decades. Speaking of living under his roof... Maybe you shouldn't go home smelling like rum and Jungkook's cologne, wearing his t-shirt and no panties.

"You... sure you wanna go home?" Jungkook asked, chewing on his lip. You noticed he looked a bit disappointed. Sad. 

"Actually," you sheepishly began. "Maybe I shouldn't. Not until Papa leaves the house." You twisted your mouth to one side and poked your index fingers together. Awkward. "Your offer for breakfast still stands?" 

He brightened. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. What do you want?" He held up the phone form the coffee table. "We can order something."

Your eyes shifted to the phone. Ten missed calls. 

"I would call Papa first," you muttered, walking forward and taking the phone from him. You felt his body heat, the closeness of his bare torso. He smelled nice. Jungkook made a surprised noise, only now realizing he had picked up your phone by accident. You slipped your other arm around him and pulled him to you, inhaling his scent. He made another squeak of confusion as you pressed your lips to his warm chest. 

Mmm. Nice. 

You phone vibrated violently and you answered it without looking, kissing Jungkook's skin softly, hearing him gasp and stifle his moan as the sharp bark of your name blasted from the phone speaker. 

"Where are you?!" Your dad was yelling at the top of his lungs. Jungkook shivered under you. He probably thought your dad was pissed, but he was only worried. 

"I'm fine. Slept over at a friend's since I went to the bars last night."

"Oh, fuck, sheesh," your dad grumbled, swearing repeatedly. Your lips began to travel and Jungkook was smacking your arm impatiently, shaking his head, mouthing at you, are you crazy, what the fuck are you doing, before he clenched his jaw and tipped his head back as you began to lazily lick his dark nipple, feeling it harden with your touch.

"Are you eating?" your dad barked in your ear. 

"Mhm, can't start the day unless you eat," was your reply, grinning around Jungkook's nipple as his face was becoming more panicked by the second. 

"That's right," your dad huffed. "What are you eating?"

"Korean."

Jungkook gave you an exasperated, pained look that quickly turned to ecstasy, placing a hand over his mouth and muffling his moan as you sucked in his nipple, bringing your hips into his sweatpants, the tent returning.

"Hah, fine, would it kill you to fucking call so I don't think you're dead?" Now that you were an adult, your dad didn't bother filtering his cursing anymore.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," you replied, very apologetically and sweetly, grabbing a handful of Jungkook's ass and ramming his rock-hard cock into your crotch, clamping your thighs around it. Jungkook was flailing his one free hand and pressing the other over his mouth, trying not to make a fucking sound. 

"I'll remember next time. Promise, Papa."

You heard your dad let out a puff of air. "Hmph. Fine. Don't forget you have to work tonight. I'll let you have the day after off..."

You raised your eyebrows, switching sides and slowly flicking your tongue on Jungkook's nipple, thighs sliding back and forth on Jungkook's clothed length. He was losing it above you, muting his cries and rutting against your thighs to match your pace and add more simulation.

"I thought the other hostess was on vacation for a couple more days?"

"I asked your mother to cover for you," your dad grunted. "You should have some free time while you're still young. Have some fucking fun before you die. That's why I work."

"Ah... okay, thanks Papa. I love you."

"Love you too," was your dad's reply, not so gruff anymore, but warmer and kinder. 

He hung up. 

You dropped the phone from your ear. 

Jungkook gasped a lungful of air, throwing his hand aside now that he could finally breathe, turning into a high-pitched yelp when you yanked his pants down, shoving his cock between your thighs again, but skin on skin this time, angling him down, the head smearing pre-cum in your mid-thigh. Ah, yes, what a pleasant surprise it had been when you saw this pretty cock for the first time, looking so perfect squashed between your tits. 

"B-But breakfast..." he choked out between moans.

"I'm getting it," you panted, grinning, sliding up and down his hot stiffness, feeling it twitch. "Best to have some protein in the morning."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, horny and indignant.

"Korean? Really?"

You switched to your hand, kneeling down as you stroked his stiff length hard and fast, giving him a devilish open-mouthed smirk, wet tongue sliding out.

"Hey, I didn't lie."

-

wondering how Jungkook feels about all this? that kind of evening.

--

masterpost

[more-than-a-princess]

It is Munday! It is Halloween!

However, as I’m very behind on replies (I have 7 replies to write versus 4 drafts in my queue. RIP me. I was much too tired to attempt anything decent last night), there’s no Munday meme today.

Instead, I present a very special cosplay Munday from this past weekend’s shenanigans.

Depending on how far I get in work and drafts today, I may try to do dashcomm later. I sent a few themed asks for specific interactions, too. I may send more.

In any case, Happy Halloween Munday.

The best thing about this is that Sonia not only met AN ACTUAL CELEBRITY this weekend...there’s another one lurking in the background.

The one in the background spent most of the con hanging out on the second floor balcony, staring menacingly. I did, naturally, wave at him whenever I was in a Sonia costume.

This convention has an indoor mask mandate, thus the coordinating mask in most of my photos from this event. So you can’t see my giant smile in this photo. Sigh.

[skellebonez]

Tumblr Messed Up Fill #1

So Tumblr did a BIG OLD OOPS and published a bunch of my unfinished drafts that I left in my queue at 1 PM... when I set it to 1 AM and intended to finish a couple and then change the time again.

LUCKILY I DIDN’T HAVE THE ENTIRE FILLS IN THE QUEUE AND JUST BITS I ADDED IN TO HOLD SPACE. So... I guess this is how we’re doing this! @winterpower98​ here’s some Mentor Swap AU Shadowpeach!

How did you get that scar?/That is not a good hiding spot.

It had been scheduled far in advance and Wukong should have remembered that this was going to happen. The Weather Station needed to let it rain sometimes! It was good for the environment! Good for nature! But Wukong was Wukong and when he trained with Xiaotian for as long as he did he had a tendency to forget the unimportant things like “scheduled downpours” and “when training is actually supposed to end”.

So by the time he managed to crash land a foot away from Mei’s front door after pogo sticking his way off of Mount Huaguo he looked like he’d been dropped into the ocean.

“Cold-cold, cold and wet!” He yelped, shoving the staff back into his ear and trying to hold his jacket over his head as best he could, which did just as much good as it did during the ride. Which was “barely anything”. “Ah shit, it’s cold why can’t they make the rain not COLD!?”

He continued into the building, shuddering as he felt rain water seeping through every bit of fabric he wore, even his shoes the traitors. He immediately started ripping off his shirt, at the very least wanting to get some of the drenched clothing off him, and he froze when he heard a yelp from the other side of what should have been a very empty entry way given Mei was supposed to be out of the house.

A very familiar yelp.

“Why aren’t you are your own house!?” The voice yelled, and as Wukong pulled his shirt over his head he found the voice’s own staring at him with wide eyes alight with a mix of confusion and horror.

“UH, I think I should ask you that, Macaque!” He accused, turning sideways and walking backwards into the building with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you in Mei’s house? Are you hiding in Mei's house!? That is not a good hiding spot!"

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Monkey Boy?” Macaque said snarkily with a smirk.

“Monkie KID, and yeah, that’s why I asked,” Wukong snarked right back, holding his shirt and jacket out in front of him with a frown. “Also, you’re a monkey so...”

“Oh shut up.”

"And you look like you nearly drowned," Wukong chuckled, ringing his shirt out and pointedly not mentioning the blush he saw forming on the other's face. Yet. "It's raining cats and dogs and I’m pretty bad to, but you shouldn't be that bad."

"... don't laugh," Macaque grumbled, doing much the same to his scarf. "I was trying to get here when the rain was getting really bad and I... fell. Off the docks."

Wukong immediately burst into cackles.

“I told you not to laugh you asshole!” Macaque snapped, baring his teeth and trying to puff up his fur in annoyance but failing miserably with the sheer amount of water weighing him down. If anything it probably just made him look... adorably sad. Like a puppy. But a human sized monkey.

“I-I’m sorry!” Wukong held his sides, trying his very best to stop laughing. He also failed miserably, if not even more so than Macaque. “It’s just imagining you, YOU, falling off the docks? Just! You’re practically an acrobat! You’re usually way cooler than that!”

As Wukong continued to fail Macaque’s face softened as he stopped barring his teeth in warning and stared at the other young man.

“... you think I’m cool?” He asked softly, attempting to smooth down his fur and brush the water out of it.

“Kinda?” Wukong said with a half snicker, finally having himself under control. “Cool enough I guess.”

Macaque hummed, giving up on his attempts to dry off with a sigh. It was pointless to try to dry off with his fur like this, not without some kind of towel or brush. And he would be damned if he let Wukong let himself shake dry! That was not going to happen.

So instead he turned to the other, watching as he laid out his tip layers on his arm and turned around.

And something caught his eye.

Multiple somethings.

“How did you get that scar?”

Wukong tensed, not enough for him to stop moving but more than enough for Macaque to notice that he was walking away much slower than he needed to.

"Depends on which one you mean," he answered eventually. He reached up to pull on his hair, frowning as it dripped more water on him.  "Hold that thought until I come back."

And so he did. Macaque watched the other leave and stood in the open room, awkward and dripping sea and rain water all over Mei's floor.

He debated leaving. Just walking out the door and avoiding the awkward conversation that was sure to be leveled in his direction when the human returned, but before he could even make the decision to decide on an option something brought and green was lobbed at his head and wrapped around his face.

“WHAT IN THE-”

“Towel off before Mei gets angry we both tracked in water,” Wukong said, mischievous chuckle resounding through the air before Macaque managed to unwrap the towel from his face. “I’ve got something else that’ll help out after.”

Macaque was going to ask what that something was before the words died in his throat, the sight before him making him pause in confusion and barely held back amusement.

“You have Monkey King themed PJs?” He asked, toweling off his head first. “At Mei’s?”

“Sometimes I stay over.” Was all Wukong said, shrugging as if it was nothing. “Considering you’re here and I don’t see signs of a break in I assume those plum PJs in the same closet are yours.”

“I DON’T HAVE PAJAMAS HERE I DON’T STAY THAT OFTEN!” Macaque snapped, and his face flushed a deep red in embarrassment before he saw Wukong’s victory smirk. “... you made that up to make me slip that I’ve been here before.”

“And you took it hook, line, and sinker,” Wukong said playfully, grabbing the monkey demon’s arm and using a second towel he had to dry it off. “I wasn’t kidding about the PJs though.”

“O-oh...” was all Macaque could reply with as the information slowly sunk in before he ripped his arm away. “I can do that myself!”

“Then do it and come inside!”

~

Macaque was... mostly dry after a couple minutes, enough for Wukong to drag him into the bathroom and instruct him to change and use the blow dryer he has shoved into his hands while he mopped the floor. And as much as Macaque disliked the noise... he couldn’t argue that the warm air of the device was a welcome change from the icy seawater against him.

He may have looked like an extra puffed up fur ball when he was done and refused to come out until he at least had the PJs (short sleeved and indeed covered in plums) on to hide the worst of it.

Didn’t stop Wukong from devolving into cackles at his expense once again.

“Hold on, let me do something,” Wukong offered, and guided him to sit down on the couch sideways, situating behind him with the other pulled against his chest and a comb in hand. “At least I can help with your hair... if it counts as hair.”

“... I don’t know if it does,” Macaque replied, finding himself at a loss for what to do and say in this situation.

They were enemies, right?

Shouldn’t Wukong... be chasing him out of the building?

Now sitting him down to- OH NO!

“ACTUALLY WA-”

Macaque froze as Wukong’s fingers brushed against his scalp and the teeth of the comb brushed through his hair, far more gentle than Macaque could remember anyone touching his hair before, and he went limp in Wukong’s arms like putty.

“Knew that’d get ya,” he felt Wukong say as much as he heard him say it, and the hands and comb continued through his hair and fur and he couldn’t even muster up any coherent words to snark back at him. Just a frustrated grumble. “Xiaotian does this to me a lot. And to his monkeys. So I figured this would be... ya know, nice for you.”

They stayed like that for a good while, Wukong brushing his fingers and the comb through puffed up fur and pulling out tangles Macaque didn’t even know he had on the back of his neck. It felt... strange. To trust someone that you spent so much of your time fighting against, flirting with awkwardly in the midst of battle, never thinking that the two of you would just sit and do anything calmly together.

But here they were. On Mei’s couch. Macaque feeling a purr rumble up in his chest as Wukong groomed through his hair and fur in a gesture he clearly admitted he knew the implications of.

“They’re from before,” Wukong said after a while, after he rested his head on Macaque’s shoulder and started working through the fur on his arms. “Before Red took me in... back before I had the staff to fight with.”

And as much as Macaque wanted to ask, and if he really tried he knew he probably could, he chose not to push it when he heard the way Wukong’s tone changed. Something equally nostalgic and melancholy.

“I think they make you look cool too,” was what he said instead.

“... We’re both pretty cool.”