#and this is coming from someone who's currently romancing her

[tare-anime]

Hi, your posts about Spy X Family are real good. I see chapter 105 as improvement of Franky's role and character. Wheather he'll get lucky - or not - on the Finding a Girlfriend case is a hot one. I wonder,when will Anya she's fed up with Damian's disdaineful,toxic world? I posted my thorough stydy upon this case. I've ceased to believe for a friendship(or romance between them). Unpopular truth:All these (old and new) cruel and awfull insults of Damian to Anya, in the end reflect and represent his Papa(: So in my opinion she and Papa "Twilight" will get the documents of Donovan's scheme by an other source.By the way, if government officials and the SSS are not his lackey's ,associates for his scheme then who they might be? And when WISE uncovers it what will be their actions against him and his network? Are we ready to see how Sylvia has killed people,real villains say Ostanians similar the assassins yor has killed? See you :)

Oh wow, thank you so much. I'm glad you find my rambles to be enjoyable 🥰🥰

As for chp 105, yes it's one of my favorite kind of "side character building up" type of chapter. And this time, we got to see Franky's character building. For me, Franky is such an amazing character that know how to enjoy his life. He has his princips and stays true to that, and didn't stop being kind, while at the same time he has a very smart view of the world and very logic in thinking process. I do hope he will find a woman who will appreciate him as who he is. But first, he has to decide when he want to settle down before doing it.

As for Damian. Yes, unfortunately if I have to be honest, I don't like Damian very much if he is showing his tsundere side and keep pointing and hurting Anya. But, he is still a boy, who tried too much. I hope he will one day learn to accept that there's nothing wrong by enjoying the process of growing up, and not too focused on the goal. And the fact that his Dad IS NOT someone he has to look up to. I believe Damian has good heart though, as we already seen in so many occasions. And just like every kid, in the growing process, the influences from other people particularly their peers are huge. And I hope Anya (with her own problems and difficulties) alongside with Ewen and Emile and Becky, can help Damian grows into a fine man. This is why, my fave chapter of Damian will always be where he can act like a boy of his age.

And I do agree. I do hope Twilight will find some other way to approach Donovan. And not pushing it through Anya and Damian friendship. Let these kids be friend without ulterior motives other than being friends.

The mystery of Donovan ascossiates are still there. This man has so much power, and yet, we know he is not with the incumbent of Ostanian govt. He is not directly leads the SSS, though without a doubt there will be fractions of SSS who is loyal to him up until current timeline. So where did his power came from? This remains a mystery until Endo decides to move forward with the plot, I guess 🤭

Tbh, I don't think WISE is 100% good either. It is possible that Op Strix be WISE's own plot to overturn Donovan because this man dares to oppose WISE. Anything is possible in politics after all 🤣 so how will WISE reacts when they finally got the information on Donovan? That will also depends on further information given to us by Endo himself.

Come on Endo!!! Give us more plot development 😫😫

Regarding Sylvia, Oh yes, through her speech during Inu-san crisis arc, we know that Sylvia has killed people during her life. This has eating her soul, but she has to carry on with her life. The same goes to Yor. Yor must know that not all of her clients are guilty per se, but she has to numb her soul because that's how she carry on with her life.

Thank you so much for the asks. I hope I manage to give satisfying answers 🥰🥰🥰

Good day to you too!

[fadewalking]

I dont understand the appeal of Shadowheart.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 01

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut in later chapters. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Sukuna smokes a cigarette in this chapter. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

The first time you meet Sukuna, you literally run into him.

It's a Thursday morning. You are running down the hallway while rummaging through your bag, searching for the printed copy of the short story that you have to hand in today. The irony isn't lost on you. The story contains a scene quite similar to this. But unfortunately, you aren't a rebel princess running out of a ballroom with her cloak dramatically billowing behind her. You are just a creative writing student in a mismatched pair of sneakers who is late for her class. The second time this week. To a class taught by a professor who sees it as a personal affront if someone shows up late.

You grit your teeth, trying to run even faster, when you finally see the printed copy you were looking for. You cheer inwardly. But your relief is short-lived. Because a second later, you crash into a solid wall.

You screech in shock, the force of the impact making you flat-out keel over without any warning. This will hurt, is the only thought that flashes through your mind. But a millisecond before you hit the hard floor tiles, your fall gets stopped, and you get pulled up again and set back on your feet. Everything happens so fast that you can only blink in confusion.

A pair of well-defined, tattooed arms comes into view. You stare perplexed at them, realizing that they are what stopped your fall. And what you also realize at that moment is that the "solid wall" you slammed into is the tall and muscular owner of those strong arms.

Your face is currently only inches away from his chest. A broad and buff chest in a soft-looking white hoodie with a very familiar crest embroidered on the front. Two crossed hockey sticks and a tiger with glowing red eyes and his mouth opening in a feral-looking growl.

Your head snaps up to look at the face of your savior (and the cause of your fall), and what already began to dawn on you gets confirmed the moment you see the tattoos on his handsome face: You just ran full speed into Itadori Sukuna, the star player of the ice hockey team. The Red Tiger himself, The King of the Ice, and whatever other titles he gets called.

Even though you are hardly a hockey fan, you know Sukuna. Everyone knows him.

Sukuna gets treated like royalty on this campus. He's a living legend. The star player of The Red Tigers, the most successful ice hockey team this college has brought out in over five decades. And Sukuna is the reason for that success.

You gulp hard and take a hurried step back.

Out of anyone you could have crashed into, why did it have to be him? Sukuna is feared on and off the ice. You have never spoken to him personally, only saw him from afar while heading to class or when you were at the same party as him, but his reputation as a bad boy precedes him. And the way he looks with his face tattoos and his strong and tall build only adds to those assumptions. Sukuna is definitely a very intimidating guy.

Your automatic response is to try to make yourself look as harmless and cute as possible, smiling a sheepish, apologetic smile at him.

"I'm so sorry! I was late for class, so I ran, and I didn't see you. Sorry!"

You look up at him with big eyes and a nervous smile, steeling yourself for a scolding.

But Sukuna just eyes you with an amused expression on his tattooed face. His eyes travel lazily over your face and body, making you more nervous with each passing second. You feel your cheeks become hot when Sukuna's gaze finally lands on your mismatched shoes, and the corners of his lips twitch.

You silently curse yourself for snoozing your alarm one too many times and ending up like this in front of the hot boy hockey star of all people!

Sukuna is looking directly into your eyes now, his lips lifted in a lopsided smirk.

"I don't mind getting bodychecked by a pretty girl like you. It would be different if it were an opponent on the ice, but you will get away with it, princess."

You are dumbfounded for a moment, mouth opening and closing several times. Is he mocking you? You eye Sukuna wearily as you mutter,

"Um, well... Thank you for catching me before I landed on the floor."

Sukuna just looks at you a moment longer with that lazy grin, and then he bends down to pick up the bag you dropped. He pushes it into your arms, and you grab it instinctively and hug it tightly to your chest as if it is your lifeline.

"And thank you for the bag."

You add while once again smiling sheepishly at him. Sukuna laughs softly, cocking his head and looking at you with an infuriatingly smug grin,

"Don't thank me so much. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have fallen in the first place."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. But still, thank you."

You cringe at your own words, sure that you sound like a total idiot, but you force yourself to smile broadly at Sukuna and wish him a nice day before you turn around and walk toward the creative writing classroom on rather wobbly legs. At least you don't have to hurry anymore, you think grimly. By now, you are definitely too late.

There's a prickling feeling on your neck as if you are being watched, and you are pretty sure that if you looked over your shoulder, you would see Sukuna still standing there and looking at you with that amused glint in his eyes.

You refuse to give in to the urge to check if you are right and instead keep walking. But your pulse is still racing. From the almost fall or from Sukuna's presence, you aren't sure.

You slip into the classroom, and your professor sends a death glare your way, snapping at you for not taking her course seriously and all thoughts of a certain pink-haired, tattooed hockey player are wiped off your mind as you mutter an apology, and you hurry to the nearest free seat.

You encounter Sukuna again a few days later.

You stand outside the Gojo Hall waiting for your dormmate Nobara when you catch a flash of pastel pink in the corner of your eyes. You lift your head and spot not only one pink head but two. The Itadori twins exit the building side by side, Sukuna, and Yuuji, both wearing their white team hoodies, making you wonder if there is some rule that the players must wear their team apparel 24/7.

You are still contemplating the secret rules of the hockey team when the brothers give each other a high five, and Yuuji leaves with a big smile on his face while Sukuna turns his head, and his gaze instantly lands on you.

Your eyes widen, feeling like the deer in the headlights. You curse yourself inwardly. Why did you let him catch you staring at him?

A smirk appears on Sukuna's tattooed face, and to your horror, he strolls towards you.

You try to act cool, nodding lightly at him, a short greeting in passing. Only to feel your heart jump to your throat when you realize that Sukuna won't just walk by. The resident hockey star stops beside you and casually leans against the brick wall right next to where you stand.

He lets his head fall back and tilts his face to the side, smirking down at you.

"No mismatched shoes today?"

You can't help it, a laugh bubbles out of your chest even as you feel your face get hot. You shake your head,

"Wasn't really my style."

"And here I thought you were some fashion icon or something. Did you make it to class in time after our little accident?"

You scrunch your nose as you remember the angry look and the mean comment your professor sent your way and shake your head,

"No. And now my professor hates me even more."

Sukuna laughs softly. He is so tall that you have to tilt your head back to look at his face. He looks good. Too good. Dangerously so. His pink hair is a pretty contrast to the dark red brick stones behind him. His angular face with the sharp jawline is accentuated attractively by the black lines inked into his skin. A second pair of eyes is tattooed right under his real ones, sitting high on his cheekbones, giving the impression that he is always watching you.

Sukuna is beautiful in a classic way, but at the same time, his tattoos and the way he carries himself make that beauty darker. Beautiful, like a fallen angel, maybe. His looks and his personality give him a dangerous aura. He is undeniably very intimidating. But the way he jokes around with you and looks at you in that playful manner makes you feel surprisingly at ease. Maybe that's why you grin at him and ask,

"What about you? Did your professor get mad, too?"

Sukuna shakes his head.

"Nah. I wasn't on my way to class. I had a team meeting."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, remembering the empty hallway.

"But I didn't see any of your teammates."

Sukuna's smirk grows bigger, and he raises an eyebrow, too, as if it is a challenge.

"Because I work out all the tactics and do the analytics and shit, so I have to be there before anyone else. Setting up everything, you know?"

You nod slowly, not saying it, but you are surprised and even a bit impressed by his statement. Judging by his looks and reputation, you wouldn't have taken Sukuna for the type of guy who bothers with tactics and stuff. You always assumed he solved everything with pure strength and brutal fouls. Apparently, you were wrong.

Sukuna hums and shoves his large hands casually into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He wears black nail polish, you realize, and somehow that fact is so fascinating that you find yourself unable to look away from his long, tattooed fingers as he gracefully lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag that makes his eyelashes flutter.

Sukuna then holds the still-open cigarette pack out to you, wordlessly offering you one. You decline with a shake of your head and a:

"I didn't know hockey players smoke."

You are met with another of Sukuna's boyish smirks that makes him look way too charming. He cocks his head, eyes sparkling with amusement, low voice dropping to an almost seductive purr,

"And why not?"

You shrug, making an indecisive gesture with your hands,

"Isn't it making you slower or something?"

Sukuna huffs softly, looking smug when he says,

"Well, even if I smoked two packs a day, I would still be the fastest one on the ice, so I guess I will risk it."

You laugh. And as you do it, you realize, to your astonishment, that you feel surprisingly relaxed around the star player and resident bad boy.

You watch him nod towards a group of guys passing by, who congratulate him on the latest win. Followed by two girls who giggle and twirl their hair as they look at him and coo his name as if he is some pop star.

But Sukuna doesn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary. He just lazily blows out his cigarette smoke, not blessing them with more attention than a bored smirk.

Yes, he is a bit of an arrogant asshole and the way people treat him like he is a King or something is super irritating. But you can't deny that Sukuna has a certain charm. Lots of charm! All in all, the resident starboy doesn't seem so bad.

He is looking at you again. A deep gaze that makes your pulse accelerate with how inquiring and intense it is. As if he sees right into your very core.

"Why are you standing in the smoking area when you don't smoke?"

That catches you off guard. You blink and look around, searching for a smoking sign or something similar, but you don't see anything like it.

"Um... I didn't know this was the smoking area. I am just waiting for my dormmate."

After a moment, you add,

"I'm a secondhand smoker, though. Does that qualify, too, or are you gonna make me leave?"

You have no idea why you talk that way. Almost like you are flirting with Sukuna! He grins at you like a devil, attractive and playful and a little bit dangerous as he leans closer to you.

"You don't have to leave, princess. I'll make sure to blow my smoke your way if you are so into passive smoking."

You can hear the amusement in his low voice as he teases you. And he said it again, that name. Princess.

You are pretty sure that Sukuna calls a lot of girls that way, and it's pretty cliché, and coming from any other guy, you would probably find it cringe. But the way Sukuna says it, in his low, velvety voice, while he has that teasing smirk on his handsome face, makes you feel a strange fluttering in your stomach.

But you don't give him the satisfaction of letting him see the effect that stupid word has on you and instead roll your eyes playfully, looking challengingly at him, grinning just like he does,

"Go on then. I don't mind the smoke."

And Sukuna's eyes glint in amusement, never looking away as he leans down to you and takes a deep drag from his cigarette. He pulls it away from his lips and slowly blows the smoke into your face while watching you with half-lidded, cat-like eyes, smirking when he sees that you really don't turn away.

You shake your head and chuckle, feeling like you are sixteen again, and try to infiltrate the cool kids' clique by hanging around near their usual smoking spot. It's a bit stupid, maybe, but also fun.

Sukuna looks pleased, the tip of his tongue gliding over his front teeth as he grins at you.

"Good girl."

You bite your lip, looking up at him with big eyes, finding it hard to breathe suddenly, but not because of the cigarette smoke. You are relieved when Sukuna pulls away and announces,

"Well, it was nice sharing my smoke with you, but I have to go to the gym now. See you around, princess."

He winks at you and flicks the half-smoked cigarette gracefully to the floor, crushing it under the soles of his red and black Nikes.

"Have fun at the gym!"

Your voice sounds too chipper in your sorry attempt to act as if nothing happened, and Sukuna's eyes glitter with that seemingly ever-present teasing expression as he lets them trail over your face once again. He lets out a low chuckle and then jerks his tattooed chin at you in a casual goodbye gesture before he walks away with large, confident steps.

You watch him leave, laughing under your breath.

Sukuna definitely has a strong effect on people. He is confident and sexy, and a bit dangerous. But he also has a boyish charm that makes it easy to talk to him somehow. And it also makes it very hard not to stare after him.

Your gaze is still glued to Sukuna's tall figure and his broad shoulders when Nobara suddenly pops up beside you, making you jump when her elbow connects sharply with your side.

"What is going on between you and our hockey star?"

"What?"

"What were you talking about with Sukuna? And why are you staring after him like that?"

"Nothing. And I am not staring! I just... I ran into him a few days ago when I was late to class. Literally ran into him. That guy is like a wall. I bounced off him and fell. But he caught me. And yeah, that's all."

Nobara is staring at you with comically big eyes and a shocked, open-mouthed expression on her face,

"Why didn't you tell me about that? And now you're chit-chatting with him? Are you friends or what? Or are the two of you fucking?"

"Excuse me? No! Why would you even think that? I just exchanged a little small talk with him, Nobara! That is all!"

She huffs dramatically and pushes her ginger hair behind her ears,

"Good. Because he is an asshole. On the other hand, he is hot, but I think the asshole thing outweighs the sexiness. Maybe you could fuck him once just to get a taste. I mean, he is probably good in bed. And then you can avoid him and..."

"Hello? I don't plan on fucking Sukuna!"

You roll your eyes exasperatedly and push yourself off the wall you were leaning against, quickly walking away so Nobara won't see how flustered her words make you.

It's stupid, though! You really don't plan on getting involved with Sukuna! You barely know him, and just because he has a pretty face, a good body, and a bunch of sexy tattoos doesn't mean you want him!

Oh, are you sure about that, my dear Reader? Because I personally already want him ;)

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter!! I am so excited to finally share this story with you! I wrote some HockeyPlayer!Sukuna headcanons last year, and I couldn't get that version of him out of my mind again, so I knew I HAD to give him a new multi-chapter story. I am already deeply in love with this man, and I am so happy that I can indulge in him for several chapters now ;)

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ❤️❤️

In Chapter 2, Reader will see our sexy hockey star actually play.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

i.

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly. 

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough. 

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours. 

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters. 

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood. 

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was. 

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross. 

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt. 

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out. 

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all. 

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same. 

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines. 

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head. 

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.” 

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers. 

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door. 

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care. 

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky. 

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself. 

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be. 

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in. 

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene. 

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago. 

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned. 

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?” 

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now. 

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing. 

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?” 

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly. 

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself. 

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly. 

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity. 

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity. 

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features. 

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity. 

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script. 

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right. 

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of. 

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth. 

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly. 

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch. 

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.” 

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound. 

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction. 

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides. 

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant. 

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you. 

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants. 

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes. 

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked. 

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch. 

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily. 

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan. 

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible. 

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock. 

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered. 

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding. 

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words. 

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background. 

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian. 

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure. 

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace. 

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear. 

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy. 

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind. 

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity. 

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes. 

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?” 

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.” 

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly. 

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips. 

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light. 

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was. 

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly.  “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.” 

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events. 

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

[borathae]

Even Bunnies Bite

"When you get harassed during a night out - not once, but twice - Jungkook shows you that even gentle guys like him can fight, saving you from the harassers. You show him your apprecitiation for it once home. He deserves to know that he is the most perfect person to ever exist."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Romance, slight Angst in the beginning

Warnings: sexual harassment by strangers in a club, protective!Jungkook, he is so angry at first but calms down in her arms, the most romantic love confessions ever, they're so in love it's insane, cuddles and snuggles, this is so romantic you have no idea

Wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: someone sent in this idea for kinktober and i was inspired. as i was writing it, i realised that smut would be out of place here, hence you are getting a super romantic, emotional oneshot instead 😭i love this couple so much, you girlies have no idea 🤎

You like to go out with your best friends sometimes. You spend all day preparing for it. You take an Everything Shower, plan outfits and send them into the group chat, asking which outfit was the best. You look up hairstyle and makeup inspirations and try to recreate the looks as best as possible. You make sure to eat something just in case a drink or two will be bought later. Truly, nights out with your girls means a day full of self care and the most divine feminine energies and you are loving them.

Sometimes you also take your men with you. Yongsun brings Shiwon, Moonbyul brings whoever she is currently dating and you bring Jungkook. You don’t think that the nights with your men are any less fun, on the contrary, you love having Jungkook with you. 

Tonight is such a night. You put on a tight mini dress and some heels, feeling like it. Jungkook went for some skinny jeans and a shirt which he tugged into them. He matched the colour of his watch to the colour of your clutch. 

Yongsun and Shiwon came matching as well, Moonbyul came solo tonight because her last man dropped her. He was trash, so the loss isn’t big.

You hug and squeal in greeting, then enter the club together. 

The night is amazing. You dance until your feet hurt, share some drinks (except Jungkook and Shiwon because he was the driver), dance some more and talk whenever you find yourselves in a calmer spot. It is exactly how a night out should be and there is nothing that could spoil it.

Or so you thought because some men have nothing else but audacity. Stinking, annoying audacity.

You are on the dance floor with Moonbyul, shaking your booties to an amazing song, when you suddenly feel two hands on your waist. You don’t have to turn around to know that this wasn’t Jungkook touching you. Moonbyul’s instant yell and her hand coming up to slap the guy away is another indicator. You jump away with the first touch, whipping around to yell at the guy.

“Fuck off!”

“Ladies”, he says, lifting his hands in defence, “no need to get emotional, I was just getting a feel of you.”

“You’re gonna get a feel of my fists if you’re not letting off of her”, Moonbyul spits, almost jumping at the guy if you weren’t holding her back. 

Moonbyul has always been a fighter and someone who takes no fucking shit from anyone, especially not from men. She says that it’s the reason why men are too afraid to stay with her to which you always tell her that these men wouldn’t be the right match for her anyways because she is a goddess and they are trash. She accepts it with a smile each time and a little kiss to your cheek. 

The dude she is currently waving her fist at, seems determined to change her mind. 

“Just one dance, alright?”

“No. Leave us alone.” 

“I’ll leave once I danced with you.” 

“You motherfu-”

“Unnie, let’s just go”, you stop her, dragging her away from him. 

He thankfully doesn’t follow you. 

“No, why are you dragging me away? I’ll punch him so hard.”

“That’s why I’m dragging you away. You’re gonna end up with a warning again.”

“He’d deserve it. The fucking audacity. Why do we have to stop having fun and dancing just because he decided? Why do we have to give up our space for him?”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Hyejin asks, sitting by the bar.

You and Moonbyul explain the situation to her and she rightfully gets angry with you. You all agree that it is unfair that you always have to give up your space when entitled men decide it’s time to invade it. 

In the time you curse the dude, he seems to leave for good. You share a shot then drag Hyejin onto the dance floor with you. It was clean again and Moonbyul a lot calmer. The music still was good and you try to let the incident be in the past. Soon you forget all about it, dancing happily with the other people around you invisible to the three of you. 

Jungkook and the others return from taking an air break outside in the time you are dancing. Yongsun drags Shiwon onto the dance floor while Wheein stays with Jungkook. She often stays close to him during your nights out because he makes her feel safe. Tonight is no different. 

“Want another drink, noona?” he asks her, waving the bartender to them.

“Really?” 

“Of course, what do you want?”

“Maybe just another beer?”

“Alrighty.” 

Jungkook orders for her and orders a coke for himself. He pays and clinks bottles with her. 

“Thank you for paying.”

“Don’t even mention it. Cheers.” 

“Cheers.”

They drink their beverages, moving their bodies to the music slightly and enjoying the view of the dancing people. 

Soon you and Hyejin return to the bar. You seek out Jungkook instantly, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him into a kiss. He smiles, rubbing your lower back. You break the kiss with a goofy giggle, smiling at him.

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Coke?” 

“Yes actually, thank you”, you say and drink from the bottle Jungkook offers. 

Hyejin in the meantime, convinced Wheein to join her on the dance floor.

“Can I keep this with you?” 

“Of course, give me”, you assure her, taking her beer and shielding the opening with your hand. Soon the two women disappear on the dance floor. Jungkook glances at the hand on the bottle. This has never been his instinct to do. He would take any of the girls’ bottles like this, but he never developed the instinct with his own drinks. He thinks it’s insane how different the world is for someone just because they have something different between their legs. 

You seem happy however, using the moment of togetherness to talk to him.

“I think we should go on Saturday because I checked the cinema and on Friday, there are only five seats in the front row left.”

You and Jungkook want to watch a new horror movie in the cinema and can’t decide on the day. You talked about it before meeting with the others.

“Saturday sounds good. It’s less stressful too because we have all day. We could go for dinner afterwards, somewhere nice maybe.”

“Yeah? Then I’ll book the tickets for Saturday.”

“Sounds good to me. And I’ll books us a table. Should we go for sushi?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’m so excited.”

“Me too.”

You grin at him, he retorts it. 

“Hey there”, a random guy comes up to you. Jungkook’s face darkens instantly, his alarm bells are ringing. He stays calm for now, wanting to give you a chance to handle it yourself.

You turn to him. His face is unfamiliar to you.

“Hey? I think you’re mistaking me with someone.”

“No, I don’t think I am. I’m Woonyong but you can call me whatever you like. How can I call you? Sexy or maybe mine?”

“Ah yeah no”, you say with a scoff, turning away from the guy.

“Hey, don’t ignore me”, the guy says and tries to turn you back to him by touching your shoulder.

You wriggle out of his touch at the same time as Jungkook tugs the guy’s hand away. He can accept people trying to flirt with you and then pissing off once you told them no, but he draws the line at them getting pushy and touching you.

“Don’t touch her”, he spits and drapes his arm over your shoulder protectively. “She already told you no.”

The guy studies Jungkook and lifts his hands in defeat.

“Dude, I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I thought she was still to take.”

“Well she’s not and even if she was, she’s not something to take. She’s a person not a thing to own.” 

“Chill man, you don’t gotta play white knight just to impress her.”

“I’m not playing anything, I’m being a decent human!” Jungkook yells.

“Chill dude, damn. She’s not gonna want you anyways.”

“Yah asshole, seriously piss off”, you speak up in a dark voice, “I literally said no to you and he’s my husband of five years, you’re just embarrassing yourself at this point.”

The guy gawks for a second then sends Jungkook a poisonous look.

“Fucking simp”, he hisses and leaves.

“I’ll actually punch you, come-”

“Jungkook.” You stand yourself in front of him, calming him down by kissing his lips. “He’s not worth it.”

“He objectified you. He’s worth it.”

“I’m okay, Bunny. I’m okay, thanks to you”, you assure him, kissing his cheek gently. 

“I can’t do this. I’m so angry. How dare he objectify you. You’re a person and, and you’re amazing a-a-and he made you a thing. And he touched you, he fucking touched you eventhough you said no. He is such an asshole, I’m gonna hurt him. I mean it.”

“Fuck him then, I’m alright. Promise.”

He looks at you, both angry and frustrated, but also deeply saddened and defeated.

“Do you wanna go home?” you suggest, rubbing his chest soothingly, “I think this club is kinda trash. I already had someone grope me on the dance floor and now this.”

“What? Who did that?!” 

“I don’t know why I told you that. I’m fine seriously.”

“No, it’s not fine. He has to pay. Who groped you? Show him to me, I’ll rip off his hands.”

“Okay let’s not do that”, you say in a chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck, “besides, Moonbyul already cursed him.”

“Good”, Jungkook says scanning his eyes over the crowd angrily. 

You shift his eyes to you by cradling his cheek.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” 

He nods his head, huffing out air as he pouts angrily.

“Okay. Let’s just say bye to the others and then leave.”

“If you see the guy, tell me.”

“Okay I will.”

The others bid you goodbye, wishing you a good night. You hand Wheein her beer and tell her that you took the best watch of it, then you leave. 

Jungkook puts his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to him. You glance at his face. He has his scary look on, dark and serious. You don’t say anything. You simply smile to yourself and drape your arm over his waist. It’s actually so nice to know that you’re safe when he is with you. 

Jungkook drives the car home because you drank one beer and a shot. You don’t feel the effects at all, but you know better than to trust your judgement. People who drank alcohol, should never ever sit down in the driver’s seat of a car. No matter how little they feel the booze. 

Jungkook obviously is sober and uses almost the entire drive home to rant about “assholes like these dudes”. You let him because he seems so worked up about the topic that stopping him is impossible. For the last quarter of the drive, he has finally tired himself out, sharing the ride with you in silence. You appreciate it, watching the familiar streets pass you by.

You don’t get to talk in the elevator because there are other tenants and a few house worker who ride it with you. The first few moments in your penthouse are silent as well. You slip out of your shoes and jackets, where Jungkook helps you hang it up.

“Thank you Bunny.”

“Mhm.”

You glance at him. He has his back turned to you, busy with hanging his own jacket, but he is standing right in front of the mirror so his face was visible to you. He is clearly upset. You let out a deep sigh of defeat and put your clutch on the dresser so you have both hands free. Then you close the distance, calling his attention with a gentle hand on his right shoulder. Jungkook lifts his head and turns, lowering his head instantly when you run your fingers over his undercut. It is as if he leaning into the affection.

“Are you still upset, Bunnybaby?” you ask him.

He nods his head, tightening his features.

“I hate when men treat you like this”, he murmurs, voice shaking. You can’t decide if it’s anger or the first indicator of tears. “You don’t deserve it and, and I feel so helpless because whatever I do won’t make them see their shitty behaviour.”

“I know, baby, I know. It’s so frustrating and I share your feelings.”

He lets out a sound of defeat and nods his head, burying it in the crook of your neck within the next second, arms tightly around you. A whimper leaves him, he practically melts in your embrace.

“You deserve the world, but the world doesn’t deserve you”, he mumbles into you.

You smile, playing with his hair gently.

“You’re the sweetest person, my love. Mhm I gotta squeeze you.” You tighten the hug, shaking him from side to side gently. “I’m squeezing the frustration outta you, Bunnybaby.”

He lets it happen at first, but soon can’t stop himself from giggling. You chuckle, lessening the pressure to ruffle his hair.

“No but seriously, you’re the sweetest person and I’m so grateful for you standing up for me and other women. I know it feels like you aren’t achieving anything, but you are. It only takes one person to be brave enough to stand up and for it to mean that there will be others who follow.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. You know, Shiwon was always a good guy but he never really said anything when men were being pigs until you came around and actually stood up for us.”

“But Shiwon always says something to sexists.”

“Yes, because he saw you doing it and realised that he needed to change his ways.”

“Really?” he sounds in disbelief.

“Yes, really.”

“Wow”, he lets out in a breathy whisper, “wow”, his voice is louder and he steps back to lock eyes with you, “wow.”

You give him an adoring smile, cradling his cheeks.

“So keep being yourself and keep standing up for us. You’re helping, even if it feels frustrating to do.”

He shakes his head, “it’s not frustrating to help. It’s frustrating that I even have to help.”

“I know, it really is.”

“But ___, I made someone change his habits.” His face lights up. “I did it.”

“You did it.”

“Oh ___”, he swoops you off your feet and twirls you right here and now.

You laugh, holding onto his shoulders and throwing your head back in delight. He twirls three times then stands still with his arms under your butt and his sparkling eyes gazing up at you. You meet his pretty eyes, caressing his shoulders and neck.

“I will keep protecting you and standing up for you and being someone safe for you until you and every other woman can feel safe as well. The world doesn’t deserve you right now, so I’ll make it be worthy of you. I promise.”

“Oh Jeon Jungkook, you sweetheart of a person. I fucking adore you”, you get out, cupping his face to pull him into a deep kiss.

Once the kiss breaks, Jungkook’s eyes are hazy in love and he can’t stop smiling at you. You mirror his state, running your fingers over his temples and forehead.

“I really adore you, I really do”, you speak softly.

“I adore you too”, he says without hesitation, voice nothing but a whisper.

“I don’t think you understand how much I adore you though. I adore every single star in your galaxy brain, every single inch of your golden heart and every single particle of your perfect soul. I adore the way you think, the words you speak and how gently you voice them. I adore your silly jokes and adore your smile and laughter. I adore how you love so much and so big and so wholeheartedly because you cannot do it any other way. I adore that you are in love with love and that everything you do is done by your gentle, romantic hands. I adore how happy you get for food, how you hum to yourself when you do something, how you fill the room with warmth because you are such a warm presence. I fucking adore the very essence that makes you, Jeon Jungkook, and if I could turn back time, I would do everything the exact same way because I know that it would lead me to you one day.”

“Why are you saying that?” he presses out and instantly bursts into tears, dropping you on the floor gently to hug you as tightly as humanly possible.

“Oh sweetie, gosh, you gentle hearted soul you”, you say softly, hugging him just as tightly.

“You can’t just say that”, he sobs into your neck, making you chuckle and ruffle his hair.

“Goodness, you’re so sweet. Are you okay, Bunnybaby?”

“No”, he whimpers, shaking his head, “I’m so grateful and I wasn’t ready”, he gets out and sobs again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll give you a warning next time”, you joke, eliciting both a laugh and sob from him. He is truly the most endearing and wonderful person to ever exist.

“I’m so grateful. Thank you so much for saying all of this, oh god, I adore you so much. I, I could fill the entire galaxy with it and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“Oh my Jungkookie.”

You and he fall into a moment of silence where you hug and enjoy each other’s presence. The night might have ended in a messy, frustrating way but does it really matter when at the end of it you and he are still together? Does it really matter that people are awful when you and he have each other? Does it really matter when you can forget all about the outside world in each other’s arms?

The tranquillity of togetherness continues as the night grows older. You change into comfortable clothes and make a 1 AM snack with nothing but the stove light glowing. You eat cuddled up on the couch as you watch an episode of your favourite show and realize that the best part of going out will always be the coming home. You take separate showers for practicality reasons. You downstairs and he upstairs so you and he could be in bed sooner than later. It is already 3 AM by now and Jungkook has to wake up early tomorrow. 

He drops into the pillow, bangs hiding his eyes. You reach out with a soft chuckle, combing them out of his face. You tug them behind his ear, giving his neck a little scratch afterwards. He flutters his lashes, clearly enjoying the touch. 

“My Bunny.”

He smiles with his eyes and holds the open hand you had resting on the sheets. Your fingers intertwine as tightly as possible. You guide your touch to his shoulder and upper arm, drawing little hearts on his clothed skin.

“I think we should stop going out. It’s so nice to stay home”, he says sleepily.

“If we do that, we’ll just end up as cave goblins.”

“That wouldn’t be bad. At least we would have each other and nothing could hurt us.”

“Mhm maybe you’re right, but in the end nothing can really hurt us, can’t it? We have each other.” 

“Yeah”, he breathes and closes the distance, cradling the back of your head. He kisses your forehead then rests his own against it. His eyes fall closed. 

You don’t want to close your eyes, gazing at him. When he is as close to you as right now, you swear that you get soaked in the glow of his sunlight soul until the very colours of your own soul shine brightly. 

“I adore you”, he whispers.

“I adore you too”, you breathe. 

“I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep, you have an early morning anyways. I hate when you get little sleep.”

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna end this. We are so together.”

“We’ll be together tomorrow too, I promise.” 

“Not like this.” He pulls your closer, furrowing his brows. “Not like this. I won’t feel like this tomorrow.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like my soul is on my skin and I’m basically living in your own soul, like with each touch we share I find new meaning.” 

“Oh Kookie”, you cradle the back of his head and kiss his forehead. 

“Like this”, he gets out, hugging you as his face sinks into the softness of your chest. “It’s like I'm sinking into your essence. My soul feels so safe with you.”

“It is safe with me, my love”, you say softly, petting his hair soothingly.

Jungkook lets out a sound of relief, growing softer in your arms. You know that this means that he is losing his fight with sleep, that your warmth and scent are relaxing him beyond saving. You begin caressing his favourite spot on his head, the one which knocks him out within seconds. 

“___, you can’t ever get hurt”, he gets out in a quiet sigh, exhaling deeply afterwards. His body grows slack. He fell asleep. 

You kiss the crown of his head, keeping your nose buried in his hair afterwards. 

“Sleep tight, my gentle hearted love”, you whisper and close your eyes, drifting off to sleep as gently as a boat drifting away on a calm ocean. 

He says that his soul feels safe with you, unaware that he is the only person your soul ever felt safe enough to fall asleep with.

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[driverlando]

🗞️ EXTRA EXTRA !! charles leclerc has a secret wife of five years and a 1 year old son, rumor has it they got married after 5 months of knowing each other

Congrats of 2k 💗💗💗

EXTRA EXTRA!! Charles Leclerc’s Secret Life Revealed: A Wife of Five Years and a One-Year-Old Son!

In a surprising twist worthy of a blockbuster film, the Formula 1 world has been shaken by astonishing news: Charles Leclerc, the talented Ferrari driver and Monegasque star, has reportedly been married for five years and is the father of a one-year-old son!

According to a flurry of rumours that have quickly gained traction, Leclerc, known for his composed demeanour on the track and spotless public image, has kept a significant part of his life under wraps. Sources close to the situation claim that Leclerc married his wife in a secret ceremony just five months after they first met.

A Secret Romance

The romance, described as whirlwind, reportedly began in 2018. At the time, Leclerc was emerging as one of Formula 1’s rising stars, having just secured a seat with Sauber. In a classic tale of love at first sight, the couple allegedly met at a mutual friend’s private gathering in Monaco. “It was electric,” an insider close to the couple shared. “They were inseparable from the moment they met. There was just an instant connection that no one could ignore.”

Despite the rapid pace of their relationship, sources say the couple chose to keep their love affair under the radar, a decision likely influenced by Leclerc’s burgeoning career and the intense media scrutiny that comes with it. The pair reportedly tied the knot in a private ceremony, attended only by their closest friends and family, with no hint of the event leaking to the public or the press.

The Hidden Family

For years, the Leclerc family has managed to stay out of the limelight. The couple’s close-knit inner circle respected their wish for privacy, allowing them to raise their child away from the public eye. The existence of their son, who just turned one, has only recently come to light, sending shockwaves through the motorsport community and beyond.

The secrecy surrounding their family life raises questions about how they managed to keep such significant personal milestones hidden from the media. Speculation abounds that the couple may have used their connections and resources to maintain their privacy. “It’s a classic case of the rich and famous living by their own rules,” one gossip columnist quipped.

A Perfect Storm

The timing of this revelation couldn’t be more dramatic, coming just as Leclerc is battling for a strong finish in the current Formula 1 season. The news of his secret wife and child adds a fascinating layer to his already intriguing narrative. Fans and media alike are now buzzing with questions: Who is this mystery woman? How did they manage to keep their relationship so secret? And, perhaps most intriguingly, why?

Some speculate that Leclerc’s desire for privacy might stem from a wish to protect his loved ones from the pressures of fame. “Charles has always been very private about his personal life,” a source close to the driver revealed. “He wanted to ensure that his family could live as normal a life as possible, without the constant scrutiny and intrusion that comes with being in the public eye.”

The Rumour Mill

As the world eagerly awaits more details, rumours and theories are flying thick and fast. Some suggest that the secretive nature of Leclerc’s personal life could be part of a broader strategy to maintain focus and control over his public image. Others believe it’s simply a case of a man wanting to keep his private life separate from his professional achievements.

While the identity of Leclerc’s wife remains a closely guarded secret, there are whispers of her being a non-celebrity, which could explain the lack of public interest in her identity until now. “She’s not someone from the limelight,” another source added. “They have been careful to avoid places and events where they might be spotted together.”

What’s Next?

As this story continues to unfold, one thing is certain: Charles Leclerc’s secret family revelation has set the gossip columns alight. The world will be watching closely to see how this revelation impacts his career and public persona. Will Leclerc finally open up about his personal life, or will he continue to keep the world at arm’s length?

For now, the Ferrari driver remains tight-lipped, with no official statement from his camp. However, fans and commentators can’t help but wonder how this will affect his future both on and off the track. Will this revelation prove to be a distraction, or will it humanise the driver, making him even more relatable to his fans?

Stay tuned as we delve deeper into the mystery surrounding Charles Leclerc’s secret life. The racing season just got a whole lot more interesting, and this is one story that promises to keep the paddock buzzing for a long time to come!

For more breaking news and exclusive gossip, keep your eyes on our feed. You never know what high-speed secret might come to light next!

[cyberpunkgyu]

Confidence Is Key - P.SH

pairing: quiet sunghoon x quiet fem reader!

genre: romance, fluff

warnings: none!

a/n: i have so many drafts, so here is another one :) i don’t know how to feel about this one though, but hope you guys like it!

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

“i have a girlfriend.” is what came out of sunghoon’s mouth as a girl tried to ask for his number.

the thing is, he didn’t have a girlfriend. he is single by choice, but jay would tease him about it. “you got no game bro.” he would say.

sunghoon is very well known in the university, however, he isn’t much of a talker and likes his alone time. he is known as the “quiet one” out of his friend group, which includes jay, jake, and heeseung. don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends, but he also loves how relaxing it is when he’s by himself.

which is why he is currently about to go in the movie theater, by himself, about to watch oppenheimer. he already got himself a bucket of popcorn with a drink of lemonade, ready for some alone time. however as he walked through the hallway of the cinema, a girl, who seemed around his age, approached him, with her friends watching her from behind.

although he told her about him having a girlfriend (sunghoon’s go to excuse), the girl for some reason still won’t leave him alone. she was fluttering her eyes, obvious that she was checking him out.

coincidentally as he glanced behind him, he saw you walk towards his direction, and it looked like you were alone as well, but you haven’t noticed him yet.

“there she is!” he let out an awkward laugh, gulping at what he was about to do. “ynnie!”

you looked up, not expecting someone to call your name, recognizing sunghoon, who is in one of your classes this semester. and did he just call you, ynnie?

you looked at him confused before glancing back at the girl who had a scowl on her face. “come on, the movie is about to start, wouldn’t want to miss it.” as he got closer to you, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you in one of the nearest theater rooms, desperate to escape from the girl he encountered.

you followed him without any questions, not having enough time to react due to the sudden interaction. you both sat down in the middle aisle, watching him glance behind him, not even realizing he was still holding onto you.

“finally.” he muttered under his breath, finally being able to relax.

“uh.” you cleared your throat, snapping him out of his head. “shit, i’m sorry.” he finally let go of your wrist, weirdly missing the warmth of his hand.

“sorry about that, i-uh,” he continued, but for some reason unable to form his words. who is he kidding, the person he’s been crushing on is right in front of him!

you shook your head, an indication that it was no big deal. “it’s okay.” you gave him a reassuring smile and was about to glance down at his movie ticket, but he quickly hid it away.

“the movie is about to start.” he quickly said, holding the popcorn on his lap. he didn’t want you to see that he was supposed to be in the other theater room, for oppenheimer. when was he ever going to have the opportunity to be with you? this was his chance.

you looked so pretty. with your pink outfit, for obvious reasons. your hair was tied with a pink ribbon, loving how some of your hair were framing your face. on the other hand, he was wearing a dark outfit, again, because he was going to watch a movie very opposite of barbie.

little did he know, you did saw a glimpse of his ticket, when he was looking away earlier, knowing already. you can’t help but smile to yourself, fiddling with your fingers, feeling a bit shy.

both of you are now immersed in the movie, sunghoon glancing at you every now and then. he loves the reaction you showed as you watched the movie, mumbling softly, your eyebrows doing all sorts of movement, your bottom lip sticking out. you looked so cute that he just wants to squeeze your cheeks! of course he’s not going to do that, not right now at least.

your arm would brush against sunghoon’s every now and then during the movie, both of you blushing like crazy. sunghoon felt his heart beating so fast that it felt like it was going to bust out of his chest!

soon the movie finished, feeling as if time just snapped. why did that felt so quick? he hasn’t even interacted with you like he hoped would happen.

you two walked out of the theater room, surrounded by a crowd, causing the two of you to bump into each other. this made sunghoon wrap his arm across your shoulder, both of you making your way through the crowd, wanting to prevent you from being crushed. it felt natural for him to do that he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. both of you were so close that sunghoon’s sweet scent filled your nose. hopefully he can’t hear how loudly your heart is beating. it felt like it was about to burst! he felt so warm against you, and although it was summer, his warmth made you comfortable.

you both soon found the door outside the cinema, feeling the refreshing cold breeze, in contrast to the warm one earlier before walking in the cinema.

“well, that movie wasn’t so bad.” he said, now facing you, glad that he could still see you a little bit with the horrible lighting from the lamppost.

your eyes sparkled even through the dark night, seeing his cute little fangs as he smiled at you. “yeah, i had a great time with you, even though we didn’t really talk much.” you let out an airy laugh, “maybe we can do that again? and watch the movie you were supposed to watch?”

his eyes widened, lips parting. “huh? how did you know?”

“sorry, i might’ve seen your ticket. you know you didn’t have to stay with me there, sorry if i kept you-” you started, feeling slightly guilty as you thought about it.

“no, no. don’t be sorry. i wanted that. i mean, it was a chance for me to spend time with you.”

your cheeks heated up, feeling absolutely fluttered at the confession. damn, where did he get that confidence. sunghoon actually talking to a girl? jay would be proud.

“well, i’m accepting that offer of yours. you can’t take it back now.” he bit his lip, preventing himself from smiling so widely, waiting for your response.

a smile now painted on your lips, you nodded, “maybe we can go somewhere after too, and get to know each other?”

sunghoon felt his ears turning red, not being able to hide his smile anymore. “i’d love that.” he then pulled his phone out of his pocket before holding it out for you, looking at you admiringly.

you punched in your number, biting your bottom lip as you then typed in your name before handing it back to him.

‘ynnie ♡’

a cute giggle came from sunghoon, his little dimple popping out. you curiously tilted your head as you watched him type something, seeing him glance at you and then back to his phone. he held his phone to show you what he did, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

‘pretty girl ynnie ♡’

both of you all of the sudden got shy with each other, just smiling to one another. “um, see you soon then? i should probably go now.” you fiddled with your fingers, seeing the bus has arrived at the terminal by the cinema.

he glanced to where you were looking at before nodding, “of course. i’ll walk you there.”

the two of you walked to the terminal, your hand slightly brushing against sunghoon’s. you stopped by the door of the bus and faced the cute boy, who was already looking back at you.

“thank you for tonight.” there was a moment of silence before you suddenly felt a boost of confidence. sunghoon looked so soft and you couldn’t help but kiss his cheek without any warning, feeling him freeze at the sudden contact. his lips parted, his smile widening.

you waved at him before quickly hopping in the bus, making your way to the middle, sitting by the window where you see him step back, watching the door of the bus now closing. the boy typed something on his phone and the next thing you know, you hear your phone buzzing.

unknown number: this is sunghoon :) text me when you get home, yeah? stay safe pretty.

you looked back up and nodded at him through the window, waving once again. he waved back, watching the bus driving off.

oh my god. what just happened? you thought to yourself, now pressing your palms onto your cheeks, feeling how warm it is. looking back down at your phone, you start typing.

reply to pretty boy sunghoon: text me once you get home too! :)

sunghoon skip his way through the parking lot, not caring how some people were looking at him weirdly as he passed by. he is happy. he got to talk to his crush! and now he already has a second date?! he felt like he was dreaming, and he can’t wait to see you again. his pretty girl. well, not yet. but soon.

-

bonus:

“ah! i don’t know what to wear.” sunghoon groaned, his hands resting on top of his head, pacing back and forth in his room, jay who was leaning against sunghoon’s door watches the boy in distress.

“damn. i’ve never seen him like this. he is truly whipped huh?”

“you know he can hear you right?” heeseung shook his head before going back to his game, being in the living room, which is in front of sunghoon’s room.

“i don’t know, pretty sure all he’s thinking about is yn.” jay purposely says your name clearly and loudly, making sunghoon snap out of his thoughts. “yn? did you say yn?”

“oh my god… he’s gone crazy.”

[hitlikehammers]

Steddie Wrong Blind Date AU 💜

what if you meet the wrong love of your life?

He doesn’t know how the fuck he got here. At a very nice bar in a very nice restaurant.

Sitting alone.

Or well: he knows. It’s more that he can’t believe he let it happen.

Again.

Because Steve had finally (finally!) made sufficient enough threats logical arguments to curb Robin’s attempts—well-meaning, dingus, well meaning attempts!—to set him up with so-and-so’s cousin or whoever-the-fuck’s roommate. The blind dates had actually been his first successful method to ultimately shoot down, on the basis that they weren’t just fucking humiliating: they were goddamn degrading.

For reasons such as his current situation.

And of all the things Robin desired for him, they both knew she’d never knowingly cause him pain. So that left him working with awkward introductions at parties, sometimes at completely random places even, like too-weird-to-be-coincidence run-ins at the grocery store and shit, where Robin just so happened to be shopping when both her targets were there. It was borderline frightening, but. It was very Robin. And Steve adored her more than anything and struggled too much to stay mad at her—he’s definitely tried his damnedest, more than once—so. He knows her intentions come from the heart, regardless of how disastrously they pan out in reality.

Which is why Steve is allowing this once—and only once—because he’s not stupid, but. He appreciates the ingenuity.

And getting your girlfriend to make the blind date pitch was…technically honoring his rules.

So. He’s allowing this to slide once. Once. One time.

One. More. Time.

And he’s already got his justification, fucking iron clad too, to call it on sight. Failed attempt, the guy’s already twenty minutes late and that’s…that’s past fashionable, really, especially for a set up like this. He glances at his phone, just to see if he’s got anything from Chrissy as an update—Steve loves her, and Robin adores her, and that’s the only reason he’s not spending the minutes he waits, sipping stupidly-slow at the same tequila sunrise, plotting revenge against her for being so gullible, so willing to not merely enact Robin’s last-gasp efforts but to participate, actively, because apparently tonight’s ’perfect match, he’s so your type!’ was Chrissy’s suggestion—but there’s nothing. Just the last message from an hour ago reassuring him against backing out in the first place:

he’s tall, dark, handsome, 100% your type. maybe a little *theatrical*: you’ll LOVE him 💕

Steve didn’t, and still doesn’t, understand what she means by theatrical, and honestly he’s kinda wary for it—he doesn’t like playing games when it comes to romance: he’s too all-in, and too quickly, for any of that.

Which also means that, as much as he thinks it’s a fucking laughable sham to have agreed to this, and as much as he’d walked in knowing that, knowing he was entertaining the farce against his own will: it still…doesn’t sting, exactly. But it definitely squeezes uncomfortably in his chest for no good reason that he’s been fucking stood up and yeah, yeah, that means it’s time to—

He reaches for his drink and notices it’s empty. Just another sign, really, so he move to gesture the bartender over to pay but—

Someone’s got a better angle, actually gets the guy’s attention before Steve can even try—a someone sitting two empty chairs down who lifts his glass for another, then gestures the exact same way with an empty toward Steve’s sad glass of ice.

“On mine,” he tips his chin Steve’s direction before the bartender grabs Steve’s glass along with the stranger’s and makes for refills, then it’s just the stranger turning the whole of his body around on the stool to face…Steve.

“For the handsome nobleman,” and he says it with a stilted lilt that’s somehow not disingenuous, and it’s odd, to put it mildly, paired with a little bow of his head that definitely matches the affected voice but also definitely gives the stranger a perfect window to run his gaze up and down Steve’s seated frame—it’s a good move, Steve can’t even deny it, no matter how…weird.

But…also, there’s a warmth in it? Maybe in the gaze, something that’s not just heat, or maybe in the tone that’s not just putting on a show.

Something.

“In fact I do say the very handsome nobleman doth sit alone beyond comprehension,” the stranger seems to correct himself, and the way his lips curl, wider and then pull back a little, like he hesitates, like he’s maybe bolder than this in other situations but is reserving himself just a touch for here and now—and goddamn but this is pretty fucking bold already, whatever it actually is:

“And he deserves plentiful libations,” and Steve didn’t even notice the new drink on the counter until the stranger reaches, tips precariously on his stool, and slides the glass closer before nodding toward it, almost like another little bow: “in his tarrying.”

Steve stares wordless for a second because, outside of that weird fucking Renaissance Fair thing the kids dragged him to, he’s never heard anyone talk like that. So the setting’s all fucked up because this is Manhattan, at a not-particularly-inexpensive bistro type venue, definitely devoid of turkey legs.

Plus the guy in question doesn’t quite look the part—gorgeous curls to the shoulders, facial structure to kill a man, legs for days draped down the stool and dressed in shades of black top to bottom, from the button up in charcoal fucking silk, to the weirdly-suited boots that might have a steel toe hiding or might just be playing, the only color on him the pout of his lips and the slight flush visible in the low bar light brushed over his cheeks before he leans a little closer, eyes maybe the darkest thing about him and kinda goddamn mesmerizing for it, especially for how they somehow tiptoe along a fine line between almost disorienting focus on Steve and Steve alone, and something close to hesitant, or maybe more bashful when he clears his throat and asks:

“Perhaps this very handsome nobleman would also enjoy some company,” and his tone’s not even playing coy about being hopeful, before he full-on lays a palm to his chest in old-fashioned apology as his lashes flutter a little and he goes all self-deprecating, and genuine in it, as he adds in that same bashfulness:

“Even if only that of a humble bard, such as myself?”

And Steve’s not above being wholesale dumbstruck for a good second, like his hearing goes tunneled and his pulse echoes for the narrowing: this man is unreal.

Very…theatrical. One-hundred percent his type. Two-hundred percent, even. Jesus.

So Steve’s quiet for a second, but he’s not known for his charm because he can’t bounce back quicker than average, certainly quicker than risking that gorgeous face falling for the dashing for the hope painted open all over it, not a stroke of artifice in sight.

Steve’s not even trying when he fucking feels his own automatic walls start to slip as he leans, meets the man move for move so they can hear each other close as the bar starts to fill a little more:

“Only if I can get the next round,” and if Steve purrs it, it’s a reflex; if it darkens those already depthless eyes, well. He’s close enough to appreciate the swell of the pupil, the deepening of the flush on those cheeks.

If Steve’s heart jumps a little, there’s not a soul who can call him out for it; tree in the woods with no one to hear it fall.

But it does. It so does.

The man does an adorable little shimmy across the seats between them, taking the one closest to Steve and then doing a little scootching of even that to settle all the closer, and it shouldn’t be endearing, but Steve feels like he can bet on his ribs being sore by the end of whatever this is, or ends up being, just for the swelling beneath them already underway.

“If my request is being so highly honored, so as to join you,” the man takes a little bundle of his curls and drags them across the corner of his lips before tucking it back and…Steve has the immediate urge to have done it for him instead, what the hell, too fucking soon, man—

“Does his majesty have a name?”

It takes Steve a couple long seconds to register that the man means him, though it doesn’t escape Steve that the reference, while it took a while to land? Never for an instant felt like it did in high school, or even shortly after. It felt…warm.

“Steve,” he says with a smile, more twisting his palm than extending his hand to shake given their proximity; “and you, my,” Steve licks his lips then presses them tight around a grin before choosing his words: “very odd but very endearing bard, was it?”

“It was, indeed,” the man lights up near fluorescent; “I’m Eddie.”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, or the way he takes Steve’s hand. But…Jesus.

It’s…a really good name.

“Then tell me, Eddie,” Steve doesn’t let go of the hand in his, their touches just slowly slide apart and it feels…like a loss but not a crushing one, Eddie’s still close enough to feel the heat of him.

“Unless I’m totally off, I think I know from exposure, not playing, that a bard’s a musician, yeah?” Or is it a storyteller, or maybe both, there’s a good fucking reason he never have in to playing the nerd game—

“Tell me what makes you introduce yourself like that right off the bat, then.”

And Eddie glows for the opening, the invitation, and the thing is? He doesn’t stop; he’s like a star unto himself, shining and bathing Steve in the glimmer as he talks about music, about growing up in a house of it, about it being tough sometimes but his mother took him to live with his uncle, the three of them and then it was easier and there was also more music, new music, and he tells Steve about bands he’s played in, joined and left, guitars he’s loved and lost, the whole shipping boxes he has piled with full notebooks of lyrics and ideas from years upon years; and then he pivots, or maybe that’s not even it, because what he really does is test the waters around where Steve thought the bard reference came from in the first place—the nerd game. Steve confesses he was a mostly an unwilling bystander but it was probably more because he didn’t get it, and honestly his reluctance was more for show than anything, he loved what his kids loved at the end of the day, what made them happy—which left Steve explaining the kids, explaining Robin, explaining his family in a way Steve hasn’t done in relationships that lasted months, let alone first conversations on very first dates.

He should be terrified. He isn’t.

He should be terrified of the isn’t. And…and yet.

“My turn for a question,” Eddie fills the first soft lull in conversation, one that stretches taffy-sweet and almost kinda giddy; Steve doesn’t even know what he’s feeling because he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt it before, like, ever—all he knows is that it’s kind of fucking fantastic, like something he already never wants to let go of. So of course he nods, welcomes Eddie’s turns for a question even if it doesn’t seem entirely necessary; the back-and-forths sliding so natural, so balanced.

“Why the choice of drink?”

Eddie nods at the glass almost empty in his hand while Steve squints and laughs a little.

“What?” Steve asks because he doesn’t understand, sure, but also because the unpredictability, alongside the sheer earnestness of this man is…it’s disarming in the best fucking way. Like maybe Steve’s falling but he never wants to stop and—

Too soon, too fucking soon even if that’s not what he meant, exactly; he thought it, and it’s too fucking soon—

“Everyone has a reason for ordering a drink,” Eddie explains with a grin that pops those delicious dimples; “habit, by which there’s a story of the first time you tried it,” he ticks off on his nimble looking fingers, the rings on them catching the lights; “spontaneity, by which there’s a tale of what inspired it,” and fuck, they’re so long, those fingers, Steve kinda wonders how many knuckles he could fit in his mouth; “memories, by which there’s something poking at them.”

Eddie pauses, takes Steve in, no doubt sees Steve hanging onto, damn near salivating over his every word even as he swallows and takes a breath to collect himself as discreetly as he’s capable; it just makes those dimples divot deeper.

“I could go on,” Eddie offers, a little sly in his smile, the knowing kind, but his tone is soft, like maybe Steve’s not the only one feeling…things. And maybe Eddie wants him to know it. Maybe so that he’s not alone. Maybe because they both fucking like it. Maybe—

“Habit,” Steve answers, unable to keep from smiling around the rim of his glass when he takes a sip. “I got sick on shots and swore off straight tequila, but I was always up for the, y’know, frou-frou drinks,” he swirls the maybe-two-swallows left for show: “so long as it tasted good I didn’t give a shit, y’know, and then a,” Steve pauses a second, wonders how best to describe that particular figure from his past before settling on:

“An old friend, told me once,” and then Steve pauses again, this time because he can feel the rush of heat to his cheeks because oh, shit, now he’s backed himself into having to say it—

“Oh, now you have to share,” Eddie coaxes, a singsong in his voice and a wide-eyed wonder to him, something like genuine investment in what comes next, what’s next in something solely about Steve, that almost soothes the embarrassment;

“Unless you’re displaying the answer with this,” and Eddie only just brushes the flat of his fingernail to Steve’s cheekbone, too quick to appreciate the shiver it sends down Steve’s spine, through his fucking veins, that’s not helped one bit by Eddie murmuring, a little sensual, but somehow also a little dazed, a little starry-eyed when he breathes out:

“Blush like the sunrise.”

And if he wasn’t already, fuck knows Steve is now.

He misses Eddie’s touch against it, too. Even so fleeting. Wishes he were bold enough, or foolish enough, to grab Eddie’s hand and let him feel what he’s doing, the heat in him. The way his blood rushes.

He’s not, because that’s fucking insane and way too much too soon, but.

Wanting doesn’t play by those rules.

“Almost,” Steve picks up the glass and swirls it again; “he said I was like sunshine,” Steve recalls with a little grin—it’s a softer memory now than it used to be. He laughs a little and downs the last of what’s left of his drink. “Think it was more because of a yellow sweater I wore way too much at the time, but,” and he places the empty down and so he doesn’t see it coming until it happens: Eddie’s hand. On his hand, on the glass.

“No.”

Steve looks up, barely breathes. Eddie has soft hands.

“No, I think it was more than that, Sunshine,” Eddie tells him, honest and certain and a little breathless and Steve’s of two equal minds: he’s never been so aroused. But he’s also never felt so seen.

And wanted.

“Another?” Eddie asks, but his eyes don’t leave Steve’s to look at their drinks, to be anywhere but in this moment, here with him.

“You’re sure?” Steve makes himself ask it, doesn’t bother forcing himself to sound anything but pulling for one answer and one answer alone. “Don’t have somewhere better to be?”

“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Eddie does look away then, but down at their hands, strokes his thumb a little down where Steve’s wrist starts to curve. “And I’m struggling just now to think of anywhere better than right here.”

And then Eddie’s placing his fingers between Steve’s, just resting them in the middle spaces: they’d fit. So well.

They…will. They will fit fucking gloriously.

“My round, then,” though Steve’s lost count if they’re even, how many drinks they’ve actually had—not too many, he’s pleasantly buzzed at best and maybe more on the company than anything else if he’s honest, but he likewise doesn’t know how long they’re been there, sipping between baring their fucking souls in the most mundane ways that…

That Steve thinks have started to kindle something in him. Started to breathe life into a part of him he didn’t know was dormant, forgot he could feel until it started unfurling like this, deep in his chest.

“Need something to cut through the sugar,” he says idly, but he doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s breath catches when Steve tightens his fingers to catch Eddie’s before letting go, sliding the glass forward so the bartender can see and then he orders: “The Glenlivet 14,” he points; “neat,” then he glances at Eddie’s glass of melting ice—he’s been on Black Russians the whole time;

“Keeping at it, or something new?”

“You make a compelling argument for easing up the sweet,” Eddie cocks his head, taps his chin consideringly; “especially when you’re agreeing to remain as my company,” he shoots over a heated glance and a smile too big to be as wicked as Steve thinks Eddie might have aimed for but it doesn’t matter, it has the same bewitching, pulse-stuttering effect either way.

“Bulleit Rye, on the rocks,” Eddie taps his glass with a certain finality.

“A man after my own heart,” Steve comments with a nod; it’s a good order. He doesn’t think about the words themselves before they come out.

“And if I wanted to be?”

And then Steve thinks about the words with every goddamn cell in his body, like his blood repeats them and the electricity that works his brain as much as his heart is making little lightning storms around the comment, then the question, and then the implication because Steve…

Steve’s never wanted anything more. Steve’s never been offered anything even close and here’s this man? And he can’t be saying what Steve..thinks he has to be saying because what else can those words mean—

“Too quick?” Eddie pulls back the slightest bit and Steve misses him immediately; “I usually am, I’m so—“

Steve misses him, and will not have him doubting because Steve knows that feeling intimately, knows this man deserves none of it, and knows it’s anything but warranted when Steve’s heart, the one Eddie might want to be after, just took up leaping in his fucking chest like a goddamn gazelle.

So Steve doesn’t think, at all, when he grabs the hand Eddie placed on his a few minutes ago and cups it to his chest, the best proof he knows that can’t be overthought, or rationalized away.

Eddie’s eyes are confused, for a second, until he feels it.

And then: but, fuck.

Steve’s never watched a flower blossom all at once before but…that’s all he can think of with the slow crawl of a smile, the bright gleam of something like wonder in eyes that get impossibly wider, a chest that rises and falls heavy abd quick under the silk Steve wants to unbutton a little, see more of that milk-smooth throat save now that he’s looking, he can see enough to take note of Eddie’s pulse there: riotous.

It’s too good. It’s too much.

But Eddie feels it with his own hand. Steve sees it with his own eyes.

Here they are.

“That’s usually my line,” Steve finally exhales, tries to make it a joke between them, an understanding and maybe it works, maybe they’re both too distracted by the hinting promise of maybe never needing to have such a joke again:

“Not too quick.”

And Eddie stays there, riveted, beaming something blinding and Steve just…feels his own heartbeat. Under a hand that doesn’t seem inclined to want to move.

Not too quick.

Eddie blinks at him, almost like he’s waking up from something he wasn’t even aware he’d been sleeping through, or walking through half-dazed. Like he’s seeing something real for the very first time. His breaths are fast, a little shaky, and then he’s standing, pulling Steve’s hand from his chest up to Eddie’s mouth and kissing his knuckles, watching Steve every second as Steve’s own breath hitches, and then pulling away, but not letting go yet. Like he’s reluctant to.

“Let me hit the head real fast, throw some water on my face to make sure I’m not dreaming,” Eddie whispers to him, breathless still and looking almost like he’s trembling; “while he gets those poured,” he tips his head toward the bar where their drinks are still waiting their turn.

Then Eddie’s brining Steve’s hand to his lips again and whispering there, and yeah, the man’s shaking a little as he breathes, almost shy:

“Don’t go anywhere?”

As if it’s even a question.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve promises with all he’s got, because he thinks…it’s insanity, but he thinks maybe he walked so reluctantly into this bar however many hours ago and somehow, by some act of benevolent fate, he’s…found the man who’ll prove to be the love of his life?

Steve could not be moved for anything.

Eddie walks half-backward for how much he turns to look back at Steve, and Steve waves a few times, makes a few stupid faces just to see Eddie struggle not to giggle, and it’s…

He did say his chest was gonna be sore by the end of the night but, Jesus. He doesn’t know if he even has ribs left, or if they’re all broken, crushed to smithereens, for how full his chest feels. Nothing so common and simple as the bones of him could stand up to this and not be changed.

He smiles as he pulls his phone out—when was the last date he had where he didn’t look at his phone? Has he ever been on one before?—and he registers they’ve been sitting here, sharing themselves in a way that feels more like laying a foundation, deliberately, and that’s, that is…

Steve’s spent a very long time wishing for someone who’d want that, with him of all people. He was pretty sure he’d made his peace with never finding it. And then: here he is.

He bites his lower lip, lest his grin crack his face, when he thinks of texting Chrissy real quick and just…thanking her. Because, yeah.

Steve did, in fact, end up loving him.

Like…too-soon-but-for-real-pitter-patter-heart-skipping-beats shit.

So he thumbs open the chat and sees…unread messages.

He doesn’t full-on frown, too high on, just, everything, so he opens the texts before he can assume the worst of someone texting him during a date they, you know. Played a key role in setting up:

he may be running late for traffic, if you haven’t left please STAY I promise he is WORTH IT 🙏🏻💞

Steve’s not even sure Eddie was late, maybe they’d been sitting a few stools away for twenty minutes: it feels like a lifetime ago, now, and—

Then Steve sees the timestamp. Sent…like two hours ago.

He’d been at least two tequila sunrises in, with Eddie versus on his own, by then so, what was Chrissy even talking about—

He scrolls to the most recent message.

Seventeen minutes ago.

omg Steve I’m so sorry and *he* is so sorry, he’s absolutely cut up about this he’s still in traffic but he says he’s determined to try, he’s got flowers for you and everything he’s SUCH A GOOD GUY STEVE I swear I wouldn’t have done this if if I didn’t think he’d treat you like you deserve and this isn’t his fault, I even checked waze and it’s a mess but he understands if it’s too much and—

“Everything okay?”

Eddie’s already taken his seat, and is looking at Steve with polite interest, not leaning to see what’s on his screen like so many people do on instinct, but there’s actual concern underneath, and investment in it. Like whatever’s wrong, Eddie wants to help fix it.

Steve, reeling over the way the puzzle pieces are slotting into place—namely that, by all accounts, the earliest his intended date could have arrived was maybe ten minutes ago—looks up at Eddie, turns his phone screen-down on the bar and clears his throat, bites the bullet.

“This may seem like a,” Steve takes a deep breath, because he has to ask even if he is almost dead certain of the answer; “a kinda out-of-nowhere question but.”

And then Steve meets Eddie’s eyes square on, lets them wash over him and fucking hell: they steady him. Already, they’re an anchor for him in the worst of storms.

“Were you, by any chance, here for a blind date?”

Steve watches Eddie’s face cycle through maybe the five stages of…shock, more than grief given the context, he guesses, but they’re somehow closer to one another than Steve would’ve thought, definitely considering they only just met, though then he’s gotta consider that it feels like Eddie’s burrowed safe in his chest amidst all the blossoming joy, all the warm fullness like he lives there to be kept inside it always and also to maintain it, preserve it, as its sole cause and reason to be: but Eddie—Eddie looks at him with eyes that go wide, that fall with the rest of his face and then shutter a little, and that tears into Steve the hardest, to see something come up like barrier when Eddie’s the reason Steve feels so raw right now, and alive for it; he can’t let Eddie feel less than that, feel the need to pull back from that, from him—

Then he’s placid. Calm. Accepting.

But he deep wells in his eyes: they’re wet. They’re devastated, somehow.

And…no.

But before Steve can move, can speak: there’s a bright, colorful thing that stands out in his periphery—he catches it, flowers near the hostess stand—and his eyes flick to the person holding them, looking dismayed and definitely out of breath; attractive, brunet, weirdly familiar, and then he’s gesturing just so and…

Oh. Oh, that’s…

Steve made the comment two weeks ago, after the show he and Robin had gone to at the Gershwin, that he’d climb the lead like a goddamn tree. She’d groaned, pushed him into a nasty-ass wall that’d earned her the bill for dinner and drinks—but she’d had that look in her eye. And he’d ignored it but now—staring said lead, out of costume, still very handsome even while so fucking distraught, wilting more by the second as Steve tries not to stare too obviously, but then add in that Chrissy knowing half the standbys, that her being the reason they even got tickets, and Robin’s look—well.

“Theatrical” being…fucking literal, like a little clue, suddenly makes a whole lot of sense.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says it under his breath but there’s…way more disappointment than their objectively-brief encounter should merit as he processes, eyes already having followed Steve’s, and puts the pieces together: no matter how late, Steve’s very-probable blind date’s entered the building.

Which—if Eddie answers the question the way the resignation making its home on his face suggests he will—makes Eddie…

“No, sweetheart,” and Eddie’s gathering Steve’s hands slowly, gently, and his face is mostly lax and his mouth tries for a smile but it’s just this side of a grimace as his eyes, god, they’re so bright, like maybe if you can’t stare you won’t see the hurt but Steve doesn’t have to look long for it to burrow into his own chest and flay at his beating fucking heart.

“No, I wasn’t.”

And Eddie looks down at their hands, like he did before, and the tenor to the staring is wholly different, now, subdued and mournful, and Steve’s mind’s already made up but, if it hadn’t been?

The unthinkable reality of witnessing this beautiful man’s heartbreak would seal the deal entirely.

“You know what?” Steve grabs Eddie’s hands back, and squeezes them tight as he makes to stand:

“Neither am I.”

Eddie’s lips part, and his brow furrows, eyes cutting to the front entrance, to the flowers, to a man who isn’t him as if that man could ever somehow be preferable, be more…more anything—

“But,” Eddie tries to protest, confusion undergirding the heartbreak, holding it still. Like…like breathless waiting, held in a frightful uncertainty, like weighing hearts against feathers: some cosmic importance in the balance.

Steve honestly couldn’t agree more. He just already knows how this scale tilts.

“You wanna get out of here, continue this conversation at any of the hundreds of other bars nearby?” Steve says, buttoning his blazer and reaching out a hand, hoping it stays steady; praying Eddie will read his conviction, his certainty, his heart and want to reach back.

And all the slow-rotting sickness in his stomach trying to climb upward and puncture all the buoyant joyful wonder in him for for every second that ticks by without Eddie’s hand in his, it’s all wiped away, burned by the flame of wanting and then getting, of Eddie’s hand in his properly held and Steve was fucking right.

They fit together gloriously.

“It would be my heart’s-sworn honor, my liege,” Eddie breathes, like maybe he’s afraid to hope and Steve won’t have that; and he thinks he knows what Eddie’s saying, knows what the fanciful words mean but he needs to be sure, so he lifts a brow and waits until Eddie grins again so his dimples start to show and he huffs, relief in it:

“I’d fuckin’ love to.”

They down their drinks in one go, gather their things and leave double their bill, barely paying anything so much as a glance when they could look at each other and marvel instead. They walk out opposite the flowers, paying neither the blossoms nor their holder any mind. The thing blooming between them, in Steve’s chest all the bigger and full and brighter for every step he takes with Eddie’s hand in his: it’s so much more than anything with stems and leaves, that grows in the ground. Like Eddie’s glow is more than a star could even hope for. Like the sunshine that’s maybe not Steve at all, that’s really just this feeling, and the way that it grows—it’s beyond explaining. It’s held between their hands alone.

And maybe Steve will text Chrissy and explain, ask her to send his regrets to the theater guy. Tomorrow.

Then Eddie tugs him closer unexpectedly, his laughter all music as he brings Steve’s hand to his lips again, then to his chest where this time, Steve catches the wild gallop of his pulse as proof.

He doesn’t think either of them have a fucking clue where they’re headed. They have every option in front of them, and want nothing more than the touch of the other, and the promise it holds inside.

So Steve does the tugging, now; curls one hand around Eddie and draws him in, his hand caught between their chests so perfect and tastes the coffee liqueur beneath the rye on his tongue and thinks of nothing else, not texting, not set-ups, not waiting: because he’s here. Right here.

And Eddie’s heartbeat feels like home somehow already; the taste of him is nothing short of divine. They’re fully clothed on a New York street and this is the most intimate thing Steve’s maybe ever felt, after the most meaningful evening he’s maybe ever spent with anyone. At a bar. Drinking tequila and grenadine.

He starts laughing, right against Eddie’s lips, right into Eddie’s mouth, so maybe some of the joy will trickle down into his chest, inside his heart so he’ll know even just a fraction of the joy that’s making Steve feel not lighter than air, or dizzy with the speed of it all—but again, maybe for the very first time: real. Solid. Worth something this momentous.

And maybe—increasingly likely, even, as if that’s not the most incredible, unfathomable, heart-starting thought he’s ever entertained but he thinks maybe he might just actually have a shot here, or can even already say just a little bit that he’s—

Loved.

Fuck. Fuck.

Scratch maybe sending a text by tomorrow—he’ll process getting ahold of Chrissy (and that conniving girlfriend of hers) to invite them to the goddamn wedding.

Because right now? Steve’s kissing the man he’s gonna spend the rest of his life with, the man he’s going to live and die learning to love better with everything he is and ever could be: one hand pressed between both their chests, and it’s not too much because Eddie’s pressing them together tighter, body to body and hanging on like he’s trying to hold Steve’s heart in from the back of his ribs just in case; and it’s not too soon because it feels like every single goddamn thing he’s waited for his whole life, beating and clinging and gasping and melding into place finally, finally because it’s…everything. This is everything.

They are everything.

For @starryeyedjanai, who requested 'Wrong Number/Wrong Blind Date AU' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST and incidentally also for @steddie-week for the Day Three prompt 'Long' (which is employed in a couple of abstract ways here)

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth

divider credits here

ao3 link here ✨

[lxkeee]

HEAVEN AND BACK!

—CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor's Mom! Angel! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Romance, love at first sight.

Warnings: none.

Notes: sorry it took awhile, I got lazy lmfao. Also, I listened to caramelldansen when writing this.

CH. ONE | CH. TWO | CH. FOUR | NAV.

It has been a few days since Alastor's mother decided to stay at the hotel, the woman fits right in perfectly with the sinners in the hotel.

Almost.

The angelic woman couldn't get a chance to get to know better hell's very own King, Lucifer.

As Alastor always tries to come in between her and the man.

Is this what Adam called "Cock blocking?" She heard the man say that before and before Adam could explain it to her, Emily explained that it's something where 'You try to talk to someone but somehow there's something or someone stopping you from doing so?' that's what the girl said but did also tell her to not use that term.

How strange.

She sighs, running a hand through her [h/c] locks, careful not to accidentally scratch her own deer antlers. The woman is currently in her 'demon' form, large deer like antlers that are on top of her head, she made sure not to wear bright colors and instead chose to wear something on the darker shades of red, her wings are hidden while her halo was transformed into a golden necklace that hung around her neck.

She rests a leg on top of her other leg as she sits on one of the many cushioned chairs of the hotel, she looks down from the second floor balcony, getting a good view of the hotel's lobby.

“Pray tell, what really brings you here in hell oh dear mother of mine?” Alastor asked beside her, standing beside the seat she sat on, his hand holding his cane-like microphone, he looked at his mother with a grin, though, a confused look in his eyes. He knows his mother, he got his personality from her after all.

Like mother, like son.

[Y/n] giggled, “Overseeing this hotel's progress, isn't that an enough reason to be here?” she answers, eyes closed with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes opened to see her son's disbelief smile.

Alastor tilted his head slightly, grin widening, “I doubt that is the reason, I was so sure that the celestial realm denied Charlie's plans so,” he says, pausing a bit as he hummed to himself as if he was thinking, “—I was rather surprised that heaven decided to change their minds.” he says with a smirk.

He knows she's hiding something.

[Y/n] can't help but let the sides of her lips twitch upwards to a slight smirk. Clever boy. She thought to herself.

With a defeated sigh, she chuckled after, “There is a reason but heaven cannot disclose that yet. That is the only thing I can tell you.” she explained before raising an eyebrow at him, “Is that an enough reason?”

Alastor tilted his head slightly, his smile widened, humming as he thought to himself, “Hmm... I supposed that is an enough reason and I should stop bothering my mother about it.” he says with a smirk.

[Y/n] playfully rolls her eyes at her son, eyes fixated down below to the lobby of the hotel, [e/c] eyes focused on a certain blond fallen angel who's currently drinking a glass of wine at the bar area.

“Enough of that, I would like to ask you why do you keep on trying to stop me from interacting with him?” She asked, head turning away from the scene below and once more looked at Alastor whose smile had slightly lowered in annoyance, a small scoff leaving past his lips.

“Do I really need to give you a reason, dear mother of mine?” Alastor asked, tilting his head, his voice sounding almost a grimace thinking about the shorter man making moves on her.

[Y/n] just raises her eyebrow at him, a small hum escaping her lips, “Please do.”

Alastor hums, dark red eyes looking down on the folks currently in the lobby, “He's a man, mother. In fact, he's the king of hell. I don't trust him.” he grumbles, the smile on his face is gone and is now replaced with a small frown.

[Y/n]'s face softened, she knows her son's disapproval in men, especially if said men have an interest in her. Her last marriage was a failure and filled with pain and Alastor was by her side through it all.

She can understand why he hesitates, why he tries to put distance between her and the men that come to her life.

"Alastor, sweetheart. Don't worry about me,” She says softly, a small gentle smile on her face. Her eyes closing and opening as she glanced at the people down below, her smile widened as she saw sinners mingled with one another.

She's glad. She's glad that there are souls who are willing to try and earn redemption.

And she's here to guide them.

Alastor looked at his mother, his usual grin now back on his face.

“Besides, the man seems nice. It must be lonely being the first fallen angel.” she says softly, she can't imagine the pain Lucifer must've dealt with. She read about him when she was in heaven, she was curious about the first fallen angel and the heavenly libraries were filled with eons and eons of information and she read everything she can about him. Sera even warned her in case she turns to heresy and Sera made sure to remind her to keep her loyalty to heaven and avoid getting influenced by him.

Alastor hums, “I suppose,” he says with a small nod before giving his mother a side eye, “Though, I don't think I'll be comfortable with the possibility of calling him...” he paused and gave a small gag, “—father.” he says with disgust.

[Y/n] chuckles, “Me? Marrying the king of hell? What an ambitious dream would that be.” she says with a small laugh, flicking her hand sassily.

“I just want to be his friend, the man seems like he hasn't formed any meaningful relationships during his life.” she says with a small giggle and Alastor had to fight back from laughing, “Indeed, he has not.” he agrees with a small chuckle.

“Don't be mean, I didn't raise you like that.” [Y/n] chuckles, elbowing her son on his side which made Alastor let a small grunt before pouting at her, “Apologies.” he says, tone clearly not genuine which [Y/n] can clearly tell.

She sighs exasperatedly.

Alastor chuckles his eyes closing before opening once more to look at his beloved mother, “Oh and another thing,” he spoke, [Y/n] looked at him a quirked eyebrow, a small hum escaping her lips, “Hmm?”

“I would like to express my gratitude in what you have down to the hotel's garden, you've brought life to this godforsaken place. I am sure these sinners haven't seen any kind of greenery ever since they have died.” Alastor grins, his eyes darkened from amusement over the misery of these loathsome sinners.

[Y/n] chuckles, though, questioning where she went wrong in raising him.

“It was nothing, I thought the hotel needed a little green that's all! All of these reds are hurting my eyes.” she says glancing at Alastor with a judgemental look in her eyes.

Alastor just rolls his eyes at her which earned him another harsh elbow to the sides.

Lucifer was admiring the lush garden of the hotel's backyard, he has never seen such greenery before—he did but it was eons ago when he was still divine, but it was eons ago and has already forgotten what it looked like—a large willow tree at the side just by the door to the hotel, the once dried up fountain at the center is now back and running, multiple plants surrounded the area and grass, good heavens, he doesn't remember when was the last time he touched grass.

He doesn't know when was the last time you touched grass, dear reader. Go out sometimes, it'll be good for you.

What was he thinking again? Ah, grass.

‘I broke the fourth wall? You're just seeing things, sweetheart.’ he thought in amusement, eyes staring off somewhere as if looking at something... Or someone.

He just chuckled in amusement before walking towards one of the bushes of roses, the heels of his shoes clicked against the pebbled pathway and he stopped in front of a bush of white roses, the fragrance of the flower immediately filling his nose.

It's been so long. He forgot what roses smell like.

Lucifer's eyes sparkled in awe, his wine red like eyes filled with wonder, his right gloved hand gently caressing the petal of a white rose, feeling its softness—just one of the few species of flowers that bloomed in hell for the first time.

“Do you like it?” a feminine voice spoke out—a voice familiar to Lucifer, a voice belonging to a certain radio demon's mother, the silkiness of her voice—it made Lucifer shudder, “I thought the garden looked bare, I thought some greenery would fix it.” [Y/n] chuckles softly.

Lucifer turns around and sees [Y/n] standing behind him, her hands behind her back. The red knee length dress hugged her curves perfectly—it stole Lucifer's breath away, she's gorgeous.

He chuckles, placing his right hand back to his cane, “Indeed, it has been quite long since I've seen such beautiful flowers.” he says, his voice filled with longing and a hint of sadness that [Y/n] didn't fail to notice but decided not to point it out, “They are lovely, I am grateful for being presented with another opportunity to see such beautiful flowers.” he spoke softly, irises glancing at the flowers briefly before looking back at the taller woman.

[Y/n] chuckles softly, “It's a pleasure,” she says with a small smile, taking slow steps as she walked by his side.

“It was fun growing them and an honor to give the princess of hell her own garden of flowers.” she says with a slight chuckle.

“And with that, I am forever grateful.” Lucifer says with a small smile, eyes shining briefly and for once, it's not dull.

[Y/n] was glad to see the shine on his beautiful eyes, and also seeing a genuine smile on the man's face.

After all, you're never fully dressed without a smile.

“You are most absolutely welcome, sweetheart.” she says with a grin, amusement dancing in her eyes as the rosy spots on the man's cheeks seem to redden even more.

“Ex-excuse m-me?!” he stammers, the endearment catching him off guard, it has been quite some time since someone called him something so... Affectionate.

[Y/n] tilted her head slightly, a feigned confusion on her face. Who knew the king of hell is quite easy to tease?

“Hmm? Is something the matter?” she asked softly, a hint of playfulness in her voice, “Is the nickname not to your liking? Would you prefer darling instead?” she asked teasingly.

Lucifer has never been more flustered in his entire existence.

“Are you normally this mischievous?” he asked, his hand covering his face while his other hand gripped into his cane.

“Usually I'm more.” she answered honestly with mischief on her lips.

“Of course, you're the mother of a certain radio demon.” he said with an exaggerated sigh making [Y/n] chuckle.

“Speaking of him, where is he? He usually stays by your side.” he deadpans, his hand that was covering his face lowered back to hold his cane, he's been wanting to interact with this woman properly ever since he met her but that damn radio demon kept her away.

[Y/n] hums, “I am not entirely sure, I'm sure he is somewhere around the hotel.” she says with a hum in her voice, glancing at the side to see a certain demonic shadow quickly leaving.

This damn brat, she'll teach him a lesson later.

Lucifer just hums, thank Satan. He can't stand that demon and his annoying grin.

Finally recomposing himself, he grins at her.

“Well then, I hope everyone in the hotel is treating you well? I haven't gotten the chance to ask you as a certain someone kept getting in the way.” he says with a small smile but his voice strained a little when he mentioned a certain someone.

[Y/n] hums softly, leaning down slightly to reach the rose bush, her hand gently caressing the petal of a white rose, “Everyone has been nice so far, I'm glad you asked.” she says cheerfully.

“I'm glad.” he says with grin.

“I am glad too.” she said softly with a grin.

Maybe, hell isn't too bad.

Both of them thought at the same time.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

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[daybrightsims]

Alright, they've lived in my brain too long; Time to air out my thoughts about the polyamory in BG3

To give a little context: I am currently ethically non-monogamous with my primary partner of almost 7 years. I am not a monolith of thought when it comes to polyamory/ENM/open relationships. These are my own personal thoughts and feelings. I've also completed the game with Astarion and Halsin romanced. Spoilers ahead, read at your own risk.

TL;DR - I don't share the current opinion of whether or not Astarion is okay with Tav pursuing Halsin and the discourse around his agency and choices in the relationship are bumming me out and frustrating me.

I am getting increasingly frustrated about the conversation about Astarion being polyamorous/okay with Tav being with Halsin in the game, primarily because I think a lot of the "think pieces" are coming from 1) monogamous people who have only ever been monogamous, 2) monogamous people who have been burned/cheated on/forced into polyamory by a partner (I feel for ya'll, that wasn't okay), 3) people who are very VERY protective of Astarion, and 4) people who are blatantly uncomfortable with polyamory. My goal is not to invalidate anyone's experiences, but to share an alternate perspective.

I do think that Astarion is not only okay, but happy with Tav dating Halsin. I glean this from how he responds to being poly with ANY OTHER companion. If you ask him to share with literally anyone else, he will say no and give his reason.

Gale: He doesn’t want to be in a love triangle (which with Gale, it would be).

Lae’zel: He’s uncomfortable and Lae’zel would kill him (also true).

Wyll: He knows Wyll is old fashioned and monogamous.

Karlach: He knows Karlach’s feelings for you are strong and he doesn’t want to stand in the way of that (he even says he’d be cool with an arrangement but knows Karlach will need all of your affection based on what she’s been through).

Shadowheart: He would be cool IF Shadowheart had more experience and ya’ll were together longer. But he knows Shadowheart is fragile in her current state.

Minthara: He REALLY doesn’t like this idea and will dump you immediately.

I did also see that ***SPOILER*** they updated or are updating some of the spawn Astarion language to have issues with your affair with Mizora should you pursue it, and it requires a persuasion/deception role to keep you two together.

Up to this point in your relationship with Astarion, he has become more comfortable voicing his opinions and concerns with you. He is learning to value his autonomy and his non-physical relationships. He will tell you when he doesn’t want to do something. In fact, he’ll break up with you over pushing his boundaries. He is fine with you pursuing the Drow twins and fine with you sleeping with Haarlep, even comforts you when Haarlep uses your form. So when he says he is okay with you pursuing Halsin, he means it. Yes, he voices his insecurity with you that you may be pursuing Halsin because you and he haven’t had sex in a while. But he acknowledges that Halsin has experience in this arrangement and doesn’t pose a threat to your relationship. Plus, if you kiss Halsin in front of him, he’ll say “don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the show.”

To me, the idea that this is the ONE thing that Astarion doesn't have agency over in an arc of showing he can speak up for himself is you sleeping with Halsin is an idea that takes more agency from Astarion. He is a grown man. A 240 YEAR OLD man. That trauma he's endured does not mean he needs to be babied or coddled because he can't make his own choices. I think that's an unfair assumption to put on him that Halsin and Tav being together is the ONLY thing he can't enforce his boundaries on.

If he didn't want you to be with Halsin, he would say no like every other monogamous character in the game.

If you want a good example of someone saying yes just because they want to keep you, look at Karlach. You can tell she is HEARTBROKEN when you ask her, but she says “I don’t want to lose you”. That is not an enthusiastic participant in a polyamorous relationship. Astarion says “yeah, go for it! Just give me some reassurance”. Polyamory is not immune to insecurity. I've asked for reassurance in my own relationships and so has my primary partner. That’s not unenthusiastic. That’s realistic as shit. If you ask him about the relationship after you finish his questline, he doesn’t need reassurance because you’re having sex again. That’s also super realistic.

Am I sensitive to this as someone who practices ENM? Almost certainly. It's hard to see a lifestyle I live be villainized and claimed to be "forced" onto characters. I was actually really excited that I could pursue both Astarion and Halsin, and that Halsin places so much importance on consent and not misleading your partner. And it sucks SOO much to see one of my favorite characters be reduced to "oh, he's only doing it because he's afraid to lose Tav." It makes me almost feel bad for liking the interactions between them and enjoying to option. Do I think people mean to make me or other poly people feel bad? No.

But it does.

Headcanons are headcanons. I get it. People are absolutely allowed to interpret the poly aspect of BG3 how they want to. People are allowed to feel uncomfy with how it's portrayed and not pursue it. But it still bums a queer ENM Astarion and Halsin lover out.

Now excuse me whilst I live out my Astarion x Halsin x Tav polycule fantasies in the form of fanfiction.

[atxxzist]

spring in our hearts | c.s

summary: the spring where you finally fall in love and experience everything that comes with it; the good and the bad

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: angst, slice of life, slowburn, romance, fluff?

word count: 21.4k

pink.

everything outside is turning pink. the petals fallen from the cherry blossom trees sweeping the streets as the wind carries it away with the cold chill, making the arrival of spring feel so much more real.

pink has always reminded you of love though your best friend tells you to not think about it often. he believes you're horrible at it and has a shallow view on it.

you wouldn't say you're horrible if you don't exactly have the experience for it, your only romantic relationship ever was freshman year of college with a boy from english who found you cute but broke it off after only 3 months because he thought you weren't interested.

yeosang still brings it up occasionally because only texting a boy when they texted you and telling them you could only hang out once a week isn't the way to show someone you do like them.

you thought it was quite the statement coming from yeosang because he wasn't much of a prize either before his current relationship that finally managed to last longer than 6 months.

but he think he has finally found the one. he's sure of it. and maybe he's right about you being horrible to some extent because you wouldn't understand or know the feeling of when someone is just right.

you still don't get how your uncle was willing to move halfway across the country for the 'love of his life', leaving everything he knew behind in hope of making it work, or how your mother married your father against her parents wishes although you know him to be a great man.

even the compromises both yeosang and grace have to make can be hard to wrap your head around, but yeosang always says every time that once you meet that person, you will understand.

"this seat taken?"

your thoughts are broken and your neck snaps away from the window and its petal shower to the voice beside that takes your breath away momentarily because though he's just standing there in his morning hair, grey hoodie, and sweatpants, he looks absolutely out of place in this small cafe.

you shake your head, a knot forming in your throat the longer you stare at this stranger.

"i'll take it, if that's okay with you."

"go ahead," you assure, no idea why you're so captivated by this stranger you've known for less than a minute, eyes unable to leave as he removes his backpack to place in the seat next to him and finally takes the seat across from you.

you clear your throat, scanning the surrounding and just noticing how packed it has gotten within the few minutes you were out before looking back down to the half finished sketch on the table.

"you go there?"

the question pulls your head back up, meeting eyes once again with this stranger who has now comfortably seated himself, confused as to what he's talking about until he points with his chin to the sweater you're wearing that has your school logo plastered all over it.

you let another second of silence slip through before answering in your most friendliest tone because you don't usually get people trying to start conversations often, or at all.

"oh, yes," you say. "it was a shirt my friend didn't want."

you regret the words as soon as they leave, feeling like you wanna smack ur head onto the table because you don't know why you needed him to know that.

you really are not big on school spirits or whatever, but yeosang had offered it to you after he bought a size too small.

and this stranger is probably able to sense your nervousness just now that he attempts to giggle it off, dimples emerging from his cheeks all of a sudden that you can't keep your eyes off of.

you've seen a fair share of good looking guys in your lifetime, but this dude might just be at the very top and you're thinking the only obvious reason he'd even wanna sit with you is because all the other seats were taken.

"well that's nice of them," he says with a warm smile. "it's a well designed shirt."

you nod slowly at that.

"i guess so."

"i just transferred the beginning of this year so i just thought it was cool to run into someone alike."

"oh?" your pitch piques with a unique kind of interest. "y-you also go there?"

"yes. junior, going onto senior next semester. you?"

"same..." you answer, fighting the tiniest smile that wants to break out because what were the chances the two of you are the exact same age, and it's not like you plan on seeing him after this, but to hear how big the possibilites are is a little crazy.

he chuckles, one hand running over his disheveled hair as you're sure the same thing is also going through his mind.

"and then what?" yeosang asks, after you finish the retelling of your encounter with the incredibly cute and kind boy from the cafe.

"what?" you repeat, one eyebrow raised.

"what happened after?" he states, as if asking the obvious while spinning around in the computer chair that belongs to his girlfriend.

"i had to go to class," you answer, unfazed and oblivious much to yeosang's frustration which is why he wanna facepalm right then and there.

"you didn't even ask for his number?"

you shake your head. "no."

"i bet you don't even know his name," he says only sarcastically but he would be right.

"i don't."

you watch in bafflement as yeosang continues to sigh and complain before grace comes bursting through the door with the two boxes of pizza.

"you won't believe what your girl just told me," yeosang opens his big mouth and tells on you the second he can, prompting grace to hum in curioisity because she's just as equally nosy.

"what happened?" she says, placing the boxes on the stand next to the door.

"little miss over here had a cute boy actually talk to her and didn't even ask for his number nor his name," yeosang spews, accusation in his tone like you just committed a crime. "and worst of all, she lost the pen i got her for christmas."

grace gasps in response and plops down next to you as her weight makes the bed sink.

you roll your eyes, dismissing the last comment but going on to defend your name, "okay. you're being dramatic. it's not like i want him to be my boyfriend. i just happened to meet someone pleasant and i'm okay with the idea that nothing more will come from it."

your best friend shakes his head in disapproval and mutters, "you anti-romantic."

"and where did you meet this boy again?" grace asks.

"the cafe i usually go to."

"maybe you'll run into him again." she shrugs.

"maybe," you utter lowly. "but it's ok. like i said, i just thought it was a nice encounter and had to tell yeosang about it but if i knew he was gonna make a big ass deal, i would've just told you."

"excuse you," yeosang chimes in, "i was just looking out for you. you need to get yourself a boyfriend or at least a friend of your own so you won't be cockblocking all the time."

"first of all, i did get myself a friend," you say, your voice a type of snarky, "but you had to go and make her your girlfriend."

yeosang scoffs, the topic making rounds once again and proceeds to stop spinning himself to churn out another comment to annoy you.

"well maybe she became your friend because she was always meant to be my girlfriend."

you met grace as soon as you stepped foot onto campus given she was your literal roommate, and it only took a couple days to become comfortable with each other because the girl was so friendly and welcoming unlike anyone you've ever met before.

it wasn't until a week later that you considered the two of you actual friends, taking in the fact she was someone you saw yourself sticking by even in the far future.

but it only took another month for yeosang to see what you saw in her and snatched her away, recalling how fast their relationship went from friendly to romantic, you were so annoyed with yeosang because if anything went awry, it would've costed you the first friend you've made besides him.

but here's to them going on 2 years and a half so you really hope yeosang doesn't fuck it up because you think with his track records, you're in the right to have some doubts.

ignoring his response, you go on, "and second of all, your bitch ass invited me so how am i cockblocking?"

grace lets out half a chuckle and stands up to head for the boxes earlier, turning to the both of you.

"you both are hangry. pizza?" she offers.

yeosang takes a slice while you shake your head, telling her you're not hungry right now.

"my point is," yeosang continues, "it was the perfect chance and you completely missed it, but it's whatever now. i summoned you today because i've only seen your hermit ass like three times ever since the start of the term."

"well, yes. i wanted to focus on my studies."

"you need to learn how to relax once in a while," he says, with actual sympathy this time, "which is why i think you're gonna love what i have to say next."

but it just mellows out into an almost sarcastic-like tone, as if he knows you're gonna hate the idea but he's still persistent to go through with it.

"what?" you say, unamused.

he adjusts himself in the chair and puts the barely bitten pizza on standby as grace stares in anticipation because you're sure she already knows exactly what he's gonna say.

"so like, remember yunho?" he squeaks.

it takes a raised brow and maybe two seconds, but you manage to remember, blurting, "jeong yunho?"

"yes!" he nods way too excitedly.

all you really know about jeong yunho was that you've met him probably only twice and had less than a conversation when you did, though not failing to recall how soft-spoken and kind he also was.

"it's his birthday... well, technically his birthday already passed, but he's gonna be holding a late party to celebrate it and i might've maybe told him you're gonna come," yeosang announces, ending the ment with a stupid goofy smile like that's gonna lessen the impact.

"what the fuck, yeosang?"

you scowl, and grace jumps in, "i told him not to but he didn't wanna listen."

"it's a great opportunity!" he cowers back, high-pitched and all as he tries standing his ground.

"you know how much i hate parties!" you yell back just as loud.

"you've been to one!"

"one too much!"

"oh come on, y/n!" he slumps back in the chair staring at you like a disappointed parent. "you only have a year left after this semester. do you really not even wanna have some fun?"

"no. i really don't," you deadpan, much to an eyeroll and sigh from him while grace just sits by idly watching.

"it's not gonna be one of those crazy weird frat parties, i promise. just a house party with close friends, yunho said. plus, there's gonna be plenty of cute guys there."

"good for you. maybe you can find someone there," you say unseriously much to a giggle from grace but to an unamused yeosang because he seriously mean it.

he wants you out of your comfort zone at least just once and go and talk to people you might potentially like, having stayed in your own bubble for so long.

"please?"

the desperation makes you fight the urge to give in but you're losing, only huffing in annoyance.

"what happened to 'you're horrible at this romantic shit'?" you cite him word for word, throwing it back in his face.

"that's cause you really are. plus, you were being annoying at the time. but still doesn't mean i don't want you to try."

you think you're gonna regret. you know you're gonna regret it, but a part of you want to do it just for your best friend so you cave.

"i'll go. but if someone pukes on me again, i'm making you clean that shit with your own mouth."

the party starts at 7 p.m. sharp but yeosang's late birthday gift run leaves you guys almost an hour late, lightly knocking on yunho's door at 7:54 p.m. expecting for the house to be flooded with even more people you don't know but you're surprise to see a couple familiar faces in the background when the door comes apart.

"hey!" the tall birthday boy greets all of you, a lady by her side and arm wrapped around his who you can only assume to be his girlfriend sends a friendly smile the same time.

"come in, come in," he ushers, the three of you stepping inside to the much humble and comforting interior, nothing alike a stereotypical party setting and it's already managed to be the better party you've attended.

it's homey, a bit classy, and you should've expected it because the house is also in a relatively safe part of the neighborhood.

"you guys made it!" yunho welcomes again, his voice loud and excited, eyes traveling between your friends before it eventually stops on you.

"y/n, right?" he says, your name almost foreign sounding coming from him.

you nod in response and the taller boy smiles in relief, not typical of him to forget names but also not wanting to mess up and offend you.

"glad you could make it. i was afraid you couldn't because yeosang went on and on about how much parties scares you."

you narrow your eyes at your best friend and his habit of oversharing before a loose chuckle escapes.

"did he now?"

"he did," yunho says, also a small giggle out of him as if trying to ease the mood and make you comfortable. "but don't worry about it. it's not gonna be crazy, i'm sure of that."

"i appreciate it," you thank him, touched by the kind gesture of assurance although the man barely knows you. "i'll try to enjoy myself."

again, you've only seen yunho on two occasions before this and you can barely even recall the second one, only seeing him in passing along with others currently at the party when you'd go seek out yeosang inbetween classes.

yeosang smirks from beside you, happy and impressed from how you're already easing yourself into the situation, clearing his throat and deciding it's his turn.

"this is for you, birthday boy," yeosang says, presenting the gift in his hand proudly as if he didn't panic just almost 2 hours ago when you brought up if he was gonna get yunho something.

"appreciate it, man. i'm gonna put it with all the other gifts to open later."

he takes it into his hold, attention shortly pulled away by another knock at the door.

"i'm gonna get that. you guys make yourself at home," yunho says, excusing himself with his lady still at armrest.

"see, that wasn't so bad," yeosang takes the first chance he gets as soon as yunho's out of earshot, nudging you by the shoulder much to an eyeroll in return.

"don't speak so fast, we haven't even made it past 10 minutes."

"it's gonna be awesome," he states, convinced of his own words. "you, grace, and all the other girlies can hang out or something while i'm gonna go chat it up with the boys."

a visible annoyance paints grace's expression as she huffs, "if that's the case, i'm coming with. you seem to get stupider with every party."

a couple minutes later and a banter between the lovebirds about how reckless yeosang gets when he's drunk, you wind up in the downstairs bathroom of yunho's house, regretting that you didn't take grace's advice of peeing before coming.

at least the bathroom's nice but you don't wanna have to go out of your way and look for your friends in midst of all staring eyes. you already had enough of those making your way here.

the two had said they wouldn't leave you and it's best you guys stick together, but when you finally spot yeosang, he's already chatting it up with someone new when he was talking to wooyoung before--someone you also don't know well except the fact he's loud and extroverted the last time you met him.

grace is nowhere to be found and you're thinking whether you should just go look for her or insert yourself into the conversation yeosang and this stranger who's only visible from the back of his head, is having.

you don't get to make a choice because yeosang is quick to make it for you, sneaking over this person's shoulder and locking eyes with yours, one hand in the air motioning you to come as if you're his pet while his other is now occupied with a red cup.

you can hear him spewing from a distant as you make your way there, telling the person before him, "oh right, san, this is--"

"--strawberry peach?" the voice not belonging to yeosang says, so strange but familiar and recent at the same time, it stops you dead in track once you meet his eyes.

"strawberry peach lemonade?"

you pick your head up at what sounds like a question, following his gaze to your drink on the table, answering a mere, "yes."

"you came to a cafe to get lemonade?" he tease, delivery a type of amused that would've offended you if not for the smile on his lips.

"what's wrong with that?"

he snickers lowly and shakes his head before going back to his book and muttering, "nothing."

"oh?" yeosang is as confused as the both of you. "you two know each other?" because very rarely do you ever know anyone before he does.

"we met the other day," san tells your friend, your lips tight and body too in shock to answer properly. "at a cafe. she got the strawberry peach lemonade."

"oh. oh!" yeosang's volume turns an octave, a realization hitting him and making the corners of his lips go up because this is the guy you were going on about who was so cute and left such an impression you had to tell him when he knows you to not even look twice a guy's direction.

"thank god," you friend says. "i was afraid she went by some alias on the internet i wasn't aware of."

the comment makes both you and san freeze in place before a chuckle comes hurling out of him though he was fighting to bite it back.

you don't blame him because why would you when your best friend just implied he thought it was your possible camgirl name.

"you're fucking stupid," you hiss, a mix between laughing it off and feeling extremely embarrassed in front of the sole person you didn't think you'd ever meet again and this is how you're officially reintroduced.

"well," yeosang exhales, quick to brush off the remark because he has other things in mind, "i'm gonna go look for grace."

you knew it was coming and that he was gonna try to get the two of you alone but you didn't think it'd come this fast, your palms already starting to sweat and your feet feels like it's gonna make a run for it.

"i'll catch you guys later. you two have fun," yeosang bids goodbye as san returns one while you're just standing and thinking of all the ways to get back at him if this doesn't go well.

"a bit crazy, isn't it?"

that soft, melodic tone pulls you away from yeosang's walking figure and to his eyes that could almost melt you on the spot, that strange sensation settling in the pit of your stomach from his lingering gaze.

"definitely a bit crazy," you manage to say after composing yourself, because you do wanna talk to him and not scare him away, but you're feeling a lot more self-conscious than usual.

but whereas you cave easily under stressful situations, san treads through them with confidence, breaking the ice by asking a question.

"that guy, yeosang, you guys together?"

and if you were in the middle of drinking something, you would've spat it right out at such question.

"definitely not," you deny passionately, though it wouldn't be the first; you and yeosang getting the accusation from time to time because you two happen to be of opposite sex and are actually just friends.

"i'd rather lose an arm before picking to settle with him," you add.

you love your best friend, you do. he's always there for you when needed and has been with you through everything, but he's also messy, lazy, and probably the most disgusting person you know.

grace is a soldier for putting up with it for almost three years now and you don't know how she does it.

san chuckles at the response and the pure offense on your face.

"why not? sounds like an overall decent dude."

"i've known him since middle school. he's more a friend than anything and sometimes like a brother. plus, he has a girlfriend, grace."

"ah," san coos, "so you're the friend. he did say he came with his girlfriend and a friend but he thought his friend was trying to hide."

you shouldn't have expected any better from yeosang but you still wanna kick when you do see him, opting to calmly explain yourself, "was just taking a while in the restroom, that's all."

though you're not sure if it was necessary to address that, your cheeks burning a light pink after that san takes notice to.

he giggles it off and you're glad it made him smile at least.

"if i knew i was gonna meet you here, i'd bring your pen, but i don't think neither of us were expecting such coincidence."

your eyes swell a kind of surprise, almost stuttering when you finally speak, "you got my pen?"

you had quickly packed all your things, afraid you were gonna be late for the next class and you were so sure you got everything. it wasn't until you got back to the dorms that you noticed the stylo sketch pen yeosang got you for christmas was missing.

it didn't take long for it to be considered lost forever because there wasn't much hope of finding it even if you went back, but you didn't think it'd wind up in the hands of the boy you met that day.

"yeah, sorry if you came back looking for it. i had noticed you left it and thought it was rude if i didn't do anything. maybe that's why fate sent me here today," he says, snickering at the last comment, though at this point blaming it on fate doesn't seem so crazy.

"thank you," you tell him quietly, moved by the consideration but volume falling behind the progressing loud music though he can still make out your lips.

"no problem." he smiles.

and you don't know how it's possible but he looks even better than last time, the black attire and slicked back hair a contrast to the other day but when you speak to him, it all still feels the same... the slightly mischievous but easygoing personality turning away your initial worries and nervousness until you can't even remember why you had them.

the only thing left to weigh heavy is his usage of 'fate', the impression that you two meeting today was because of destiny and something already set in stone, but you might be overthinking.

"do you wanna go outside?" he asks, practically shouting at this point because the music has completely drowned out his voice.

he can tell you didn't hear him by how you confusingly squint your brows and unintentionally lean closer, to which he returns, whispering into your ear that shouldn't have sparked whatever it did.

you pull away to nod hesitantly and follow him out the backdoor, your throat clogged and body almost frozen if you weren't walking, glad he isn't looking because never in your life has a man smell that good before.

it's probably not the best idea to be away from your friends with someone you barely know, but you also don't have any reasons not to trust san... for now.

the spring air hugs your skin and you shiver slightly, only a thin cardigan to protect from the cold that makes san second guess coming out here.

"if it's too cold, we can go back inside. i just thought maybe you'd prefer somewhere where we could actually hear each other."

you shake your head but throw in a small smile to show you appreciate the consideration.

"it's okay. it is definitely way too loud inside there."

"yeah," he agrees, "and whoever's phone is connected to the bluetooth has a horrible taste in music." the now muffled audio a rock song you cannot make out the lyrics to even back at the house.

you laugh at the remark, the both of you staring into nothingness but yunho's backyard fences, yet it feels nice. safe. comfortable.

"i bet it's yeosang. he puts on the shittiest songs," you talk bad behind your friend's back, getting a giggle from san that makes it worth it.

"by the way, what did yeosang say your name was again?" he asks, turning to you with his full attention after realizing this whole time he doesn't even know your name.

"y/n," you tell him, locking eyes and ignoring the sensation in your stomach again from being this close and alone to someone who looks like that.

"y/n." you listen to him repeat your name under his breath. "you definitely look like a y/n."

the comment makes the corners of your lips turn, telling him he sounds so silly.

"it's san, right?" it's your turn to ask, sure you got it correct because yeosang's voice is loud, annoying, and hard to miss.

"yes," he confirms. "san choi, or choi san."

"choi san," you mumble, "it definitely has a beat to it."

and you're both laughing together the next, it doesn't feel real how easy being with him is. how, you were so hesitant about showing up and not being able to talk to anybody and now you're actually enjoying yourself, the state of your friends completely forgotten.

you don't usually wanna know many people but you wanna know more about san, every expressions he makes and any words he says paid attention and listened to carefully, you hope you won't scare him off just yet.

the conversation taking place after feels never-ending from him telling you about the transfer process to sharing majors and learning he specializes in math, you don't even realize you've both been standing in the cold for a while until a voice calls out to you.

"y/n!"

you look over your shoulder to find grace standing there, only half her body out the door and moving her eyes from you to san, the slight surprise when she sees you're with someone.

"there you are," she says. "i thought you had left without telling us."

you're now fully facing her with san following, watching from the side as you two carry on.

"what happened?" you ask.

she sighs before telling you it's yeosang, not to anyone's surprise.

"he's stupid drunk already and picking fights," she adds, getting second embarrassment again just thinking about how mad her boyfriend had got when he found out wooyoung had gotten yunho the same gift.

it wasn't anyone's fault; yeosang just loses half his braincells when he's under the influence.

you shake your head unamused and swipe san a glare, apologizing and telling him you have to go.

"wait," san stops you before you could completely leave him standing alone in the cold. "your pen. can i still give it back to you?"

you're standing there almost starstrucked-like and nodding your head, stuttering at the fact he wants to see you again.

"y-yes."

"perfect." he smiles. "how about the cafe again? we're both familiar with the place."

"that'll work," you say. "this monday?"

"this monday."

"cool. i'll see you then, san."

"what? no way!" grace yells, after you finish telling her about san and how crazy the coincidence is.

"yeah... i didn't really think i'd see him again," you say softly while settling down on the edge of your bed with grace across in hers, your heart doing a turn just thinking about the exchange between you and san again.

"you're blushing," grace snaps you out, meeting her gaze and batting your lashes.

"what? i'm not," you deny, adjusting yourself in the seat like that's gonna make her less suspicious.

"no. you are." she giggles. "you like him."

the bold statement makes your eyes go wide, shaking your head and denying the accusation on the spot because you can't possibly like someone you just met.

"i don't even know the guy," you tell her, trying to convince her as much as you are to yourself, hoping she won't catch how tense you're sounding at just the mere topic of this guy.

"so?" she shrugs, leaning back with her hands to the sheet. "you can't know a person within one night. finding out about the person is all part of the journey to eventually, a relationship."

you just learned the guy's name and now she's already bringing up the possibility of a relationship.

"believe me, y/n." she sits back up, intensely locking eyes with you and voice stern as if schooling a child. "the almost 3 years i've known you, i've never seen you look at anyone like that."

"you're being dramatic," you say, but the girl is still persistent, repeating herself and assuring you san is special.

"you're meeting him monday, right?"

"yes." you nod, a part of you still nervous but also excited to be seeing him again.

"tell me how it goes!"

when monday rolls around, you don't wanna think grace is right, but from how your heart is pitter pattering in your chest and you even glanced an extra time at the mirror before coming, you're afraid she just might be.

you don't have class till noon, and though he didn't specify the time, you just assumed it was around the same as last time, making yourself comfortable and occupied by scrolling through your social feeds.

the opening of the cafe door is missed and you don't fully comprehend he's here until a small 'hi' pulls you from the screen, looking up as he smiles down at you and you're reminded of why it's so hard to look away from this man.

"hey," you greet as calm as your nerves allows you to.

he takes the seat across and settles his backpack the same as he did before, the smile on him never having left his face the entire time.

"no drinks or what?" he says, the slightly teasing tone lightening up the atmosphere.

"i wanted to wait till you get here," you tell him. "i thought it would be rude if i ordered ahead of time."

he chuckles and shakes his head.

"no worries. i would've understand, but i appreciate the consideration." there's a split second of silence before he continues, "tell me what you want, i can go order."

you hum and think as if you don't get the same thing everytime; san jumping in when you can't seem to make a choice.

"strawberry peach, right?" he asks, an eyebrow raised.

"strawberry peach," you confirm, reaching for your bag to give him the change. "here's--"

but he kindly interrupts you, waving it off and assuring he got it

"are you sure?" you ask, a kind of worry in your voice because you feel slightly bad he has to pay for your $3 drink.

"of course. i'll be back."

and he goes off with a smile; you catching the dimple poking out of his cheek before he left and you think it just might be your favorite thing about him... not that you're keeping track of others.

you thank him quietly when he returns, mind suddenly empty when it comes to topic although you two were just talking a few days ago like you were never gonna run out of things to talk about--then you remember.

"right... so my pen," you bring up, hoping it's not too straightforward but you really wanted to say something.

his face lights up, the realization hitting him as well.

"oh, right right. give me a sec," he says, pulling his backpack and digging through it before pulling out the sketch pen yeosang got you almost two christmas ago. "your pen."

he hands it to you and you accept it with the sincerest 'thank you' you could let out, playing with it in your hand because you did think the old thing was lost for good.

"don't forget it this time," he teases; your head picking up to let out a snicker.

"i won't."

he nods, staring at the pen you've still yet to put away and thinking back to what you were doing the last time you were here.

"you're an artist?" he asks, the question casting your eyes with a twinge of shyness at such wording.

you've never considered yourself an artist. if you did, you think it'd be an insult to actual artists.

"i draw and major in arts but i'm not an artist," you tell him with a shake of your head and a dry snicker this time.

"then you're an artist," he says, shrugging with the most nonchalant expression painting him.

you chuckle, continuing to deny such bold claim.

"just because someone cooks that also doesn't make them a chef."

"that's fair," he agrees, thinking the logic makes total sense. "but i'm sure your arts are amazing."

here's to sitting with probably the cutest guy you've ever met, and he's telling you you're amazing at the one thing you're passionate about and you're not sure how to feel about that.

"you haven't even seen my work," you say, the mischievous tone in this back and forth feeling more like a banter at this point.

"no. but i saw a glimpse," he defends, really set on the fact he thinks you are totally good at what you do even if you are correct about him not having seen the whole thing, "and i'm sure the actual work is amazing."

you reframe from rolling your eyes and bite at your lips instead so the smile doesn't slip, moving the discussion along because you're more interested about him than your unsatisfactory artist journey.

"so what do you do with you know... math?" you ask, trying to not sound ignorant on the topic but that's exactly how it came off.

thankfully, he finds it cute and laughs it off.

"i went into it because the people around me said i was good at it," he says, a bit unfazed and dull. "that's pretty much it, i guess." and ending it with a smile when he catches your gaze again.

"but do you enjoy it?"

there's a quick silence and san tilts his head slightly, quirking his lips to the side before answering.

"it's not bad. if anything, it's been easy, so i'm glad for that at least."

you nod, smiling in return.

"that's good. only one more year and we'll be done."

"yeah," he says, letting out a loose chuckle after. "i can't wait. there's something i want to do after, but for now, we'll have to see what happens."

and you wanna ask him more about it; what is it that he wants to do after and just more about him in general, but you have taken notice of the clock sitting behind him and the fact you only have 20 minutes to get to campus.

you kindly thank him again for returning the pen as well as the drink, and in the midst of all turmoil and conflicted feelings because you don't know how to ask if you're gonna see him again, he's the one who fortunately suggests you guys exchange numbers.

you leave the shop with one last wave to him and his handsome smile ingrained in your head for the rest of the day.

but you're still not sure you like him just yet. not until summer.

after almost six hours, a few rest stops, and long stretches of desert roads, the heat of the much southern california is felt along with the sight of palm trees spread out everywhere.

"we've arrived, ladies," yeosang announces, finally parked into the hotel's parking lot after missing at least two turns before he found the place.

as soon as you step out, the summer air is annoying and you wish you hadn't wore long sleeves. but you like summer because it always marked the end of a semester and then the beginning of a new one--the fact you're so close to almost graduating.

you were planning to not do anything all summer, just eager for some rest and break away from the stress that came with school and your part-time job, but yeosang was quick to scrap all plans and make some of his own.

said his friends were gonna go down south and out of town for a whole week and invited him, and he wanted you and grace to come along since it would be the last summer break you all would share before graduating.

you told him you would come as long as he would be driving and he didn't have any problems. he thinks you and grace are terrible drivers though you would say otherwise.

"and who are these friends of yours again?" you ask, taking your luggage out of the trunk and staring up into the hotel you guys would be staying at, amazed at the amount of floors the building holds.

"you know," yeosang replies, shutting the trunk after he's made sure nothing's left behind, "yunho, wooyoung, and some others at the party."

you hum at the vagueness of the answer, following both your friends to the hotel's lobby that has a mix of modernness but also slight tropical and beach vibes, the color scheme a combination of white, woodsy brown, and green.

after being given your room keys, you don't wanna do anything but lay down and rest for a bit though yeosang should be more tired than you, he still has enough energy to roam the rest of the hotel when grace asked.

your room is a single queen bed and has almost the perfect view to beach if not for the huge palm tree that happens to sit in front.

yeosang and grace had initially wanted just one room together to save on cost but you didn't wanna be that person, and especially the third wheel to everything, so you cut your losses.

it's gonna be hefty on your wallet but it's only for a week, and plus, you get your own privacy and space away from the eyes of your friends.

the late preparations and long drive left almost no free time, so instead, the night is spent on the rooftop restaurant of the hotel where grace wanted to eat at, and after finishing your meal, you excuse yourself to go shower and sleep first because you want to wake up early for breakfast.

--

you wind up in the dining room alone at 7:30 in the morning because both your friends moaned and groaned about it being too early.

your breakfast consists of two pancakes, scrambled eggs, a banana, and a cup of coffee; choosing to settle on a table in the far corner.

you watch the many guests go in and out of the dining room, also keeping yourself occupied with your phone while eating hoping to finish fast enough so you'll be able to go back upstairs to do your makeups and pick out an outfit since your friends want to go sightseeing later.

and you were doing pretty good keeping your eyes to the entrance of the dining room, but you must've missed their arrival, because as you go to shove a piece of pancake down your throat, the slight tap on your shoulder makes your head turn.

"san..." you say his name so naturally, it just instinctly rolling off your tongue.

you haven't seen him in a while, but now he's standing in front of you although you're almost 6 hours away from home.

"hey, y/n," he greets, the smile you also haven't seen in a while making all of that strange sensation come back as he takes the seat across from you.

"hey," you say, your shock now morphing into actual joy at the fact he's here. "what are you doing here?"

"wooyoung invited me," he answers, nodding off in a direction that your eyes shoot to, seeing wooyoung, yunho, and a couple others from the party just as yeosang said, huddled around an area of the room you can't believe you missed.

"oh," you mumble, as if all of this should've been expected and it's no surprise san is here too.

"and where are your friends? what are they doing to be leaving you alone like this?" his voice a mix of teasing but also concern, it's hard to tell which one is louder.

but you laugh, telling him your friends stayed up way too late last night and didn't wanna get up this early.

"i see." he nods. "well, good thing i found you." he smiles again, every single time making your heart strangely tight.

you didn't see san much after the cafe meeting, or at all. the both of you busy with either school, work, or other responsibilities, most of the interactions were limited to texting, and even then, it was hardly a daily occurence.

though you guys did exchange instagrams and he poked fun of you because your profile picture was a digital painting you did of yourself and you had 3 posts only--all of them also of art works, he at least complimented you.

said you have an amazing gift and all that even if you're still trying to believe it yourself, you appreciate the kindness.

"yeah," you say. "kind of crazy we were going on the same trip and didn't even know it."

the realization makes the both of you giggle in sync, the conversation and atmosphere so easy flowing, it's hard to believe you haven't talked to him face to face for a few months now.

"but again, we were kind of occupied with our own thing and all that," he tries reasoning. "but i'm glad you're here. it will be fun, you know. wooyoung they're all a little loud but i'm sure you got a friend to match the energy."

you nod, a smile on your lips almost the whole time and your food going cold because san just said he's glad you're here.

"oh for sure. we will fit just right in with yeosang."

it was a night where you and san texted for much longer than usual when he told you how him and wooyoung became friends. the boy younger than him by a few months but so much more extroverted and chaotic in every other way.

nonetheless, he said wooyoung is a great friend to have and he's grateful for the wonderful people he's met through him.

you were mostly focus on the initial surprise and shock of seeing san here, you didn't even realize he's sat down with you the entire time before he's even got anything to eat.

"you should probably go grab something," you tell him, your tone sweet and concern even if you've yet to really become close to this man.

he briefly checks over his shoulder to find his friends still occupied and not seated, shaking his head.

"i'll wait for them. besides, if i go, i'm afraid you're gonna try to run away."

you can't help the squint that takes over one of your eyebrows, the line between teasing, being friendly, and flirting blurring into one and you feel you're giving yourself too much credits for even thinking of the possibility of the last one.

but before you can say anything, a rather familiar and nice-sounding voice beats you to it.

"hey, y/n!"

it's yunho, face and body language as kind and welcoming as ever, and with his girlfriend wrapped around his arm who you've also learned from san, prefers her korean name, jiwon, over her american given one.

"hey!" you try to be enthusiatic as much as you allowed yourself to without the help of yeosang. this is usually his field of expertise.

they ask about your friends whereabouts the same as san, and you give the same response as they hum and nod in understanding.

"well it's perfect we ran into you here then," yunho beams. "we're thinking of hitting the pool this evening, you guys care to join?"

you're probably the worst person to ask out of your group, swimming not really being your thing and all, but you give yunho your words that you'll ask yeosang and grace first, guaranteeing the fact the two are gonna say yes.

they eventually excuse themselves and bid you goodbye, the process catching some of the other guys attention as they take notice to you and give out small waves before disppearing to get breakfast.

"awesome. i guess i'll see you then."

san snaps you back, meeting his gaze and throwing a smile that could melt you on the spot.

"we'll see," you mumble.

"i should probably leave you to finish your food then. you leaving soon?" he looks down at your plate and you follow, feeling almost embarrassed at the mess that you've only half ate.

"yeah. i think i'm good for breakfast." you chuckle lightly.

he pretends to pout, quirking one side of his lips.

"aww i'm sorry for distracting you. yeah i really should get going."

"oh no you're good. i'll just be on my way."

"alright. i'll see you later?"

"yeah, i'll see you later."

and with that, after watching him walk away as he bids one last farewell, you clear your table and head back upstairs; the encounter heavy on your mind as you start rummaging your luggage for an outfit.

"no no. you don't understand. you need the perfect swimsuit!"

grace's voice ring throughout the tiny store at the beachfront and you're regretting telling her san's gonna be there at all. because now, she's dead set on impressing san and making sure you wow him tonight.

currently, she's trying to convince you to give in to a black two piece that has the bottom hiked so high up your waist with barely any coverage for the buttocks, you think your father would disown you if he sees you in it.

yeosang distracts himself by the glass and hat sections, leaving you girls to talk amongst yourselves, though he doesn't shy away from passing snide remarks because he knows you even better than grace and that you're shopping way out of your comfort zone.

"girl, i'm looking for clothes to swim in, not to seduce him," you say annoyingly when she won't give up.

"you don't know that!" she squeaks, giving the two piece another once over. "you're gonna look totally hot in it!"

"then buy it for yourself." you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. "i'm not wearing that in front of like what? 8 or something guys."

she frowns before dropping a loud, "fine!" placing the piece back on its rack and turning to you to mimick your posture. "you are such a pick me."

the comment makes you scoff, rolling your eyes at your best friend's antics.

"excuse you. just because i'm a lot more reserved and hesitant doesn't mean i want to be different or whatever society wants to paint us more shy girlies."

"yeah yeah," she brushes you off, waving in the air. the topic one you two already had one too many times. "but i won't need it for myself because i already brought a cute swimsuit from home."

"well that's great. then maybe we can just head back to the hotel," you say, delivery a type of sarcastic to play along but she clearly isnt very amused, pouting and scoffing at you the entire walk back.

"i don't wanna be the only one in a swimsuit!" she yells at you in the comfort of your hotel room, having came down a few minutes ago because she wanted to know what you're gonna wear.

but you dismiss and excuse her complaints with a roll of your eyes. "you'll be fine, grace. and even if, more power and attention to you."

little did you know you'd end up being the odd one out, finally showing up to the pool with your friends and seeing everyone in appropriate attire while you're out with a pair of gym shorts and a black t-shirt, having told your friends you're probably not gonna swim.

"hey guys!"

the voice just now belonging to hongjoong, who you recognize and remember the few occasions you happened to see him with yeosang. he's a year older and already graduated but is definitely the backbone of the group, yeosang said.

everyone already there greets all three of you, friendly smiles and welcoming body languages, the amount of people is quite overwhelming but you try your best to hide it, returning the gestures with a smile of your own.

some's sprawled on the lounge chairs, some already in the pool, and some sitting idly in the hot tub.

but you don't see him anywhere.

you didn't come for him in particular (if you did, you would've bought the two piece your friend so hard tried pushing). you came for your friend and the kindness of his other friend group, but your eyes do naturally search for him and you notice his absence immediately.

but you don't wanna ask. it just doesn't feel right to.

"well don't just stand there! get your butts in the pool!" wooyoung splashes the three of you as you flinch and instinctly try to protect the sketchbook you broughtly along in case your friends get pulled away by their extroverted activities and you don't have anything better to do.

"jung wooyoung! i'm gonna get you for that!" yeosang shouts, the boy's teasing doing exactly what he wanted as your friend jumps in the pool and chases after a giggly wooyoung.

grace chuckles beside you, pulling you by the wrist. "come on, let's go." but you're quick to stop and tell her you're gonna sit for a bit first.

she sighs but lets it go, threatening to get you wet and soak the sketchbook if you don't get in after a while.

you watch your friends and even if you're not the one having all the fun, the fact they look like they are makes you happy enough, shaking your head and giggling when you see grace and yeosang attempt to do a breath-holding contest or tries submerging the other's head into the water.

you made sure to choose the chair furthest from the pool because you don't want yeosang pulling anything funny.

a couple doodles and swimming competition between wooyoung and yeosang for the 4th time, the sudden voice in your ear makes the hair on your skin raise, flinching slightly to turn and meet his gaze.

he goes from expressionless to a smile that you almost want to poke his dimples for having the guts to show up this close.

and when he pulls away, asking what you're doing, you barely register his words because you're too busy trying to not drool over this man being shirtless and looking like the best art you've ever seen, making anything you've ever created pale in comparison.

but fortunately (or unfortunately), you don't get to dissect him for too long because you're more curious who the lady standing beside him is and why you haven't seen her before.

she's in a ruffle yellow swimsuit with sunglasses and a sunhat that goes perfectly with whatever aesthetic she was going for. and you think she looks like what grace probably had in vision for you when she wanted you to wow san.

"san! ashley! get over here!" you all snap to the call of hongjoong as he waves in the air from the pool, the water stopping at his armpit.

ashley.

"you coming with us?" san asks, his tone welcoming and inviting, but you're gonna sit this one out.

"i'm good," you answer with a small smile, and he quirks his lips to the side at that, dropping his shoulders at the answer before nodding.

"alright," he says. "but you can always join us whenever. if not, i hope you'll have fun," he refers to the sketchbook in your hands and you feel it sinking deep into your chest, a bit embarrassed by the fact but he just laughs it off.

"i'll see you," he bids, making his way to the others and guiding the new girl (to you) by the small of her back.

and you really try to focus on the sketch, your inspirations drawn from people, places, and things around you. the current sunset absolutely beautiful in its orange hue, but you can't miss the laughters and fun san is sharing with the new girl, and you don't miss how the more you're with this man, the more a type of longing blossoms.

how, everytime he's in sight, your eyes just naturally follows him. settles on him. like you just wanna look at him all day.

you shake the thoughts off, which becomes quite easy once yeosang and grace along with a couple others decides they're done for good, and seonghwa, the oldest of you all, suggests to end the night by sharing dinner together.

it's on him and hongjoong, he said.

the rooftop restaurant feels different this time in the company of others. you stick close to your friends and observe everyone else like a lost little puppy when you have nothing better to do.

it's loud and chaotic and you're struggling to keep up with everyone and everything, but you manage to catch the smile of san when grace starts going off about something embarrassing you did in freshmen year as revenge for not getting in the pool.

you shout and defend your name and dignity but it doesn't help much with yeosang jumping in, leading to a long night of teasing and bullying from your friends in the face of everyone as they laugh at the 'endearing' friendships you guys share.

and by the end of the night, you almost forgot about san or the fact you guys barely interacted. not until you're fresh out the shower and recovering your social battery that you get the first text from him in a while.

san: it's true the story your friend told?

you can't even help the chuckle that escapes, catching yourself and going on to reply.

y/n: 😭 i hate grace lmfao

san: it's okay😅 we all just casually poop our pants in the middle of the night

y/n: 🙄

san: kidding 😁

san: hey. i was thinking if you'd like to get breakfast together tomorrow?

san: im sorry we didn't get to talk a lot today. you looked so uncomfortable during dinner 😅

the comment flusters you, thinking about the fact san was watching and saw how out of place you really looked.

y/n: just not used to big crowds lol

san: i can see that

san: but it's okay. it'll just be us tmr 🙂

y/n: won't your friends be there?

san: nope. they dont like the food lol

san: how about urs? will they be coming?

y/n: most likely not. those two don't wake until almost noon

san: perfect lol. i'll see you then?

y/n: maybee 😀

and he probably didn't push too hard because it's almost like he knew you're gonna be there; waking up before it's even 7 and sitting at the same table from before, watching guests go in and out of the room hoping to catch the boy that sent you the text last night.

his face lights up the same as you when he enters, waving in the air and heading your direction, you really shouldn't feel so nervous but excited at the sight of him walking.

"hey!" he greets cheerfully, sliding into the seat across with a smile.

"good morning," you return, hands curled in your lap and happy he can't see them because you wonder what he'd think.

"how you'd sleep?" he ask the same time he combs over his morning hair, never in your life has someone looked so good doing so, you didn't even think it was possible.

"good," you manage to answer with composure. "and you?"

"alright." he shrugs. "wooyoung was just mostly drunk and annoying from last night's dinner."

a small giggle also laced with empathy escapes from you. "well i'm sorry to hear. i hope today will be better."

he nods. "hopefully." then realizing you haven't even gotten your food, talking in a concerned tone, "don't tell me you were waiting for me."

"i was," you say. "don't worry about it. i'm not that hungry. the dinner last night kept me filled plenty."

"if you say so..." he lingers a bit before continuing, "should we go now?"

"sure."

you also get close to the same thing you got last time, with the exception that they've switched out pancakes for waffles, getting a question from san after sitting down about your food choices.

"well, i really only eat korean foods," you tell him. "i'm not too fond of anything else besides what's on my plate right now."

"ahh. so you're a picky eater?"

"somewhat. that's why yeosang hates going out to eat with me."

san lets out a quiet snicker, something more mischievous bubbling in his eyes that you don't read into.

"you talk about yeosang a lot... does yours and his relationship ever bothers your other friend?" he asks, the question stopping you from sipping your coffee.

the friendly and harmless tone still in the air but you can't hide the fact the question flusters you a little.

"well, me and yeosang have known each other for a while... even before grace, so she understands that we don't see each other like that at all."

san quirks his lips and nods, taking your words for it.

"why?" you speak again. "do we give out that kind of vibe?" you ask worriedly, because you would never want to unintentionally (or intentionally) hurt grace in any ways. on your life you have never seen yeosang for more than the annoying middle schooler you couldn't get rid of.

but as san shakes his head, you feel a sense of relief, watching as a light smirk creep up on his face.

"just wondering," he says, so calmly but eerie at the same time, you can't quite grasp the intention. but then something else comes over, and you forget all about deciphering san's answer; not really wanting to but letting the intrusive thoughts win.

"and that girl you were with yesterday? you guys together?" you ask, no menance in your voice; just a natural curioisity because you wanna know... not for any reasons deeper.

"she's a friend," he answers fast and casual. "i know her from my previous school because we were under the same program and have similar interests and whatnot."

"i see," you mumble, a light smile anyone would've missed because you don't wanna admit to anyone why the fact brings you a sense of comfort.

but it doesn't cut it with grace.

"that's what they always say!" she cries dramatically, after storming into your room when she was finally done sleeping past noon and the events of yesterday hit her.

but you don't have any reasons to doubt san, even if you love your best friend and wanna take her words for it, you don't think it's fair to assume someone you barely know is trying to take your man that isn't really your man.

"for all you know, they could be fucking behind doors."

"grace!" you yell your friend's name at such accusation, your ears turning red at even the thought of it.

"sorry," she mutters, but barely meaning it, only shrugging off what needed to be said.

"i just don't want you to be hurt in the end," she says, voice a kind of sympathy you didn't even know you need.

because yes, you think san is handsome. he is kind and unusually attentive to you for whatever reasons, and seeing someone else by his side made your stomach queasy all for the wrong reasons... but you don't feel justified in feeling a certain way just because your friend says you should.

you're not with him and you still don't even know if you wanna be with him.

“trust me, grace,” you assure her, a confident smile settling on your lips that she only frowns to. “i’ll be fine.”

and as much as she wants to believe it, it’s hard not to doubt knowing the way you are.

how, though you’ve navigated through life barely getting romantically involved with boys, it wouldn’t be difficult for someone like san to get you wrapped around his fingers if he wants to.

the guy way too charming; how he just casually checks all criteria from looks to personality, the girl herself rooting for you and him initially, but quickly rethinking the choice after last night.

yet, you don't let what your friend says get to you. or at least you try not to, but it's loud and it bothers you through the day... if someone as likeable as san would be able to hurt you.

if he could lie and deceive you and not even feel bad about it.

but when he pops by your side at night; yours and his friend group having the want to go clubbing, and he stays with you almost entirely, neglecting the girl grace said you should be worried about, you can't even remember why you doubted him in the first place.

not when he'd ask questions about you all night long as if he really wants to know you, so interested in the arts and work you do and accompanying you when everyone else is busy enjoying themselves.

and especially when he'd get breakfast with you every morning until the trip is over, a part of you glad but another saddened by the fact because you know you won't get to see him everyday anymore.

you'll have to go back to the old routine of working and assignments, no more butterflies or feelings of tightness in your chest and stomach, uncertain when you're gonna even get to see or talk to him again.

but one thing you know for sure, is that by the end of summer, you're positive you like choi san.

you're positive you like san, because every time your phone rings with a notification, you can't help but wish it's him--replying to a meme you've sent a few hours ago, or asking how your day has been.

that when grace commented on how your art style has changed, as if they've been pulled and inspired by someone or something, she wasn't just trying to tease you.

grace also being the same person to explain the feelings in your chest and stomach, and why your breath is taken away each time whenever you see him.

even if she was skeptical a few months ago and yelling in your face he's gonna hurt you, seeing the way he is around you has calmed her mind to some extent.

the way he actually treats you with interests and and respect, listening and nodding when you talk and asking you about everything, managing to convince your friend somewhat he might take a liking to you and that you won't come out of this wounded.

he's even become closer with yeosang; the craziness of just how different but also alike these two are, able to carry a conversation on for hours and making grace and you feel forgotten.

"so you guys are coming, right?" san asks the three of you in a corner of the library, quick to associate the spot with you and your friends after asking about your whereabouts one day.

"uh--"

"of course!" yeosang beats you to it, both you and grace narrowing your eyes at the boy in the middle. "we wouldn't wanna miss it."

grace sneers and throws yeosang another look.

"right, because the other two parties where you made a clown show of yourself wasn't enough." she shakes her head and lowers it back to her notebook, mumbling under her breath, "i'm not babysitting."

yeosang pouts immediately, putting on an act and a voice to go with it that makes you wanna throw a punch his way.

"babe, please..."

"no."

"it'd be the last college party before we graduate."

"no."

then he turns to you and hopes you'll take pity.

"y/n?"

you fume under your nose and follow grace as you start scribbling so he gets the hint, because you also don't wanna go to this party. even if wooyoung's the one throwing it and you're all gonna be graduating soon.

you'd rather just end your college career in peace.

"san's going so you're already automatically going anyway," yeosang says, losing his patience and throwing you under the bus to be petty, receiving a kick to his ankle from under the table in return.

"you really should think about coming," san brings it up one more time on the walk to your next class, after leaving the lovebirds in the library to talk it out between them.

you come to a stop when you've both reached the building, standing before him with your textbook curled in your arms and quirking your lips to the side.

"i'll think about it, but if grace don't wanna come, yeosang probably won't."

"why not come by yourself?" he suggests, like it's the easiest thing in the world. but he knows you well at this point, adding, "i know it's probably scary going without your friends, but trust me, you won't be alone. i'll be there so you won't ever have to worry about it." he smiles.

and his words. his body language. his smile. they all come off so sincere and genuine, you just wanna believe him and everything he says.

that he won't ever hurt you. make you feel inadequate and question everything about yourself, because liking someone isn't supposed to feel painful and it isn't supposed to make your heart ache.

but when you show up to the party without your friends, the people you recognize doesn't do anything to ease your anxiety, especially when the number pales in comparison to people you don't recognize.

and by now, you're more than sure you like san because despite his efforts to make you feel welcomed and comfortable amongst the sea of strangers he knows scares you, it doesn't matter when the girl beside him makes you feel uneasy all night.

when butterflies and a beating heart are replaced by the wish to run, liking someone is no longer fun.

"what! you are such a liar!" ashley squeaks with a giggle, pushing san's shoulder lightly in a friendly banter. the kind that makes you feel like you're intruding and disrupting something confidential by following san all night like a lost puppy.

"no! i'm forreal," san defends himself from the girl's teasing, his cheeks flushing pink even in the bad kitchen lighting.

"you were messing with her!"

he chuckles and you're wondering why you're still even here--or how the conversation of san and another girl not you or ashley even started.

"i promise, we were just friends," he says.

ashley shakes her head, smirking the same time she drinks from the cup in her hand, and when she looks san in the eye, she isn't just the girl san's friend with anymore.

because if grace were to yell in your face again about this girl and all the reasons you should be worried, you would agree with her.

even if you still don't feel justified... you like san now, and you can't help but think she's a threat.

"cute, isn't he?" she turns to you, her gaze burning and making you feel small on the spot. her confidence something she walks with proudly and with an aura you hate yourself for even admiring, "but unfortunately a hard one to tie down."

her words and tone cryptic, you can only blink as you try to digest what she said just now and if it was meant to be a dig at you.

you clear your throat, not feeling any bigger with the volume but excusing yourself either way to use the restroom.

just sit in there and think of any excuses in order to get out of here, regretting not staying with yeosang and grace to watch alice in borderland for the 5th time while eating wingstop.

because if you did, you wouldn't be feeling this way. out of place and with the boy you like slipping right by the palm of your hand.

your phone buzzing in your lap takes the moment away, looking down to see the one person you wanna hear from, even if he's also responsible for the doubts in your head.

san: hey. you good?

san: im outside the bathroom. i don't wanna knock though bc im scared it might not be you in there lol

you don't respond, instead going to open the door even if you should be contemplating about a valid reason to go home, chest and face nearly knocking into him, you can only gulp.

"hey." he smiles.

"hey," you mumble, wondering if he can even hear especially with the amount of bodies littering the hallway, but he does judging by the reaction.

"you okay?" he asks, voice concerned the way it always is.

"yeah..." you answer, your stance so awkward. "just needed some space." you try laughing it off, to which he returns one much to your relief.

"i see. well, should we go somewhere quieter? with less people?"

"actually..." your volume simmers, afraid he's gonna take it the wrong way. "i was thinking of going home."

he stares at you a second too long before responding with a simple "oh." the wheels going off in his head until an idea comes over. "that's fine. i can take you home."

"no, you're good. yeosang said he'd pick me up when i'm ready."

"no, let me. i want to. plus, i invited you so it's only fair."

and you weren't gonna argue with him; not when he was already pulling out his keys and telling you to follow him out the house and into his car.

"aren't you a little drunk?" you tease, after watching him pull at the seatbelt.

"a little." he smirks, turning to you. "but i'm good for the most part. i didn't drink that much."

right. because he was mostly engaged and immersed in conversations and banters that you weren't a part of, with the girl you're still wondering what happened to.

"where did your friend go?" you ask, as casually as possible.

"ashley? she got pulled away by some pool table game wooyoung they wanted to play."

you just nod, though the many unanswered questions about this friend bothers you, moving to look ahead and admire the size of wooyoung's house the same time san starts the engine. and that's when you realize, this might be the first time you and san are actually alone.

without hotel guests, nosy friends, partygoers, or people that frequents the cafe, but more importantly--without being behind the screens of your phones.

"the university's dorms, correct?"

"correct."

as he drives you back to the place, he can't stop asking questions.

"how'd you like it there?"

"pretty good. i have all i need, and the best part is i get to room with grace, so."

he sends a small smile your way in midst of driving, and you think he looks so attractive doing so. his hands on the wheel and his relaxed stance as he listens attentively like the boyfriend you never had.

"that's great," he says, coming to a stop at a red light, looking your way immediately. "that's a nice outfit by the way. i can't believe i didn't tell you earlier."

and you really wanna blush and grow shy at the fact he pays you this much attention, but you really just giggle instead.

"well thanks. you look pretty great yourself."

he steps on the gas at the green and scoffs but the corner of his lips pulling into a small smile.

"you're just saying that to say it."

you wanna tell him he don't even know how much you mean it. how unbelievable it is-- the fact he just walks around looking like that all the time.

but you chuckle it off and you're sure he's just playing with you, the drive weaving through the fall weather and city lights as an air of fresh and relief come over, you can't believe you were so apprehensive not even 40 minutes ago back at wooyoung's party.

"here we are," he says, pulling into the dorm's parking lot you had to help him find.

"thanks," you tell him. "i appreciate it."

"no problem," he replies, a silence lingering after and an expression on his face that something's clearly bothering him. "hey..."

"yeah?"

"i'm sorry about tonight... if anything made you uncomfortable."

you only smile, though the reminder makes your heart heavy with today's events, you're happy he noticed and care.

it seems to just be how he is; eyes and ears always attentive and sometimes a little too curious.

"it's okay," you assure. because even if you are upset, it doesn't feel like you have the rights to. as if you're just making all of this up in your head to ruin the night. "i think it was mostly because yeosang and grace wasn't there," you lie.

"i understand. would've been a lot better if they had made it."

"yeah, but it's okay. you going back after dropping me off?"

he nods. "i have to, unfortunately. wooyoung would want me to."

you hum lowly in acknowledgment, your legs closed together and your throat tight all of a sudden.

"well i hope you'll have fun the rest of the night. i'm sorry i couldn't stay longer."

"i'll try to," he says, a quiet giggle leaving. "won't be the same without you but probably should've picked a better place, you know."

"it's all good," you say with a smile, head whipping around to the darkly lit dorm building and its entrance. "i should probably get going."

"should i walk with you?"

you look at him while unbuckling your seatbelt, shaking your head. "i got it. i'd rather you get back to your friends."

he opens his mouth to say something but quickly takes it back, trying again.

"hey," he says so softly, you can almost melt into the look in his eyes, staring at you with blinking lashes.

"yeah?"

"so i thought this was really nice, you know... the car ride and all." he stops for a second to find his words. "i was wondering if you'd like to do it again? i think the cafe's nice, but this is a good change of scenery."

and you wonder if san can hear the beating of your heart especially in the quiet of his car, but you quickly pick yourself up to answer, "i'd love to do this again." you smile, and san returns one.

"perfect. i'll text you."

"i look forward."

which is why even if you didn't have the greatest of time; most of the night spent in self-doubts and regrets, you also don't beat yourself up for what he could be doing after he dropped you off.

what he's doing at the party or who he's having fun with, because afterall, he asked you out.

said it with a sweet look in his eyes and a tone to match, you'd rather look forward to what went right than what didn't; sleeping under your sheet in the dark of the night, sacrificing any uncertainty for restful sleep.

"these fries are way too salty."

you listen to san complains, his posture relaxed but face scowling at the fast food he just shoved down his throat a few seconds ago.

a laugh bubbles out of you and you shake your head, munching on the fries you protested on getting, but san way too stubborn to convince otherwise.

"you're right. maybe we should've gotten burgers," he says, looking at you and placing the food back in the bag. "never again."

"maybe," you mutter with a quiet giggle.

san had texted you exactly two days after the party, the reminder cracking the biggest smile on your face that grace took notice to and immediately wanted to know the cause of.

"it's totally a date!" your friend says, squealing after you tell her of why you wanna blush just now.

"it's not a date."

she sighs and rolls her eyes, prying your phone right from your hand that gets you up from the bed to fight her.

"he even put a smiling emoji. what else would that mean!?" she continues squeaking and dodging your attempts, until you manage to snatch it back.

"i think he's just being nice."

he picked you up, asked for suggestions on what to eat (and didn't listen), and paid for everything before pulling into the parking lot of a store opened 24 hours.

"so..." he starts speaking, hands cleared of salt from the fries and now looking at you through his car's lighting. "excited to graduate soon?"

you nod. "of course. and you?"

"for sure," he answers, attention pulled away to the front merely before meeting your eyes again. "any plans yet?"

"not much luck. kind of figure i'll think about that after," you answer with a dry chuckle. your bleak future not something to laugh about, but it's a way of coping. "you?"

and you asked out of pure curiosity and interest, but at the way his face falls, you would've thought you insulted him. watching his eyes go dark and almost nervous, the atmosphere shifting when he just sits in silence for too long.

"sorry," you mumble apologetically, bringing light to his eyes once more when he just shakes his head.

"no, you're good. i'm sorry. i was just thinking."

"it's okay," you assure, "if it's still something you're thinking of."

"yeah." he smiles, the act almost forced, but you try to not linger on the thought. why he tends to shut down when you ask too many questions and want to know too much... the same he does to you.

"hey," he attempts to revive the atmosphere he was responsible for killing. "can i ask you something?"

you tilt your head slightly at that, placing the empty bag of fries back where it came from and nodding in response.

"we talked about this briefly, but i really wanna know how you felt about the party. you didn't look like you enjoyed it at all." and it wasn't because yeosang nor grace were there.

you swallow, unprepared for the topic to make it back around, but answering with honesty to the best of your ability; just slightly leaving out what really shattered your confidence that night.

"it's just hard for me in general to really enjoy myself in that kind of setting." though you tried and was having some fun, until you weren't.

"i understand, and i appreciate you for trying. i just still feel bad for pulling you along when it was clearly out of your comfort zone, so i have to make sure."

it's the way he speaks and acts, always asking about you and caring about your wellbeing more than he should--that makes it hard to want to be upset when he doesn't want you to do the same in return.

when he closes himself off, always with the invisible barrier you shouldn't cross because he doesn't wanna tell you more than what you should know.

"it's just more so i also didn't really know anyone there. everyone else were occupied, and you were uh... talking to your friend," you say, mumbling the last part because you think you might be pushing it, but san doesn't seem fazed. he just shifts in his spot.

"yeah," he answers coolly, "hard to get her to stop talking once she starts." a light smile curls up at his lips and you try to not let it bother you.

but it's like he can read your thoughts; knows exactly the concerns running through your head and the apprehension overtaking your face when he spits the next sentence, "there's nothing going on between us, if that's what you're wondering. when i said she's a friend, i mean it."

and you don't know whether to be relieved or embarrassed he knows you a little too well.

"though she did like me at one point, that's the past," he adds, searching you for any signs of a reaction, and he gets one he also knows too well.

when your lips goes into a pout and your eyes swell with a type of curioisity in them, eager to poke your nose where it doesn't belong.

"and did you... like her back?" you ask timidly, knowing it isn't your ground but unable to help it.

san's snicker leaves you in confusion, and even more when he just shrugs.

"we're better off as friends. that's what matters."

the answer doesn't lessen the knot in your stomach nor does it bring you any form of relief, even if san doesn't particularly owe you any.

"what's with the face?" his voice snaps you out of your thought and to puppy eyes and blinking lashes staring right back almost mocking you as if he knows exactly what's making you so upset right now.

"nothing," you say, faking a smile. "just thinking."

but there's a shift in atmosphere again, whether you and san wanna acknowledge it or not. something tense that makes you a little on edge, but in a way different from before--the food and drinks and being parked in a public space forgotten at this point.

"have you ever been in a relationship before?" he asks abruptly, the question making you swallow the tension as you try your best to keep the composure.

"i've been in one," you answer, not disappointing him when you return the question, "how about you?"

he smirks, one eyebrow raising when he simply says, "two."

"two?" you repeat, voice raising like you don't believe it. "you look like you'd have a lot more experience."

the comment makes him laugh, his body falling and head thumping against the car seat while his gaze never leaves you.

"what makes you think that?" he says, the smirk once again creeping to his lips as he stares at you in amusement, the scene and tension having switched up so fast, you don't even remember when it ever felt like this in the presence of san.

when all friendliness and formality were gone and replaced by something else that makes you wanna be bolder and get closer to him.

you shrug lightly. "guess it's the way you carry yourself." that makes it so hard to believe.

"either way, if i'm gonna get into a relationship with someone, i have to know them well first and i'd have to be sure it's something i want."

you nod in agreement, though san never particularly striked you as the type to think so much about these kind of things... but again, you feel he's also just barely letting you into a certain part of him he haven't ever.

"that's fair. i would agree," you say, only to a chuckle from him that makes you squint in confusion. "what?"

both his hands are now behind his head and he's looking so entertained for whatever reason.

"you just seem more like the kind to go out of your way to avoid any romantic interactions," he says, giggling after with dimples you can't even admire because you're more flustered by the comment.

"it's more like... i find those things hard unless i'm attracted to someone," you clarify even if you know he's right to an extent, "and it's not often i am attracted to someone, so."

and how funny that when you finally are, he's sitting right across from you with a smirk and unaware of how he's making you feel just being in the same perimeter--or so you think.

"the first guy i was with, i always found intimacy difficult... especially kissing," you add, unsure if you're stepping over the line but you and san are old enough for this.

you're sure he even enjoys it, if the mirth in his eyes and the widest smile on his face says anything.

"maybe you didn't like him that much?" he suggests, tone thrilled like it's some form of fun guessing game. "or he was probably just a sloppy kisser."

"no, like... he was good but i was the one who couldn't kiss for shit," you defend your ex's name, feeling like you have to because he wasn't a bad guy.

"i see," he mumbles, the smirk settling into a soft smile. "at least it was enjoyable for you."

"yeah," you answer, the conversation getting so much more awkward for you. "how was your first kiss like?"

"it was okay." he was anticipating such response by how fast he replied. "it was both of our first time and i did it at the time because i really thought she was the one, but funny to think about it now."

there's a quick silence after as you just stare, the next question already at the tip of your tongue.

"and did you also thought the same for your second relationship?"

he nods to it, gaze now locking yours right back and the even longer silence makes you think he's gonna kiss you. with only the two of you in the car and the moon high in the sky, it's the perfect setup.

but instead, he takes you back to the dorms after moving on and forgetting about the whole conversation and drops you off with a sweet and friendly smile.

he doesn't kiss you. not this time or any others when he could've.

even if it would've been nice if he did. if he was sure it was something he wanted, and that you were the one. but it's okay, because you've convinced yourself that being with him is enough.

happy and content he still sends good morning texts, and still wants to hang out once in a while. that he still comments under your instagram posts that happens once in a blue moon, and he still sends you stupid memes.

because you're just the slightest afraid that if you try pushing your feelings onto him, he might not wanna do any of those things anymore.

so you keep him close; even if not in the way you really want, he's still beside you. that's what matters.

"he likes you, y/n!" grace preaches while pacing back and forth.

you were just enjoying your day off and with a book in your hand when your roommate and best friend came back from a date--with the first thing on her mind somehow being you and san.

"he doesn't," you answer, annoyed at this point and already having put down the book after losing your place at least three times due to her.

"no." she pouts and plops down on her bed facing you. "i've seen the way he looks and act around you. my instinct has a 90% accuracy."

seen how san's eyes would always linger on you whenever you're in the room, and having caught the smiles that would usually decorate his lips when you do something clumsy or endearing.

going above and beyond to do and say things that if yeosang was to do and say to another girl, she'd drag him by the ear and make him sleep outside.

but the statement's only met with an eyeroll from you.

"your instinct said san and ashley were fucking and they weren't, so?"

"that was the other 10%," your friend yaps, calming one second after. "i want you to just trust me on this one. if he doesn't like you, he wouldn't do what he does for you."

but you just can't help but to grow more irritated even if it's done out of good intentions. you're already frustrated and confused and grace isn't helping.

"maybe because he's just a nice person in general," you tell her, never having witnessed san be rude and unkind to anyone ever.

your friend sighs, her shoulders dropping but still wanting to encourage and give you some form of hopes, because she knows how much you like san. how much you wish he'd ask you out.

"he might be just as scared of rejection or messing up the friendship," she says, then pauses because it's gonna be out of your comfort zone but you have to try. "why don't you ask him out?"

your eyes go wide and you cringe at even the thought of it, telling your friend she's crazy for even thinking of it.

san doesn't like you and you're sure of that.

if he did, he probably would've told you by now, and he would've kissed you all those times when he had the chance. when it was just you and him in his car, in your dorm room, and back at the restaurant.

so you didn't plan on telling him, because you didn't think you could like san even more than you already did.

like him so much to the point that keeping it in was actually painful; when it felt like the only form of relief was to tell him.

at least not until spring again.

"what are you doing?" san's voice pulls your eyes from the sketch and to his face as he stares at you amusingly, your posture incredibly funny to him since you're trying to hide what you're working on.

feet planted on the cushion of the cafe's chair and elbows on your knees with your sketchbook just below your eyes, gawking and peeking at him for the last hour or so.

"i'm making art," you tell him, a giggle bubbling out after that san shakes his head to.

spring has returned. the petals once again fallen from the cherry blossom trees with the wind carrying it away in the streets as the cold chill from winter quiets down even if you still shiver and need a sweater.

you and san are seated at the same table in the corner and he's currently watching the spring show, his eyes following lone petals when they're still attached to the root until they become nothing but scatters on the streets.

his grey hoodie and sharp features a sight to see, especially when it's next to a big glass window with a view to match, though you think san is more beautiful. more than any spring blossoms or art.

feelings of butterflies and a fast heartbeat now replaced by something else--not that you still don't get them once in a while, but everything feels more natural. comfortable.

you find yourself caring for him in ways you usually didn't before. whether he ate, slept, or is genuinely feeling okay--you wanna know and hear all about it.

when he's happy, you're happy with him. but when he's sad or dejected, you also can't help but to feel the same. the last couple of months a ride of events that really tested just how strong the bond and friendship between you and san really is; never would you have predicted you'd grow to care so much about anyone else besides yeosang and grace.

"you shouldn't really be doodling. instead, use the time wisely to really think about what you wanna submit for the exhibition," he says, arms now crossed and eyes away from the window.

"don't worry. i already got an idea," you assure, a playful smile on your lips.

among other things san has helped you with, he was the biggest advocator in you entering the student art exhibition that will be taking place shortly just after the end of the semester.

you've always felt self conscious putting your work out, always choosing and picking carefully even when it came to posting on social media. and even then, your account is privated so only those close to you could see.

art is the only thing you've ever felt truly good at, letting your creations define you more than necessarry, and you're so afraid you'll be told one day that what you do and love isn't good enough.

"i want to but i'm also really not sure," you say, in the peace of the library with san across; the distress and conflict on your face as clear as day.

"why not?" san frowns. "i've seen your work. they're good enough to go in a museum, y/n."

the compliment makes you roll your eyes the same time you let out a scoff. "you're just saying that."

he shakes his head. "i'm so forreal. you're the best artist i know."

"i'm the only artist you know."

"that's not true. i also know uh... leonardo da vinci."

you laugh at that. "but i don't have an artwork worth at least 800 million, so unfortunately i am not better."

"i really don't think the mona lisa's all that great. any of your work would blow it out of the water easy."

there's a second of silence before you start laughing again, prompting san to giggle in return, but he starts, "i'm serious. you should really do it. plus, you'll be graduating soon. i think it's a great opportunity."

"when is it again?" he ask.

"june the 18th," you say, placing your sketchbook and pen down. "you'll be there, right?"

he nods at first, a simple smile settling on him. "of course," he answers, "i'll be there. i promise."

and as the day goes on, sitting in the comfort of the cafe with san as you continue the sketch you started and he occasionally switches between sipping his coffee and the assignment on his laptop, it gets harder to ignore the even stranger feeling that encloses you almost completely.

when the blooming of flowers and trees are fresh, along with the soft, gentle breeze of spring--you think you might be in love with san.

it seemed like it was just yesterday that you were talking graduation with yeosang and grace, but not even a year later, it's become a reality with your cap and gown sitting on your bed and the graduation ceremony merely a week away.

you think, even if with barely any plans after but to move back with your father and see where life takes you, you're still excited.

excited for the next step and for what's to come.

but san on the other hand, never seems too thrilled whenever you bring it up.

you know him to be an open person, always willing to talk about anything and everything; not a single mean bone in this man, except when it comes to talking about himself.

who he really is and who he wants to be after... he never wants to talk about it, so you try to not push it. be understanding and figure that maybe he isn't ready, yet.

that when he wants to tell you and wants you to know, he will.

but it's been a year since you've known him, and with each passing day, what you feel for him only grows gradually; so much that being friends just doesn't cut it anymore.

the feeling of love both exciting but also suffocating, you didn't even know.

you don't mind being friends with him, but staying that way means stopping what could be, and for some reason, the confidence that san feels the same also grows with every moment spent with him.

you didn't use to think so. dismissed grace's "instinct" and all that, chalking it up to san's natural personality to be kind and treat everyone with respect. but you started to see what she was talking about a while ago. you'd like to believe it.

how he's been a lot more touchy and sentimental these past few days; a look always in his eyes like apprehension that you can't quite read into but know something's on his mind. like he wanna say and tell you about it but can't.

then when he texts you the day just before graduation, asking if you two can talk later on in the evening, you certainly feel like this is it.

that he didn't do all of those things for you just to be nice or to be a friend. why else would he had asked to talk if it isn't something significant that he couldn't annouce through text?

you enter san's car that evening with a beating heart and a tight stomach, feeling so nervous and sick, you feel the food you ate just an hour ago coming back up.

and though it's a scene you're all too familiar with--you and san in the parking lot of the university's dorm building, there's an air in tonight's meeting you can't quite gauge.

something tense that makes the both of you sit in silence for a few seconds too long, nervousness gnawing at you once more while you start to doubt if the same is what's causing the current discomfort on san's face.

"hey," you start, trying to lighten the atmosphere that has gotten so awkward already, and you haven't even confessed. "how has your day been?"

he finally lifts his head up to look at you, his hands off the steering wheel and settling on his lap as he try to smile forcefully, you can tell.

"it was good, yeah..." he answers, tone dull and tired, you wonder if maybe he didn't get enough sleep. "you?" he asks in return but it doesn't sound like any other times.

like he didn't ask because he's genuinely interested, but because he has to.

"it was also good. yeah..."

you swallow down the knot in your throat, another long silence engulfing the car as you and san listen to footsteps and chitters of students having just arrived.

"i have something to tell you," you both say and turn to each other at the same time, the scary coincidence of the timing has both your eyes wide as echoes of giggles let loose temporarily.

despite the unpredictability of the other person and the possible turmoil after, you both can laugh for now.

"you go first," he says, nodding his chin your direction and sitting with a beating heart just a tad lower than yours that to you, fills your ears and the entire car.

you take a deep breath, your fingers naturally finding each other in moments of distress and finally uttering the words you've been wanting to tell him for a few months now.

"san, w-we've known each other for about a year now and i know this might be dramatic of me, b-but you're probably the best thing to happen to me," you speak so fast, another habit of yours when under pressure, barely looking him in the eyes to even notice the look in them, "and, and... i think what i wanna say is i like you. i really really like you and i wanna tell you that."

and when you finally level his eyes again, so relieved it's out now, but when you only see the cold, indifferent reaction, nothing like you predicted, you fear the worst.

and when san breaks your heart for the first time, you know you messed up majorly.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, almost murmuring and keeps his head down as if ashamed to say such thing, "really really sorry."

messed up by letting feelings get in the way of a wonderful friendship with a wonderful person, and let his act of kindness get to your head because how could san ever possibly feel the same?

"no. i'm sorry," you say, volume barely above a whisper and voice between crying and staying strong in front of him. "i-i shouldn't have said that."

"no. it's okay. don't feel bad," he tries assuring in his usual calm and collected tone, but even he knows you don't believe him. but he means it, because he has way more to feel bad and be sorry for. "it's just..."

he can hardly look you in the eyes, your expression of heartbreak and guilt something he should be going through instead.

"i'm gonna be leaving in two days."

it suddenly feels like the world stopped at the drop of those words. your chest constricting and your breath hard to catch, the rejection nothing compared to the realization.

the hard reality that you're gonna be losing san. one moment as if he's right in front of you, you could almost grab him, and the next he's slipping right out of your grasp. just like that.

loving someone is such a horrible, awful feeling.

"w-where to?" you ask, the crack in your voice makes san wince and he can't wait for the night to be over with. for him, and for you.

"seoul, south korea," he answers lowly, pausing before adding, "that's what i wanted to tell you tonight."

and suddenly, everything makes sense. like having found pieces of puzzles you couldn't ever; it all hits you at once.

the first time you met him.

“i went into it because the people around me said i was good at it,” he says, a bit unfazed and dull. “that’s pretty much it, i guess.” and ending it with a smile when he catches your gaze again.

“but do you enjoy it?”

there’s a quick silence and san tilts his head slightly, quirking his lips to the side before answering.

“it’s not bad. if anything, it’s been easy, so i’m glad for that at least.”

you nod, smiling in return.

“that’s good. only one more year and we’ll be done.”

"yeah," he says, letting out a loose chuckle after. "i can't wait. there's something i want to do after, but for now, we'll have to see what happens."

the party.

“cute, isn’t he?” she turns to you, her gaze burning and making you feel small on the spot. her confidence something she walks with proudly and with an aura you hate yourself for even admiring. “but unfortunately a hard one to tie down.”

and all those times he'd dodge your questions and never want to answer anything concerning what it is he actually wants to do, or even how he grew up.

simply because san never planned to stay.

he was always meant to go after... even if he got to know you. he never wanted to be anything more with you.

you can't help the sense of betrayal that blooms from deep within, never wanting to have any ill feelings toward san but the hurt is so strong, you don't remember a time in your life you've ever felt this way before.

being mislead for so long and kept hidden in the dark. but even then, you can't seem to bring yourself to hate him.

a tear pricks your eye and you attempt to wipe it away, voice hoarse when you speak again, "that's what you always wanted to do, right?"

san just nods, unable to see him clearly through the tears multiplying and his gaze that has turned away.

"hey," you say, a soft call that san responds to, his fox eyes staring back that you're gonna miss. "i hope it goes well." you smile, a mixture of bitter and sweet.

"i know it will," you say once more, swallowing the knot dying in your throat and searching san for any reactions.

maybe you don't know who he was before or who he's gonna be after, but you know him right now. the boy you met a year ago and made you feel so many things; butterflies down to heartbreak--who, you're still so madly in love with, you don't even have it in you to wish him anything but well.

why would you wanna keep him in the small palms of your hands when there's a world out there much bigger waiting for him. a world that could make him so much happier and content.

you would never be upset about that.

when it looks like san isn't gonna say anything, his mind continuously in thought but lips unable replicate, you're the one to break the tension yet again, figuring he just needs time.

even if he's had time... to prepare all of this and for what he was gonna say, yet he's drawing nothing but blanks in the actual presence of you.

"i should uh, i should probably go," you announce when the silence sits for too long. "graduation is tomorrow and grace wants to wake up early in preparation."

he nods just as he's done cowardly before.

"i'll see you there?" your voice squeaks slightly for the first time tonight; some kind of hope and excitement in them.

you don't know whether he nods or hum, or if he even answers. just a vagueness to his expression that you take for a yes, because why wouldn't he be.

but if you knew at the time, that when you go to search for the familiar head of black in the crowd during the ceremony and you wouldn't find him, you would have said more

if you knew that even during the celebration after; a restaurant across the streets your friends wanted to go to, that he still isn't gonna come, you would've stayed longer last night.

tell him everything and wish him all the good in the world... if you knew that was the last time you would see him.

act like you're not constantly checking the door of the restaurant in hope he'd show up even for one last time so you won't feel so dejected and have all of yeosang, grace, and wooyoung look at you with pity.

say you're just tired and continue acting like your heart didn't do a flip at the drop of his name when yunho asks about his whereabouts and wooyoung tells the group he's busy packing for tomorrow morning.

none of them seem to be aware he was leaving, besides wooyoung and your friends (for obvious reasons).

hold back your tears and attempt to not crack when you finally get wooyoung to yourself, telling him if he could give something to san.

something you've been planning to for a while but wanted to wait till it was finished, and when it was, you kind of forgot about it. until suddenly.

assure wooyoung it's okay when he tells you he's told san on plenty of occasions he needed to let you know.

and finally, when you get back to the dorms, you allow yourself to cry in grace's arms but also assuring her you're gonna be okay and she doesn't need to stay up with you

when it's past midnight, hugging your knees on edge of your bed in the dark watching as the trees sways outside the window, you wonder if this was how your uncle and mother felt.

why your uncle decided to move halfway across the country and leave everything he knew behind just for love, and why your mother still married your father despite everything against them.

a part of you finally starting to understand all the sacrifices and compromises yeosang and grace makes.

love is so strange.

you give into the events of today and curl up in bed, pulling the blanket over and closing your eyes.

before the blooming of flowers and trees, and the soft, gentle breeze of spring could even pass, san leaves you.

a month later

"don't be so nervous. you look great."

grace turns you by the shoulders to the mirror and you can hardly recognize yourself. the short black satin dress hugging your body and skin adorned in jewelries that doesn't even belong to you, nor are the heels on your feet.

you really didn't even think you'd be going, let alone have your work accepted for the exhibition among hundreds of other submissions.

have your work out in the open and on display for people other than your friends to see and judge. it's nerve-racking, but grace think you should at least dress for the occasion.

"yeosang said he'll be here in 15," she tells you.

you're nervous just sitting around, and even more so on the way to the gallery, the awful music yeosang has blasting not helping a bit.

"cookie points to whoever finds y/n's art first," grace says from the front, her lips turning upward as she challenges her boyfriend.

"that's easy. we can probably see the watercolor and blue from a mile away," he teases, prompting grace to smack him lightly by the arm; his comment making a scoff leave your mouth.

they don't know what you submitted. you didn't want them to, saying you wanted to really surprise them and get an honest opinion as it was the piece you probably took the longest on and put the most thoughts to.

the arrival doesn't make you feel any better, more cars than you predicted lined up at the front and in the parking lot, you have to take a deep breath.

"hey," yeosang says, his head peeking over the car seat with a small smile, "tonight's gonna be great. you go in there and get familiar with everyone and we'll meet you soon?"

you nod, unbuckling your seatbelt and undoing the wrinkles on your dress, ready to head out.

"good luck!" grace squeals just before you're out the car, waving to your friends as they grow further away to find parking.

you've been here a couple times before but never for your own work, of course. making way inside and glad that the first face you see is one of your professors from a class you had, his smile welcoming and you keep yourself close until it's time for the showcase, your natural tendency to stick close to people you know.

you finally spot your friends halfway into it, the two shamelessly standing in front of your work and shooting you looks they know is gonna make you flush in embarrassment.

the night goes on and that feeling of nervousness and anxiety easing the more other students also talk to you and compliments your work with you doing the same in return because everyone here is truly talented.

each and every artwork telling a different story and probably held closely by the artists themselves.

"see! that wasn't so bad," grace says, having ran to you the second you're free from the circle of students and professors, pushing you playfully by the shoulder and getting a giggle in response.

"i guess so."

"by the way, love the art!" she squeaks, so much happier and excited than you.

"and it definitely wasn't because your name was written on top that we knew, but your style is just too distinct," yeosang adds, "only thing different this time is it's pink."

you smile, the process of having to come up with something you'll be okay with everyone else seeing all coming back. how, it took a while, but once you knew, you wanted it to be as perfect as possible.

the pink cherry blossom tree next to a body of lake and the field next to it decorated in countless dandelions, all painted in the style you're best at--the watercolor really bringing life to the picture.

it's not often you can say you're proud of your own creations, but you can say you really like this one.

"well thanks, guys," you tell them, a laugh bubbling out at the end. "really appreciate you two coming out tonight."

"well, duh." grace rolls her eyes dramatically, her lips turning to a smile after. "we know this means a lot to you."

"for sure," yeosang says, checking the surrounding briefly before continuing, "you should probably finish up things here with everyone else first. me and grace are gonna head out to a shop nearby and we'll come pick you up when you're ready?"

"yeah. i probably should." because seeing the rest of the students and professors stuck in conversations, it doesn't seem right to just up and leave. you need a proper farewell at least. "i'll let you guys know."

you spend the next couple of minutes out of courtesy attempting to talk to anyone you could until the place mostly start clearing of visitors.

saying one last farewell to the professor you're most familiar with, you turn a corner to head out with the plan to call yeosang when you're stopped in your track by a figure suddenly emerging from the walls and now in your way.

when you meet his gaze and take in the fact he's dressed for the occasion, the suit he's wearing clad onto his body too perfectly (though when does he not look good in anything), you almost want to be angry it looks like he planned to come here tonight.

"san..." his name falls off your lips. a name you haven't said since a month ago and didn't plan to any time sooner.

"hey," he greets, awkwardly and quietly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants that shows off his legs you didn't even realize were so long.

but you're mostly just thinking and wondering why he's here. he isn't supposed to be here. he left a month ago to go chase his dreams, so why is he all of sudden standing in front of you in such a small gallery.

"w-what are you doing here?" you ask, no anger or pain in your voice though he thinks there should be; only curiosity the way you always sound.

"i promise i'd come, remember?"

“when is it again?” he ask.

“june the 18th,” you say, placing your sketchbook and pen down. “you’ll be there, right?”

he nods at first, a simple smile settling on him. “of course,” he answers, “i’ll be there. i promise.”

he did. but he also left.

you feel you might be going crazy, like this is all a dream and he's only a figment of your imagination because he wouldn't come back just for this. not for you.

"san," you say, a knot on the horizon, "you left. you left a month ago." like you have to remind him of the fact as if speaking to a ghost.

"i know i did..." he hangs his head in shame and you can only stare, the situation so unreal, you wanna try slapping yourself to see if you'll actually wake up. "and i want to apologize for doing so."

such words bringing upon a web of emotions, both you and san still standing smack in the middle of the public gallery and you're trying to keep your composure.

heck, you're still trying to process the fact he's really here.

"can we talk about this outside?" you say, voice soft and timid, alluding to the current scene that san takes a hint to. the walk out the most quiet and awkward as you both try finding some form of seating, settling on a bench not too far from from the entrance.

a couple seconds that feels like an entire minute passes before you start again, san's heartbeat loud and hammering from beside you.

"you don't have to apologize. you went after your heart, why would i be mad about that?" you mumble, but the volume still loud in the quiet night, the air of spring about to be summer soon.

san exhales in preparation, his chest rising and falling to what he knew you were already gonna say because that's just how you are. all of what makes you so likeable and easy to fall for. though right now, he doesn't need forgiveness or even an ounce of your kindness.

he doesn't deserve any of it.

"because i lied to you," he breaks it, straight and clear, and the reminder throwing you back to the month before that you wanted to forget so bad.

you don't wanna cry and you didn't plan to cry tonight but the tears you're currently trying to blink away says otherwise.

"you didn't lie... you just kept things from me," you try justifying, part of it to console your own self. because you'd like to think that though san omitted details, he never said anything that wasn't true.

"and that makes it any better?"

there's a quick, uncomfortable silence before you speak, eyes down on your lap. "i'd like to think so."

it would be a lie if you say you don't think back to that night often. the conversation and then the awful realization in the car that gave you one of the most most awful case of a heartbreak. nothing in comparison to your mother's death, but a different kind for a different lesson.

how, you've tried so hard to not linger because the longer you did, the more sick it made you, creating doubts in your head that you were certain could never be answered because san left.

but you do think about it. if san simply struck up a friendship with you and did everything he did knowing you were exactly the kind he could never develop romantic feelings for.

that the reason he never seemed to really want any of that, or even gave into advances from other girls was only because he was leaving. but if he wasn't, would he have given any of them a chance? would he have given ashley a chance?

but you don't really wanna ask him any of that.

"so, are you visiting, or? what really brings you here?" because you don't believe that he came back just for this. just for you.

he told you leaving was what he always wanted to do, and now he's suddenly back here, and you can't think of any good enough reasons to do so only after a month of being gone.

he takes a deep breath and for the first time after sitting down, you turn and look at him, even if he's avoiding your gaze to look ahead into nothingness.

"you know, i probably moved more in the span of 4 years than you have in your lifetime," he speaks, face in eternal concentration, you just wanna listen. "i don't know. it's complicated i guess... but it was difficult to really feel like i belonged anywhere." he shrugs, the same time the bittersweet smile at the corner of his lips is visible.

"wasn't ever that close to my family members and i try to not stick with the same people for too long. ashley and especially wooyoung were just more persistent than your average person." he pauses, then continues almost hesistantly, "because i knew if i did, i'd end up hurting them."

and how funny and hypocritical of him because you're the person he ended up hurting the most. the one he completely shut out and gave no closure to, because he didn't think he'd grow so attached to you in the matter of just a year.

"but that's just how it works, right? there are things you have to sacrifice in order to find happiness," you say, at this point still trying to excuse his actions although you still remember feeling hurt and betrayed not that long ago.

"but i wasn't happy over there." he squeezes his eyes shut and his lips curl together in frustration, as if trying to get through you because you're failing to understand the point. "i came back because i was the happiest while i was here. i came back for you."

he knows it's selfish. how beyond hurt you must've felt when he left, and now all of a sudden showing up asking for a chance, the turmoil of mixed emotions you're probably going through at the confession.

just a month ago, he literally ghosted you. and just a few months before that, he made you think he was gonna kiss you... when it was not kissing you that he had a hard time with.

he wanted it be as quick and painless as possible, and kissing you was only gonna do the complete opposite. if he kissed you, he would've wanted to stay. but given how everything turned out, he should've just not pushed the friendship at all.

should've never texted you, never invited you out, and he especially should've never talked to you to start with. but again, he's a bit selfish by nature and couldn't help but to be intrigued by you when he shouldn't have.

but he especially shouldn't have opened the door to wooyoung that night of the graduation, still able to recall the exact outfit he was wearing as the boy glared at him with a certain look of disapproval before he could even say a word.

"y/n asked me to give you this," wooyoung says, sounding tired from the day or maybe he's still just mad at san and doesn't really wanna talk.

san sighs and hesistantly takes the pink envelope, wooyoung's gaze burning into his before the boy says his final farewell.

"you know, you're really an asshole."

and it was almost like wooyoung showed up at 1 in the morning after a long day just to give it to san out of spite in hope he'll feel guilty, and it worked.

because the content in it played a big part in san ultimately deciding to come back, the sketch of him that day in the cafe with his grey hoodie watching the petal shower along with a short note attached to it haunting him day and night.

Because of you, I had one of the best years of my life. I hope things are better in Seoul, and thank you truly for being the greatest inspiration - y/n

so he came back for you, and he means it... though you don't look like you believe it the slightest and he doesn't blame you. he's done nothing but fed you doubts.

he hears a hard swallow from you that he finally turns to, your eyes glossy and lashes fluttering to hide it.

"san, you shouldn't be saying things like that. you know how i feel about you," you say, sniffing due to a clogged nose because you're not doing very good at not crying.

san's scooted next to you, his leg brushing yours and hands on your jaw as you look up at him, never this close or intimate before, butterflies in your stomach that you wish wasn't there.

"it's true. i mean every word of it. i've liked you for so long, you have no idea."

he's not sure when he started liking you, his guess is probably during the summer trip. but he remembers looking forward to your texts and thinking how pretty you are and how he wanted to get closer to you, even if he shouldn't have.

"then why did you leave?" you ask, your eyes vulnerable and lips pouting that he wanna kiss and soothe.

you understand him chasing his dreams, but if he liked you; if he came back afterall, why did he leave in the first place?

"because i'm not used to staying in one place for too long." his thumbs drawing circles and tending to your cheeks. "i want to travel. i want to see the rest of the world... find a purpose in life and see what else is out there waiting for me."

you open your mouth to say something but it's like he already knew, cutting you off before you could even start doubting again, "i don't see it as having to make sacrifices in order to find happiness, more so just putting it off for the time being. the rest of the world can wait because right now, i want to be happy with you."

he can still be happy with you and achieve his other dreams when the time is right. he don't wanna have to choose one or the other when he can make both work with efforts.

"so you don't have to think about it now, but when you do, i just want you to know i like you. really really like you, and i'd love to give it a shot if you're willing. only when you're ready, of course."

and yes, the man quite literally ghosted you and broke your heart in such a short amount of notice, you could barely process it at the time. but you also can't deny the way he makes you feel.

how, whenever he's near, your stomach still feels funny and your heart wanna do flips. and with him this close, you definitely still wanna kiss him.

it's not possible to get over such a man in just a month, but you were healing slowly and ready to accept the fact you won't ever see him again. and then he comes back and is inches away from your face, telling you everything you've ever wanted to hear.

the sudden sound of your phone going off at a notification makes the both of you jump as san pulls away and clears his throat.

you quickly search your purse for your phone and see a text from yeosang on the screen.

yeosang: u ready?

"it's yeosang,'' you tell san, locking eyes with him briefly and awkwardly. "he wants to know if i'm ready to be picked up."

san nods, the air going quiet until an idea comes over. "i can take you." and when you don't answer, he tries testing if he can lighten the atmosphere even if just a bit. "i am renting the car so just don't make a mess."

but when the silence drags on and san can't read your expression, he thinks you don't want anything to do with him at this point, and rightfully so.

"yes," you say, the response picking san's head up to see a small smile you're trying to fight, "yes we can give it a try, and yes, you can give me a ride."

there's something shy but also daring in your tone, san sees the blush raising to your cheeks that brings out the widest smile from him, jumping in your arms to give you the biggest hug.

when he finally pulls away, the look of surprise on your face has him apologizing but you only shake your head with a smile.

"thank you," he whispers, "for giving me the chance. i promise i'll make it up to you."

you nod to his words, the smile still on your lips but unable to say anything due to the overwhelming (good) feelings.

then he goes to scratch the back of his head, a look of awkward and hesitant crossing him before finally saying it, "can i uh, can i kiss you?"

"yes," you actually answer, a giggle that cannot be contained leaving shortly.

and when he does kiss you, his lips just as soft and gentle as you imagined, the kiss even better than you had in your head, you're glad that your friend's instinct was right.

that san does indeed like you and everything he did wasn't just out of kindness and respect.

when you're both pulling away and indulging in a fit of laughter after and shaking your heads at the turn of events, you know he kissed you because it's something he wanted. because he thinks you might be the one.

when the blooming of flowers and trees are fading, along with the soft, gentle breeze of spring that finally passes, you're still in love with san and you're sure he feels the same way.

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |6: A Clarifying Moment|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: It has been far too long since this series was updated! Hope y'all enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon

Startling on the couch as the oven timer beeped behind you, the noise interrupted you from the romance novel you'd been absorbed in for most of the evening. You earmarked the page you hadn't yet finished before leaning over and setting the book aside on your coffee table. Reluctantly rising from your cozy place on the couch, you tossed your blanket off and were immediately met with the faint chill of your apartment.

Breathing in the sweet, delicious scent of chocolate that was currently permeating its way through your place, you stepped around your couch and headed into the kitchen. Tonight you'd decided to pull out the boxed brownie mix you’d had in a cabinet and bake this evening as a comfort to yourself. Partly because doing something with your hands calmed you, and partly because you were craving something sweet to indulge in after the confusing day you’d had. 

You'd been in an unusual mood today ever since your coworker, Stephanie, had once more mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date with one of her friends at lunch earlier. You hadn't been able to shake that weird feeling that had since been growing in your gut. Though today wasn't the first time that she had mentioned setting you up with her friend, Dylan; she had mentioned him a few times to you over the past couple of months. 

Admittedly Dylan had sounded like someone you'd be interested in meeting from what she had told you about him, but you'd always been far too nervous to ever agree to let her give him your number. For weeks there had often been a part of you that regretted not just letting her because you'd long grown tired of coming home to an empty apartment night after night. You always wished that you had someone in your life who'd be here when you returned, someone to spend your weekends and evenings with. Someone instead of just the fictional characters in your books and television shows. But you were also tired of all the failed first dates you'd gone on, too. And a part of you was afraid that's exactly how things would end up with Dylan.

But Stephanie had also first mentioned Dylan to you before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had fallen onto your fire escape during that snowstorm. And since then you had gone and stupidly formed a crush on him. Which had left you conflicted about the whole situation now. Did you accept a date with Dylan and potentially risk ruining whatever the hell was going on with you and the Devil–which seemed like it was mostly a whole lot of nothing at the moment. Or did you decline what could possibly be something worthwhile just for the possibility that the strange masked vigilante could actually be a potential love interest for you? Though you were certainly aware of how ridiculous just thinking that sounded considering you had no idea who the Devil even was, what he looked like, or what he did outside of committing illegal acts of vigilantism most nights while apparently not feeding himself. 

Grabbing the oven mitts from off of your countertop beside the stove with one hand, you reached your other hand out to turn off the timer and silence the incessant beeping of your oven. Slipping both oven mitts onto your hands, you bent down and opened the oven door before reaching inside and carefully retrieving the tray of brownies. Pulling them out, you set them on top of the stove to begin cooling. 

Even now as you slid the oven mitts off of your hands and turned off the oven, you could feel that odd feeling continuing to gnaw at your insides. Truthfully you knew the logical thing to do was to just give Dylan a chance. You probably should just finally set up a date with him and see what happened. Maybe things would work out and maybe they wouldn't. 

But even as you thought that, the masked man's smiling mouth appeared in your mind and your stomach twisted into knots while your heart simultaneously beat a little erratically in your chest. The thought of accepting a date with someone else–someone that wasn’t the curious and charming Devil–almost made you feel sick to your stomach. Which was absolutely idiotic and ridiculous. Especially because you hadn’t forgotten his comment about not wanting a relationship from the very first night you’d met him. You recalled how he’d said that a significant other would be a liability and a distraction. Which to you meant that the likelihood of something happening between you both, despite him seeming to constantly flirt with you, was slim. 

Yet still you found yourself clinging to hope with both of your desperate hands.

The resounding tap tap tap of three sharp knocks from behind you drew you straight from your thoughts. Tossing the oven mitts in your hands onto your counter, you spun around in your kitchen, craning your neck to peer out of your window from where the sound had come. Not surprisingly, the Devil was standing on your fire escape and grinning back at you through the glass. 

The sight of him had your stomach pathetically somersaulting inside of you. You were so excited to finally see him for the first time this week that you didn’t even bother fighting the smile that had hastily spilled its way across your lips.

“Apparently you only need to think of the Devil for him to appear,” you quietly whispered to yourself. 

As you began making your way over towards him, you saw his head tilt to the side, the smile growing even wider on his mouth. Though the closer you neared to the window, the more you were able to spot the blood smeared along the lower half of his face just below the black fabric of his mask. Concern quickly replaced the excitement you’d initially felt at the sight of him, your feet hurrying you faster towards the window. 

Unlocking it in a rush, you shoved the window all the way up and stepped to the side so the Devil could climb into your apartment. A cold burst of air flew inside as you watched him bend down, your arms quickly wrapping around your chest to keep warm.

“Are you alright?” you asked anxiously. 

The Devil began to slip his way through the window’s opening, but as he moved with ease through the small gap, your eyes curiously landed on what he was carrying. A bouquet of white and pink lilies. You pulled a face at the sight of them, brows furrowing together in absolute confusion. Why was the Devil running around with a bouquet of flowers tonight?

“Perfectly alright,” the Devil answered, drawing your attention back to his masked face. “Why do you ask?”

You watched as he straightened up, shooting you a wide, blood-stained smile. Grimacing at the grisly sight, you shook your head before turning and closing the window after him. The howling of the wind quieted, though the bitterness of the winter night lingered in your apartment. 

“Because your face is covered in blood,” you said, turning back around and pointing a finger at him. “It looks like your nose was bleeding.”

The Devil raised his free hand up, his gloved fingers dabbing at his nose which was still mostly hidden by the material of his mask. Shrugging his shoulders, his hand lowered back to his side as his attention returned to you.

“Must’ve stopped,” he replied. “Though admittedly someone did manage to hit me in the face tonight. Was actually part of the reason why I’m a bit later stopping by than I’d planned. And why these,” he said, extending the bouquet of flowers out towards you, your eyes widening in shock at the gesture, “are probably looking a little worse for wear now. Had to stop a mugging on my way to come see you, which wasn’t part of the plan, either.”

Standing there in absolute stunned silence, your eyes were glued to the bouquet of lilies. Admittedly a few of them did look a little battered, but overall they were beautiful. You could smell the fragrant scent of them over the strong smell of brownies coming from your kitchen. But you had no idea how to even react to the bouquet that he was offering you, and your lack of response was seemingly becoming apparent to the Devil judging by the way his smile faltered along his lips.

“I–I don’t understand,” you finally stammered out. “Flowers? You brought flowers for…me?”

The Devil’s head tilted to the side, his smile gradually slipping off his face. Though his hand with the bouquet remained outstretched towards you, your eyes still very much focused on them in confusion. Did you dare to hope they were meant as some sort of romantic gesture from him? That maybe he’d planned to stop by and possibly ask you out on a date tonight? Maybe he’d finally tell you exactly who he was? Let you see his face? You felt your excitement flooding through your body at just the thought of that. 

“Of course they’re for you, angel,” he said, his usual charming smile returning. “They’re a thank you. For that Devil’s Pantry you set up earlier this week.”

Immediately your heart–which you hadn’t even realized had begun beating frantically in ecstatic hopefulness at that nickname uttered from his beautiful mouth–stuttered in your chest before slowing back down as the rest of what he’d said registered in your ears. Of course that’s why he’d brought you flowers, it was the only reason that would’ve made sense.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Uh, well thank you, but you really didn’t need to do that.”

Something about the slight twitch to the corner of his bloodied lips and the shifting of his head caught your eye. You wondered what face he was making behind his mask as you cautiously reached out and accepted the bouquet from his hand. Not for the first time you found yourself wishing that you could see his full expression instead of so much black. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he told you. “Not many people think about me like you do. Worry about me.” With a chuckle he added, “ Or my kidneys.”

You laughed half-heartedly, still trying to recover from having stupidly misread the flowers as you turned and made your way into the kitchen in search of something to use as a vase. You didn’t often receive flowers, which meant you didn’t have an actual vase on hand–something you were currently feeling a little embarrassed about and hoping he wasn't judging you for.

“Well you really should be drinking more water,” you told him, eventually pulling out a large glass from a cabinet. “You’re going to have kidney damage before you know it.”

“Pretty sure there’ll be worse things happening to me before then,” he joked back. “Considering how I spend my evenings, just having both kidneys still intact already sounds like a win.”

You rolled your eyes at him, bringing the glass over towards your faucet and filling it with water. When it was half filled, you turned off the faucet and slipped the bouquet into the makeshift vase, pausing to admire the pretty flowers. Briefly you’d wondered why he’d picked lilies, but the thought quickly vanished when your eyes caught sight of a few specks of blood splattered along some of the petals. The Devil’s blood, you guessed. 

Turning, you set the flowers down on your kitchen counter before your attention returned to the Devil. He was still standing beside your window and silently watching you. With the light from your living room shining on him, you could more clearly see the blood covering the lower half of his face. You winced at the sight.

“What?” he asked. “Something wrong?”

“Just that you have a lot of–” you paused, gesturing a hand towards your mouth, “–blood still on your face. Would you mind if maybe I…helped you clean that up? Make sure your nose really did stop bleeding?”

For a moment the masked man stood there, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet as if he was contemplating your offer. Eventually he slowly nodded.

“I suppose so,” he answered. 

“Alright, let me just grab a wash cloth or something,” you told him, exiting your kitchen and making your way past him. “You can make yourself comfortable on the couch if you’d like.”

As you headed down the short hallway and into your bathroom, you heard the strangely light sound of his footsteps in those heavy boots of his. You assumed he’d done exactly what you'd suggested and sat down. 

Once in the bathroom, you bent down and opened the cabinet beneath your sink, your eyes scanning the towels you had stored in the small space. Finding a navy blue hand towel that looked dark enough to not show a permanent bloodstain, you pulled it out before closing the cabinet door and standing back up. Turning on the bathroom faucet, you gave the water a few seconds to warm up before you wetted the fabric of the towel. Afterwards, you wrung out the extra water before leaving the bathroom and making your way back down the short hall towards your living room. 

You found the Devil sitting on your couch just as you'd expected. As you approached him, you noticed how his masked head appeared to track your movements, following each of your footsteps towards him through the room. For some reason his gaze so closely focused on you had you feeling exceptionally self-conscious, a shudder running down your spine. But you also noticed a spark of something you’d never quite felt before shoot through you like wildfire. You realized that you liked the intensity of his gaze on you. Probably more than you should have considering his face was half-covered in his own blood.

Lowering yourself onto the couch beside him, you bit your lip as you tucked your legs up underneath yourself on the cushion. Resting an elbow on the backrest of the couch, you turned and faced him completely. He’d moved a little towards you in turn when you’d settled down, his masked face shifting towards you. Hesitantly you reached your left hand out, though it immediately hovered in the space between you both, your fingers mere inches from his face. His head canted the smallest fraction to the side at your hesitation.

“Is it alright if I lift the mask just enough to uncover your nose?” you asked, your voice softer than you’d intended. “I promise I won’t lift it any higher.”

The Devil's lips curled faintly upwards at your question before he nodded once.

“I trust you,” he answered in his deep voice.

Something about him so casually stating that he trusted you had your tongue darting out to nervously wet your lips, your heart thudding a little more loudly in your own ears. Left hand closing the remaining distance between you both, you gingerly grasped the black fabric of his mask between your thumb and index finger, very aware of how intimate this felt–especially as your fingers brushed against the skin of his cheek. The moment felt almost as intimate as the time you’d undressed him from his wet clothes and kept him warm while he’d been meditating in your apartment. You figured not many people–if any–had ever been allowed to so easily touch his mask. And yet here you were, raising it just a few centimeters to reveal a fraction more of his bloodied nose so that you could clean that blood from off of him. 

Briefly you held your breath as you raised the mask, too focused on the slow reveal of a little more of this mysterious man's face to do much else. Though you didn’t dare push your luck with raising it any higher than the marginal bit you had once the bottom of his nose was no longer covered. Reluctantly your fingers released the fabric and your left hand gently came to rest along his neck, just below his jaw, in an attempt to balance yourself as you leaned forward towards him. Reaching your thumb up to the underside of his chin, your finger carefully tilted his face at a better angle. Carefully you began to clean off the blood along the bottom of his nose with the damp towel in your other hand. 

You were thankful that the blood washed off his skin fairly easily and required minimal effort of scrubbing on your part as the Devil sat quiet and still beneath your hands. Because truthfully as you worked, your mind was focused on his skin beneath your left hand, finding it hard to believe that you were touching such a vulnerable spot on his neck. It was taking every ounce of your energy to stay focused on your task–as it usually seemed to be whenever you helped the Devil like this. It didn't help that you couldn't see his eyes beneath the mask, making you wonder if he was as focused on you as you were on him.

When you'd finally cleaned his nose, you began to wash the blood from beside his mouth next. While you worked, you noticed that his lips had visibly parted just enough for you to feel the warm breath passing between them. As each of his exhales brushed over the back of your knuckles, you felt yourself becoming a little lightheaded. That's when you suddenly realized just how close you'd ended up leaning in towards him on the couch. 

Your eyes darted up, your pulse increasing when you saw that masked face mere inches from yours. Accidentally losing your balance when you’d tried to shift backwards and put some space between you both, you instead almost fell forward into his lap on the couch cushion you were both sharing. It was the Devil’s gloved hand darting up in response, landing on your hip and easily steadying you, that kept you from tumbling right into him. Though for some reason his hand hadn't just steadied you, it had pulled you back in towards him once he'd helped you regain your balance. And then he’d left it there. 

Trying to calm your heart that was still thundering loud in your own ears, your eyes focused on his mouth as you took a deep breath in. The sight of his plush lips just within your reach was making it difficult for you to think about anything else–like cleaning off the rest of the blood along his stubbled chin. At this point, heat wasn't just creeping up your neck at how embarrassing this all was, but also at the fact that your hand had somehow come to rest along his cheek. It didn't help that his large gloved hand was still gripping your hip and keeping you close.

“Sorry,” you muttered awkwardly.

The corner of his lip twitched before his expression became unreadable once more. 

“Don't worry about it, angel,” he replied in his gravely tone. 

Forcing yourself to return to your task, your hand on his cheek tilting his face once more, you finished gently cleaning off the blood from the rest of him. Though the air still felt tense and charged with something impossible to ignore as you drew the bloodied blue towel away from the Devil’s face. Staring back at him, your eyes couldn't resist memorizing the bit of his nose that you’d revealed a bit ago. You didn't often get to see much more of his face, so you wanted to take full advantage of your current opportunity. But inevitably your gaze dropped lower and you found yourself once more mesmerized by his still slightly parted lips–the same lips that often haunted your dreams lately. Tempted to trace the line of them with a finger, your thumb on his cheek slid closer to his mouth entirely of its own accord. His own hand immediately squeezed your hip in response. You froze instantly.

You'd thought about a moment like this occurring between you both far too often lately. A moment where he'd let his guard down after all of those teasing flirtatious comments you’d endured, one where he actually let you in. A moment when he'd stop messing around with you and just finally kiss you. Because right now you swore you could feel something in the air between you both, swore that he'd even leaned in closer towards you. And his damn hand was still on your hip long after he had used it to steady you, even drawing you closer to him with it. 

There was something going on here. There had to be. If there wasn't, why did he keep giving you all these signals otherwise? Bringing you flowers as a thank you? Letting you take care of him? Repeatedly showing up at your place and considering it somewhere safe for him? With the way you acted around him, he had to know you were attracted to him. 

But before anything more could happen, the Devil’s hand quickly released your hip and simultaneously crushed your hopes. He loudly cleared his throat, his hand reaching up instead to lower the mask back over his nose as he turned his face away from you. Your hand fell from his cheek, embarrassment further burning through you at the obvious rejection. Lips pressing together, you quickly slid away from him on the couch and rose to your feet. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice tense.

“Of course,” you replied, eyes on your feet as you maneuvered around your coffee table. “Couldn't have you wearing your blood while you were here. I'm just going to rinse out this towel and then I can grab you some water.” Hurriedly making your way down the short hallway towards your bathroom, you said over your shoulder, “I made brownies if you want some.”

“I know,” the Devil called back. “I could smell them from half a block away.”

Stepping into your bathroom, you paused in front of the sink, your hand hovering over the faucet. Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you as your brows knitted together at his comment. That was yet another odd thing for him to say. With a shake of your head, you turned on the faucet and began to rinse his blood from the towel, too preoccupied thinking about what had just transpired in your living room to make sense of the strange things he sometimes said. 

As you stood there watching your sink run red from the Devil’s blood, you felt your stomach drop at what had just happened between you both–or rather, what hadn't happened. Why had he ended the moment like that? Was it because he didn't feel the same way? Or because he believed having someone in his life really would just be a distraction and liability that he didn't want? Because you found it hard to believe that he hadn't felt something after that near kiss on your couch, even if right now you just felt rejected and embarrassed. 

Glancing up at your reflection in the mirror while you continued to rinse his blood from the towel, you released a sigh. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give Dylan a chance after all. Maybe going on a date with a man who actually gave you his name and let you see his face was the best thing for your heart right now instead of pining after the mysterious vigilante who was fast beginning to feel too far out of your reach despite him currently sitting on your couch. 

Turning off the faucet, you wrung out the hand towel once more. Making up your mind, you decided that you'd finally tell Stephanie at work tomorrow to give Dylan your number. You'd agree to that first date once and for all.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Ok, I have two alternatives, pick which one you like the best.

Reader get picked to tutor Eddie even though they have always been at each other's throat, she thinking he's a drama queen, pissed that the popular people doesn't like him and he thinks she's a stuck up bitch without humor.

So they go back and forth but maybe one day when she's having a bad day and Eddie says something and she starts crying he gets all "what, how, why? What did I do, please don't cry!"

Or, that he catches her reading a romance novel and outwardly she has always just read classics - books that are 'high education'

Request by @somethingvicked 🫶💞 went with the first option 💞

Warnings; Little bit of angst, meanish Eddie, fluff. Accidental kiss.

💌🎀💌🎀

"You've got to be kidding me?" you gawk at Miss O'Donnell who has called you back at the end of class. She's asked you to tutor someone and at first you were all for it.

That's until you found out it was Eddie Munson, Munson who is currently sitting at the back of the class with his feet up on the desk in front of him, he gives you a sarcastic little wave and you turn back to Miss O'Donnell and hope she comes to her senses.

"He needs a tutor if he wants to graduate. You're the best student in the class. It will look wonderful on your college applications that you tutored Mr Munson" shit there was really no getting out of this.

Reluctantly you turn to Eddie who already doesn't like you. In his honest opinion you seemed prissy and stuck up. The two of you spent half your time at each other's throats, it had been like that for so long.

Equally you couldn't stand Eddie either. He was loud, a show off and you were sure he was jealous of the popular people he claimed to hate.

How you would manage to tutor him for weeks on end was anyone's guess. One thing's for sure, you were dreading this.

"Meet me after school tomorrow and we can get started okay?" You say to him already grumpy at having to spend extra time with him. Eddie swings his legs off the desk and smirks, then bows.

"As you wish princess" ugh, you storm out but not before hearing Eddie's laughter.

Asshole.

🎀💌🎀💌

The first week of tutoring Eddie is as horrible as you expected. He's antagonistic, makes no effort and needles at your patience until it's paper thin.

"How can you be expected to graduate if you don't make an effort?" You snap as Eddie strums on his guitar.

"That old bat has it in for me, even when I try my best she still doesn't care" Eddie hisses back and you feel the beginnings of a headache come on.

"You just need to apply yourself better, if you want to graduate then you need to ace this Munson" he glares at you.

"Don't you think I know that? It's easy for you though isn't it princess, since your little miss perfect" the insult flares up your annoyance and you and Eddie devolve into your usual arguments.

"Don't you think I have better things to do then tutor you Munson? So do us both a favour and start paying attention, so we can go our separate ways sooner".

He huffs and places down his guitar with gentle care, grabs his notebook and

"Did you draw these?" you ask curious as you trace your fingers over the images on his notebook. He nods and looks at you like he's expecting you to give him shit.

"They are really good Munson, you could think about applying to an art course after graduation" Eddie scoffs and takes his notebook back.

"Yeah like anyone's going to take me with my grades" his tone is all annoyance and it pisses you off.

"I was only trying to compliment you, why do you have to be so touchy all the time" you look away from him stubbornly, he is silent for a few seconds and when he speaks again his voice is soft.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to a lot of compliments from people" this softens you as well and you turn to face him and give him a small smile.

"Well you're really good" there's a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks when you say this. He nods and settles back down beside you.

"You know uh, you're pretty good with the whole writing thing, uh shit, you know what I mean" pleased and a little flustered at his compliment you clear your throat and mutter thank you, then get started with the book you and Eddie are reading for class.

🎀💌🎀💌

Today has been the worst day. You overslept, forgot to hand your essay in to your biology teacher, the rain soaked you completely as soon as you left your home and you've been verging on a cold ever since.

So the thought of having to tutor Munson again does not fill you with joy, in all honesty all you want is your bed and to sleep. You couldn't get sick, you had too much to do.

Of course from the moment you meet up with Eddie he's difficult. All because it's Friday and he has a Hellfire meeting.

"I have to set everything up princess, I don't have time to waste here with you" furious you round on him.

"You think that I want to be here? No. I'd rather be at home so sit down and let's get on with this so I don't have to sit with your annoying ass any longer than I have to"

"Well at least I'm not a stuck up bitch with no sense of humour and a permanent stick up my ass"

Eddie's words cut to the bone and you stiffen in response. Don't cry, don't cry you chant to yourself, but you can't help as the tears roll down your cheeks, Eddie's big brown eyes widen in shock as you begin to cry.

Humiliated, you're just about to leave when he steps in front of you. "Wait, what did I do?" The two of you exchanged insults on a daily basis and you had never cried before, Eddie begins to panic as your sobs continue.

"Please don't cry" he says, he hates seeing you cry. Your little whimper stabs at his aching heart and on instinct he reaches over to you and takes your hand, the gesture surprises you both and it dries up your tears.

"I'm sorry, I don't like seeing you cry, please stop" you sniff and wipe the remainder of the tears away, Eddie's hand is still holding yours and it's making you feel things that you never expected.

Eddie gently strokes your hand with his thumb, marvels at the soft skin and how your hand fits perfectly in his own.

Uh, shit. This was new. You smile at him, suddenly seeming shy. His heart skips a beat. Jesus h Christ.

"I didn't mean it" he stumbles over his words and you sigh sadly, peer at him with an expression that tugs at his heart.

"Yes you did" he shakes his head fervently and assured you that he didn't.

"I just snapped back without thinking, I'm sorry" he pleads with you and you hear the sincerity in his voice and calm down a bit.

"I'm sorry too. Today has been so shit, I'm tired and I feel like crap. I just want to sleep" Eddie immediately grabs his notebook and pencil and sits down, he looks to you patiently.

"Let's do half an hour and I'll cram as much as I can in my brain and then I'm going to drive you home okay?" relived you nod but still feel worried.

"Miss O'Donnell won't be happy" you tell him and he shrugs as if he doesn't care one bit.

"Leave the old dragon to me okay princess?" touched at his sweetness you take his hand and squeeze it as a thank you. Surprisingly the half hour passes by cordially and Eddie is still sweet.

Before you know it the half hour has ended and Eddie is true to his word and drives you home. You don't feel much better and your stomach is fluttering like crazy being so close to Eddie.

What the hell was happening? Was this some side effect of the flu? Eddie's big brown eyes meet yours, "Thanks for driving me home Eddie"

He shrugs like it's no big deal and on impulse you reach over to kiss his cheek. The only thing is he moves so you miss completely and end up pressing your lips against his.

His eyes widen and you pull away embarrassed, your heart is racing and your lips are tingling from the kiss. You stammer out an apology but Eddie waves it off, you race out the door and into your house.

All the while Eddie is touching his lips, his own heart is racing a mile a minute and all he can think about is that he really wants to kiss you again.

💌🎀💌🎀

[rvp32]

Plot idea: Mina being a good best friend, comforts you in unconventional ways after a 10-year relationship break-up.

Mina being a good best friend, comforts you in unconventional ways after a 10-year relationship break-up.

“Mina!!” You said as soon as she picked up your call, you were heartbroken that your girlfriend of 10 years broke up with you.

“She broke up with you didn’t she?” Mina asked, realizing why you called her at such an ungodly hour. 

“Yes, she did and she told me that I was literally the worst boyfriend ever and that I should ever because I am too broke and can’t buy her the things she wants,” You complained, tears threatening to spill out. 

“Fine say where you are, I am coming to pick you up,” Mina said. 

Mina is your best friend someone who you have known since your childhood, both of you are close but sadly didn’t get to spend much time with each other because Mina is a busy K-pop idol. 

Soon Mina arrived, with her Aston Martin DB11. It was a car fitting of her status. She lowered the window and said, “Get in.”

Tears escaped your eyes after you got into the car but you tried your best not to cry. 

“Hey, it's okay, let it all out I am right here for you,” Mina said trying to comfort you and it did because you knew that you could always talk to her and get an objective opinion from her.

“Let’s head back to my place and talk,” Mina said before she started driving. 

“Thank you, Mina!” you said as you wiped your tears. 

Soon you both reached Mina’s apartment, which was in the middle of Seongsu. Following her up the elevator, no matter how many times you see her apartment it still surprises you. It was a penthouse apartment, filled with completed and uncompleted legos, and it was very well maintained not a single speck of dust visible. 

“Come, sit down,” Mina said tapping the spot beside her on the couch. After you sit down, Mina pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back as a way to console you. 

You tell Mina about all the things she said and how rude she was, denouncing everything that you had ever done for her. Throughout all that, Mina continued to hold your hand and rub it to show that she is there for you and that she is willing to listen. 

After letting it all out, Mina suggested that you guys watch a movie and eat ice cream, which was according to her the best way to get over a breakup.

Weirdly enough, Mina chose a romance movie to play, especially after what you just told her, but you didn’t exactly mind because it was one of your favorite movies. 

There was a romantic kiss scene in the movie, feeling a little awkward to continue watching you turned to look at what Mina was doing only to find her staring at you. 

“You know Y/N, there is another way that you can use to get over a breakup fast,” Mina said before moving closer to you, your bodies now touching each other.

You didn’t move, though you wanted to your body just wouldn’t stop Mina from coming closer to you. Both your faces were so close that you could feel her breath on your lips. Without any warning she kisses you, the kiss is filled with lust, tongues dancing and exploring each other's mouths, lips moving in perfect harmony. 

This kiss wasn’t like any of the other ones, it was electrifying and addicting. You feel Mina push you down onto the couch without breaking apart from the kiss. The room heated up, and you could feel yourself get hard, because of the way Mina was moving.

“Mina, what are you doing?” you question, after barely pulling away from her. 

“Shh, I know you are enjoying this, just forget about everything else and just pay attention to me,” Mina says, and she kisses you again. 

Following what she said you gave into the lust that you were currently feeling. When a pretty girl such as Mina tells you to do something you do it, no questions asked. 

The lust was getting to her head, she pulled away from the kiss took off her shirt, and ripped yours off your body. Mina looked ethereal, her perfectly sculpted abs, and her perky little tits in a black lace bra. 

Not wasting even a second more, you grab onto Mina’s boobs and squeeze them a little before reaching around and unclasping her bra. Mina enjoyed every single touch of yours, she continued to grind on your cock which was now hard and poking through your shorts. 

“Fuck, you have such beautiful breasts, Mina,” you compliment her as you play with and flick her hard nipples. 

“Ngh,” Mina moans. 

“Y/N I need you,” Mina manages to say in between her moans. 

You could no longer wait as well, you wanted to get a taste of her. Mina is just as impatient as you pulling your pants down along with your underwear. Your hard member pops out standing in all its glory. 

“Oh wow,” Mina says before putting your cock in her mouth and sucking it. Her tongue dancing teasing and playing with your cock inside her mouth, it was the best blow job that you had ever received. 

“Ngh fuck Mina that feels so good,” you moan as you push her head down further into your cock. 

Mina continues to suck your cock, fast and deep, playing with the head using her tongue. It was too stimulating. 

“S-shit I’m going to cum!!” You moan, but to your dismay, Mina stops completely, taking her cock out of her mouth. 

“Now now, the night is still young and I need a lot more from you,” Mina says, it was a side of her that you never thought you would see but turned you on like no other. 

She placed herself just above your cock, your tip just about grazing Mina’s drenched pussy. She was teasing you and you could do nothing but take it. 

“M-Mina please, can you put it inside please,” You ask, pleading and hoping that she will do it soon, before you lose control. 

“Aww, someone is a needy boy,” Mina says before slowly impaling herself on your cock. 

Fuck, her pussy was a lot tighter than you had ever imagined. “FUCK! Mina you are so tight,” you groan. 

“I can’t believe that I waited this long, I should have done this sooner fuck. Your cock is stretching me out so fucking good,” Mina moaned as she finally reached the bottom of your cock. 

Mina bounced on your cock like there is no tomorrow, looking at her cute tits bounce made you want to grab them, you pulled Mina into a kiss as she continued to ride you. 

The way that her pussy was gripping onto your cock was like it was made to take your cock it was a perfect fit, and you were hitting spots that Mina didn’t know existed. She moaned into your mouth as you kissed her. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you put Mina’s right breast into your mouth, sucking it and playing with the nipple. She must have sensitive nipples because her pussy pulsed every time you nibbled at her nipple. 

“Fuck, Keep doing that I’m going to cum,” Mina warns and you oblige, nibbling at her nipple and using your other hand to pinch her free nipple. 

“Oh Fuck, I’m cumming, I am cumming on your cock! Ah,” Mina moaned before she lifted herself off your cock and squirted it all over your stomach, some of it even getting in your mouth which you didn’t mind, it just made you wish more had gotten in because of how tasty it was. 

As soon as Mina recovers a little from her orgasm she pushes your dick back into her and rides you again, this time her movements more sloppy, almost like she was chasing another orgasm. 

“Fuck Mina, I’m gonna cum,” you warn, trying to hold on as much as possible. 

“Yes! Just cum inside, I wanna feel your warm cum inside of me,” Mina screams, after getting her permission, you hold Mina’s hips and start moving her to your pace. 

“Holy fuck, Yes! Yes! Yes!” Mina screams. “Just like that fuck, paint my pussy white, cum deep inside by my pussy please I need it! I need it so fucking bad!” 

“Ngh,” you moan and cum inside Mina, feeling your warm cum shoot into her pussy Mina’s 2nd orgasm soon follows yours

Mina gets off you, your cum slowly dripping from her pussy. She’s lying on top of you still recovering from your session. 

After a few minutes, you break the silence to finally address the elephant in the room, “Mina, we should talk about what just happened.”

“Shh, we can talk about it tomorrow. I am too tired now,” Mina says before putting her head on your chest and closing her eyes. 

You soon followed suit and fell asleep with Mina on top of you.  

Still in between sleep and consciousness, you heard Mina talk to herself, “That was money well spent, that bitch never deserved you, after all, she left you for a meer 100k, Nobody can have you, you belong to me, and only me! My precious baby.  

if you guys like this type of stories then keep sending me more asks like this and I can keep writing these kind of short fics

[coralinnii]

❋If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice❋ ↳ reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy aka villain/ess au part 2 feat: Jade genre: drama, partners in crimes-to-partners in love?, slow burn romance note: sequel to "being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy" Jade ver., no pronouns used for reader, some actions are ethically questionable (Jade and reader are just up to no good),

part one series masterlist

You cursed the lovey-dovey fools who drone on about the bliss of married life, fondly speaking of the joy and romance that leads to the big day and beyond. With the right person, life as someone engaged to be married would be a dream come true. 

With the right person, that is 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have that pleasure when you’re faced with the man you happened to be engaged to; the mysterious Jade Leech. 

“You seemed to be very occupied with something.” With a quizzical look, you asked the teal-haired heir as he sat at his study desk. While you exaggerated, there was a sizable amount of papers atop the merman’s desk, with names and locations you recognised as you managed to glimpse upon the reports. “Am I allowed to inquire about the mountain of reports on your desk?” 

Unperturbed, Jade gave you his well-practiced smile. “Of course, I would never hide anything from my wonderful betrothed” 

This brazen liar 

Having chosen to willingly participate in the Leech family’s goals, you were aware of their plans to monopolize the marine-related business and operations, including taking over the coastal territories from other nobles. 

Which was exactly what Jade was currently trying to do apparently, as he had his family’s men research a baron whose territory included a lively strait between this kingdom and a flourishing island nation nearby. But the baron was an incompetent leader with an unfavorable reputation amongst the merfolk and islanders due to his actions as a businessman.

“Baron Byrne seems to be causing quite an issue in his strait as the large amount of cargo ships constantly coming through the strait is disrupting the islanders’ livelihood as well as the merfolk that made the nearby reefs their home…” 

“But since he seems to have a good relationship with the prince’s new lover, his behavior is not reprimanded by the royal family,” you continued his thoughts and let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s a greedy, impatient bastard but no one can stop him” 

Jade kept his courteous smile but you couldn’t imagine he was thrilled about any of this. Despite the human-merfolk peace treaty being established, the merfolk were used as the antagonists in this world so the story ignored their issues or crimes against them. 

“This was a romance webtoon, I supposed. No attention was given to the repercussions of the lives outside of the main leads” 

You looked through the reports on the baron’s family and you noticed a more detailed section on a certain person; the baron’s wife to be precise. You recognised the young woman as an admirer of Jade, recalling how envious she seems every time she looks your way. From what you knew, she married the baron for his new status as a noble but fell for Jade when she first saw him at a gathering.

“So you’re planning to go through the wife for information” you let out a noise of intrigued as you looked through the papers “you even found out where the salons and stores she frequents. That’s impressive but tell me, how do you plan to approach her?” 

“Oh my, does the notion of me meeting her upset you?” Jade reached for your hand to hold as he looked up to you from his seat, peering at you with convincing concern and acting like a worried fiancé, “I would never intend to hurt you in any way or give doubt to my devotion to you” 

“Firstly, don’t mock me by lying so blatantly” you sneered as you pulled your hand from his grasp. “Secondly, I agree that meeting the baron’s wife is the best way to find out about his weakness”

Jade raised his brow inquisitively before changing back into a look of worry, “Then what is it that causes such concern on your face, my dear?” 

Again, that fake term of endearment sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m only asking so I can act accordingly” you looked at the tall merman with mocking sweetness in your eyes. “Should I be the naive partner who knows nothing, or perhaps I’m grieving over the audacity of my dear fiancé meeting with someone other than me?” 

For a moment, you thought you saw a glint in Jade’s dual-coloured eyes before a look of amusement took over his face. He chuckled behind his gloved hand before smiling at you, his sharp teeth peeking behind his lips. “I will leave that decision to you, my dear. I’m excited to see what you’ll show me”

Weeks passed since your conversation with Jade as he quickly put his plan into motion, finding chances to meet the baroness by “coincidence” and gaining her trust immediately. You weren’t surprised how quickly Jade managed to befriend the smitten woman. If you were none the wiser, you didn’t have the confidence to say that you could withstand Jade’s good looks and charming persona either (it would be paradise in the underworld before you would ever let Jade know that, however).

Of course, meetings like these tend not to stay secret for long, especially amongst the high social circle. Many of the gossiping noblewomen whispered around about the possible tryst between the lovestruck baroness and the attractive Leech family heir. However, most of the attention fell to you as the supposed tragic lover of this “affair.” 

Being part of a well-respected family, you were ultimately the envy of certain nobles who would love nothing more than to pull you off your high horse, in sadistic glee in watching a family like yours be sullied. One of these nobles included the woman involved in the rumour herself, Baroness Byrne. 

“Please don’t misunderstand,” the baroness spoke with such fake sincerity, you almost laughed at the poor acting. “Sir Leech and I just get along so well that these rumours seemed to misconstrue our closeness” 

It’s almost insulting to think that this woman assumes that you can’t figure out that she was most likely the one to start these rumours in the first place since you knew Jade would try not to catch too much attention if the situation does not call for it. Despite being a married woman, you wondered if she’s hoping to break your engagement and take him for herself. 

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be in this nonsense” you scoffed internally but hid your thoughts with a maintained smile (Jade has given you some bad habits). “If she wants to play mind games, then let’s play~” 

“It’s quite alright, really. I’m not worried at all” you put on your best smile, a look of understanding displayed in your eyes. “In fact, I’m happy that my fiancé has made a friend like you, Baroness Byrne” 

“R-really?” The baroness stuttered which secretly delighted you. You hid your glee with a sickly sweet smile, however. 

“Of course, Jade and I tend to be quite busy since we often have to work tirelessly in maintaining our lands, assets, and the responsibilities we will inherit” you sighed as though life bears heavy on your shoulders “We spent so much time together since Jade likes to inspect every valuable item in my possession, taking in all its beauty and worth. He has quite an eye for such things, you see.”

You looked to the baroness, your gaze demanding her eyes to meet yours. Once she did, you curled your lips slightly to display just a hint of taunting smugness. “With the baroness, Jade can enjoy a simple and humble company without much to entice his personal interest.” 

One could almost see the steam escaping from the baroness’ face as she turned red with humiliated rage. With that, you decided to swiftly take your leave lest you wanted to get your eyes ripped out by a madwoman. 

After some time, you decided to make your way towards the carriage area to go home, you were shocked to see Jade standing outside alone. Once your eyes locked, he immediately made his way to you with an ever-present smile. Was he…waiting for you? 

No, that couldn’t be. 

“Jade, I assumed that you were still at the ballroom” Last you saw Jade, he was mingling with his brother Floyd and Count Azul. 

“Hmm, I was. But then, I heard some commotion amongst the ladies and decided that it’d be best to call it a night.” 

You made the right choice to leave when you did, then. You wanted to smile at the little chaos you caused but decided to stamp down that hidden glee. 

“Fair enough. That reminds me, you may be receiving an invitation from Baroness Byrne very soon, and it is in your best interest to accept it.” 

You seemed to pique Jade’s curiosity, though it seems that you always do. “Oh, and could you share the reason as to why?” 

“Because if she fell for my taunt, I would bet that she will try her best to entice you with whatever treasure or asset she can access.” You smirked, a sly glint in your eyes. “And hopefully you can convince her to show her husband’s warehouses where he stores the items the baron imports in, perhaps some hard-to-procure rarities” 

From what you see from Jade’s reports on the baron’s history, you’re betting that the greedy noble would be the type to obtain and sell anything that would bring him a fortune. With his focus on sea-related products, he might be acquiring and selling items from the merfolk community without their approval which is currently illegal with the peace treaty. Merfolk-specific products were now harder to obtain through human merchants which increased their value even more. 

“Pearls, mermaid scales, valuable minerals from the seabed…anything in the possession of a human who intends to sell them is grounds for punishment for treaty violation”

As if your minds were one, Jade was quick to realize your plans to trap the baron family. It was sneaky, dangerous, and if it works it would be ruining two people with no hope of salvaging their reputation. The baron would be stripped of his title and his merchant career while the baroness would be shamed for inviting an engaged man in an attempt to seduce him. Jade knew that you were intriguing, willing to act however necessary to protect yourself but to instigate the downfall of others, even if they were guilty of their crimes…

Jade can’t ever take his eyes off you. 

Still, he had to ask you something, “You seem to have quite the confidence in me. Do you not worry I will not live up to your expectations?” 

The teal-haired man expected a snarky quip from you or perhaps question him back over his competence. But instead, you furrowed your brows and looked at him adorably (in his perspective) with confusion. 

There was one thing you were sure of; Jade Leech would never get caught. No matter the situation, no matter the evidence, Jade will always find a way to slither his way out of trouble when he wants to. You were better off worrying about your own safety than his. 

“Why would I worry? You’ll never fail.” 

Your voice was so full of conviction, without a hint of doubt or hesitation. Jade felt a strange surge of glee upon hearing your answer. He found a compatible partner that never fails to amuse him. You brought new entertainment to his personal life. 

Jade let out a chuckle, a smile that almost seems genuine to you. The tall man looked to you, his mix-matched eyes staring with such unusual softness. Gently, he took your hand in his own so he could raise it to his lips where he then pressed a soft kiss upon your skin. In surprise, you locked gaze with Jade’s eyes as you felt warmth coursing through you though you played it off as uneasiness towards Jade’s strange actions. You continued to watch Jade as he kept his mouth barely touching your hand, but you could feel every brush of his lips as he spoke close to your fingers. “I will not disappoint you so keep your eyes on me, my dear.”