#but seriously i have such good days when i chug one in the morning

[creathur]

kissing monster energy full on the mouth.

[yurinaa-world]

Could you do Gallagher, Argenti, and Boothill with an actress reader who’s considered the silver screen queen of Penacony, the Robin of film, inspo of Judy Garland and Audrey Hepburn.

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇”

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Gallagher, Argenti, & Boothill x Female reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who’s considered the silver screen queen of Penacony

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒟𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: Silver screen queen = "silver screen" refers to the appearance of the movie screen in the early days of cinema. It often had a slightly reflective, silver-like look. So, a "silver screen queen" is a star who shines brightly on this "silver screen."

💫𝒢𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

He remembers you from the start to the glory days, and still to this day you remain glorious since then. There is never anyone in Penacony who doesn’t know your name or face unless they have literally been under a rock their entire life, your face is plastered on every poster in Penacony (Usually it’s always to upcoming movies that all release on the same week).

The rookies at the security office love raving about how good you looked in your new blockbuster movie, even making popularity polls on the bulletin board about which one of your movies you look the most attractive in (spoiler: he rips it off completely and gives those rooks a nice hit).

You always make sure to come and visit him in the after-hours, he usually gets annoyed that anyone shows up or stays past the closing time but he’ll make an exception for you, any drink you like, on the house. Just stay a bit longer, it’s been a while since you last saw each other.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Should star like you really be drinking this late.”

He worries quite a bit about you, every time you show up, you always drink pretty heavy drinks as if you don’t have a stomach. How do you deal with headaches in the morning? “People drink all the time in Penacony, I’m just the only one in a bar.” Pushing your cup forward motion for another drink from him, which he takes with a huff.

“And who’s the one staying open for you.” 

“I could just drink somewhere else if it bothers you.” he could’ve just closed down for the rest of the day, but of course, you know he’s worried, just what might happen if people see Penacony’s ‘sliver queen’ walking around drunk.

 “And who would take care of you, who knows what creeps are around if you went somewhere else,” he groans while gently handing your 4th, or 5th drink? Who knows, it’s not like anyone’s counting. “If you’re going to drink at least do it at your ‘luxurious’ beach house.”

“It's not fun, I would rather spend all my free time with you.” He just froze at your words, staring down at the little smile you give him, lucky you said that while you were drunk—at least he has something to tease with now—yet he wished for you to say that while you were sober.

“Does anyone even know you’re here?”

 “Not at all.” Seriously, your managers sound more like strict parents, with how you're running out in a blue moon to come and drink. “I should get going before they find out,” groaning loudly while you just chug down your last drink in a single breath, getting off your bar stool before going into your pocket to retrieve your wallet. “It’s on the house…They haven’t started calling yet so you should stay a bit longer,”

“It’s been a while, who knows when I might see you again.”

💫𝒜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎"

Have mercy on him, this knight of beauty, he sees the shining stars in the night sky but they can't even come close to the epitome of beauty you are. The way you’re beloved by so many in Penacony, it’s truly a beautiful sight to see (even though he doesn’t understand the dazzling entertainment you provide but it’s a beautiful sight to be able to gaze at.)

He can’t help himself but love every part of you and more, you grace him with your love for him and he shall repay it tenfold like the nimble knight of yours he is.

Small things he may do, a hard day for you, feet sore and slightly injured from the heels you wear (no matter how much padding you wear it still doesn’t help). May he be your assistant, allow him to do everything for you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Imagen him not wearing his armour

“Is your foot alright, my dear?”

Your day felt like one of those days where everything was just slow, along with the counter of your heel just eating away at you with how much pain it was causing your heel bone throughout the day. 

You just grit your teeth under your smile while the counter of the heel wedges into the back of your foot, leaving a nasty red mark that you didn’t have the chance to take care of, just wincing at the feeling whenever you move your foot.

It’s gotten so bad to the point that even Argenti noticed the discomfort expression while looking at the foot, he couldn’t help but get on one of his knees to take a closer look at your foot—medkit beside him just in case you needed it, groaning in pain when he gently takes your foot, touching your burning bruise—he seemed pretty fixed on the bruise that looked at it for quite a while.

“Quite a gruesome bruise caused on your perfect skin,” He mutters, before quickly getting to work with a bandage to wrap around to put some compression onto it.

Just hearing you wincing and hiss in the slight pain when the bandages were pulled tight, he can’t help but want to comfort that horrendous pain. “My dear, may your pain be taken away quickly.” he smiles up at you while his hand gently squeezes your leg to comfort you.

“I’m grateful, but how will I move around my foot feels so numb?” you smile back down at him, not like you were serious just joking a little, but you should have known better since this Argenti.

He straight up picks you up with such ease and quickness leaving you in awe, while his arms under your legs, pushing you above him as you wrap your arms around his neck to be secure. 

“I shall carry you, wherever you need to go.”

💫𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

Well, he’ll be damned, a total heartthrob lady like yourself, as his lady. If only he wasn’t a galaxy hunter, he’d have more time to spend with you and treat you better. Along with the fact your relationship is a complete secret from everyone in Penacony and those from the outside who come to turn to watch, which just makes things a bit difficult on both sides.

It’s hard for you to even meet up since everyone always seems to recognize either of you, Forget any type of date in a slightly populated area because it’s not going to work for the both of you, it just ends up with you wearing a full disguise, from clothes to makeup, the whole nine yards.

Sometimes he can’t even recognize himself whenever you show up at midnight for your small date to walk, scared him to death when you looked like that. Doesn’t matter at all though, he just wants to hold hands while you walk together taking in the view of everything when no one’s around.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I ain't interested.”

Boothill just brushes you off as if you were dirty, not even bothering to turn to look at you. Yet it shows: you did well with disguise if he can’t even recognize you.

“Only eyes set on me?” You laugh at him, just to turn around and look at you so confused, your voice matches but not your face.“It’s me, Boothill.” Gently smacking his shoulder while he looked relieved. You’ve gotten your disguise down to tea this time. Who knows what else those pretty hands could do?

“Fudge, I couldn’t even tell it was you.”

“I can’t let anyone recognize me,” 

His hand interwoven itself with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips, and kissing it gently. “What can’t these pretty hands do?” He just starts gushing out compliments, he just feels a bit guilty for leaving you for so long without any contract with him while he was gone.

“Come on, got you somethin’.” Quickly taking you away as if you were both children running to a secret spot in the woods, when he said he had something to show he wasn't joking. It was a beautiful sight, rows of flower bushes, all different colours of roses; all Illuminated by lamps. You usually never have time to visit with it a popular sight to see.

“The roses look like you. I saw them an’ thought you liked them.” 

“I’m surprised you paid attention to your surroundings.” you can’t help but tease a little, he cares you tell under all that steel he’s made out of, even his heart is made out of steel but at least beating (it’s gotta count for something right?).

“I ain’t dumbaxe, I can remember my lover's favourite things.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[heaven-s-black-box]

Definitely a Date- Lyney x Neuvillette's child!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: April 18th, 2024

Description: Hello 👋, I just wanted to say I loved the Neuvillette story and I would like to see a continuation where the relationship with Lyney and the reader was explored, but if it's not to much to ask I'd also like some more context with the relationship between Neuvillette and the readers mother.

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with @crystalkat6747, we thank her for her contribution. This was fun, and ended up being super long. I clearly have favorites, lol.

Part: 1 2 3 4

Word count: 2 699

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"I’m going out with Lyney today,” Y/n said before taking another bite of their croissant. “We might leave the city.”

“Very well, I won’t wait for you at dinner time.” Neuvillette stopped spreading the jam on his bread. “And if you could, ask him to stop climbing up to your window. He’s going to get arrested one of these times.”

Y/n inhaled sharply and began choking on their food. They grabbed their tea cup and chugged the drink before coughing some more. Neuvillette watched them carefully, pushing his chair back in case he needed to help.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m-” they coughed some more, “I’m fine,” they wheezed. “I didn’t think you knew about that,” they muttered, pouring themself more tea.

“I had my suspicions, but that was how he came looking for you the other day.”

Y/n cringed a bit at the mention of the other day. It had been three days since they and their siblings had scared their father shitless, and a day since the twins had gone back to Liyue where they were currently running a small legal business. In that time Y/n had stayed close to their father and been helping around the Palais Mermonia; whether it was their way of making up for scaring him or them trying to comfort themself was uncertain.

“On a different topic, I’ve been giving your question some thought.” Y/n��s brows furrowed in confusion. “About why your mother and I are no longer together.”

“Oh.”

“I believe it was as I said before, my duty as your father is to protect you, and your mother did not believe we could do that here. She’d always taken the prophecy seriously, and as the water level began to rise she became more anxious about what might happen. However, I refused to abandon my duties here and while she could not make you leave with her– at least you would have somewhere outside of Fontain you could go.”

“I’m guessing there was more to it?”

A small smile pulled at Neuvillette’s lips. “Yes, but it doesn’t concern you.”

Y/n leaned their chin on their palm and watched their father as he flipped to the next page of the Steambird. His eyes were solemn in a way akin to how they looked after a trial. They’d always known that he hadn’t liked the idea of the divorce, but they’d also gotten the feeling it was partly because he blamed himself. After their mother had left Fontain, he’d made it a point to spend his lunch break with them and take them to see shows they expressed interest in as though he were trying to make up for his previous absence caused by work.

In fact, they’d been in the audience together when Lyney and Lynette had debuted in the Opera Epiclese.

“So, when-”

A knock echoed through the house and Y/n rushed to the front door, Neuvillette close behind.

“Hey,” Y/n breathed out.

“Good morning, Y/n.” Neuvillette heard Lyney say just before he turned the corner. To his surprise, the magician was not in his usual clothes. Instead he was dressed in black slacks and a red dress shirt, sans his usual hat. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, let me just-ah!”

Y/n turned around to find their father standing at the end of the hallway.

“Enjoy your day.”

“Mhm,” Y/n nodded.

Lyney held out his arm for Y/n to take, and they waved goodbye to their father before stepping outside and linking their arm with his. Neuvillette watched them walk down the street, arm in arm, before closing the door to finish his morning routine.

“Nice outfit,” Y/n hummed, leaning into the magician’s side.

“Thank you, you look good too.”

They walked past shops with windows full of mechanical toys and fancy jewelry, occasionally stopping to talk about the items on sale. Y/n shared the story of  a new line of accessories they came across, and how the melusine who was sourcing the material had gifted them one of the first watches made. Lyney smiled as they went on about how pretty the watches circuitry was, which ended with them asking about Freminet’s recent inventions.

Lyney was more than happy to share about Pers’ latest upgrade as they headed towards Cafe Lutece. 

“What are we doing here?” Y/n wondered aloud as Lyney led them up to the counter.

“Grabbing snacks.”

Y/n shrugged, and ordered a batch of conch madeleines. When they turned back from getting their mora out, they found the exact change already on the counter. They turned to Lyney who grinned and pulled them away to a table where they could wait.

“I could have paid for myself.”

“It’s no problem, I like treating you when we go out.”

Y/n let out a fond sigh as a white box was set on the table. The young adults thanked the shop owner before Lyney took the lead once again, dragging Y/n to the aquabus station.

They boarded the Navia line and found themselves reminiscing about the recent flooding of the nation at the mention of their friend. The melusine went on with her speech, occasionally catching the interest of the two as she pointed out animals nearby. Y/n let their head rest against Lyney’s shoulder, unable to see the way the tips of his ears turned red.

In the sky, the sun shone brightly– unobstructed by clouds.

“You know…” Lyney started once they’d separated from the rest of the aquabus riders on their way towards the Opera Epiclese, “when we uncovered the whole scheme behind my first show here, I had nightmares for a week straight that you’d been the one drawn.”

He squeezed their hand but didn’t look at them. His eyes were trained forward as they turned away from the rainbow roses lining the path to look at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the frown adorning their lips.

“What brought that up?”

Lyney’s eyes flickered to their before he looked away again and started steering them towards the Icewind Suite installation.

“I figured you’d be home the other day, and when Monsieur Neuviellette barged into your room and you weren’t there…” He trailed off. “I’m not saying you have to tell someone everytime you go out,” he backtracked frantically when he caught Y/n looking away. “It was just, so unlike you to disappear like that.”

“Sorry. For scaring you guys, I mean.”

The two fell silent as they took a seat along the edge of the installation. Lyney set the box of treats between them and Y/n leaned back on their hands to watch the dancing machines.

“Oh, one, I’m supposed to tell you to stop climbing up to my window before you get arrested. Apparently the other day wasn’t the first time father’s caught you.” Lyney nearly choked on a blubber profiterole as his face turned nearly the same color as his vision, making Y/n laugh. “Secondly, why did you come looking for me the other day?”

Lyney stumbled over his words for a minute, still stuck in a coughing fit as he regretted not bringing anything to drink.

“I-” he coughed a bit more, “I wanted to tell you that Lynette and I got a show in Sumeru.”

“Really?” Y/n gasped, clapping their hands together. “That’s amazing, when is it?”

“A few months out, but Lynette and I have to visit the venue sometime next month to make sure everything will work.”

“That sounds fun.”

Y/n took a bite of one of the madeleines, turning back to the sweeping dance. Lyney propped his elbows up on his knees and leaned against his palms, watching them.

They looked over at him from the corner of their eye before inclining their head in confusion.

“What?”

“I want you to come with us.”

“For the show?” Y/n asked around another mouthful of madeleine. They shielded their mouth with their hand before swallowing. “Obviously, if you need me backstage.”

“No, well yes, but I mean next month. I want you to help us make a unique trick for our first international show.” Y/n stopped mid bite as Lyney continued. “I know right now you just come and go as you please, and that’s fine if you want to keep working at the Palais Mermonia, but I want to offer you a proper position in our show.”

Y/n sat up straight and stared at their half eaten madeleine for a moment before popping it into their mouth. 

“I’ll think about it,” they said after they finished it.

The answer seemed to satisfy Lyney as the magician smiled and turned to watch the dancing mechanisms. Across from them, the sun began to droop low enough that it washed out the show– its light glancing off the shiny metal and into the audience's eyes. They took this, and the completed sweets, as a sign that it was time to move on.

Lyney once again took the lead, looping his arm around Y/n’s and leading them back to the aquabus station.

Once back in the main court, he dragged them off to hotel debord where they had dinner before he once again dragged them off without an explanation.

“Alright, I wasn’t going to ask, but what’s all this about?” Y/n laughed as the magician dragged them through the court.

Streetlight had already turned on as the sun was hidden behind the high walls of the court. Lyney was no longer holding their arm but had a tight hold on their hand as they raced through the city.

“I haven’t seen you in four days, need to make up for lost time,” he laughed.

Lyney dragged them all the way out of the city before he slowed down again so they could walk side by side. He gently swung their hands back and forth, smiling as they ran their fingers over some of the calluses on his. They followed a practiced path down to the beach as the sun cast a golden glow over the landscape.

Y/n stopped suddenly when they hit the sand, causing Lyney to be yanked back, and took a deep breath. Lyney found himself smiling at this as he took off his shoes and socks.

A gentle tap at their knee lowered Y/n’s gaze to their feet Where Lyney was kneeling.

“What are you doing?” They asked, feeling their face heat up.

The magician grinned and carefully raised one of their feet to his knee where he began to take off their shoe.

“Taking your shoes off.” They yelped and grabbed his shoulders to balance themself as he removed the shoe and sock. “Other one.”

“I can definitely do that myself,” they laughed awkwardly.

“But I’m trying to spoil you,” he hummed as he set their other, now bare, foot down. He wrapped his arms around their legs and rested his chin against their abdomen. “Now how about a swim?”

“Are you trying to get me in my underwear?” They laughed, trying to ignore the heat spreading across their face and down their neck.

Y/n was so preoccupied with their own embarrassment that they missed the red tint that had also begun to cover Lyney’s face.

“If it makes you feel better I can strip first.”

“Ah, you’re serious.”

The realization stunned them, their thoughts running a mile a minute as they wondered if this had been a date in the first place. Not that they minded, but they couldn’t recall Lyney calling it a-

“AH!” they shrieked as Lyney wrapped an arm under their knees and the other around their back.

“Or we could just do this,” he laughed.

They shrieked and flailed as the deceptively strong magician picked them up and carried them over to the soft waves, then tossed them in. Y/n spluttered as they surfaced, wiping the water from their eyes just in time to watch Lyney jump in after them.

The wave hit them in the face, causing them to inhale water and start choking again.

“Are you okay,” he laughed, standing next to them in the water.

He wrapped an arm around them, patting their back as their head hung between them.

“You jerk,” they wheezed. “Now our clothes are wet.”

They sighed and kicked off the seafloor to float on their back, and Lyney joined them. He intertwined their hands so they wouldn’t float apart, and the two lay there watching the sky darken and the stars appear.

“Lyney?”

Y/n’s voice was muffled by the water in his ears.

“Yes?”

“Was this a date?”

The magician swung his feet under him and began to tread water as they’d floated away from shore. Y/n did the same, but grabbed Lyney’s shoulders to stabilize themself leaving the two practically nose to nose.

“No, if it was a date you’d definitely know.”

“And how would I definitely know?” Y/n inclined their head.

“Well for one I would have brought you flowers when I picked you up, two I wouldn’t let you pay for anything-”

“You didn’t let me pay for anything.”

Lyney cleared his throat awkwardly. “And three I would certainly hope you’d remember me asking.”

“So your sister helps you dress up for all your outings with friends? And you always walk arm in arm and pull out their chair?”

“How did you know Lynette helped me pick this out?”

“Lyney, in all the time we’ve known each other I’ve almost exclusively seen you in your show wear. For the first month we knew each other I wasn’t sure you owned anything else, then I just found out you’re a bit of a workaholic,” Y/n chuckled and moved their hands to cup Lyney’s face.

Lyney moved his hands up to their waist.

“This isn’t a date,” he said, causing Y/n to look at him incredulously. “I was going to ask you out on a date when I brought you home,” he grumbled, making Y/n laugh.

They dropped their head to his shoulder as theirs shook with every laugh. Lyney hugged their waist as they moved closer and pulled them back to where he could at least stand.

“I-”

“Nope. I’m still going to ask you, so save your answer for then.”

Y/n pulled back with a wide smile and nodded before the two wadded back to shore.

Lyney used his vision to dry them off, and they headed back into the city– once again hand in hand.

As soon as they arrived back at Y/n’s place, they turned around with an expectant grin. Lyney had to admit that he was less nervous than he’d expected, probably because they’d already made their answer very clear.

He flicked his wrist, and a rainbow rose appeared in his hand. They giggled as they reached for it, but Lyney pulled it back slightly.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Would you do me the honor of going on a date?”

“I would love to go on a date with you, Lyney.”

Lyney didn’t let them take the rose, moving it away again as they reached for it, and instead tucked it behind their ear.

“How does dinner tomorrow night sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” they hummed as they reached up to hold the hand lingering near their face. “Goodnight, Lyney,” Y/n whispered as they pressed their lips to his cheek.

---

“So-”

Y/n yelped, nearly falling off the stool at their vanity when Lyney spoke from behind them. The magician was perched on their open window sill with one leg crossed over the other and the day’s Steambird in his hands.

“Good morning,” he grinned at them. “Anyways, maybe it was a date.”

He stepped into their room and handed them the Steambird.

There, on the front page, was a picture of them watching the Icewind Suite. Lyney was leaning towards them with his chin in his palm and a lovesick look in his eyes and Y/n was watching the dance. The headline read Magic and Justice on a date?!

“Lynette?” Y/n sighed.

“Lynette.”

[comfortjoonie]

Hi I don't know if you are comfortable writing this, and it is completely understandable if you don't. I had a request and was wondering if u could write a story about RM and that he is feeling insecure about his looks and weight so he starts dieting and its starts getting bad to the point he ends up passing out but the members help him get better.

Thanks for the request anon! I am totally comfortable writing this! I hope you like it:

Tw// disordered eating, body shaming

DISCLAIMER::  In this story I talk from Namjoon’s perspective.  I do not believe the things I wrote, I’m writing what he is thinking.  The things he think in the story, I don’t believe and neither does he.  Just putting that out there.  Anyways..

Namjoon blinks his eyes and squints back at the comments.  It’s 2am and his vision is getting blurry.  But he needs to keep reading, he can’t stop.

Army_jhope188: Yeah, RM on the left.  He’s definitely fat these days.

Bts_fan_1219: He totally has a double chin.  No one in the fandom really likes him even before he was fat.

Rmcity: Don’t say it, the fandom loves him and he’s not fat, he just gained muscle.

Suga_fan_bt21: He’s not muscular.  He’s a fatass.

Jungkookswife321: I heard he had anorexia a while back, maybe you shouldn’t say stuff like that.

Bts_fan_1219: It’s not working, I think everyone hopes he gets it again so he can stop messing up the visuals of the whole group with his weight.

Namjoon put his head in his hands and closed the laptop.  It was true.  He knew it was true.  He’d gained weight.  But he had never thought of himself as fat until he saw the comments.  And they were right, he could feel it.  Guilt washed him hard as he realized that he was throwing off the group with his weight.  They had a dance practice soon.  Cameras were going to be on them.  He had two weeks, and he couldn’t let the fans down.

Namjoon decided to start tomorrow.  Quickly, quietly, he went to the kitchen to grab a bowl of rice – his last meal for the next two weeks.  He sat on the dining chair and ate it, but he felt so guilty that he couldn’t get past three bites.  He was literally weighing the group down.  He needed to stop eating, completely.

He went to bed and rested fitfully, plagued by memories of the comments he’d seen.  When he woke up, he was already hungry.  It was 10am, and dance practice started in 30 minutes.  He heard the bustling of the other members in the kitchen, and he pulled on his clothes and went to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Namjoonie-hyung,” Jimin said, smiling, and Namjoon smiled back.  He felt his stomach growl uncomfortably.  He always ate before 10am.  It felt weird.

“Good morning, Jimin,” Namjoon said.

“Joonie, sit down.  You need to eat before practice today,” Jin said, pointing to a chair.

“I’m not really hungry, hyung.  I just woke up,” Namjoon shrugged.

“Just promise me you’ll eat after practice, right?” Jin asked, and Namjoon smiled and nodded.

—--

When practice was over, Namjoon was still hungry.  He resolved to chugging water, which made him feel full, but he was still shaking.  He sat for the rest of the day in his room, scrolling through comments.  He needed the motivation.

Btsarmy_jimin:  I guarantee you he’ll come for the next comeback looking like a total pig.

Taehyungsluv: He already does, we know.

Alicia_robinson: Lol, I know right?  If he doesn’t come back skinnier I’m unstanning.

Jin_forever: Seriously?  You guys are so gross.

Namjoon sighed and rubbed his eyes.  He needed sleep.  If he didn’t have food, he definitely needed sleep.

—--

The next day went the same.  He felt hungry, but he went to dance practice anyways.  He felt weak and shaky, but he could push through.  When he woke up the third day, he was shaking.  His body ached.  But he still went to dance practice.  He could already see that he was starting to lose weight.  Every night, he looked at the comments.  It was different than before.  It didn’t make him feel sad and overwhelmed with guilt.  It made him excited – this was his motivation.  He was going to be skinny again.  He was going to make ARMY happy again.

—--

The sixth day, Namjoon was barely functioning.  He was shaking so badly that he could barely walk, and between every break in choreography, he was gasping so hard for air that the staff brought in an oxygen mask for him.  He insisted he was just out of shape and had a cold, and it seemed that everyone believed him.

He woke up in a cold sweat.  He felt nauseous, and instead of the ache he’d gotten used to over the past days, a sharp, striking pain hit his stomach.  He knew it was hunger pangs, he just had no idea why it took so long to start.  But it was so painful that when he tried to move he cried out in pain and Hoseok came rushing into his room.

“Joonie, what’s wrong?” Hoseok asked, kneeling beside Namjoon’s bed.  

“I don’t feel good, hyung…” Namjoon moaned.  

“Have you eaten since yesterday’s lunch?”

“Yes,” Namjoon lied.

“You look really bad, Joonah.  I think you should stay home today.  I’ll stay with you, ok?”

“No, it’s fine, y-you should go,” Namjoon said softly.  Hoseok pressed his lips together.

“Call me if you need anything, ok?”  Hoseok said, and Namjoon nodded.  He was too exhausted to say anything else.

Namjoon heard Hoseok and the others leave.  He tried to sleep, but the pain was too intense for it.  He wasn’t sure how long it was before the nausea made him feel like he was about to vomit.  He knew he wasn’t going to – there was nothing – but he felt so sick.  He needed water.  He was dizzy and disoriented as he reached for his phone and whispered “call Jung Hoseok” into the search bar.

The phone rang for a full minute, then stopped.  Hoseok didn’t answer.  Namjoon nearly cried.  He needed his hyung.  He called again, and this time Hoseok answered.

“Namjoonie?”

“Hobi-hyung.”  Namjoon’s voice was weak and raspy.

“What’s wrong Joonie?”

“...I’m so thirsty.”

Hoseok paused.  “Do you need me to get water for you?”

“Yes,” Namjoon whispered.

“I’ll be right there, Joon.  Ten minutes, ok?”

Namjoon hung up the phone.  He wasn’t sure if he could wait ten minutes.  He hadn’t drank water in a full day, and he hadn’t eaten in six.  He closed his eyes again.

When he opened his eyes, Hoseok was there with a glass of water.  He blinked.  No, everyone was there.

“You really look awful, Namjoonie,” Hoseok whispered.  “Why don’t you sit up so you can drink?”

Namjoon weakly pulled himself up.  Hoseok tilted the water to his lips, and Namjoon tried to drink, but he was shaking so hard and was so dizzy.  Suddenly, he felt his body go limp and the next thing he knew he had passed out.

Jungkook barely caught Namjoon before his head hit the floor.  Everyone gasped as they saw Namjoon unconscious.  His body was completely slumped into Jungkook’s arms.  All they could do was wait for him to wake up.

Namjoon jolted in Jungkook’s arms and the younger helped lift his head up.

“It’s ok, Namjoonie.  What happened?” Yoongi asked.  

“We should take him to a hospital,” Jimin said, but Yoongi shook his head.  

“Are you sick?”

Namjoon suddenly broke down crying.  “What’s wrong, honey?” Seokjin asked, petting Namjoon’s hair as his dongsaeng put his head in his hands.

“I h-haven’t eaten,” Namjoon sobbed.  “In six d-days, I just wanted t-to be sk–inny again.”

Seokjin’s heart broke.  “What do you mean, Joonie?”

“E-everyone thinks I’m fat.  All of th-the fans think I’m fat…I just w-wanted to be handsome for them,” Namjoon cried, shaking so hard that Jungkook had to hold him steady.

“No, Namjoonie-hyung, you’re beautiful,” Taehyung said.  Namjoon shook his head and sobbed.  “Yes, you are.  You’re the most handsome man in the world.  It doesn’t matter what people say.”

“B-but I am fat,” Namjoon sniffed, and Yoongi wiped his tears.

“You’re not fat at all.  You’ve just gained muscle.  And that’s a good thing, Joonie, you love working out.  You should do things that make you happy.”

“I’m making all y-you guys look bad…”

“You make us look better, Joonie,” Hoseok said.  “You’re not fat at all.  You’re perfect.  Come here.”  Hoseok brought Namjoon’s head to his chest, feeling the younger’s tears land on his shirt.  “You’re perfect.  You’re perfect,” He said again.

Yoongi reached over to rub Namjoon’s back.  “You should eat, Joonie.  You’re so pale.  How about some rice?”

Namjoon shook his head furiously.  “N-no, I need–”

“You need to let us take care of you.  You need to eat, Joonie,” Yoongi said gently.  “OK?”

There was a pause before Namjoon answered.

“O-OK…”

Yoongi smiled.  “I’ll go make some rice for you.  You’ll feel better in no time.”

[uweiy]

Original Content Masterpost

because even I can’t find my own damn content on this damned website.

*All fics mentioned are directly on Tumblr unless specified otherwise

The Untamed

Gifsets: Wwx and rooftops /Wangxian and jc being done part 1, part2, part3 / Yiling laozu /At Nevernight I wasn't by your side / I broke my promise /Bunny lanterns 🐇 / Lwj understanding the golden core thing

Fanart: Wwx flower boy mini comic / The red undergarnment / Song Lan / It snows / Yanqing and books

Memes: Is this... 🫱🦋🐦?/ Stabbing yourself in the heart /Picture u can hear /Y'all deserved better / Alignment chart / Tag urself (the untamed characters as people in my classroom ft. Stickmen) / The Untamed character generator

A lot of Textposts-y memes:

Wwx introducing himself and lwj / wwx translating lwj microexpressions / he'd marry you if you asked brother / wwx chugging a whole jar of ??? / Wwx no / there is no cure / Jiang fengmian loves his sons equally / lqr at wangxian wedding / wangji this is not allowed / I'm cold / get the hoe / I wasn't drunk / wen Ning is precious / shut UP / good morning :D

The juniors shenanigans: Jin Ling adulting / *sneaking out*/da headbands very precious yes / fairy climbs a tree

Fics

Xicheng Trying to hold on to you (1.6k, hurt/comfort), you confused me with a fucking dog (1.6k, College AU), They were roommates (10k, college AU)

Wangxian: Night of shooting stars (1.3k,Star!Lwj), Those who bleed (600 words, angst)

Other: Dangling Accessories (1.9k JC&Jin ling, Wandering Heart (Yanqing, 1.5k) Mianmian's Education course (Jc &wq, 800words) Alive (wwx-centric, drabble), Ouyang Zizhen at yi-city (<1k)

More detailed Cql-fic masterpost (with summaries) INCOMPLETE. Or read them in the AO3 collection (username Namariae).

Talks and other stuff

Yanqing 😍

The Untamed rewatch

2019 top 10 favourite posts / 2019 top 10 most popular posts

Cql OST / Beyond Control (LXC Character song)

Ask game

Cultivator conferences = disaster

Mriad

Posts: Chuyao being gay / Chuyao still being gay / list of things Lu Yao stole from Chusheng / Seriously so gay / go make me coffee

Fics: Empty space(filled with flowers) / All that glitters (ao3)

The Devil Judge

Beyond Evil vs The Devil Judge

Textposts: Get the fuck outta my house / Noo don't check me out ahaha / the Gaon Judas imagery

Gifs: *homoerotically pushes you against wall*I heard you live alone / the Kang Mansion / undresses you to tend to ur wounds

Fic: Rightful Place part 1 (Gahan)/ Rightful Place Masterpost

Love is Science

What the fuck is Love is Science?

Gifs: Ouwen's oh shit moments / Mark panicking bc gay / Shen Ying imitating a Sloth / that kiss in the gym / Ouwen pretty ✨ / Lee Mark's outfits are bisexualcore / love is in the little things

Memes/Other: Savage Ouwen / u're reasonable but ur friends are dumbasses /

Fic: The Mark/Ouwen sickfick no one asked for (domestic)

Recommendation lists

Top 5 BL shows I like

I have nothing to watch (yes u do)

Other:

Pile of Goop Aoki (Kieta Hatsukoi) / Rainless love in a Godless land / To my Star cooking (To my Star) / The 6 stages of Tumblr / Hanahaki disease prompts(?)

>📺(more or less) Current Watchlist

___

Other interests

Lotr

Viggo Mortensen has chaotic neutral energy

Continued list of things Viggo did

I've only had Frodo for a Day and a half

What do we do When we are sad

Aragorn you go king

(Discussion)Why does Gandalf love hobbits so much?

The Clearest diamonds (Bagginshield, AO3)

Stranger Things / The Sandman

over at @grabyourpillow

[nessaannepaints]

Coffee Crawl: A Diary Entry

I thought it would be interesting to document my day going around to locally owned restaurants and coffee shops to sample. They gave you a shot glass worth of whatever coffee they were promoting. So it’s not like I chugged a liter of coffee the whole morning with my handy cactus mug.

10 am- I arrive and get my punch card. The first place is already open for the first morning group session. It’s 30 degrees outside and sunny.

10:15 am to 10:30 am- I wait in line at the next shop. There is a little flurry of snow. It’s a small donut shop that is serving a cold breakfast brew. Normally I am patient but 1) I haven’t really had coffee 2) it’s freezing. This definitely was the longest wait and it wasn’t bad. This is one of those donut shops that serve outrageous eccentric donuts. I like this place but I wanted to go to this waffle place.

11 ish- I’m at the waffle place. They have these really good ice cream sandwiches made with hot fresh Belgian waffle quarters and you guessed it…outrageous ice cream flavors. Something to mention: the night before, I celebrated both St Patrick’s Day and the Spring Equinox. Also, I started my period the day before. So, I wanted that good crap kind of food. I devoured that mf. This older woman looked at me like I was some trash gremlin eating trash. But, she’s missing out.

11:45- I take a break from the coffee hunt. By now, I have had three shot servings of coffee (the waffle place added Baileys upon request) and one espresso shot. So I browse this small independent vintage bookstore. Trying not to give into temptation. As I am browsing, my heart is starting to race. Then I begin to sweat. But I refuse to go through the hassle of taking my heavy winter coat off. Finally, I purchase an art and music history book from the 1930s for $20. There was much to choose from. My first choice was a light brown, beautifully embellished book about tuberculosis (definitely published in the early 20th century). It was $80…and I am a cheap bastard. Then there was a geology book also $20 but as I read through, I started lacking interest. I want to go back to that store though. When I finally become rich and famous, I am coming back for the beloved tuberculosis book.

12:45- I start feeling light headed. So I sit at the brewery with a glass of water. And then get a breakfast beer with my ticket. The bartender is taking pictures of her favorite coffee mugs from customers. She takes a picture of mine.

1:20- I stop at a CBD+Hemp store. It’s small and a group of people come in. Fuck this, I’m out.

1:45- The final coffee shop on my ticket is a coffee lounge where you can chill out with rescued cats. Obviously you need to make a reservation to hang out with the cats. There was a 20 minute waiting period. By now, I have had four coffee shots, one tea shot, one stout, three small coffee related treats. As much as I would have loved to hang out with the cats, I decided to call it a day. There was also the risk of surprising Jewel with a sibling.

2:30- I make it back home. I am diedrayting and sleepy. So I drink two glasses of water before taking a nap with Jewel.

4:45 I wake up and drink more water. I also take a quick shower because I feel mildly disgusting. Tonight I am making myself some healthy dinner.

Overall, I actually had a wonderful time. We don’t get to visit this part of town very much so it was a treat to check out the shops and restaurants.

Seriously, support local businesses.

[la-principessa-nuova]

So like, I wasn’t drinking enough water 😅

(continued below the fold)

because like ADHD and whatever and so like i’d get to the end of the day and then be like, “oh, i feel bad in every way. how much did i drink today? oh, nothing? that’s probably it 🙃.” and then i’d get distracted on my way to get water and not have any still

and i have like so many water bottles and cups and whatever

but at one point i was sick of the plastic straw in the water bottle getting gross over time so i switched to a chug cap

and like that makes me never drink because i have to tilt my head back and everything or something like that 🤷‍♀️

and also my little normal sized water bottle with the cute little cozy i knitted for it permanently lives in my bedroom for before-bed-water and morning pill-taking (so i don’t sound too ambitious i was learning to knit and messed up my first test square and made a shape that happened to kind of work as one when folded over and sewn, and it’s a whole mess, lol)

so the one i ended up using was a giant behemoth of a water bottle that i just don’t like the look of and got purely to be big so i can bring a lot of water with me when i’m at my desk working, and that has a screw-on chug cap, which ends up being enough of a barrier that i end up only remembering to take a couple sips throughout the day 😅

so i was thinking about how to increase my water consumption and realized this was an obstacle, and i realized that when i have tea in the tumbler (oh hey) that i use for it, i drink a lot more, mostly because the open top is easier to sip from, and also because it’s cute 🥰 so there’s a little bit of gender euphoria in having it like an accessory

but i realized that once gets towards the bottom and i have to tilt it back, it has similar issues to the chug cap. but i realized i can just use a straw and that solves the problem. but i didn’t want to start using disposable straws or go back to using those plastic straws that get icky and make my water taste 😖 so i decided to buy metal straws with silicone tips. i thought they might be weird to get used to or whatever but i figured it was worth a shot.

then i took a week or two to remember to wash them, put them away and forgot they existed for a couple months 🤦‍♀️

but then i realized i needed to get serious 🧐 about solving this issue because i started having some signs of maybe being more seriously under hydrated 😬 and i needed to at least rule that out as the cause, so i started water tracking again

side note: having a water lady widget and getting notifications calling me by my name are nice little bonus bits of gender affirmation 🥰

once i started water tracking, i remembered the straws 😅 and tried one out. at first it was a bit weird feeling the soft straw tip on my mouth, but now that i’m used to it, it’s really sensory good and i love stimming with it 💕

but it’s also just really cute ☺️ and i like it

[wheeboo]

tell me that you love me | joshua hong {part one}

SYNOPSIS. in which you and joshua are simply different in more ways than one, yet only seem to find a common ground in struggling to chase your dreams. so why does life keep throwing you two at each other, despite your different worlds, and why does it feel so terrifyingly right? PAIRING. musician!joshua hong x deaf-artist!reader (ft. cafe owner!jeonghan, musician!seokmin, best friend!seungkwan, best friend!wheein, producer!jihoon) GENRE. fluff, slice of life, kdrama romance-esque, mild angst, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn WARNINGS/TAGS. cursing, shua and reader has some self-doubt issues :(, someone makes insensitive comments about reader, mention of alcohol (beer), mention of cigarettes, everyone ships them, kissing, terms of endearment, Softie Domestic Joshua™, it conveniently rains when they're together, this is 85% fluff and 15% plot and the brainrot was giving me an existential crisis, honestly there's not much warnings it's just a love story <3 WORD COUNT (FOR PART ONE). 20k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). 37k

notes: after 7 months (minus the 2 months i lowkey abandoned this oop), it's done! this fic could have honestly been 20k words, but the brainrot refused to do so. inspired from the kdrama of the same name and the jdrama Aishiteiru to Itte Kure. any uses/descriptions of sign language (ASL) throughout the story is researched! expressing my love to all my mooties who suffered listening to me talk abt this fic. i hope this fic being long doesn't bore you all to death <3 funny enough, this was also supposed to be a very very very belated bday fic to @slytherinshua LMFAO. ty to @bananabubble for also helping me a lot with this fic too!

part one | part two

“Okay, so to recap: the espresso machines are on the right side of the counter, just next to the pastry display. You'll get familiar with them really easily. The barista station is behind them, where all the little doohickeys are, yaddi-yaddi-yadda…”

“Aren't you supposed to be teaching me where everything is?” Joshua asks in slight annoyance after securing the apron around his waist.

Jeonghan just chugs a wet, dripping rag in his direction, narrowly missing Joshua's head and landing with a damp plop on the counter. Then he wipes his hands on his apron, shooting a small wink at the other man. “Patience, grasshopper.”

“Why did you decide to hire me again?”

“So I can finally kick you out of my apartment," Jeonghan answers, a playful bite to his voice, and Joshua only rolls his own eyes. “in a non-violent way, of course.”

“You're actually an imbecile, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Oh, but you love me.” Jeonghan smirks, plucking the wet rag from the counter and shoving it in Joshua's hand. “Chop-chop, grasshopper, you got a whole day ahead of you.”

Joshua Hong was never one to detest helping out a friend𑁋his best friend, to be specific. He knew Jeonghan was doing this in order to help him out as he had been living under the man's roof for the past two years, with the promise of finding a new place testing his patience. Even with his nightly gigs at the busking centre in the middle of town, having a day job to earn some extra money seemed like a very good idea. 

But he seriously doesn't understand how Jeonghan managed to open up his own café in the first place. It's remarkable, actually.

The day is surprisingly slow. Even with the café being in the mere heart of the city and amidst the morning and afternoon rush, barely any pastries were taken from the display. The only sounds come from the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall, and the obnoxious screech of the stool that Jeonghan sits on not that far away.

However after some time, the familiar, soft chime of the door echoes throughout the café, announcing the arrival of a customer. Joshua finds his head immediately snapping up after fumbling with the frother, a welcoming smile dawning across his face as he smooths his apron and takes his place at the register. 

The figure in front of him is momentarily enveloped by the sunlight that seeps through the large window panes. He waits for them to step fully into the warm glow of the café, his eyes drawn to the way they hold themselves𑁋shoulders slightly hunched, hands tucked deep within the pockets of a lightweight jacket, and seemingly a book tucked under their shoulders. Their steps are slow, soft even as they approach the counter, and a smile, gentle and hesitant, plays on their lips.

“Hi, welcome in," Joshua greets politely. “What can I get for you today?”

You find yourself gazing at the unfamiliar barista in front of you with meticulous curiosity, before letting your eyes drift to the nametag on his shirt: Joshua. His eyes immediately dart down to your hands that you lifted up on instinct, then hesitation gnaws at you, and suddenly you drop your hands back to your sides again.

“Our menu is up here.” Joshua motions above his head. “and our pastries are over here, if you would like to take a look.”

You wave your hand dismissively, then fumble for your phone, showing him an order written on the screen.

hot vanilla latte - extra foam - name is y/n

“Hot vanilla latte, extra foam?” Joshua repeats, confirming the order with a friendly smile, and the response he gets is a pair of thumbs-up. “And the name is... Y/N?”

Your face lights up, feeling some heat threaten up your neck as you offer a small nod to confirm.

There's something endearing that blooms in Joshua's chest as he punches the order down on the register. The moment is stretched with long silence before he watches as you quickly turn around to head to the outdoor sitting of the café. He sees you place yourself down at one of the seats, back turned towards him, and all he could do is let his eyes linger for a beat longer before realising that he actually has to make your order.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as he sets to work. He fumbles slightly, steaming the milk for your latte and carefully (and clumsily) creating a cloud of airy foam.

When he places the mug on the counter, his eyes drift back to where you sat outside, the slight breeze and midday sun casting down on the patio. He notices that you're hunched over, seemingly concentrating on something, and he can't help but wonder what occupies your thoughts. With the latte in hand, he heads towards the door, the bell above the door softly chiming. 

The sun paints the city in dappled gold, and a light breeze sways through the air and catches a strand of your hair that floats like a wisp. It's a picture-perfect scene, and Joshua thinks you fit right into it, all while hunched over a small sketchbook and pencil in your hand flying across the page.

He hesitates right behind you, unsure how to get your attention without startling you. Every option that he mulls over seems intrusive and jarring.

In the end, Joshua decides on a gentle tap on your shoulder. As his fingers make contact with your shoulder, a sudden jolt runs through your body, and you visibly startle, your hand flinching involuntarily and coming in contact with the mug in Joshua's hand.

The glass mug slips from Joshua's grasp, crashing down to the floor in thousands of tiny shards. Hot coffee splashes, hitting the skin of both of your hands and splattering on your sketchbook. Gasps fly from both your lips, echoing throughout the quiet patio. You wince in your seat, nearly causing you to stumble off but you manage to catch yourself.

For a long moment, Joshua could only find himself frozen, yet when he notices the pained look on your face, he instinctively reaches out, grabbing your hand without thinking. Your fingers curl around his in a startled reflex, your skin warm against his own. He cradles your hand in his, pressing his palm against your skin, as if trying to shield you from the worst of the heat and the glass scattered around the two of you.

Adrenaline courses through him as he pulls your hand back, examining it frantically. A thin red line crosses near your thumb, a tiny bead of blood sprouting at its edge. Panic claws at his throat, but he forces himself to stay calm. You're watching him, eyes wide with a mix of shock and pain, and he sees his own fear reflected in your pupils.

“Crap, I-I'm so sorry!” he blurts out, voice rough with regret. “Are you okay? I shouldn't have... I should have been more careful…”

You watch as Joshua's eyes scan your hand, the features of his face noticeably soft and etched with concern. The warmth of his hand cradling yours sends a jolt through you, something unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.

When you look back up at him, he asks if you're okay again, your gaze focusing in on his lips then back up at his eyes. You can tell he's worried𑁋he even seems breathless from all the panic too. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you silently answer with a nod.

The air seems to thicken with awkwardness. Joshua's gaze lingers down on your hand cradled in his trembling ones, the sight of a tiny cut on the flesh between your thumb and index finger sending a fresh wave of shame to come crashing down on him.

When you both lock eyes once again, you feel a flutter in your stomach. Then Joshua clears his throat, a million apologies tumbling over each other in his mind.

“I, uh…” he begins, then stops, unsure how to proceed. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You realise he's asking about you, and you peer down at your hand, the sting of the burn momentarily forgotten in the face of his genuine worry. It's just a small red line, a minor burn that will fade in time, and a tiny cut where the glass had scratched. But the warmth radiating from his hand cupped over yours feels oddly... comforting.

You shake your head, then motion to his own hand, as if asking the same thing.

Joshua blinks in surprise. He examines it, a small line of red just starting to show from a small cut, and a tiny calloused area from the burn of the coffee. It was barely noticeable, and it admittedly stung with a dull ache, but he wouldn't acknowledge that𑁋he didn't want to make you worry. It's not that bad, he thinks, but his thoughts are instantly replaced with concern for you.

“Here, let me... I'll get some bandages for you.” He gently releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary, and rises to his feet. “And a new drink, of course. On the house.”

Before you can give him a nod or anything, you watch him walk towards the café, the sunlight reflecting off his dark hair. He turns back once inside, and your eyes meet across the wall of glass. You offer a smile, and raise your hand in a small wave. He returns one sheepishly, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes just slightly, before disappearing to the side.

You stand up as well, shooting a glance down at your sketchbook, the brown splatter bleeding across a corner of the paper. It didn't look like a lot of it was damaged luckily𑁋you could probably incorporate it into the drawing somehow. The thought seems to soothe you.

Joshua mutters curses to himself as he struggles to find the first-aid kit underneath the counter in the employee's only restroom. He rummages through a drawer, tossing aside spare toilet paper rolls until he finally lays eyes on the small white box labeled First Aid.

“Knew you wouldn't be a great match for this,” Jeonghan's voice rings out suddenly as Joshua retrieves a few pieces of bandages, the man finally emerging after what seems like a long ass hour of a break.

“You finally regret hiring me now?” Joshua scoffs playfully, waving the bandages in front of Jeonghan's face. “They haven't spoken to me at all, so I have no idea if they're okay or not.”

Jeonghan lifts up an eyebrow. “They aren't speaking?" Some silence passes. "Is their name Y/N?”

Joshua looks back at him. “Yeah, why?”

“They come here a lot, like a regular, usually just drawing and stuff, I think,” Jeonghan points out, pursing his lips together. “and… they’re also deaf.” 

The age of seven was the last time you heard your voice.

You went to bed ill with a high fever that night, only to wake up the next morning in a muted world. The change wasn't a gradual muffling or a sudden pop like a balloon bursting. It was all simply... gone. You didn't hear the pitter-patter of the morning rain against the window, the rumble of the air conditioner, or even your own heart beating in your chest𑁋but you could feel it. 

At first, you thought it was a trick, perhaps a dream that had somehow bled into reality. You screamed, but no sound escaped your lips. You shook your parents awake, but their worried questions were met with your frustrated silence. Tears streamed down your face as they rushed you to the hospital. Then all the tests, scans, diagnoses𑁋they all came to the same the same result: a sudden, inexplicable loss of hearing.

Learning to navigate the world growing up without sound was a slow, exhausting process. You learned to read lips, got used to communicating with sign language, understand the subtle cues of body language, and rely on written words. Your world shrunk, confined to the walls of your home and studio, the familiar faces of your family, the lens of your camera, and the canvases that could speak for you.

You got used to this world of silence. You got used to the fact that you have to live in harmony with those around you, to put in that extra effort to understand them so you could simply be accepted and heard, for once. At a young age, you became adept at expressing yourself through art𑁋capturing the beauty of the silent world you inhabited, the emotions that flowed through your fingertips onto canvases and photographs.

Honestly, the world is so beautiful. Even though you can't hear the bustling city around you, the distant conversations, or the groans of traffic, you've learned to see and appreciate the world in a way others might overlook𑁋finding beauty in the stillness that surrounds you. The way sunlight dances on the leaves, the gentle sway of trees, the vibrant colours that paint the sky during sunset, the look of love between two lovers. 

The city is especially colourful at night. Neon store signs burning bright against the dark canvas of the evening sky, people around you moving in routine patterns, and cars flying down the streets. You've perfected the art of capturing these moments, freezing them in time with your camera, and bringing them to life with just a simple brushstroke.

You can't hear the laughter spilling from a nearby work dinner or the murmured conversation of a couple walking hand-in-hand, but you see it all in the tilt of their heads, the curve of their lips, the spark of their eyes. You watch the way their bodies move, the sway of their hips, the swing of their arms, and their stories unfold before you like a silent movie on a grand screen. And that in itself, is beautiful. 

You click through the photos you've taken throughout the day on your camera carefully, biting your bottom lip in concentration. There's a photo of a child chasing pigeons in the park, a flock of birds flying through the cloudless sky, a cat lounging in a window sill, and a smile breaks across your lips.

However, you find yourself accidentally bumping into something, or someone. Hastily, you bring your head up to the stranger to apologise, yet they walk away before you even could. Letting out a sigh, you bring your attention back to your surroundings, and your eyes widen to the crowd of people gathered in the small square you hadn't noticed before.

Your eyes dart around, trying to scan through the sea of faces while slowly pushing through the crowd as your curiosity gets the best of you. And when you get yourself to nearly the core of the crowd, you could only freeze to the sight in front of you.

There's a man perched on a wooden stool in the middle, a guitar entangled in his grasp and a microphone stand standing idle in front of him. You can hardly make out his face since you're standing to the side, but for some reason, all you can do is watch in awe.

You can't hear his words, of course. But you feel them. You feel them in the way his fingers dance across the strings, in the way his head dips with the melody, in the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. You see them in the way the light catches his hair, in the way the shadows dance on his face, in the way his eyes flutter open for a fleeting moment.

Then a sudden urge makes you reach for your camera, quickly turning it on and bringing it up to your eyes. And with a simple click of the shutter, you capture the moment in a perfect frame, before weaving through the crowd once more and back into the fresh air of the city.

You look down at the photo, and it tugs at your heartstrings. The nearby lighting catches his face just right, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the gentle curve of his smile. He's lost in the music, his skilled fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar, eyes closed as he seems to pour his soul into every note. You zoom in on the photo, admiring the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

He looks familiar, somehow. You rack your brain, trying to place him, but your mind draws a blank. You've stumbled into the busking area by accident countless times and captured endless moments through your lens, but this one feels different. 

The vending machine swallowed his dollar. Literally.

Joshua pounds his fist on the lousy machine a few times, wraps his arms around it like a koala hug and attempts to give it a few shakes, hoping that the drink would somehow drop to the bottom, but nothing happens. Letting out a groan, he takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. Great.

He glances around the area, scanning to find some sort of alternative solution, and his eyes set on a convenience store just a few blocks down. He takes a few steps in the direction, before something brushes past him and causes him to stop.

“Hey, the vending machine doesn't work…” Yet when he turned his body around, he didn't expect to see you making your way to the machine, tapping on the keypad and inserting a dollar, all for the machine to spit out two cans of sodas.

Joshua watches as you bend down to retrieve the cans, peering down in confusion at the second one in your hand. Then when you straighten and look back up, the two of you suddenly meet eyes. 

There's a brief pause, and you can't really tell if Joshua is staring at you like you've grown a second head or something else. Then you glance down to the extra drink in your hand, and ah, it clicks.

Your lips move in a silent question, and Joshua realises you must be offering him the extra can. He waves his hand, signaling that it's okay, but you insist, gesturing for him to take it. With a grateful smile, he steps up to you and reaches out, accepting the cold can from you, his fingers brushing over yours briefly.

Joshua watches as you click open the can and take a sip. When you glance back at him, his lips part, then close again, his brow furrowing together like his mind is cluttered. You can't hear his thoughts, of course, but the way his eyes dart from your face to your hands and back again seems like he's trying to ask you something.

“Is your…” he starts to ask, pointing to your hand, noticing that your hand appeared bare of the bandages he gave you more than a week ago. “Is your hand feeling better now?”

You catch his words by reading his lips, and you nod with a reassuring smile. Relief washes over Joshua's features, his eyes softening, and he gestures again towards your hand as if to make sure it's healing alright.

“Wait, I... Sorry, let me start this over.” Joshua seems to mentally take a deep breath. “I'm Joshua, by the way. I should've introduced myself properly first.”

You know that already, but hearing him formally introduce himself ever since your little mishap at the café brings a strange flutter to your chest. You notice Joshua shift from foot to foot, the smile to his face faltering just slightly.

“Is it okay if I ask if you're…” Joshua motions to his ear, then shakes his head, seeing that it might come across as insensitive. Instead, he points to his own mouth and then makes a questioning gesture with his eyebrows, hoping you'll understand what he's trying to ask.

You nod, understanding his question perfectly, raising your hand and making a simple sign, tapping your ear and then shaking your head. You've had this conversation countless times before, with strangers and acquaintances alike. But there's something different about the way Joshua asks𑁋something softer, more genuine.

“I should've realised sooner,” Joshua says. "I'm sorry if that came off as rude.”

You wave your hand dismissively and tap your temple, then point to his mouth, conveying that you could read his lips just as you've been doing this entire time, and Joshua could only watch your movements carefully. Though relief mixes with a tinge of embarrassment in his limbs. He hadn't meant to pry, but curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by putting you on the spot like that. He could tell you've probably heard this conversation many times with other people, yet you seem to handle it with such patience.

With a wry smile, you secure your can of soda under your arm before bringing your hands up, signing heartedly, “It's okay,” and Joshua watches your movements with awe and also... a little confusion.

“Can I ask what that means?” he asks slowly, curiously.

You wave a dismissive hand in front of his face, pulling out your phone, quickly typing out something before showing it to him.

It means that it's okay

“Ah, I see,” Joshua responds with a sheepish smile, attempting to clumsily repeat the action with his own hands, but he quickly brings it back to his side. “If I'm speaking too fast, feel free to let me know. I'll try to slow down.”

You shake your head, typing on your phone once more.

Thank you, but you're doing just fine, I promise

A blush creeps onto Joshua's cheeks as he reads your message. He's relieved you're not bothered by his questions, but the awareness that you've been understanding him all along makes him feel a bit silly. In a good way, of course. He takes a hesitant sip of his soda, the silence between you stretching just a bit too long. He wants to talk to you, really talk, but he's unsure where to begin.

As you both stand there, with the city's sounds humming around, Joshua feels the nerves crawling up his skin. He gestures towards the convenience store nearby, silently asking if you need anything. You shake your head, indicating that you're good, but then motion down the road, pointing at something down the street.

“Are you heading somewhere?” Joshua asks, and he feels his heart jump once he sees you nod, feeling proud for understanding what you're trying to say.

You pull out your phone again, typing:

The museum

“The museum?” Joshua repeats, picking his head back up to squint down the street. He feels the hesitation at the tip of his tongue, as if considering something. But then, the intrusive action takes over, and he points in the same direction. “Would it be okay if I walk with you? The café is near there. I was about to head there myself.”

You notice the uncertainty in his eyes. Joshua watches your face for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort or rejection. However, you simply offer a warm smile and a nod in response, which makes Joshua feel a surge of relief. A small smile plays on his lips, and he falls into step beside you as you both start walking towards the museum.

The late afternoon sun dips below the city skyline, casting long shadows across the pavement as you and Joshua walk side-by-side, your steps falling into sync. You steal glances at him every now and then, captivated by the way his hair catches the golden rays and how the lines of his face soften. He catches your eyes a few times, which makes you both look away at the same time. It's a bit awkward admittedly, yes, but there's a certain charm to it when he's right next to you.

Joshua tries to find ways to bridge the silence, but his words tangle in his throat.

Instead, he waves a hand in front of you, earning your attention back on him.

“Do you like art?” he asks. “Back at the café, I noticed... you were drawing?” Then he does a scribbling motion with his hand.

The question hangs in the air, and you find yourself pausing to consider it. A thoughtful expression settles on your face, and Joshua watches as you take a pause to grab something from out of your bag𑁋your sketchbook𑁋before handing it to him.

He shoots a brief glance at you, as if asking for permission, but your trusting gaze encourages him. He gently opens the sketchbook. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the first page.

It looks to be a sketch of the beach, capturing the vastness of the ocean, the setting sun in the horizon, and the small details of people walking across the sands. Joshua can almost feel the warm sand beneath his bare feet and the salty tang of the air on his tongue.

He flips through the next few pages. A bustling city street, a lone bird perched on a branch, its feathers so finely detailed they seem to shimmer in the sunlight, a child's laughter echoing through a park, portrayed in a burst of joyful strokes.

Joshua feels a lump rise in his throat. He looks up at you, eyes wide with admiration and something else he can't quite define.

“Wow, these are incredible,” he manages to say. “You're so talented.”

You smile shyly, feeling the heat crawl up your cheeks as Joshua flips to the last page. In an instant, he feels his heart drop, but not in a bad way𑁋it's a page significant with the brown stain at the corner, but it's the way you seem to use the stain as a part of the sketch, blending it into the colours of the sky and the warm tones of the café.

“I was worried about your sketchbook,” he confesses, looking back at you. “I thought I would have to buy you a new one. But... I'm glad it's okay.”

He hands you back the sketchbook, his fingers brushing yours once again as the exchange is made, and you both continue your way down the sidewalk.

And then, you reach the museum.

Joshua turns towards you, and you're already looking at him. Then you pull out your phone once more, typing in a message, before showing it to him.

Thank you for walking with me

“It's𑁋You don't have to thank me,” Joshua acknowledges, his eyes reflecting sincerity. “I enjoyed it. Besides, it's the least I could do after the, uh... incident.”

You both stand a distance away from the museum entrance, knowing that you have to part ways, yet there's some hesitation in there. Joshua peers at the museum building, taking in its appearance, trying to ignore the bubbling reluctance in his chest.

“Maybe I can see you around…” But when Joshua brings his eyes back to you, you're already trailing towards the museum entrance. The embarrassment catches in his throat. He stands there for a moment with his gaze following you, clutching the can of soda, feeling the warmth radiating from it seeping into his palm.

Joshua sees you stop short in front of the entrance, turn back to him, and offer a small wave of your hand, your eyes locked with his for a brief moment. He reciprocates with a reluctant wave of his own, watching as you disappear into the museum.

He lets out a breath he didn't notice he was holding as he turns away, drinking the last sips of disappointment down his throat before throwing the empty can into a recycling bin nearby.

And while on his way to the café, the thought of you tugs at the corner of his lips.

Joshua pulls one more time on the door to the café, the keys dangling in his hand clinging loudly together as he makes sure it's all locked. When he does, he adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder, letting out a deep exhale coming straight from the core of his chest. 

The sounds of fallen, dried-up leaves crunch below with every step he takes. Joshua wearily casts his eyes around, watching as surrounding local shops and other cafés switch their lights off for the night. A bus rushes past him as he continues walking down the street, bringing with it a gust of wind that ruffles his hair. The city is slowly settling into its nighttime rhythm, and Joshua can feel the shift in energy around him.

As he walks, his attention is drawn to a figure up ahead. It appears to be an elderly lady, a large box in her grasp, her movements slow and careful. The box looks heavy, with whatever inside threatening to spill over the top with every wobbling step she takes. Joshua quickens his pace immediately, concern knitting at his brows.

“Wait, ma’am! Let me help you.” Once he arrives at her side, he shifts his backpack down to the ground and reaches out to steady the box. The elderly lady looks up at him with surprise and relief. 

“Ah, thank you, young man,” she says, voice quivering slightly as Joshua hoists a hold of the entire box, a groan leaving him at the unexpected heaviness.

“Where are we heading to?” he asks.

“Just… into there.” The older lady motions with a slender finger to the tiny store tucked between a closed dry cleaner and a flower shop.

He can’t really see where he was going, but he hears the ding of a door opening and the old woman’s voice gently guiding him inside. He carefully navigates through the narrow doorway as the smell of old books, musty paper, and something faintly sweet hits him as soon as he steps inside. When he feels his foot seemingly hit the leg of a table, he cautiously sets the box on top of it, making sure it's stable before straightening back up.

“There we go,” he mutters, huffing out a tired breath. “Is there anything else that you need help with?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” The elderly woman shifts past him to examine the box, before reaching over for a pair of scissors to begin tearing into it. “These old bones can’t do much anymore these days.”

Joshua laughs faintly at that, setting his hands on his hips as he takes a look around the bookstore. It’s noticeably tiny, with only a few tall shelves taking up more than half of the space and a cluttered counter at the front with stacks of books waiting to be set out.

He swipes a random book off the shelf, some dust particles hitting his nose and causing him to sneeze. He chuckles softly, feeling a bit sheepish. The elderly lady looks up at him, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Bless you,” she says kindly. “Not many people find their way here these days. It's nice to see a young face.”

“Really?” he questions. “It’s very vintage. I bet there’s a lot of history here.”

“For sure,” the lady responds wistfully. “You should head home now. Sleeping early is good for your health.”

Joshua places the book back on the shelf before heading his way back to the front. The elderly woman hands him back his backpack, wiping away some grime and dust that may have settled on it in the meantime. She continues to shower him with thanks even after he steps past the door. He bids her a wave and a good night before beginning to head his way back home. 

However, a sudden thought crosses his head, and he doesn’t give the way his feet turn back around much hesitation at all. 

He pushes the door open to the bookstore, swallows a lump in his throat, and lets his eyes meet back with the curious old lady. 

“Actually,” he starts, smiling somewhat bashfully. “Do you happen to have any books on sign language?”

“Did you finish totaling it up?”

“Hmm, yeah. Give me a second.” Joshua quickly flips through the bills in his hand, splitting it up as evenly as he could, before handing the rest to Seokmin. “294 dollars.”

Seokmin chuckles, grabbing the money from Joshua before unplugging the microphone. “Not too bad, to be honest, and it's on the worser days of the week.”

“It did help that you were here today. I owe you for that,” Joshua admits cheekily, packing up his guitar inside the case and zipping it up. “Got time for a meal later? My treat.”

Seokmin clicks his tongue, shaking his head while wrapping the microphone cord around the stand. “Maybe next time? I have plans.”

Joshua raises an eyebrow, picking his head up to look at Seokmin. Oh, he knows what's going on, and Seokmin isn't really the best at hiding his facial expressions, or anything really at all. The older man just rolls his eyes, chucking a small pebble in his direction, making Seokmin let out a loud yelp as he dodges it.

“Alright, alright. I get it. Go enjoy your date.”

Seokmin's face reddens, and he huffs, “It's not a date! We're just getting dinner, that's all.”

“Sure, sure,” Joshua continues to tease, standing up and slinging his guitar case over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, buttercup. Have fun, though.”

Seokmin just shoots him a playful glare, grabbing a bag of his own belongings and the microphone stand before heading off, promising another day to catch up, and leaving Joshua alone in the quiet square.

Letting out a sigh, Joshua glances down at his watch, noticing the late time displayed. He contemplates whether he should head back to the café to help Jeonghan with closing, head straight back to the apartment, or stop by somewhere to grab some food, and the thought of food makes his stomach rumble𑁋he decides on making a quick stop at a convenience store.

The convenience store is a familiar sight, one that he goes to often and tucked away in a quiet corner of the street, its bright lights illuminating the surroundings outside and the wet streets. There's a slight drizzle that starts as Joshua enters inside, the door letting out a soft chime. The cashier welcomes him with a nod as he starts to stroll through the aisles.

Joshua wanders through the narrow aisles, scanning the shelves for a quick bite to eat. His gaze lands on a shelf filled with instant noodles, and he grabs a couple of cup noodles (and a can of beer for good measure), figuring they would be enough for a simple dinner. As he makes his way to the cashier, the door rings once more, and he turns to spot a familiar face entering inside𑁋you.

Your eyes meet in an instant as Joshua fumbles with the stuff in his hands, the cup noodles and can of beer suddenly feeling heavier than a sack of bricks. His guitar nearly slides off his shoulder too.

You stare at him for a moment as if in confusion or contemplation. Joshua thinks he sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes. Then your lips curve into a hesitant smile, and the world seems to tilt on its axis. You hadn't expected to see him again, not so soon, but the sight of him fills you with a sense of... comfort, perhaps.

A bashful look washes over your face, and you offer a small wave, your fingers curling into a silent hello. Joshua returns the gesture, his own smile hesitant but clearly genuine.

The silence hangs between you, awkward but strangely filled with something, both of you seemingly unsure of what to say.

Joshua shuffles the abominable weight in his feet, the cup noodles in his grasp feeling like ridiculous boulders.

“Hey,” he mutters out, struggling for words, mentally slapping himself in the face. “I was just about to grab some dinner.”

You watch him, gaze tracing over the lines of his face, the gentle curve of his lips, the nervous glint in his eyes. You feel a sudden urge to reach out and somehow wipe away the worry engraving his features, but your hands remain clasped at your side. 

He catches your gaze, and his cheeks flush with a faint blush.

“Would you like to join me?”

The offer floats in the air, hanging between the two of you like a question mark. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and Joshua fidgets nervously, almost regretfully, while waiting for your response.

Yet unusually, there's something about this that feels... right. Perhaps it's the familiarity of his presence, or something else entirely. You've never really been asked this before, and it feels weird and a bit intimidating, but for some reason, you don't exactly want to step away. The thought of sharing a meal with someone𑁋with him𑁋shoots a bullet of curiosity through you.

Whatever it is, you want to trust it. 

Taking a deep breath, you raise your gaze to meet his. Then you give him a shy smile, one not quite reaching your eyes, and nod ever so slightly.

The cashier looks between the two of you as Joshua places the cup noodles and can of beer on the counter. The chime of the cash register rings out as he pays, and you soon follow after with your own food, placing your own items on the counter, then you both head towards a nearby seating area together.

A growing tapping of rain hits the earth outside as the two of you pick a spot in front of the windows. Joshua sets down his leather bag and guitar, and you place your own painter-splattered canvas tote right next to it.

Joshua feels a tap on his shoulder while aimlessly stirring through his ramen, and he watches as you sign him something with your hands. He doesn't entirely understand what you were signing, but he picks up the motion of a guitar, and he brightens up.

“Guitar?” He gestures to the guitar case nestled at his leg, and he watches as you nod and point at him. “Me? Guitar?”

You give a thumbs-up, and Joshua chuckles, feeling proud for picking up on your words.

“Yeah, I... I've been playing since I was young,” he answers, and you read his lips carefully. “Just as a hobby though, not professionally.”

Your mouth opens in awe, then you lift your hands up again, making a swinging motion with one arm and motioning at him, and Joshua tilts his head curiously.

“Book?” he questions, and you shake your head. He thinks again, repeating your movements. “Oh! Music? Do I make music?”

When you nod again, his heart flutters with victory.

“I play and sing sometimes. Just... small gigs and stuff, nothing too fancy,” he admits meekly. “I've written a few songs too. I guess it's a way to express myself, you know?”

You soak in his words, your eyes focusing on his lips and the subtle shifts in his facial expressions. Joshua swears he feels himself shrink under your gaze, but it feels almost relieving to tell this to you.

You bring your hands up, signing something, and Joshua watches intently, attempting to replicate your movements himself while trying to catch the meaning behind the gestures.

“You... like music?” he ventures, and you give him a small nod.

Joshua smiles at this, before it falters slightly. He opens his mouth up to speak, and you perk up, but then he closes it quickly. He feels the anxiety blooming within him, not knowing how to approach the question without making you uncomfortable.

“Can I…” he starts, feeling regretful already. “Can I ask... how do you…”

You notice the hesitation in Joshua's eyes, seeing how he's trying to ask as delicately as possible without crossing a line. But you already know what he's trying to ask, and you feel yourself willing to answer.

You reach for your phone, and Joshua observes as you type out your words, eyes lingering on the features of your side-profile for a few moments. You show him the message:

Sheet music, song lyrics, vibrations, chords, memories of sounds

“Vibrations, chords…” he leisurely reads out aloud to himself, feeling a mix of understanding and admiration course through him. And when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes widen and seem to burn brighter than the city lights outside. He understands. He gets it.

Silence stretches between you again, but it's no longer awkward; it's more comfortable now. Joshua finishes the rest of his ramen, his gaze occasionally darting towards you, and he catches the way you seem to be staring outside as the rain pours down.

He stares outside too, listening to the rain crashing loudly against the window and the occasional burst of thunder that rumbles in the distance. But then when he looks at you, all of those sounds seem to fade away.

He can't tell if you're lost in thought or simply taking in the scene, but there's a quiet comfort in your stillness that seems to draw him in.

As you watch the raindrops dance on the windowpane, a soft smile plays on your lips, and Joshua catches it. He watches you for a moment, then a sudden thought occurs to him. Slowly, he brings his hands up to his ears, covering them completely, and stares back outside. The muffled sounds of the rain and the faint hum of the convenience store fade into the distant background. It's more peaceful this way.

He likes this quietness, especially if it's with you. 

You face him, tapping lightly on his forearm. Joshua brings his arms down and veers his attention back to you as you draw your hands up, separate and curl your fingers like a claw, before doing a downward motion. He finds himself repeating it as well, head tilted slightly, and then it clicks.

“Rain?” he guesses, motioning to the rain outside before signing it again. “This means rain, right?”

Your eyes widen in victory, a grin curving at your lips, giving him an approving nod. Joshua feels something catch in his throat, but you turn back to the window before he can say anything.

“Rain,” he mutters to himself, unconsciously signing the word right next to you. Then he brings his hand up again, shooting a glance toward you𑁋you're still staring out the window, and the look of content on your face makes his heart flutter a bit more𑁋before slowly fanning his hand across his face, as if to sign the word, “Beautiful.”

“I've seen you do better than this.”

The look of disappointment to your art teacher's face is unchanging as he signs to you. You feel your hands mold into each other under the desk, fingers fidgeting as you try to process the criticism. The words bounce off the walls in your mind, and the weight of them settles in your chest. 

It's not that your painting is bad𑁋it's just not living up to the potential he knows you possess. The colours lack vibrancy, the brushstrokes lack emotion. He leans in, his face mere inches from the canvas, inspecting every detail.

“If you're ever going to put your work in an exhibition, it has to tell a story,” he assures sternly while continuing to sign. “Your art should speak, not just visually, but emotionally. I know you can do better.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod in understanding, though the disappointment lingers. You've been wrestling with this painting for weeks, trying to capture a fleeting emotion, a moment in time that you believed would speak to others, yet you realise you don't have a clear answer. He observes your reaction, and though his expression softens just the slightest, the expectation lingers.

“He’s probably just in a mood,” Wheein reassures you, hands flying in the air as she signs. “You know how he is with deadlines.”

“I can beat his ass for you,” Seungkwan chimes in, emphasizing a punching motion with his hands, which makes you let out a quiet laugh. 

Wheein playfully shoves the younger boy in the shoulders, before snatching away the cup of iced coffee in his hands.

Seungkwan pouts in mock disappointment as Wheein steals a sip of his coffee, but the playful banter manages to lighten the mood a bit.

Wheein hands back the coffee to Seungkwan and gives you a few pats on the back. “You'll get it right, you always do. Just take a step back, clear your mind, and try again, okay?”

Her words make you faintly smile. It's not a secret that you've been experiencing a lot of pressure for this upcoming exhibition competition at the museum, an opportunity for you to finally get your art out there in the world. But the thing is that there are plenty of other artists also fighting for the spot as well, and never in your life have you felt so stuck, so drained of inspiration, so dried out of colour. 

You feel a little lighter from the reassurance from your friends, but at the same time, you feel like it isn't quite enough. There's still a part of you that feels heavy inside𑁋what if you're not meant for exhibitions, if your art can't truly convey the emotions you want to express? What if you're just not meant for this? What if your art isn't enough to convey the emotions you want to share with the world?

The thought lingers as Wheein and Seungkwan dismiss themselves for the evening, and you're left alone roaming the quiet streets on your way back home. The city's lights begin to flicker to life, casting a warm glow on the dewy pavement, the streets a bit more barren than what you are used to. You try to shake off the doubt at the back of your mind, but it clings to you like the raindrops on the leaves.

As you stop at the pedestrian crossing, you shoot your eyes across the street.

A figure stands tall under the glow of a streetlamp, his features highlighted by the warm light. He's also looking across too in your direction, though it doesn't take long for his gaze to drift and land on you, and suddenly, he's waving at you.

It takes a moment for recognition to dawn on you, but when it does, time seems to stand still𑁋it's Joshua. He's standing there with his guitar case slung over his shoulder, waving at you. At first you look behind you to see if it was meant for someone else, but when you realise there's no one else around, you feel an odd pull tugging at your heart.

Because he looks... happy to see you. 

Hesitantly, you raise a hand and give him a small wave back. You notice some contemplation wash over his face, and then you observe as he brings his hands up.

“Nice to see you. How are you?” he signs, albeit clumsily and a bit slow, but the effort is cute, and you find yourself lowering your gaze for a moment to bite back a chuckle.

“Tired,” You sign in response, and mimic the gesture of rubbing your eyes, a small grin playing on your lips.

Joshua's eyes crinkle at the corners, and a soft chuckle escapes his mouth as he watches your playful sign. He follows suit, pretending to yawn and miming the act of stretching, exaggerating the movements comically. It's a simple exchange, but it breaks the ice, and you find yourself smiling more genuinely now.

He ushers a hand up to his cheek. “Home?”

When you give a nod, the signal light turns green, you make your way across the street, noticing Joshua waiting for you on the other side. As you approach him, you catch the nerves in his eyes. He shifts his guitar case on his shoulder, seemingly caught between wanting to say something and waiting for your lead.

With a small tilt of your head, you gesture down the road, asking if he's headed in the same direction as you. But he shakes his head apologetically, signaling that he's heading the opposite way. For a moment, you lift a brow in question, but then Joshua points to himself and then in the direction you're heading.

“Can I…” Your eyes focus on his hands and lips. “walk... you home?”

Your breath catches in your throat, but not from any fear or apprehension. A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach, but is quickly overshadowed by a warm feeling that spreads through you.

Hesitation lingers in the air for a moment, a tiny voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the uncertainties. You didn't want him to take a detour just to walk you home, especially since he was heading in the opposite direction. But then you see the nervous tremor in his hands that mirrors your own, and how his hopeful and vulnerable gaze holds yours as if afraid he had crossed a boundary, and the doubt seems to melt away.

And so, with a soft smile, you sign, “Okay.”

As the two of you set off, the silence that follows feels different than the heavy weight of earlier. It's comfortable, expectant, like a blank canvas waiting for the first splash of colour. You steal glances at him, admiring the way the dim streetlights play on his features, the gentle twinkle that shines in his eyes, how cutely comfortable he appears wearing an oversized jean jacket that almost seems to swallow him whole. And then your eyes set on his guitar case, and curiosity fills you.

You gesture a hand at his guitar, and Joshua raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, I…” He lets out a nervous, airy laugh, fiddling with his hands as he attempts to sign and explain, “I had to get some guitar strings replaced. One of them snapped on me earlier, so I stopped by the repair shop.”

You flash him a worried look, motioning a finger at his skin.

Joshua just shakes his head, signing back comfortingly, “I'm okay.”

He watches as you tilt your head just slightly, as if in amusement, like you had caught him saying something suspicious.

You type out something on your phone before showing it to him.

The way you sign is funny

Joshua giggles quietly, and he playfully pouts, a small laugh escaping his lips. “That's mean.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his reaction, like a tiny seed of affection sprouting. It's almost like he's attempting to paint with his hands, and the shade isn't quite right, yet it blends in perfectly with just a few more strokes.

There are many people you’ve encountered in life who have communicated with you through sign language, and you noticed that they all have their own unique way of signing. Whether it was Seungkwan with his more expressive and sharp gestures, Wheein with her dainty and flowy style, or Joshua with his uncertain yet gentle movements, you liked they were all different. 

Not being able to hear doesn't bother you anymore, not like it used to when you were younger. It used to build walls around you and separate you from the world. Yet now, you've learned to read sounds with your eyes, hear the voices that emit from a simple smile, a frown, an arch of the brow, because there are a lot more people who can hear than those who can’t.

But out of all those people, someone was the one to wave first across the street.

Joshua finds himself staring up at the intimidating brick façade of your apartment building. When you turn back to him, you offer him a tentative smile, and there's something different about it that makes his chest tighten.

Finally, you muster the courage, your fingers slowly dancing in the air.

“Thank you,” You sign to him. 

He lets out a quiet chuckle, eyes softening. “How do I sign ‘goodnight?’”

You nearly hesitate for a second before bringing out both of your hands. You could feel Joshua watching you carefully at the way you bring your right hand up to your chin and then back down to meet the palm of your other hand, signing the word good. Then you flip your left hand so that it’s facing down, and your other hand brushes over it like the sun is setting over the horizon, signing the word night. 

Joshua watches at the way your hands move gracefully. He follows your movements carefully, a faint smile spreading across his face as he tries to mimic your gestures.

“Good... night,” he repeats slowly, the miniscule dust particles whirling around his fingers as he traces the air. His eyes meet yours, and he could possibly see the flicker of proudness in them. It's a simple exchange, but at this moment right now, it feels significant.

As you unlock the door to your apartment, you turn to look back at him, and he shoots you another wave. Joshua stands there for a moment, watching your door close, before taking in a deep breath to relax the racing of his heart.

Three years ago, Joshua Hong moved away from his family in the hopes of pursuing a music career. It most certainly wasn't an easy decision, leaving behind the familiarity of his hometown and the warmth of his loved ones.

Almost three years later, he might have realised how damn stupid of a choice that might have been.

It's a bit lonely, to put it lightly.

The gigs are sparse, the pay is minimal, and the dreams he once held so tightly in his grasp seem to be slowly slipping away as the days pass.

The journey has been anything but smooth, filled with constant rejections, financial struggles, and moments of self-doubt; and lately these lows seem to be overpowering the highs more than ever. Yet, despite all this, he still chooses to cling to this passion as if it's the air he breathes, because it's something that he loves to do.

Music is the voice he uses when his own isn't enough. He's constantly surrounded by noise, whether it's from the strumming of his own guitar, the sounds of the bustling city, or conversations from strangers that he accidentally overhears when crossing the street.

But then there's the silence𑁋the kind that settles in the spaces between chords, in the moments when he puts the instrument down and the world seems to hum a little quieter. It's in these moments that the loneliness can be deafening.

And then there was you.

The melody playing in his mind for the past week is... hesitant, unsure, much like his own feelings. He isn't sure what it is yet𑁋this feeling that tugs at his chest and paints his cheeks with a faint blush. He only knows that it's connected to you, to the way your eyes narrow in focus when your fingers dance so graciously in the air, and the warmth that spread through him when you thanked him for walking you home the other night.

It was just a simple offer to walk you home, why is it playing on repeat in his mind?

A sigh leaves him as he runs a loose hand through his hair. He tosses away the dirty rag in his hand and stores the cafe's cleaning supplies back and under the counter. The colours of the sun setting outside filters through the large windows, casting orange and red hues on the wooden tables and floor of the empty café.

“You look like you need a drink,” Jeonghan's voice rings out teasingly, and Joshua could only scoff. “You still got that gig later this weekend, right?”

Joshua nips at his bottom lip, releasing a sigh. “I've been feeling a little under the weather, honestly, and I don't really have anything prepared.” I feel like I'm losing my touch.

Jeonghan arches a knowing brow. “Since when do you back down from a gig? Just go up there and pour your heart out. It's what you do best.”

“I'm just not feeling it right now, I guess,” Joshua replies with a half-hearted smile, shoulders only taking on a shrug. He pushes himself away from the counter, and just as Jeonghan is about to crawl under his skin, the bell above the door chimes. “Welcome in…”

He should really learn how to control his stomach from flipping when seeing you𑁋the familiar sight of your paint-smudged canvas tote, the comfort you seem to radiate𑁋but it's not just you alone. There's a girl who he doesn't recognise there too, with her arm linked with yours, and another boy he swears he's seen a few times... Seungkyung? Seungwan? Seungkwan?

Joshua lets his gaze drift to you, and there's a gloom to your face that he can't quite decipher, a certain apprehension that he notices when your eyes make the smallest of contact. He attempts to get your attention by bringing one of his hands up, and you catch sight of it.

“Same?” he signs, as if asking if you want to order the usual drink that you get.

You meet his eyes, and despite the lingering doubts that have been plaguing you, there's a sense of comfort in the familiarity of him. You nod, and that's all it takes for him to brighten up, his smile breaking through the clouds that seem to hang in the air. He watches as you exchange a few words in sign language with Wheein and Seungkwan, then Seungkwan comes over to the counter to place the order.

Maybe he's just seeing things, or maybe it's his mind overthinking for him𑁋there's an undeniable shadow around your eyes that he notices when he brings a tray full of fruit smoothies and iced teas to your table. He sets the drinks down carefully, unable to ignore the way your gaze seems to linger on him for a fraction of a second before flitting away again.

You don't seem to be entirely present in conversation, often drifting off before Wheein or Seungkwan would have to nudge you back into reality. Then a ghost of a smile would draw over your lips, attempting to engage in the conversation with your hands, but all the words seem to disintegrate into ashes.

Another tap at your wrist makes you blink, and you turn to see both Seungkwan and Wheein peering at you with worried expressions on their faces.

“Are you okay?” Wheein mouths quietly, signing lightly with her hands.

Seungkwan turns his head slightly, eyeing something behind him, a scowl to his expression before it curves into a slight smirk; his back was facing where Joshua stood behind the counter, taking in orders for another group of people.

“Café boy?” he mouths to you.

You follow Seungkwan's line of sight, and sure enough, Joshua is there behind the counter𑁋mop of dark hair falling in his eyes, a polite smile playing on his lips𑁋taking and preparing orders with casual ease. You feel a gentle tug in your chest, and for a moment, your gaze locks with his. There's a flicker of concern in his eyes as he watches you, before the corners of his mouth tugs upwards, and you quickly avert your gaze, fingers playing with the straw in your drink.

“He's cuter than I thought,” Seungkwan signs jokingly to you, lifting a teasing brow. “I'd have a crush on him too𑁋ow!”

He's met with Wheein's sharp elbow to his side, making him let out a squeaky wince that might have gained the attention of the entire café, and she scolds him with a shake of her head and a finger to her lips, but it manages to crack a small smile to your face. Seungkwan only grins in victory, tapping his wrist against his heart and giving a thumbs-up as if satisfied with the response he got out of you. 

Ah, the benefits of sign language and being friends with two absolute idiots... No one really knows what the hell you're talking about. 

“You do think he's cute though, right?” Wheein scrunches up her face cheekily, and you could only let a finger drift across the icy surface of your cup, the cold offering little comfort against the sudden warmth blooming in your cheeks to her words.

You roll your eyes, though your face seems to betray you even more. 

“You're not denying it,” Seungkwan adds in, narrowing his eyes at you in a smirk. “Just say you have a crush on him.”

You form a mock-scissor gesture with your fingers, and the threat earns a burst of laughter to leave Seungkwan. The playful jab cuts through the tension, but the truth is, your heart aches a little at his words.

Crush? The word felt alien, yet somehow, it fits. The way your heart skips a beat whenever his gaze met yours, the way his smile warms you from the inside out, the way his clumsy attempts at sign language makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time𑁋these were all signs of something, weren't they?

The atmosphere at the table lightens a bit. It feels nice, spending time with your friends and momentarily pushing aside the doubts of your artistic soul and worries of everything else that have been flying in and out of your head. 

Eventually, the rest of the afternoon wears on, and you somehow manage to survive through Seungkwan and Wheein's (mainly Seungkwan though, unsurprisingly) overbearing and teasing attempts to get you to spill your thoughts on café boy. They give up by the end of it, saying their goodbyes with a tight squeeze of a hug and urging you to keep your chin up. Seriously, you wouldn't know where you would be right now if it weren't for them.

At the back, when Joshua steps out of the restroom, a sudden slap at the wall next to his head startles him back.

“So I see.” Jeonghan circles a finger in front of his face. “You're feeling under the weather, aren't you?”

Joshua groans. “Don't you say it𑁋”

“Under the weather of love𑁋”

“You're having more customers than before because of me. Don't ruin that.”

“Then stop looking like a lovesick puppy and ask them out already, idiot.” Jeonghan shoves the boy forward with a not-so-gentle push to the back. “or at least invite them to your gig. Maybe you won't feel under the weather then.”

Joshua opens his mouth to retort. “Dude, I can't just𑁋”

But before he can finish his sentence, Jeonghan has already disappeared in the back, leaving Joshua standing there in a puddle of embarrassment. He glances towards the table where you were sitting earlier, seeing that you and your friends have already left, and panic shoots through him.

He's never been good at taking risks, but maybe, just maybe, it's time to change that.

Racing out the door, the cool evening air greets Joshua as he steps outside, quickly scanning the surroundings for a glimpse of your familiar figure. He spots you not too far away, heading down the sidewalk, before quickening his strides. He doesn't know what's driving him, but there's a sudden urgency to catch up with you𑁋to not let you slip away just this once. 

And when he finally manages to catch up to you approaching the pedestrian light, he finds himself breathless in front of you, heart pounding in his chest and cheeks flushed, still wearing the café apron around his body. When he looks up to you, clearly startled by his sudden appearance, he feels the heat crawl up his neck. 

“I, um…” he starts, voice coming out way more flat to his ears. Then you watch as he brings his hands up to sign. “Question?”

You feel your heart pick up its pace. He ran all the way out here to ask you a question?

“I have a performance…" His face lights up when he signs the right word. Cute. "...this weekend. I was wondering if you’d like to watch it?” 

You swear you can see the city lights blinking in anticipation around you, your own eyes fluttering in surprise to his question. He's... inviting you to watch him perform? He knows you won't be able to fully understand him, to hear him, yet he's offering you anyway?

Part of you wants to immediately say yes. The thought of watching him sends a wave of thrills through you, a glimmer of excitement warming the chill wrapped around your heart since leaving the café. But the other part𑁋the cautious and guarded part that has learned to retreat behind walls of silence𑁋is reluctant.

Hesitation flickers across your features, and Joshua's hands fly in apology.

“You don't𑁋if you're uncomfortable or if you have plans, it's okay," Joshua reassures quickly, speaking almost too fast for you to catch everything tumbling off his lips. “I could give you my number and text the details if you decide to come. Just... think about it, okay?”

The streetlight casts a soft glow on Joshua's features as he waits for your response. You glance up to the pedestrian signal, noticing that time is ticking down before you would have to leave, before bringing your gaze back to him.

You swallow a lump down your throat, and give a nod. A faint grin breaks across his face. Joshua fumbles with his phone, pulling it out of his pocket and offering it to you. You swiftly type in your phone number, then hand the phone back to him, and then the pedestrian signal switches to green. It's your time to go. Each footstep you take feels heavier and heavier. 

Joshua watches you go, but not before you both exchange your habitual waves to each other.

He can get used to that, he thinks.

The colours on your palette just look absolutely wrong. 

It may just be the lighting playing tricks on your eyes and the exhaustion hanging on your eyelids, but it all looks slightly off-shade, the teeniest tiniest bit cooler or warmer. You frown, dipping your brush into the paint, attempting to mix them until they match the image you have in your mind. But it's like trying to catch sunlight with your bare hands𑁋the more you try, the more it slips away.

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in your chair, and your gaze wanders to the canvas. The painting stares back at you tauntingly. It's like a stranger's work, not your own. A sense of defeat washes over you.

Groaning, you hop to your feet, untangling the apron around your waist and letting it fall to the ground before taking your paint brushes to the sink in your bathroom. You wash off the paint with a bit too much force, the bristles scraping against the porcelain, almost as if you were trying to scrub away your own frustration. The paint swirls down the drain, the colours blending together into an ugly, murky green before ultimately disappearing. 

You chug down an entire glass of water from your kitchen, then shut off the light hanging above your canvas. Sprawling on top of your bed, you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that the walls could cave in and swallow you whole, if only for a moment.

When you reach behind to fish for your phone annoyedly, your eyes nearly bulge out of its skull. 

You don’t even have to read out the entire message for you to jump up from your bed. Your eyes dart from the time displayed at the top of your phone, and to the words jumping at you from the screen.

[06:26PM | joshua hong] Hey it's Joshua! Sorry I know it's a bit last minute, but my performance is supposed to start in about 15 [06:29PM | joshua hong] But I totally understand if you aren't able to attend. It's no problem at all :) 

And perhaps it's the adrenaline from reading the message knowing it’s from Joshua, because you’re suddenly standing up and racing to the bathroom. You don’t understand how you look more disheveled than before, and you can hardly do much to touch yourself up before you’re shrugging, grabbing a jacket, and leaving. 

You nearly trip on the way out the door, and you could already feel the multitude of curses echoing through your head. 

Gosh, you can hardly believe how much time has slipped away from you. The stress coming from painting and deadlines has been gnawing at you day by day. It’s been the only thing pulling you back from doing anything else. Yet with every stroke you bring to the canvas, it feels empty. You feel empty. 

The streets of the city feel busier than usual, the air thick of your already deteriorating patience, and an unnerving anxiety gnaws at your insides. 

You don't have to attend𑁋you know it's a choice you could make, but why does the thought of not seeing him perform make your heart clench? Why does the thought of simply not seeing him make your steps quicken even more?

The doors to the bus ahead slam shut the second you stride up to it, and your hand comes up to pound at the heavy metal surface in anger. With a huff, you step back from the edge of the street, ignoring the stares being shot towards you by passersby while watching as the bus pulls away, leaving you standing uselessly on the sidewalk.

A person almost bumps into you once you turn around. Every taxi that you attempt to grab is immediately taken. You blink back some heat in your eyes, arms wrapping around your body as if trying to mask away the sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. You brush past a sea of shoulders and weave through the bustling streets of the city. Seriously, why the hell is it so busy right now? 

But even as you continue to float your way through the crowded streets, you could feel all the hope at getting to Joshua’s performance deflate. The day really wasn’t all on your side right now, and it all seems to rain down weights at your feet, slowing you down with every step you take. 

Why does it matter? You ask yourself inwardly, skepticism knitting at your brows. Why does his performance matter so much? 

A sharp nudge at your shoulder blade makes you wince. And when you bring your eyes back up, you suddenly realise you’re the only one left standing at the pedestrian light, watching as the sea of people ahead of you cross without any worry. The other side seems so close yet so far. 

Your gaze flickers up at the seconds counting down, your thoughts thinking back to Joshua, and you suddenly find yourself darting across the street.

Joshua's brow twitches faintly when his calloused fingers strum at his guitar strings. 

It’s a bit warmer this evening, the air feeling strangely muggier than usual. The note that leaves his guitar sounds slightly off-tune, but he doesn’t get himself to fix it. Instead, he hunches over to aimlessly grab at his guitar case right at his feet, snatching the coins he may have missed picking up before beginning to pack everything up. 

Joshua glances around the beautifully lit-up busking area, eyes scanning over the dwindling crowd. It’s a relatively small, circular area making up the heart of a tiny social sphere surrounded by local markets and restaurants. Despite that, there’s an emptiness lingering around him, one that feels awfully familiar yet more noticeable than ever before. He gazes back down and pockets the coins with a practiced shrug, a movement that barely hides the disappointment nagging at him.

When a coin slips out of his grasp, he bends down to retrieve it. But as he’s about to come back up, a shadow seems to loom above him, and the outsole of a shoe nearly steps on his fingers. 

Joshua picks his head back up, half-expecting for it to be a complete stranger and totally not half-hoping that it would be… you, hunched over and out of breath.

“Y/N?” he asks, swiftly putting the coin away. “You came.” 

You only give an imperceptible, apologetic nod at his words. Joshua glances around for a moment, before looking down at his guitar, and back to you.

He scratches the back of his neck bashfully. “You just missed it.”

A thin line forms at your lips as you sign, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry.” Joshua waves dismissively with his hands in a slight panic. “You must have been busy, right?”

You smile faintly at that, nodding once more, before taking out your phone to type:

I wanted to come

Once Joshua reads it, you see the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. “You did?”

The curve at your lips lifts even more, but just barely. Joshua’s head falls down for a minute as he peers down at his feet, attempting to hide away a grin threatening at his own face, before looking back up at you and clearing basically nothing in his throat. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“I’m glad you came,” he says, a sweet, appreciative tone to his words. You can’t hear it but you can see it in the way his eyes seem to smile as wide as his lips. “I was… kind of hoping you would show up. Not… not in a weird way or anything! I just𑁋I think I would have felt a little more confident if you were here. A face that I know.” 

Your face scrunches together in a bit of worry and a pinch of surprise, but Joshua just shakes his head and chuckles it off. 

The two of you stand there for a few moments. It’s really your first time being right in the centre of the busking square. Fairy lights hang on the few trees that dot around the area. You could see some small and large groups of people huddling nearby, presumably watching other performers performing, but you and Joshua just stood adrift in your own little bubble, like two stars separate from their own galaxies. 

The fairy lights cast a warm glow on Joshua's face, highlighting his hair that was floofed out in soft wisps around his forehead. You watch the way he runs his hand through it before taking a deep breath and returning to packing up his guitar. You casually wander close, looming over as you observe him in curiosity. 

Once Joshua slings his guitar back over his shoulder, he turns back to you. 

“Are you…” he starts to ask while signing. “...going back home now?”

You glance down at the time on your phone, pursing your lips together lousily. You should probably head home to start back on your painting, but that’s not what your thoughts are telling you to do, nor your heart. Or maybe your entire body, in fact. 

“If you are,” Joshua’s hands catch your attention again, then you focus in on his lips. “can I walk you home again? Like last time? It’s the least I could do since you ran all the way here. I have to give some worth to your effort, right?” 

You almost swear you could read the playfulness on his features, like the way his eyes crinkle subtly at the corners, or even in the way his head is tilted unnoticeably.

You can get used to that side of him, possibly.

You only abruptly turn around, leaving Joshua puzzled for a second, before he’s snatching the rest of his belongings and jogging to catch up to you. Then the two of you are walking side by side just as all the times before, the distance between you closing naturally. 

The world you’re used to is already quiet, silent even, but it’s different now. Joshua’s presence is loud, not in sound, but in the way it seems to comfortably fill the space around you. You don’t really know how to describe it without sounding awfully obvious that… you like when he’s around you; or, you like when you’re around him. 

His guitar case occasionally bumps your hip at his side, and his every attempt to create more space only seems to bring him back to the tiny amount of distance between you two anyway. Then Joshua switches carrying the case from one shoulder to the other, and as he does, his free hand briefly brushes against yours. The touch is fleeting, but enough to send a jump to your stomach. He quickly looks at you with a sheepish grin, muttering an apology that you can't hear but can easily read in his expression. 

The night air is cooler now, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead and causing them to fall to the ground like feathers at your feet. 

Joshua feels a light tap at his arm, and he turns to see you showing him a message on your phone.

Did your performance go well? 

He smiles nimbly at that, but you can tell in the way his eyes seem to cast a shadow over his face that he's not entirely satisfied. He only nods slightly, a noncommittal gesture. 

“It was alright,” he says while signing, fingers moving reluctantly. “The crowd was small, and I wasn’t at my best. But it’s okay.” 

You frown a little, and the way he casts his head down to the ground makes your chest squeeze. 

“Maybe it was good that you didn’t come,” Joshua mumbles under his breath, and you hardly catch what he was saying, but you could sense the diffidence emitting from him. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you either.” 

Both of your footsteps slow down ever so slightly as you approach a familiar street corner, the dim glow of a lamppost shining down on the two of you. Joshua notices the pensive expression to your features as your fingers dance across your phone screen. 

You hesitate for a moment before showing him. 

You tried your best. That’s all that matters

Then you’re abrupt to take your phone away before Joshua could process your words, typing something else again before flipping your phone around for him to read.

You wouldn’t have disappointed me

Joshua stares at the simple message. A hearty sound seems to bubble out of his chest, then another, and another, before it turns into a brief fit of coughs and a mix of laughter altogether. You can’t help but giggle at his reaction. It's light and airy, like wind chimes dancing in the breeze, and it feels like breaking a sound barrier you didn't even know existed between the two of you.

When he returns his gaze to you, he grins again, beaming even, a sliver of teeth expressing relief and a newfound confidence. 

“Thank you,” he tells you. “That means a lot to me.” 

You nod your head coyly, and before Joshua can say anything else, you’re already turning around and beginning to walk. Yet just after the first few steps, a boom of thunder echoes in the distance, and a raindrop lands at the top of your head. 

You stop and turn to see Joshua racing after you, and he stops right next to you. 

“Rain,” he simply signs. “It’s raining.”

And then, the two of you don’t even have to say anything before you’re running through the incoming rain together. You try to run as fast as you can without looking back because you know that Joshua is behind you, the rain beginning to fall down heavier and heavier as you dart through the streets and into the area where your apartment is located. 

Joshua stops right at the entrance, the same place where he had stopped last time. He watches as you continue to dash away from him, before coming to a halt, and turning around to notice him standing there under the pouring rain. 

Raindrops plaster in your hair and clothes as you face Joshua standing at the entrance of your apartment building. His hair is damp and matted to his forehead, damp clothes clinging to his frame as the rain running in rivulets down his face. Despite the downpour, his eyes meet yours with an unwavering gaze.

“Are you alright?” he signs nearly frantically, and you squint your eyes to be able to see him more clearly. 

While catching your breath, you motion for Joshua to come closer, shielding yourself under the small awning of your apartment building. He hesitates for a moment, glancing around as if assessing the situation, but then he’s jogging up to you, joining you under the small shelter of your building that could probably only fit two people. 

Both of you stand there as you watch the rain pour down to the earth in front of you. Then you glance at Joshua, and then at your apartment, then back outside again. He can’t go home in this rain right now without a singular bit of protection.

A tug at Joshua’s sleeves makes him turn to face you, softening at the way you look so concerned yet… cute in your own little way.  

Without any thinking, you gesture towards your apartment, as if silently offering him an invitation.

The surprise on Joshua's face is clear. His eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open slightly. He glances back at the downpouring rain, then back at you with uncertainty. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You nod again, even opening the door for him and waiting for him to step inside. He hesitates again, but the apparent adamancy on your features brings some warmth to blossom through his chest. He fixes his guitar case on his shoulder and steps past you into the dry hallway, water from his hair and clothes dripping down to the ground. 

Joshua follows you down the narrow hallway toward your apartment door, his shoes squeaking slightly on the tiled floor below, a slip of nervousness with every step he takes. The hallway is dimly lit, with a faint aroma of incense lingering in the air. You unlock the door and hold it open for him, gesturing for him to enter first. And as he steps past you, he’s immediately greeted with the warmth of your place.

You take off your own shoes right after him as he stands somewhat awkwardly in the middle of your apartment. It’s smaller than he imagined, but it’s enough for him to recognise glimpses of your personality scattered around. It’s cozy, minimalist, yet it’s home to you, and that’s all that matters to him. 

You appear back in front of him with a towel in your hands, and you hold it out to Joshua, who takes it from your grasp gratefully. He starts to dry his hair and face, the towel absorbing the rainwater and providing some warmth against his skin. As he does so, he steals glances around your apartment, catching sight of an easel holding up a large canvas. 

There are other paintings on your walls too. He smiles to himself as he steps closer towards the canvas, the painting appearing unfinished and a bit weathered with all of its strokes, but nevertheless eye-catching, filling him with wonder about what the finished product may look like. 

You emerge from your bedroom and scan around the room, and when your eyes land on Joshua, you find him peering down at your unfinished painting, a thoughtful expression on his face as he cards through his hair with the towel. He turns to you, eyes widening at the sight of you in a set of new, dry clothes, then shifts his gaze to what you're holding.

It’s an oversized, grey hoodie, and it proudly displays the name of the museum that you frequent. You hold it out to Joshua with a shy look. He sets the towel aside and takes the hoodie from your hands. Immediately, you take a deep breath and face yourself away to let him change, and Joshua watches as you disappear into the small kitchen area, giving him a moment of privacy.

After propping his guitar case next to your easel, he strips off his wet shirt, replacing it with the dry, oversized hoodie. It’s warm and extremely comfortable, smelling like it’s been freshly washed with a scent hinting at lavender, and instantly offers the relief he needed after running through the rain earlier.

Then Joshua gazes around your apartment again. There’s a bookshelf lined with art books and tiny succulents, a small couch with a knitted blanket draped over its arm, and a table with a collection of paintbrushes, unused palettes, and an endless collection of bottles of paint. It’s a different sight than what he’s used to, that’s for certain𑁋he’s used to microphone chords being tangled together, the worn leather of his guitar case at his fingertips, and the hum of music drifting through his life. 

The sound of your footsteps echoes softly from the kitchen, drawing Joshua's attention away from his thoughts. You're holding two mugs in your hands, steam curling up from the brims, and the scent of herbal tea wafts through the air. You carefully hand one to him, before settling on the couch, snugly tucking your legs underneath yourself. Joshua follows suit right after, sitting down right next to you while taking a steady sip from the warm tea. He feels the warmth seep into his fingers as he cradles the mug in his hands. 

He glances at you, noticing how relaxed you seem all curled up on the couch, the soft light casting a gentle glow on your face.

Joshua leans down to set the mug back on the table, catching your attention. 

“Thank you,” he mouths quietly, signing to you. 

You offer a small nod in response, then take out your phone to type:

Is it still raining hard outside? 

Joshua leans back on the couch to listen, narrowing his eyes intently. He still hears the rain outside, but it seems to have calmed down quite a bit. Yet the thought of him staying longer in your place makes his ears burn hotter than the steaming cup of tea in his hands.

He turns back at you and nods his head, knowing it’s a bit of a white lie but deciding that it’s worth staying just a little longer with you. He watches the way your face shifts into a contemplative look. 

Your fingers dance along with your screen once more. 

You can stay until it stops

“Are you sure?” Joshua questions incredulously. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.” 

You shake your head firmly, the smile playing on your lips widening just a touch. It's clear in your eyes that you’re genuinely telling him it’s okay, and that assurance softens something in Joshua's chest. He glances down at his mug on the table, staring at the way the steam curls up into the air like delicate wisps.

It feels almost natural to do this𑁋to sit here under the excuse of sheltering away from the rain, but really, it's a bit more than that, more obvious than what you both assume. For some reason, it’s easier to be around each other than sitting alone in your separate worlds of sound and art. 

When Joshua drinks the rest of his tea, he catches a glimpse of his guitar case standing right next to your easel, and a light flickers on his head. 

“Since you missed my performance,” he starts to say, signing a bit flimsily and unconfidently. “I was wondering if I could… maybe sing for you?” 

You cock your head to the side, curiosity piqued. “Sing?”

“Sing.” Joshua copies right after you. He remembers when you mentioned that even though you can’t hear, you can still feel the vibrations, read the chords and lyrics, and enjoy the music like others.

And while he feels nervous, the way his heart flutters at the thought of you listening to him sing makes him feel a bit… hopeful, confident, like he told you before. He likes to think that your presence alone is much more comforting and reassuring than a group of strangers gathered around him in the busking area. 

Joshua takes a deep breath, before standing up and fetching his guitar gently from its case, resting the instrument on his knee. The rich scent of wood fills the air as he tunes it, deftly plucking each string with practiced fingers until it comes to the correct note. You could only watch in awe, glancing between the guitar and his focused expression. His brows knit together tightly and his eyes come to a close for a few moments𑁋you can’t seem to tear your own gaze off him. 

When he finishes tuning, he opens his eyes, seemingly noticing how attentive you’re to his every move. A faint blush creeps up his neck, and he casts his eyes down for a moment before meeting yours again. He clears his throat awkwardly, adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder.

“Can I…” he begins to ask, holding out his hand towards you. You peer down at it, noticing how it hovers expectantly between you. 

As your hand is about to brush against his, Joshua gently takes your hand with his own, his calloused fingertips meeting your soft ones briefly. He guides your hand on the body of his guitar. Your fingers rest lightly against the smooth wood, feeling the vibrations as he strums a few chords softly. 

Your eyes widen as you look back up at him, surprised at how vivid the sensation is right at the ends of your fingers. 

“You can read my lips too.” Then he pauses, before continuing, “if you want to, at least.” 

With that, he plays a few chords, the vibrations running through the guitar and to your hand, even down your body. And when his lips start to move, you try to focus on his every word, watching the shape of his mouth as he sings. 

For years, you’re used to reading sound with your eyes. Sure, you’ve touched instruments, like the piano in the music room during elementary school or the drumset you would see backstage before a school concert. But no one ever played them𑁋nobody ever played for you. 

So when you read from your eyes, there’s always that second of disconnect when you blink, and the inner anxiety that you could miss even the tiniest detail of the music. However, everytime you blink now, you could feel Joshua singing and playing right at the ends of your fingertips, as if he was telling you that it’s okay to keep your eyes closed without worrying, simply because he was right there. 

This is what passion looks like on someone else, and for some reason seeing all that unfold before you makes it all more beautiful. 

You notice Joshua closes his eyes or peers down sometimes when he gets more focused, yet it doesn’t take anything away from his singing. The way his fingers effortlessly glide over the strings of his guitar, or the subtle lift to his lips when he’s singing𑁋you know that his heart is completely in it. 

It’s beautiful. He’s… beautiful.

The song ends before you hardly notice. You keep your hand resting on the guitar, the vibrations still buzzing ever so slightly on your fingertips after Joshua strums the final set of chords. 

Joshua shifts uncomfortably for a moment, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the guitar in his lap. He scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. 

“Did you... like it?” he asks tentatively while searching your face, signing the words as he speaks.

You merely blink up at him too, as if you’re still stuck processing everything and nothing all at once, before nodding reassuringly. 

Joshua's expression softens with relief, his shoulders relaxing visibly as he lets out a quiet sigh. He glances down at your hand still resting on his guitar, a certain warmth spreading through his chest at the way you're looking at him.

“You felt it, didn't you?” he asks quietly. “The vibrations?”

You consider nodding again, but instead, you reach back for your phone to type.

It was beautiful. I haven’t felt music like that in a long time

Joshua can’t help but smile to himself, and there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore when he does. He likes knowing that he’s happy around you, likes feeling himself be happy around you. It’s a feeling that feels easy, natural, like he doesn't have to try too hard. 

He gently places his guitar back in its case, the soft click of the latch echoing in the quiet room. You notice his fingers linger on the case for a moment, before he turns back to you.

“I think that I was right about what I said earlier,” he affirms, and there seems to be content hinting on his features. “about feeling more confident… when you’re around. I just wanted to thank you for that.”

Of course, he was nervous, anxious if anything𑁋but in between all that nerves was the comfort of someone who listened to him more intently than any audience ever could. 

Joshua clears his throat and peers around after setting his case back down, trying to brush off the fact that you’re sitting way more closer to him than before. You’re typing something on your phone again, the bright screen emitting on your face and making you bat your eyelashes together. 

You lightly tap on his shoulder to get his attention, showing your message:

You can always practice here, if you want

“Practice? Here? You want𑁋I can practice here?” The disbelief in his face makes you purse your lips together endearingly. “I hardly ever have the chance to practice because Jeonghan𑁋my roommate𑁋is sick of me being loud, at this point. I’ve been saving up to move out, but it’s been hard.”

When he realises how fast he spoke and the way you’re watching him closely, all he does is smile faintly.

“I’ll be sure to use the opportunity wisely,” he assures you, and there’s that lightheartedness back on his face again.

Your knee rubs against his when you stand up to put away the empty mugs back in the kitchen. It gives Joshua the chance to look around your place again, and his eyes settle on your unfinished painting on the other side of the room. 

“Could you…” he starts to ask once you’re walking back to the couch, his fingers moving unsurely in the air. “Could you tell me about your paintings?” 

At first, there’s a bit of hesitancy in your movements. But the genuinity you see in his gaze seems to tug at your heartstrings more than ever. You show him a message on your phone:

As long as you tell me about your songs

Joshua’s eyes light up at your message, a grin spreading across his face. 

“It’s a deal,” he says.

You could probably count the individual dust specks floating in the sunbeams pouring inside the classroom. 

Warm water trickles down your hands and into the sink below as you rinse off some paint brushes, before placing them in a discoloured, paint-covered bucket right beside you.

The museum has a variety of art classes, mostly for people who aspire to get their artwork shown in exhibitions. You aren’t any different from them𑁋you all seek the same goal, which is to be heard and recognised for your work; this small inkling to be known or even vaguely known by someone.

Once you finish cleaning up, you dry your hands on a rag and take a moment to look around the desolate classroom. The smell of paint and the sight of easels and canvases everywhere feels like home, but lately you’ve been questioning if it’s actually home, or just a temporary refuge. The question nags at you as you gather your belongings to put in your worn-out tote bag.

Stepping out of the classroom, you start to walk through the nearly empty museum, passing by hallways with art ranging from contemporary, to modern, to as far back as the classics. You’ve probably been through these halls a countless number of times𑁋retaining everything from the title of the piece to the artist’s name and technique𑁋and you would still be in utter awe. 

However, just as you reach the main area of the museum, a figure peering up at a painting catches your eyes. The guitar case that hung on his shoulder stuck out like a sore thumb among every other person in the room, and the sight makes you chuckle to yourself because you recognise Joshua instantly. 

You stand there for a moment, observing him from a distance as he studies the painting with a thoughtful expression. His fingers tap lightly against the strap of his guitar case, and you feel like if you focus even more, you could possibly see the thoughts wrapping around his head. 

Joshua glances at his phone for a millisecond before turning around, abruptly stopping when he sees the sight of you standing not that far away from him. The corners of his lips lift into a gentle smile upon seeing you, or his face seems to almost brighten up entirely, you can hardly tell. He brushes a hand through his hair before offering you a small wave, which you reciprocate back with one of your own without any hesitation. 

There’s a rush of warmth that flows through you as he approaches up to you.

You stare at him quizzically as you lift your hands up to sign, “What are you doing here?” 

Joshua shoots a bashful look down at his own feet before picking himself back up. 

“I wanted to see you,” he says quietly while signing, and his hand movements are as shy as his words. 

His words hardly process for a few moments, and Joshua thinks he might have overstepped. The hopeful glint in his eyes dims subtly, replaced by a shy apology already forming in his hands at the shock to your features. Maybe wanting to see you was a bit too forward of him. 

But it’s the way your hands nearly come in contact with his own to dismiss his worries that stops him mid-apology. You shake your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

“I…” You start, then pause, because Joshua’s focused, unwavering, yet patient gaze tugs at something inside of you. Gathering your thoughts, you continue signing slowly, “I thought about seeing you too.” 

A surprised, somewhat choked laugh escapes Joshua's lips, a sound as light and unexpected as what you just said. Relief washes over him, clear as the day outside and the sunlight streaming through the museum windows. He seems to hold his breath for a moment before a grin splits his face apart. 

“Really?” he signs back, and it’s cute seeing how expressive he is when he’s surprised. 

“Yes,” You reply back firmly, hopefully being able to emphasize it enough with your fisted hand.

Joshua rubs at his nose nervously, and even the gesture being so small feels charming somehow. The weight of your art supplies feels lighter in your bag than they have in a while. 

“I have some time before practice though,” he shares, pondering lightly. “Would you like to grab a bite to eat first?”

Your lips lift at the offer, and you scramble a hand in your bag to retrieve your phone. But your fingers fumble, encountering only paint brushes and sketchbooks. Panic starts to rise in your chest as you frantically dig deeper within your bag. Your phone. It's not there. It’s probably back in the classroom.

You shoot an innocent look at Joshua, catching sight of his worried, furrowed brows. You try to explain to him with your hands, but your movements are hurried and you could tell he didn’t entirely understand. So you settle with a helpless shrug and a motion towards a deeper part of the museum, and he seems to catch on. 

Joshua feels the hesitation in his step when he sees you turn around and begin walking away. Considering for a second, he catches up to you quickly, the sounds of his shoes bouncing off the museum floors. 

He follows right next to you quietly, taking in the museum’s atmosphere as you navigate through the familiar halls. When the two of you reach a room, you hold the door open for him, and Joshua swears he hasn’t really seen anything like this before. 

The room is large and very open, the natural lighting from the outside flowing in from the windows. Unused easels and canvases stood at the corners of the room. There’s a long, wooden table perched in the middle of the room, and a whiteboard that takes up a small portion of the wall. Joshua takes the time to look around as you dash to the cleaning station where you were putting up the supplies, and there was your phone𑁋sitting idly with a few drops of water on its screen that you wipe away.

Joshua is standing with his arms crossed at the whiteboard, eyes squinting as if he was trying to discern the faded markings. You stand right next to him once you come up, bringing your gaze also to the whiteboard. 

He turns to you, seemingly inquisitive. “Is this an art class?”

You manage a nod. But you feel like it isn’t enough of an answer and decide to pull out your phone instead. 

It’s an art class for the deaf, and for those who want to show their work in the exhibitions here

Joshua’s mouth opens in awe as he reads the words on your screen. A flicker of understanding lights up his eyes as he processes the information.

“That's amazing,” he tells you while signing back, expression visibly softening. “I had no idea they had classes like this here. How long have you been coming?”

He watches as you look back down to type on your phone, taking the few seconds as a chance for his eyes to drift over your features, silently taking in the concentration etched on your face. When you finish typing, you show him the screen. 

Just for the past year. There’s only a few of us in the class. Sometimes I’m the only person who shows up though

“Ah,” Joshua only hums contemplatively. He glances around once more, as if trying to see the room through your perspective. “That must feel lonely sometimes.”

You nod, letting out a low sigh as you type out your next message:

It can be. But it's also peaceful. Gives me time to think and create without any distractions

“I get it.” Joshua nods with a small smile. “You’re dedicated. I admire that.” 

Your heart swells a little at his words. It's always a vulnerable thing𑁋sharing a piece of your world with someone else, but Joshua’s presence seems to make it all a little less daunting, a little more comfortable. 

Joshua’s eyes settle on a corner where a few canvases lean against the wall, seemingly forgotten or awaiting their turn under someone’s hand. He steps closer to it, running his fingers lightly over the rough edges of one of the frames, then turns back to you.

“Do you have any of your work shown here in the museum?” he asks curiously. 

A rush of emotions floods through you, a frown caressing your face—pride sprinkled with uncertainty, hope clouded by doubt. You've always dreamed of showcasing your work, to be recognised and understood through your art. However, you feel a twinge of self-consciousness creeping in, because the dream of one day having your work displayed alongside the masterpieces lining the museum walls feels both distant and impossibly close at the same time.

Sensing your shift in mood, Joshua raises his eyebrows in question. You fumble with your phone again, typing out a response and showing it to him. 

I’m not sure if my work is good enough for that

Joshua's expression softens even further. “But you wouldn't keep creating it if you didn't believe in it, would you?”

Oh, he’s got you there, you think. A certain warmth starts to spread through you at his perceptiveness, a twitch at your lips from a suppressed smile trying to break free.

“And even if you don’t believe in it right now,” Joshua starts, placing himself right next to you gazing down at the empty canvases waiting to be touched. “I believe in you. I mean it.”

You exhale softly, a weight lifting off your shoulders as you absorb his words. For the first time in a while, you begin to see your art through a different lens—not just as smears on a canvas, but as a reminder that this is something you love.

It’s been a while since someone’s said that they believe in you, and it hits you right in the heart. 

“Is the painting in your place the one you want to finish for the museum?”

You nod in response to that, though the sullen look to your face doesn’t seem to exactly agree. 

There’s an exhibition being held just a few weeks from now, which is also the deadline for submitting your painting, which was being judged. The pressure has been getting to you, admittedly, and it feels like time is slipping away faster than you can paint. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll get back home later today and pick up your paint brush without it feeling like a burden to hold. 

Joshua says something you don’t catch quick enough when you face back to him, and you tilt your head in question.

“I’m not sure if I did the sign right.” And then he brings his hands up, signing to you, “Good luck.” 

Heat crawls up your neck to his words, and a smile fights its way through the lingering uncertainties and stretches shamelessly across your face. 

His hand comes awfully close to yours when he brings them down to the side. 

You draw yourself away when you feel your phone vibrate in your hand, only seeing that it was some useless notification. Joshua fixes himself up as well, turning to you fully, and you both exchange shy grins.

“Food?” He brings his hand up to his mouth, almost mimicking like he was putting a piece of food there. 

You adjust the strap of your bag and double-check to make sure you have your phone with you, before nodding. The two of you head out of the classroom together.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re both basically dating.” 

The way your face scrunches up in visible disgust to Seungkwan’s words has Wheein shoving the younger boy with a daggered stare, nearly making the stick of tanghulu fall from his grasp. 

“You can’t just claim that,” Wheein retorts back.

“He walks Y/N home! He’s been inside their place! He wants to see them! Y/N doesn’t even let us come inside their place these days and yet here’s this guy waltzing his way into their heart!” 

“I can’t tell if you’re insulting him or thanking him,” Wheein points out playfully, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. 

“I'm not doing either,” Seungkwan protests, feigning a snarky look. “I'm just stating the facts. If it walks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it's probably a duck.”

At this point, your friends are speaking almost too fast for you to catch everything being said, but all you could do is bring your head down and gaze to your footsteps, a subtle, amused grin playing to your lips. They’re arguing about your life, and yet it makes you feel… acknowledged, seen, heard, because your world before seemed to revolve solely around you and your art only for the longest you can recall. 

An adamant tap lands on your shoulder, and you bring your head back up to face Wheein. 

“Isn’t the exhibition next week?” she asks, signing with a sense of urgency in her expression.

Your face falls a little, and the thought of the deadline and exhibition seems to loom over you like a dark storm cloud. It feels like yesterday you were just staring at a blank canvas, and now every inch of it is covered in a mess of colours that is undeniably far from what you can consider a masterpiece.

Wheein and Seungkwan could already tell by the weak nod that you give that you’re feeling the pressure of it all. The two of them exchange a knowing look with each other, and it isn’t long before you feel another tap at your shoulder. Wheein motions to something up ahead, and as you face forward in order to see what it was, a hand grabs at your sleeve and you find yourself being dragged forward by your two best friends.

You can hardly control where your feet are landing in front of you, and the only thing you could catch ahead is a crowd and the familiar sight of what appears to be the busking centre. There must be some kind of performance going on, and it peaks your interest. 

The faces surrounding you are all bleeding out enjoyment, with their wide eyes and mouths blossomed into large grins. Their hands are all clapping in unison, some even mouthing the words to lyrics you can hardly make out.

You don’t recognise the small band that’s performing. But then you imagine Joshua being the one at the centre of the crowd, playing his heart out, captivating the audience just like how he captivated you, and the disappointment melts away. 

You find yourself standing at almost the core of the crowd, with Wheein and Seungkwan clapping and cheering animatedly on either side of you. In an odd way, this position feels familiar, as if you’ve stood from this exact same angle before.

You're close enough to see the raw energy pouring off the musicians, the way their instruments become extensions of themselves𑁋the same as Joshua sitting across from you on the couch with his guitar in lap, eyes closed in concentration, and fingers dancing effortlessly along the strings. The memory of that night floods your mind, and you can almost feel the vibrations of his music under your fingertips once again.

It all brings a smile to your face. 

As the music surrounds you, you can see the passion radiating from each band member’s face, carrying away the weight of the upcoming exhibition and the pressures you've been feeling. In this moment of respite, it's just you, your friends, and the music.

When you get back home to your apartment that night, you find yourself focusing on clicking through the photos on your camera roll, almost like you were searching for a particular one. 

And then you find it𑁋the photo you took at the busking square all those weeks ago, the photo you took of that man singing and strumming along his guitar…

…the photo that you took of Joshua Hong, where you didn’t know his name at the time. And now, he’s standing in the middle of your thoughts, and singing directly to your heart. 

It’s almost suffocating to be sitting in this chair right now. Your posture is stiff as a rock, legs shaking underneath your hands that were folded on your lap, other people𑁋other artists just like you𑁋surrounding you like flies. 

You feel excruciatingly hot in your outfit, a formal one that you picked from the depths of your wardrobe that still somehow fits your body still. It’s been a while since you put this much effort into your appearance𑁋you can hardly remember the last time you dressed up like this, honestly𑁋and the unfamiliarity of it all prickles at your skin. 

The day of the exhibition is more chaotic than you expected for it to be. It’s practically held to the public, where almost anyone can walk in and watch the event for themselves. 

Across the vast room, you catch glimpses of other artists, seeing their diverse styles of clothing. There’s a woman with a shaved head and a tattoo snaking down her arm; at the far end, a man in a crisp suit, frown etched at his face, large glasses, with a neatly trimmed beard.

The walls are covered with various works of art, each piece representing the countless hours of dedication and passion of the artists. It’s a grand showcase, bigger than any small ones you’ve seen. The large hall that you’re standing in has been temporarily transformed into a visual showcase where curators and critics would walk around and judge the pieces. By the end of the night, only about half of the submissions would be considered to be permanently displayed in the museum. The thought makes your stomach churn with anxiety.

Joshua had sent you a simple Good luck! You’ll do amazing :) text before you arrived at the museum. It comforts you a little bit, but not entirely𑁋you feel like you’d feel better if he could be here with you in person. He couldn’t come because he had to look after the café. Wheein was also here somewhere too participating in the exhibition, clearly not anywhere near where you were placed in the vast hall. 

The exhibition begins with a formal speech from the museum's director, who talks about the importance of art in society and how this exhibition aims to bring fresh perspectives to the world. As the speech concludes, curators and critics start moving around the large room, closely examining each piece and approaching all the other artists. 

Your eyes follow a few as they approach your painting. They stand before it, whispering among themselves, their expressions indecipherable. You wish you could hear their thoughts, but instead, you focus on their body language𑁋the subtle nods, the thoughtful gazes. Some of them barely have their lips moving for you to be able to read them, while others are simply not speaking at all. At the corner of your eyes, you’re able to make out a few artists speaking with confidence to the curators, explaining their creative process and the message behind their pieces. Disappointment claws anxiously at your chest. 

The sign language interpreter that is supposed to accompany you doesn’t show up until after a few crucial moments with curators have passed. By the time she arrives, introducing herself and quickly apologising for the long delay, you’re already feeling a sense of defeat settling in, struggling to muster the enthusiasm in your hands as you greet her back.

You have a hard time connecting with some of the visitors who stop by, heart sinking even more when they pass by your painting without pausing. Their attention is clearly drawn elsewhere𑁋that’s all you can think about as you watch them move on; their indifference is practically slicing through the air like a knife. 

It’s like you’re invisible. 

In the back of your mind, you figured this would happen. It wasn’t entirely your best work, or the best you’ve put your efforts in. For some reason painting didn’t come as naturally to you as it did before. If anything, it felt forced. The pressure to create something worthy had left you with a piece that felt uninspiring, meaningless. 

You aren’t meant for this. This grand exhibition hall, the feeling of being judged𑁋it all felt like a journey’s away from the joy you used to find in simply creating. The other artists around you seem to belong in this environment more than you do. They stood proudly beside their work, and all you could do right now was let the lump in your throat tighten even more. 

You aren’t meant for this. 

By the time the big announcement comes, you catch a glimpse of the evening sky outside the large windows of the museum. A hush falls over the room as the museum director steps back forward. Even as you let your eyes drift between the director and your interpreter right next to you, you already knew deep within you that the night wasn’t ending in your favour. 

“We congratulate all the artists whose works have been chosen,” the director says warmly, listing off names that resonate through the hall. Each name being called is met with applause and cheers.

Your name isn't called. You would know if it was if the expression on your interpreter’s face wasn’t so solemn, the meek curve at her lips that she wears doing hardly anything to ease you. Despite the sinking feeling, you send her a small, acknowledging nod, offering a tight-lipped smile of your own. 

Wheein finds you when the evening starts winding down and the museum begins to clear away. She taps lightly at your shoulder as you’re packing your belongings, yet the eager look on her face is quick to fade once she sees the dejection painted all over yours. 

“You’re not going to stay for a while?” Wheein asks, signing with concern, her brows furrowing as she watches you continue to pack your things. “I heard there’s an after dinner event later on, and they’re letting anyone join. Maybe you could meet some of the other artists!”

Letting out a quiet exhale, you shake your head, the movement small and defeated as you sign back, “Going to head home. Tired.”

“Are you sure?” Wheein insists. “I was planning to introduce you to some people𑁋”

“It’s okay,” You sign quickly, interjecting her words. But the pout and puppy-eyes that she gives makes you roll your eyes. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.” 

A grin is swift to cross her face, and a few seconds later she’s wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. You return the hug back, feeling a bit of your disappointment melt away in the face of your genuine happiness. 

“I'll text you later,” Wheein signs after pulling back. “Please get home safe, okay? I love you!”

The dramatic kisses she blows in your direction make you laugh despite yourself, and you nod, giving her a small wave as you head out of the museum.

The cool night air nips at your cheek when you step outside, and you feel way less constricted in your clothes than being inside the museum. As you walk briskly down the street, you let the night clear away your muddled thoughts. Your feet seem to guide you, almost on autopilot, not quite ready to head home and face the solitude that’s waiting for you.

You pass by a few late-night cafés, convenience stores, and small shops, their warm lights spilling out onto the pavement. 

The sight reminds you of Joshua. 

And for some reason, that’s all it takes for your feet to pick up its pace. There’s almost determination you can feel in each step that you take, the thoughts of the exhibition pressing farther and farther into the back of your mind. If there’s anything that could make you forget everything that has happened today, it’s just seeing him for a moment. A singular moment. 

The lights of the café switch off when you’re coming up to it. You come to a halt in your tracks, and your gaze lands on a lone figure stepping outside with its back turned towards you.

After a minute or two, the figure turns slowly, and you recognise Joshua's face illuminated by the fading light of the café's sign. There's a moment of hesitation before he notices you standing there just a couple of steps away, and when he does, his features seem to light up even brighter than the flickering stars above. But it’s quick to melt away when he watches the way you’re trudging up to him.

His eyes flicker over your face for a moment. “What happened?” 

You could see the worry in the way he signs to you, his eyes searching your tired ones. He peers at you so softly that it nearly makes your heart ache. But there’s a comfort there that you desperately find yourself wanting to cling to.

Without a word, you simply lean your body forward, letting your head fall onto Joshua’s shoulder. His presence emits a warmth that brings you back from the high of cloudy thoughts and back down to the surface of safety.

Joshua’s eyes widen imperceptibly for a second, before a quiet understanding washes over his face. His arms twitch at the weight of you leaning on him, and then almost hesitantly, he slowly wraps them around you, fingers brushing against the small of your back tentatively, delicately, as if unsure its welcome. 

His warmth seeps through your clothes and settles comfortably within the hollow spaces of your chest. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, against your ribs, and smell the lingering scent of coffee on his shirt. A sigh escapes your lips, a soft exhale that contains the tension and worries accumulated throughout the day.

Joshua doesn’t press you. He can feel everything you feel in his embrace, everything you wish to let out. He can feel your dejection, your disappointment, knowing that your efforts, all the blood, sweat, and tears you put into your art had fallen short of your dreams. But he doesn’t pry or question. He simply holds you, and perhaps that’s all that matters right now𑁋he can’t let you fall apart. Not in his arms, anyway. 

You don’t know how long the two of you stand there, right under the dim café light that casts down on your figures. When Joshua feels you shift in his hold, he loosens his grip ever so slightly, gaze caressing over your face for a few moments. His eyes hold a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

There’s a reluctance in your movements as you start to peel yourself away from him. Joshua slowly lets his arms unfold from around you, but his hands linger for a moment, as if hesitant to fully let you go just yet. His expression remains gentle, silently asking if you’re okay; if there’s anything more he can do. 

“It didn’t go well, did it?” Joshua asks warily. “The exhibition?”

All you do is shake your head, and a small resigned sigh tumbles out of you. 

Joshua purses his lips together, brows knitting together in worry. He knows the sting of rejection all too well and how deep it could cut. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, fingers moving with a grace through the air that matches the empathy in his eyes. He’s been getting more confident recently in his signing. “But it doesn’t mean your art isn’t worth anything. You tried your best, and maybe that’s what matters. Remember what I told you before?”

You tilt your head in question, waiting for him to continue. 

Then, all Joshua does is smile faintly, before picking his hands up to sign. He starts by putting his hand in a fist and sticking his pinky finger upward. Then he points his index finger to his forehead, before bringing it down into his open hand. Next he fixes his right hand downward, forming the other one into a cup shape, and dips the fingers of his right hand into it. 

And finally, he points to you. 

“I believe in you.” 

The words fly off his fingers and wrap around you like a blanket. The proud look that he captures on his face is washed away in a fit of timidity, and you can’t help but chuckle, a genuine, warm sound that fills the night air, even if you didn’t notice how loud it is. It's the first real laugh you've had all night. And when Joshua hears it, a blush creeps up his neck, reaching to his cheeks. A relieved smile spreads across his lips. 

When you gaze back up at him, the weight of the day feels a little lighter. Slowly, you lift your hands up to sign, ensuring each movement is clear and deliberate. 

“I missed you.”

Joshua’s expression softens even further. He watches your hands, then meets your eyes, understanding completely. He lifts his hands to respond, fingers moving tenderly through the air, and responding with his voice,

“I missed you too.”

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@lullips

[microdosingwithjoe]

For the Lazy:

HOW TO START MICRODOSING IN LESS THAN 48 HOURS

This post is for the “IDGAF” of how or why microdosing works. I’m hoping someone will try it because the basic process is so easy.

First, you have to reset your endocannabinoid system (ECS). This sensitizes your body to THC again. For those of you who are overdosing A LOT, your habitual use makes this the hardest part, because you have to go cold turkey for 36 whole hours. Honestly, the cessation of weed is as physically arduous as not drinking morning coffee. Studies show that after 36 hours, your body has expelled the THC you’ve consumed, regardless of how much.

The first time you get high after those 36 hours off THC is the most important because you are going to explore what your body wants to get the effects that you desire, whether it’s the perfect high or the perfect pain relief. You’re learning a new way to get high; what you’ve been doing with weed is the equivalent of chugging beers.

To do this, you should set aside some serious “me time” for several days in a row. That’s because observing the effects of weed is very important.

Most of us were conditioned to “smoking a joint” or “smoking a bowl,” but we’re overdosing ourselves by doing that because we aren’t appreciating the way the first hit is affecting us because we’re already taking another 4 or 5 hits off that joint before the first hit has fully taken effect.

Here’s how your first microdosing session for smokers should go (edibles listed below.) Turn off the TV and put away your phone. Find a comfortable spot. Get your selected weed and look at it and smell it. Whether you like the strain or not, keeping track of as many of its properties as you can; it will enhance your future experiences.

Preferably use a pipe or a bong. Break off a piece from the bottom of a bud, about the size of a pea. Crush it up into the pipe bowl and light it from the edge (this allows the weed to burn across the bowl, releasing flavors as it burns,) and try not to just roast the whole surface. Make sure you get a good, solid hit, but not so much you cough and ruin the experience. Beginners? Coughing is hard to avoid. There’s no substitute for experience in this case.

Don’t hold the hit in more than 2 seconds, but instead slowly exhale about half the smoke through your mouth and nose, then inhale a quick but small breath to stir the remaining smoke, then slowly exhale the remainder of the smoke immediately, again through both mouth and nose.

Take a mental note, or better yet, keep a journal of what you taste and smell, and eventually what you feel. Use terms that mean something to you, so you know what you mean, not what you think an expert would say: this is all about you.

Now for the hard part: wait. Over the next 15 (minimum) to 30 minutes.

During these essential moments, you’re observing the high, which should peak between 15 to 30 minutes, and its vital that you don’t take a second hit until the first one has peaked.

Most people are amazed at how high they get, but if you’re not high enough, you can clean out your pipe and repeat the same process for your second hit, and so on.

Here’s another tough part: “realistically, am I high enough, or not?” This is when honesty battles with our tendencies for gluttony and hedonism. It’s not easy; you’re changing the way you’ve always smoked pot, hopefully forever.

Seriously, if you feel a need to get blasted out of your gourd every time you get high, you probably have an untreated underlying issues or conditions that may require professional attention.

Weed is great for normal stress and needed pain relief, but it’s not (for example) treating severe PTST by itself. I know personally that cannabis can really help many PTSD cases. My dog was run over by a car in front of me, and I had flashbacks of that that would repeat over and over, like a 3-second TikTok horror video. Weed fixed that for me, but I knew exactly what to do and what strains would be effective. If you’re constantly trying to escape, please consider counseling.

Microdosing does wonders for normal stress, but it doesn’t fix real issues you need to talk about with your therapist or doctor.

On a clean ECS, most people will stop at 1-3 hits. I highly recommend using this process every time. I’ve been microdosing for about seven years now, and I still start with just one hit, like I did just a couple of hours ago. I’m still noticeably high, and I’m really glad that’s all it takes. It has allowed me to create an incredible stash for pennies a day, a fraction of what a single can of beer costs. I have around 30 strains and 5-6 concentrates, and most of them are more than 3 months old. Pot lasts around a year without significant degradation.

Each strain I buy enhances my experience possibilities because the more I acquire, the more tailored the high I get. This process of observing your high is what microdosing is all about: getting the right weed for the right moment, in JUST the right amount. I hope you come to enjoy the process as much as I do.

Are you ready for the best highs of your life? Isn’t 36 measly hours worth it? Go for it!

Microdosing with edibles is a pain in the ass to start, but well worth it.

Eating to get high means every time is different because what you’ve eaten and how much you’ve eaten can affect when the THC will take effect.

Microdosing edibles is a less Zen-like experience because taste and smell are wholly eliminated from the process because all you’ll taste and smell are flavorings.

It’s harder and takes longer to find your dose on edibles, because you can only increase doses in 6-hour increments, so the process can take days to finish.

I recommend getting 5mg gummy bears for this process. Start with just 1. If you didn’t reach your goal after 6 hours, take 2, and so on. Eventually you’ll find your spot, usually between 5 and 30mg.

Since each try takes 6 hours, establishing your dose can take from 1 to 3 days, more, if you’re THC resistant. Hopefully, you can do it on 5-10mg, and you’ll enjoy substantial economic benefits, being a ‘cheap drunk,’ only with weed.

I wish you luck and hope you commit yourself to follow through no matter what path you use. Microdosing is the way we are all supposed to get high.

#HowToGetHigh

[itsmebytch001]

Pinkie Pies Flying High...

i love how she balances being a party gal and working at a bakery, like at night she's binge drinking, snorting lines, challenging twilight to zap her, and see how it makes her feel, climbing onto the roofs of buildings, screaming as the sun rises

Pinkie: ' lets go celestia, LETS FUCKING GO'

In the morning, she's cheerful, but very much hung over, swaying from side to side while Maud holds her hair back as she vomits into the bath instead of the toilet. While she drags herself down the stairs to get ready for the days opening.

Twilight and spike enter into Sugar cube corner, they see Pinkie, she's staring into the abyss leaning slightly forward holding the edge of the counter table.

Spike: 'hey Pinkie, How are you feeling?'

Pinkie: ' GREAT! actually never felt better, well actually that's a lie i felt WAAY better like 2 days ago, but you know!' she says, as if the taste of stomach acid and punch did not linger on her Tonge.

Twilight: 'Well it's good to see you're feeling better, last night you really scared us when you got up on Lyra's roof, you kept screaming ''Lets go Celestia'' as sun rose, we really thought you might fall'

Pinkie: 'oh don't worry about that twilight, I'm like a cat, always lading on my feet!'

twilight: 'yeah...hehe'

As twilight finalised her purchase for 4 rose cupcakes, costing her 8 bits in total, spike felt the great feeling of being watched, he looked around suspiciously, but saw nothing, he only felt distant eyes.

Soon after, Pinkie waved both of them off as they exited the shop, though Twilight was concerned about Pinkies drinking, and partaking in OTHER substances, it's not like she could make her sober, and she hadn't seriously hurt her self, only bruises and small cuts, but last night was bad, It's not like Twilight was counting ( she was ) but Pinkie had Chugged half a barrel of cider, drank 8 shots of Flim and Flams Vodka, 3 beers, and snorted something sparkly that she got off Trixie, and though she mad it safely off Lyras roof, she very well might not have.

As twilight pondered what to do, if anything, if it was even her place to do anything spike felt it again, the distant stare. It was then that a pony emerged seemingly out of no where. It was Maud, with her dead pan unassuming face, she caught both of them off guard.

Twilight and Spike: 'AHH'

Twilight: ' Oh, hey Maud, didn't see you there'

Maud: 'yeah, that's why I'm in the shadows'

Twilight: 'oh... well yeah... do you need something?'

Maud: ' I need to talk too you about Pinkie Pie'

Twilight: 'oh okay...what about her?'

Maud: 'You were there last night, you saw what happened, she's never been that out of control, and... and i don't know what to do anymore.'

Twilight felt such a huge surge a relief wash over her, knowing that Maud could iKnowledge that maybe pinkie was losing it assured her that she was not being to critical of Pinkie herself, of course it was known around Ponyville that pinkie liked parties, that she could be erratic, but no one ever says anything, because Shes never hurt anyone else, or herself really,

plus everyone likes fun party pinkie more than flat hair mad pinkie, Twilight and thought about bringing it up with her friends, and they had talked about it a few times, like when pinkie vomited onto a once beautiful dress of Rarity's, though Rarity was upset, no one could muster the ability to tell Pinkie to sober up and get out of her boutique, as pinkie hysterically cried and apologised to Rarity, and in fact paid for it days later after she sobered up, Only Applejack had tried to put pinkie in her place when she got drunk at the family reunion last year, challenging BigMac to a fight, and when he refused, Pinkie slapped him. That was the only time anyone had ever told Pinkie to her face she had a problem, and that was last year, so clearly there was no change in her habits.

Twilight: ' Oh thank Celestia, I'm so glad you see Aswell, it's not like i was counting, but last night she drank Half a barrel of cider, 8 shots of Flim Flams Vodka, and took something off Trixie, clearly her half rate trixs aren't paying right? sorry sorry not important, but anyway, i was looking into rehabs around south Equestria and i found this one in Silver Shoells that would be great-!'

Maud sharply cut her off.

Maud: 'I don't think we should be looking at rehabs just yet, but i'd like to talk to you, and maybe the others further about this, meet me at my place later today, bring you're friends.'

she stated plainly, trotting away...

Spike: ' well that was weird'

To be continued.......

Like if u want part 2

[koostarcandy]

only love

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: over 5 months of domestic bliss with your best friend turned roommate turned lover gets you thinking, alot. alternative? a fluffy, domestic morning with koo 🥰

genre: bestfriendstolovers!au, fluff

wc: around 1k

warnings: they're so sappy god, lots of kisses and soft stuff, sliiiiight mention of suggestive stuff

a/n: inspired by only and honeymoon fades !! this was very indulgent, i kept going on and I didn't know how to stop 🤧 I also took a prompt from my prompt list cause it fits well ^^ happie reading !! maybe listen to ♡ while reading?

gentle fingertips tracing your soft skin wakes you from your sleep, heavy eyelids forcing themselves open and greeted by stripes of white light, courtesy of the cream linen curtains hanging on your window.

"good morning, my love," a sleep-ridden voice beside you prompts you to turn to the source, met by messy haired yet still adorable jungkook, sleepy smile gracing his lips when your eyes meet. you nudge your nose with his, not trusting your voice at the moment. he pulls you closer, head resting on your blanket covered chest and yawning, mumbling about seeing blueberry waffles and vanilla milkshakes in his dream, deeming it as breakfast for the day.

you never knew letting your best friend move in with you while he was on the lookout for a new apartment would turn into something so wonderful. he always knew the passcode to your place, sometimes finding him passed out on your couch, tv running as background noise, curled up in his favourite blanket. it was like he lived there, except for the fact that he didn't. you're the best roommate he's had, he confesses one lazy afternoon, ice lollies in hand while you flip through your book. you let him do chores at his own pace and let him put the aircon on whenever he wants, the customary humidifier in random corners of your house.

"and then he says that she fell down the stairs! nothing about him hitting her no, he's literally gaslighting her and it's so infuriating, i wish i could punch him, koo, it's so annoying," you huff, explaining the latest book you've been reading to him.

jungkook looks up from his place on your chest, wide eyes in disbelief and chin propped up, "that asshole, i knew ryle was no good from the beginning, like, who begs someone to fuck them???" you nod furiously, leading you to another rant about how he was a walking red flag, not realising how jungkook was sporting the fondest and most content smile on his face.

you've learnt more about jungkook while living with him for more than 5 months now. he likes milk in the mornings and loves spicy ramen at the dead of night. he took it upon himself to play every game in play store with you, often ending with your limbs tangled while you fret over yet another impossible puzzle on your ipad. he's everything you've ever wanted in a roommate, the perfect balance of fun and seriousness throwing you off sometimes.

you didn't know when you would spill your feelings out to him, heart locked up with chains after miserable experiences. maybe it was the liquid courage, maybe it was jungkook being fed up of keeping his feelings bottled up inside. one soju shot after another, you're both nose to nose, forehead to forehead, deep in a game of who knows what.

"the person who takes the next shot will have to say something about the other," jungkook says randomly, heavy alcohol breaths not fazing the both of you. you flick open the next bottle, the cap rattling drowned out by the sound of you chugging at rapid speeds. alarmed, jungkook snatches the bottle from you, only to freeze at your next words.

"i'm in love with you, koo."

the bottle almost slips from his tattooed fingers but you catch it in him, despite your tipsy daze on him. "say something," you plead, eyes boring into his suddenly rigid face.

"how mad would you be if I kissed you right now?"

not mad, it turns out. you're on him in a second, frantic lips trying to convey a million emotions. pulling apart with slightly heaving chests, you cup his face, rubbing the rosy apples of his cheeks. he holds your wrists, pressing another kiss on your lips. and another, followed by a tiny giggle. he decides he wants to hear it again, peppering smooches all over your face till you're flat on the ground, laughing at goodness knows what.

"hello? do you not want whipped cream on your waffles then??" a large hand waves infront of you, breaking out of your indulgent reverie. "i want," you say and nod your head, yeah definitely, whipped cream and blueberries? perfect combination.

"what were you thinking about, love?" jungkook asks curiously, wondering what's got you zoning out, small smile dancing on your lips. "you, of course" saying it likes it's the most obvious thing in the world. pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead, you wear his t-shirt and hop off the bed, saying you'd get a headstart on breakfast. you leave him all red-eared and giggly on your bed and he hopes he's the only one on your mind who's got you all soft and giddy.

you carefully press the waffle batter and close it shut and go through your fridge for whipped cream. "koo, i can't find the can again-oh there it is," you end sheepishly when a long hand takes the can from the side of the fridge and you're met with a shirtless jungkook, small smirk playing on his face.

"you know," he starts, closing the fridge and pulling you close with a tattooed arm around your waist, "i'm starting to think you keep me around so your apartment doesn't go upside down," you scoff playfully, aware of his neat habits, "that's exactly why I keep you, darling" you say coolly, as if you don't love him with your whole heart and he didn't rock your world last night.

you set the now ready waffles on a plate, jungkook joining in on the fun and making it seem like a cake, a layer of blueberries and whipped cream between each waffle. almost half of it is gone by the time the second batch of waffles is done and jungkook groans in delight, "you made more?! I knew I loved you for a reason," he says proudly, a loud "mwah!" on your lips and he's onto making the next stack happily, feeding you and filling you in on your friends' latest shenanigans.

you suddenly find yourself hoping and praying you both never change, staying the way you are, loving each other so hard it makes you weak at the knees and wishing you'd feel that for the rest of your life. you follow his sparkly doe eyes and animated expressions, completely enamored with him and his ways. you hope you both can love through the pain and whatever is thrown your way.

"and when I told them about how i wasn't going to move in with them and stay with you, they were actually shocked?? but forget them, we didn't see us coming."

you nod in agreement, regretting the times you were oblivious to his affections. you really should've known when he wears his heart proudly on his sleeve. you smile and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, getting up so you could get the dishes done with but you're beaten to it. jungkook forcefully sits you down and says he's doing them this time and that he'll do you later, which cracks him up and gets you scrunching your nose in amusement, his childishness peeking through.

"you see that? see the technique? the snap of my wrist? only an expert could do this baby," he says proudly, stacking the dishes neatly. he wipes his hands quickly and he's next to you in a second, hand behind your neck pulling you in for a sweet kiss. you sigh happily into the kiss, arms resting on his shoulders. he places several pecks on your lips, eliciting his favourite sound, your laugh. he places you on the counter effortlessly, doe eyes peering into yours. the comfortable silence envelopes you both in a bubble, foreheads and noses touching.

"i love you," jungkook says firmly yet softly, lips moulding with yours. he trails them down to the junction between your neck and shoulder, placing a loving kiss and resting his forehead there. you press a gentle smooch to his forehead, the beginnings of a lovestruck smile dawning on your face.

"and i love you, koo" you say happily, now holding his face gently in your hands. you kiss him like it's the last time you're going to see him, pulling away just so you could gaze at his handsome face. he carries you in his arms and settles on the couch, making sure you're both as close as it can get. jungkook's already pulling up your favourite drama on tv, knowing it would be forgotten later.

The fuzzy feeling brought by the tranquil atmosphere makes you both sleepy, so you manoeuvre yourselves till you're lying together. smiley, sleepy eyes slowly close and you're both off to dreamland, wrapped in love.

pt time: @lvoekook ; @joondiary ; @soobhyun

[xoxo-teddybear]

What Have I Done? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, Physical injuries, cursing

Summary: An argument gone out of hand. Y/N just wanted Katsuki to be home more. They’re married and yet she barely sees him throughout the week. When she finally speaks on her hurt feelings, she gets a reaction she definitely wasn’t expecting.

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

A/N:.....I cried while writing this.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

‘He’s gone already. Again. Like always.’

Y/N had awoken to another empty bed. Her husband’s side of the mattress remained cold and empty. This wasn’t anything new. It’s been like this for the past few months. She would wake up alone, eat breakfast alone, spend her day alone, eat dinner alone, and go back to sleep at the end of the day...alone.

It’s not that Katsuki is intentionally ignoring Y/N. He loves her with his everything, he truly does! But villains never rest and neither does he. He’s so preoccupied with hero work that when he does get a day off, his friends drag him away to a bar or game night. Y/N always ran through his head but she had always been so understanding. And besides, she knows how busy the life of a pro is. She used to be one so she gets it. Right?

Wrong. She doesn’t get it. Because even when she was a pro, her and Katsuki always found time for each other. And ever since said man made her quit, claiming he could take care of both of them easily and he would feel better knowing his beloved is safe at home, they’ve seen each other less and less. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Y/N was willing to quit her dream because she found a new dream in Katsuki. She always imagined that being his little housewife would give them more time together but the opposite of that came true. Now she sits in the big empty house with no company for hours on end.

Her sadness builds up every day. She misses her husband. She tries to be an understanding wife but at this point, it’s like he’s not even trying to make an effort to see her. It’s like he’s settled to just coming home to her sleeping form and waking up to her in the exact same state, leaving before he can witness her do anything else. He should understand her though, no? I mean, she had brought it up to him in a very casual way and so he never took it seriously, but she’s mentioned it before. He should have a pretty vivid image of how shes been feeling. Right?

After 6 months of loneliness and being ‘Katsuki-deprived,’ Y/N made her move to speak to her husband about her feelings. She already imagined the outcome. An argument due to Katsuki’s brash behavior and her ‘never back down’ attitude, sad times bringing in the silent treatment for the two of you up until the both of you give in and forgive each other due to the love you have. Finally ending in a compromise. Y/N released a heavy breath as she looked at the time.

1:36 a.m. Just a few more minutes until Katsuki’s home.

—

He was pissed. 3 large scale bank robberies, 10 villain-wannabe fights, an argument with his publicist about his ‘out of line attitude,’ and Deku replacing him on a random ass billboard. The last detail wouldn’t have mattered if it was anybody else but the fact that it was Deku had him riled up. He just wanted to go home to a quiet house with his beautiful wife and admire her gorgeous, slumbering state. However that was not what he was greeted with.

Katsuki grumbled as he unlocked the front door and walked in. He noticed the lights were still on and saw Y/N still awake, seated on the couch. On any other day, he’d be elated to see his wife was still up. They’d talk and cuddle and go to sleep together. If he was lucky, they’d both make love until the sun rose. But tonight, that wouldn’t be happening. He wanted a quiet house with his sleeping wife. Not..whatever was about to happen. He sighed as he dropped his bag at the front door and sloppily placed his keys in the glass bowl near the door.

“What’re you doing up dumbass?” He asked as he walked to the kitchen, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He needed a drink.

“I was waiting for you, Katsuki. I just wanted to talk to you about something,” you said in a soft voice, hoping it would suppress his for sure incoming anger. Katsuki closed the fridge with a kick to the heavy door and chugged down a quarter of his drink.

“I’m not in the mood. Had a shitty day and I wanna sleep. Just go to bed.” He said sternly while trying to finish his beer as fast as he could.

“Don’t you think I would’ve done that hours ago? I wouldn’t have stayed up and waited for you if this wasn’t important. Please Katsuki, I really wanna talk.” Bakugou was beginning to grow annoyed. Why wouldn’t you just drop it already? He squeezed his bottle hard enough for it too crack before he spoke with a louder voice.

“Y/N! You’re not listening! I’m tired. I had a horrible day and I just want to sleep. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to stay up anymore, and I don’t want to listen to whatever bullshit you’re about to complain and bitch about like you always do!” He screamed. His words made your jaw drop.

“Not listening?! That’s all I do! All I do is listen to your every command so that you come home happy-“

“Well it looks like you failed today!” He said, cutting you off.

“Quit interrupting! And what was it that you said?! All I do is bitch and complain?! I’m trying to talk to you about something serious here Katsuki!” You pleaded, still hoping he would give in and listen. And he did...just not in the way you’d expect.

“Fine then! If this’ll get you to quit being an annoying ass waste of time, then speak! Talk! What the hell do you want?!” He asked, screaming at you, furious at all the dramatics you’ve brought up in one night.

His words kind of stung. ‘Annoying ass? Waste of time? Is this what he thinks I am?’ You grew silent at his insults and Katsuki seethed even more.

“Oh what? I scream at you and you bitch up? Toughen up Y/N, jeez. Quit acting like a baby! Tell me what you wanted to say!” He yelled.

“.......I just....I just wanted you to spend some time with me. .....Be home more.” You said in a quiet and broken voice. You looked down to the now very interesting floor as you played with your hands.

“Seriously? This shit again? I’m a pro-hero, Y/N! I’m busy! I’m not gonna drop saving lives just because your brat ass wants someone to notice you! Since when were you such an attention whore?” He asked while rolling his neck to relieve his strained muscles. Your eyes widen at the ground due to his words and your head snapped back up to face him.

“A-attention whore? I-...I just want my husband to stop working so much. I don’t know..maybe have a day off or two!” She said with a crinkled nose as you screamed.

“I do have days off, Moron. It’s why I’m not overworked, ever thought about that?!” He screamed back.

“And you spend those days off away from me! I’m not trying to act like the world revolves around me but I would hope my own husband would spend a day with me instead of his friends that he ALWAYS sees because you ALL WORK TOGETHER!” You argued. You made a valid point and even Katsuki knew that, but he was too stubborn to admit defeat. He was still tired but he had enough energy to put you back in your place. His eyes popped as a vein grew on his neck.

“Well- WELL YOU’RE ONCE AGAIN JUST BITCHING AND COMPLAINING LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO! I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU’RE SO UPSET!” He screamed.

“Don’t understand?! You know what? I know you don’t because you never listen to-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, I WASNT DONE TALKING! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AROUND THE HOUSE, LAZING AROUND, DOING NOTHING BUT TRY TO ARGUE WITH-“

“LAZING AROUND?!” You shouted in disbelief. “WHO MAKES YOUR MEAL PREP THE NIGHT BEFORE SO YOU CAN ENJOY IT AT WORK AND IN THE MORNING? WHO CLEANS THE ENTIRE HOUSE EVERYDAY WHILE YOU’RE GONE? WHO MAKES SURE YOU HAVE A FULL FRIDGE, CLEAN HOUSE, GOOD FOOD, AND A HAPPY LIFE? ME KATSUKI! ME!”

“Happy life? DO I LOOK HAPPY TO YOU BITCH?! NEWSFLASH, IM NOT! SO CONGRATS Y/N! YOU FAILED ONCE AGAIN! AND WHO GIVES A FUCK IF YOU PLAY MAID WHILE IM AWAY?! IM BUSY SAVING THE FUCKING WORLD! THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS BE A GOOD WIFE SINCE YOU CANT EVEN BE A FUCKING PRO ANYMORE!” He insulted again.

“because of FUCKING YOU!” You argued once more.

“I DID IT FOR YOU!” He said while throwing his bottle to the wall, causing it to shatter. “I DO EVERYTHING FOR YOUR UNGRATEFUL BITCH ASS! I PAY THE BILLS! I BRING HOME THE CASH! I GIVE YOU THE MONEY TO BUY ALL THE FUCKING FOOD, CLOTHES, AND ANY OTHER STUPID SHIT YOU WANT! AND ON TOP OF THAT, I STUFF YOUR STUPID CUNT TO PLEASURE YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASS. AT THIS POINT, YOU’RE JUST A WALKING HOLE FOR ME TO USE!”

His words hurt. They broke your heart. Did he really feel this way? If so, why was he even with you anymore. You notice a smirk grow on his face at your bewildered state. He looked as if he just won something. However, the smirk dropped into a scowl once he saw your eyes begin to pool with tears.

“Oh great! Cry! Go ahead! Just shed your fucking tears like you always do! I’m going to bed! Come join me when you’re done being an annoying bitch.” He said and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he began to walk away. You didn’t want the conversation to go this way and there was no conclusion. You needed this to be resolved now. You just wanted your husband back. You reached out to stop him from walking but the unforeseen happened.

“Katsuki..don’t walk away from thi-“

“DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He said and smacked your arms away with a burning palm. Without realizing, Katsuki began to spark his quirk and so when he went in to push you away, he burned your forearm.

A loud blast and smoke filled the room and your screams of pain invaded his ears. The sound made a shocked face grow on him as he quickly turned to see the damaged he had caused. His heart sank as he saw you crying while holding your burnt arm with your other hand. You were slightly hunched over in pain as you took notice of the damage that had been caused. That he caused.

“Y/N!” Bakugou softly shouted as he ran to you. He wanted to help but before he could even lay a finger on you, you flinched. The action caused him to hesitate and hold himself back. He ran to the kitchen sink to get a cold rag and he brought it back to you. “Baby! I am so sor-“

You pushed him away and off of you as you quickly walked to your bedroom with a shadow casted over your eyes. Tears still flowed down your cheeks as sniffles could be heard from your cherry red nose. Katsuki couldn’t believe what he just did and ran to follow you.

“Y/N! Please listen! I didn’t mean it! I don’t know how that happened Teddy Bear but I swear I didn’t mean it! I swear I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I said! I’m sor-“

*SLAM* *click!*

Katsuki realized he followed you out the kitchen, through the living room, up the stairs, and to the entrance of the master bedroom you both shared before you slammed the door and locked it right in his face.

“Baby! Please open the door!” He said while knocking in a very rushed manner. He wanted nothing more than to help you and treat the damage he caused to his beloved wife. He had royally fucked up. He began turning and jiggling the locked knob in an attempt to get it open but failed. “Please Y/N! I have to take care of you and that burn. I’m so sorry but please let me in!”

On the other side of the door, you pressed your back against it as you held in your sobs and slid to the bottom. You pulled both lips in to conceal your voice while you held your wrist to examine the burn on your arm. It was so bad. Your skin turned an angry shade of red as it blistered and bled. You were dripping blood all over your carpeted floor and so you ran to the master bathroom in the bed room.

You turned on the sink and placed your forearm under the cold, running water. The water soothed it a bit but it wasn’t enough to cover the pain. You turned off the sink and grabbed a hand rag as you patted down on your wound. You took out the first aid kit and cared for yourself. You had to take the alcohol to clean it and sucked in a breath before you poured the solution over the burn. You screamed as it seemed to have hurt 10x more. After dabbing cotton over it, you wrapped it in bandages and took a breath of relief.

‘What just happened?’ You thought to yourself.

The entire time, Katsuki was still begging for you to open up. He heard your scream and grew frantic. He banged on the door and cried for you, still hoping, praying, that you would let him in. When nothing happened, he resorted back to calling out for you but to no avail.

About an hour went by and it was almost 4 in the morning. You sat on the bed with your arms holding your knees to your chest. You stared at the wrap as the memories of what went down tonight flashed through your brain.

‘Waste of time...brat ass...attention whore...ungrateful...annoying bitch.’

His words struck you right in your heart. Cruel thoughts began to fill your head.

‘He doesn’t love me. He hates me. I’m worthless.’ Your thoughts would’ve continued until a quiet knock snapped you out of you mind.

“....Y/N?...Baby?” It was Katsuki of course, but a softer version of him. A broken one. “..I don’t know if you’re listening or if you’re awake..but I need you to know that I’m so so sorry.” It was easy to hear his muffled and staggered voice that exposed his tears and sobs. “If I could turn back time right now, I would do tonight all over again, I swear. I would’ve came home and listened to you. And we could’ve talked things out. We would’ve came out of this problem being a stronger couple than we were before...because that’s what we always do. We always make it out of the dark together..because we’re a team..and I need you. .....Please...please don’t leave me Y/N. I love you so much. ‘M so sorry that I hurt you..that I burned you..that I’m such a terrible husband. But I promise you I’ll fix everything in the morning...................Teddy Bear?”

He didn’t know it, but you were listening. You heard every word but refrained from speaking. You knew that the second you did, you’d break down and go crawling back to him....but you didn’t want to do that. You wanted to leave. He physically burned you and you wanted to leave. You were going to sleep for a few hours, and when you would awaken, you would pack a bag and leave. And so, you began your plan and tried to get some sleep as tear streaks marked your face. It would all be over soon.

You woke up to the morning sun.

6:50 a.m.

You rose out of bed and rubbed at your puffy eyes. You quietly got ready in the bathroom and applied the slightest bit of makeup to look more presentable. You took out a pair of shoes and tossed them to the center of the room. You were in your closet and pulled out a bag. You stuffed it full of a few clothes for you to wear, you couldn’t stay here. Not after what he did. You fought through the pain as you pulled on your jacket and placed your shoes on. You wiped your tears as you picked up your purse and got ready to leave. You were going to stay in a hotel. Didnt matter where or how expensive. You just needed to get away.

Finally, you walked to the exit of the bedroom. You took a breath before you slowly turned the knob and was greeted with the sight of a sleeping Bakugou. He had slept in the hallway in front of the bedroom, still wearing the same clothes from the night before. His knees were scrunched up with his arms resting there to be used as a pillow. He layed his head atop of his arms and as you looked down into his hands, you saw the rag. The exact rag from the argument. The rag that he attempted to use to help you. Little did you know, Bakugou hadn’t planned on getting rid of it until you let him use it to help you. He wanted nothing more than to fix his mistake and cater to you and your wound.

You shook your head as you felt tears began to fill your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You took a step and sadly awoken the exact man you were trying to avoid. Bakugou had quickly woken up when he heard the slightest noise and was blessed with the beauty that is you. He looked up at you with wide eyes and a small smile.

“Y/N...” was what he whispered before he quickly got up to run to you.

“Y/N!” He ecstatically said with a hint of relief. He was about to wrap him arms around you but you kept a hand at his chest to keep him at bay. “Baby?...”

Bakugou looked at you with hurt and confused eyes when you didn’t welcome his embrace. Even when you were mad at him, you still allowed him to hold you so what gives? He looked at you and your attire. He noticed your jacket and shoes and saw you holding a bag. “W-what are you doing?”

You walked away from him but he snatched your wrist to make you turn to face him. “Y/N! What’s going on?!” He frantically asked with crazed eyes. You snatched your wrist back and ran down the stairs and he copied your actions. He followed you into the living room until he grabbed your wrist once more. You tried to pull away again but found it harder because this time, he gripped it tight.

“W-where are you going baby?”

“Dont call me that.”

“What? Why? Baby, please tell me what’s going on.” He begged as he squeezed your wrist.

“What’s going on? Are you serious? What does it look like? I’m leaving!” Bakugou’s eyes went wide once more and shook his head.

“N-no! No, why!?”

“Why?! Look at my arm!” You screamed.

“I know! I know and I’m so sorry! But..but you don’t have to go! I can fix you up, I’ll take you to recovery girl, I will bring you to the best hospitals around the world to fix that for you! Just please don’t go!” He bargained and offered everything but you weren’t budging.

“It’s not just the burn Bakugou.” You deadpanned with a nonchalant face. His heart felt heavy after hearing your voice refer to him with his family name.

“..I-it’s Katsuki! Your Katsuki! It’s Suki, baby please!” Bakugou stepped closer as he cried once more but you backed away again. His hold on your wrist still strong as his fingers played with the ring on your hand, trying to calm himself down and remind himself that you are still his wife.

You shook your head at his pleading. “Bakugou. You burned me. But not only that, you’ve neglected me for months.”

“I know that! And I’m sorry! I will spend just as much time off of work to make it up to you, I swear I will, I promise!” He once again bargained.

“It’s too late.”

“No it’s not, please, it can’t be!”

“It is Bakugou-“

“KATSUKI! ....please...please don’t call me that. I’m your Katsuki,” he said with a whimpering voice. At this point you felt the tears come through, but you still didn’t allow them to fall.

“Katsuki...I can’t stay here. Too much damage has been done.” You said with a soft voice. Bakugou continued to shake his head ‘no,’ but you already made up your mind. You used your wind quirk in your hand and blew his grip off your wrist. You took the quick opportunity to walk to the door but Bakugou grabbed your bag off your shoulder in a childish panic and attempt to get you to stay.

“Hey!-“

“Please Y-Y/N! Please don’t leave me! I- I know I’ve been a terrible husband! I’m sorry! B-But I promise I’ll do better. I’ll stay at home more, I’ll spend more time with you, Please!”

“Katsu-“

“I’ll buy you whatever you want! I’ll get you all the expensive brands, I’ll find you all the best jewelry, I’ll give you all the money in the world! I’ll give you the whole world! Please stay! I love you so much Y/N!”

“Katsuki, give me back my bag,” you tried to reach for it but Bakugou kept it away from you and pulled you in with one arm and held you in a tight embrace as he cried on your shoulder.

“Please...you can’t do this to me. I need you. I love you! I’ll do better! I’ll be a better husband, I swear..just please don’t go.” He softly spoke with a broken voice and soft hiccups. It was wrong for you to do this, but you sighed and pretended to forgive him as you wrapped your arms around his torso. You hugged him tight and he fell for it as he openly sobbed now. His other arm that held your bag came to wrap around your waist but before it could, you snatched the bag out of his hold and pushed him away. You ran to the door and held a tight grip on the knob as you picked up your car keys. You saw Katsuki attempt to run back to you but you created a strong barrier of wind to protect you. “IM SORRY Y/N! PLEASE DONT!”

You took off your ring and tossed it to him through the barrier. He was quick to catch it and hold it right in fear of losing it. He had to find a way to get it back on your finger. “No..baby...Teddy Bear please!”

“....I’ll send you the divorce papers....Goodbye Katsuki.”

With that, you walked out of the door, still keeping the barrier alive. Once you started the car, you dispersed of the wind and Bakugou opened the door and ran to your car.

“Y/N wait! Please!” He cried out but he was too late. You pulled out of the driveway and drove off quickly down the street. He watched your car go as he began hyperventilating and tugging at his ash blonde locks. He ran back inside the house with your ring in hand as he looked for his phone. He found it on the kitchen island and quickly dialed your number. Of course, it went straight to voicemail but that didn’t stop him from calling about 50x more.

“This-...this has to be some stupid dream. A fucking nightmare...” he said as he tried to hide in denial. “Yeah...a nightmare. This is what it is...I’ll..I’ll wake up soon and she’ll be by my side in the morning...sleeping peacefully...and I’ll take the whole week off and spend it with her. She won’t be mad, we’ll be happy like we always are. S-She won’t leave me.”

Bakugou had an insane smile on his face with eyes of distraught on him. He clumsily made his way back to his bedroom where he flopped onto the large mattress and tried to get some sleep. He would sleep the whole day away if it meant you’d still be by his side when he woke up. The ring you abandoned was held tight in the palm of his hand as he held it close to his chest. His sobs overcame him but did aid in his journey to slumber. Eventually, he knocked out and a smile of bliss adorned his face as he assumed you would still be there in the morning.....oh how wrong he was.

The very next day, he woke up at 5:30 like he always did and quickly looked to your side of the bed. It was cold and empty. He was lonely. The exact same feeling you got everytime you woke up without seeing him for the past 6 months.

6 months. You’ve been married for 4 years and together for 8. Out of those 8 years, Bakugou spent 6 months neglecting you..and now...he lost you.

He stared at the empty space and bawled his eyes out like a baby as he screamed. He got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Maybe you were cooking breakfast! You weren’t. Kitchen was empty. He ran to the living room! Maybe you were just watching some TV and reading a book, looking all cute and domesticated like you usually did. No, you weren’t there either. Bakugou checked every room in the house and when he couldn’t find you..he snapped.

His heart beated at a rapid pace as he trashed the entire house. Breaking windows, flipping desks, smashing furniture. He used his quirk to create blasts and burn marks into the walls and floors of the house. He did everything to get his frustrations out. The entire time he shouted and cried as rivers of tears flowed down his cheeks.

When he was done, he sat in the middle of the destroyed living room, laying his back against the flipped couch. He sat with his knees scrunched up as he hunched over, staring at the ground. His nose and eyes and basically his entire face grew puffy and red. His hair was a mess and so was he. Silent tears continued to drop, but his throat was too dry and hurt far too much for him to make anymore noise. However, he did fight through the pain to say one final thing:

“What have I done?”

A/N: hi cubsss! So a lot of you may know that my very first post, writing piece, and short story (He’s Lost) was created around angst, a breakup, and the fact that the triggering point was Bakugou physically hurting Y/N. I’ve been thinking about it and I HATE MY WRITING IN THE FIRST POST! It was terrible! Why tf did y’all like it so much?😭 And so, I’ve created a new piece revolving around the same elements, sorta as a way to check my progress. I hope you enjoyed!

ALSO!!! If you guys like this enough, I’m willing to turn it into a small yandere short story if you Cubs are down for that. Let me know and I’ll make it happen! Love you Cubs! See you next time🧸💗

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; Taehyung getting shitfaced lol; you're a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook, welp; schemes; smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping in public, cowgirl, m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, penetrative sex, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; (secretly pining) fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung; mostly reader's POV with a short JK's POV

yes, it's purple-haired Butter JK

--

now playing – 마.피.아. in the morning by itzy

“Are you kidding me? Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

“You need to calm down,” Kim Taehyung said, patting your shoulder and handing you a mojito.

“What I need is a fucking bow and arrow to shoot down this fucking pest!”

“I know you were the archery champion in high school, but that’s still a weird thing to think,” replied that baritone voice, pushing you into a chair so he could sit down as well, observing you violently chugging down the entire mojito in your rage. He seemed highly amused, looking a bit like a young French socialite in a black beret, loose tan dress shirt, and black slacks with black loafers. Gold accents because Kim Taehyung was that bitch. “Never ceases to impress me that you can do that.”

You pulled the glass from your lips, ice and mint clinking. “This is the third girl I’ve been dating that he’s just–” You flapped a hand in the general direction of the crowd at the bar, completely ignoring Taehyung’s comment about your record-breaking skills of draining cocktails. “–unashamedly making out with when clearly I’m right here.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, far too crass for how drop-dead handsome he was, but it seemed that he didn’t care. “I doubt he knows you’re here or that you’re dating them. And to make it fair on him, you were casually dating them all at once, so technically, no one is at fault here,” he added.

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t–”

Taehyung gave you this look.

The look of ‘shut-up-you-know-I’m-right’.

Being your best friend, he had a right to do that.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at the girl anyway? Being faithful and all that, which, by the way, you are not.”

“Dating is not the same as being in a relationship,” you argued.

“Mmm, so fucking them is not indicative enough that you should be less of a fuckboy.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” you muttered. “I’m a woman.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “The general term still stands because you’re a class-A asshole.”

You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to bolt home and buy a bow and arrow online to shoot, not Jeon Jungkook, but Kim Taehyung, because he was testing your last nerve with the truth.

“Again, why are you not mad at them?” Taehyung reoriented the conversation with a sweep of his arm when you opened your eyes, prompting your gaze to shift and witness Jeon Jungkook with his tongue down a pretty girl’s throat. This cheeky bastard was even wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, just like you. The only difference was that you wore a leather miniskirt and he wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, but both of you were wearing heeled black moto-style boots.

“Because he’s the denominator in this equation,” you snapped, smacking your glass on the table.

“Please do not make math references. My brain is not made for that.”

“Fractions? Tae, seriously, are you defective or–”

“Maybe he’s doing it to piss you off.”

“Well, I am pissed off!”

The bar was very loud with music and noise. Your shout was still clearly heard. Neither you or Taehyung seemed to care that people turned to look at you two and shake their heads.

Taehyung shrugged. “Then he succeeded.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why, though? I didn’t do anything to him. He just started popping up stealing my girls. What if I switch back to chasing dick and he takes them too?”

Taehyung snorted. “I doubt it. You’re just continuing on this train because you’re stubborn.”

As usual, he saw right through you.

He raised an elegant hand and tapped his lips. “Maybe he likes you.”

You gave Taehyung the most disbelieving, fiery, indignant look that you had ever produced in your life.

“Or, he doesn’t,” he hastily corrected. “Let’s face it, sometimes I don’t even like you and I would murder for your dumb ass.”

You tapped the melting glass of icy mint onto the tabletop.

Menacingly.

“If you think about it,” Taehyung began tentatively, scooting his chair slightly away from you with your flaming eyes boring holes in the back of Jeon Jungkook’s head. His hair was dark violet now so you could spot him easily, pinning your (not yours, but you know, that was your prey at one point) girl against the back wall of the bar. “He always goes after your target. He wants you to notice something.”

You watched a YouTube video once about making your own bow and arrow. It didn’t seem that difficult, all things considered. Sharpening a long stick with a knife and–

“Stop thinking about murder.”

You jerked your head back to Taehyung and his honey-brown curls framing his amused expression. You glared in response.

“I’ve never interacted with him a day in my life,” you frowned, abandoning your homicidal tendencies for the moment. “What does he want me to notice?”

Taehyung gave you a pained look. You returned with a black stare. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“He’s a fuckboy. You’re the female equivalent of a fuckboy. What do you think he wants?”

“My body count?”

Taehyung slapped his own face, muttering under his breath. “… be part of your body count.”

“Sorry, what?” You raised your voice over the bass. “Can’t hear you over the music.”

He raised his head. “I don’t know. Fight him. See what happens.”

“I’m not gonna win a fistfight.”

Taehyung looked ready to fistfight you.

You stood up, dragging him by the arm. “Come on, wingman. I need another drink. I’ll buy, since you got me the last one.”

Taehyung laughed, loud and full, yanking his arm out of your grip and clapping a hand around your shoulders, pulling you to him so your body knocked into him. You grimaced, now forced to walk side by side with him, not seeing the looks shared between the patrons witnessing you two together.

“Now we’re talking. I wanna get trashed.”

“Cure for a broken heart, am I right?”

“Mine’s shattered,” Taehyung chuckled, rubbing the left side of his chest playfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. It was his idea to go out tonight and assist you with getting laid but, one, you didn’t need assistance and, two, he had recently broken up. It was pretty obvious he just wanted you to buy him drinks and have an excuse to do something.

Which was fine with you, until Jeon Jungkook showed up holding your previous eye candy.

Hmph.

Whatever, you had a Taehyung to nurse back to health with an obscene amount of alcohol.

-

Two hours later, you were standing in the men’s bathroom, holding Taehyung’s beret with one hand and his hair in the other as he vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Sup.”

The guy looked in the stall and then looked at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna hold his hair?”

The guy slunk away at your dismissive tone.

Taehyung tapped your thigh and you patted him on the head soothingly. He flushed and coughed.

"S... sorry," he croaked wetly.

You chuckled. "Wash your mouth, ya nasty."

He got up and you straightened his clothes in an almost maternal fashion.

"Need water, I think..." he winced, stumbling past you to the counter. You followed him to make sure he didn't hurl in the fucking sink.

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything crazy."

"Heh, that’s you," he slurred as he put his hands under the tap to wash up.

You plopped his beret on your head and sauntered out of the men's bathroom, unbothered by the stares and the people trying to catch your eye. It took you no time at all to waltz to the counter and obtain the water, striding back to the men's bathroom with the tall glass.

Only to run into you-know-who.

The girl sputtered your name in surprise as if she hadn't met you in this very bar a couple of weeks ago.

You completely ignored her existence, narrowing your eyes at the smirking face of Jeon Jungkook.

There was no denying his attractiveness. His purple hair was a little messy now, curling around his high cheekbones and large brown eyes. The dim light of the bar cast strange shadows over his chiseled jaw and shapely lips, curved into a devilish grin. He had a mole and red lipstick residue underneath his lower lip.

You had a strong urge to douse him and his leather jacket with your giant glass of water.

Taehyung was the one who found out Jungkook's name for you. You sent him on the mission after the first time this little shit started meddling in your business.

At this moment, you remembered that.

You pointedly looked away, walking past Jungkook, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose, annoyed that he seemed pretty strong under that jacket, muscular and lean. Whatever. You had a large bear cub named Kim Taehyung to take care of. You didn't have time to waste on Jeon Jungkook.

"Hey."

You stiffened at the deep, silvery voice. Of course. He had to have a sexy voice too. Bitch.

"You should apologize."

Your eyes flickered to the glass of water. It was pretty cold in your hand. You raised your chin back up, facing towards the bathrooms.

The choice was easy.

You continued waking and raised your free hand to flip Jeon Jungkook the bird, off to deliver the water to your best friend.

Some guy at the urinal screamed as you entered the men's bathroom but you completely ignored him, only focusing on Taehyung, who was gripping the corner of the sink, turning not to pass out, pallid face dripping and looking green.

"Drink this and I'll take you home."

-

"Ugh, thanks for the other day... sorry I wasn't the best wingman... I ended up making you exorcize my demons instead..."

You laughed, jabbing a toothpick in the steaming fried chicken. You and Kim Taehyung again, hanging out in the afternoon at the local chicken spot.

"It's cool. I know you needed it."

Taehyung frowned. "If you knew, why did you play along?"

You shrugged. "You would've done the same for me."

He smiled and popped a piece of crispy chicken in his mouth. "Yeah, if you ever had a serious relationship for once."

You glared. "This is a non-judgment zone. Shut up."

He chuckled. Then he leaned in and you grimaced, catching a whiff of his chicken breath. He was wearing a pinstriped shirt and neglected to button the first two because he was too hot to bother with some stupid buttons. You weren't going to say you could relate, but you were wearing a loose black sweater dress that was bordering on flashing your panties, so, maybe.

"I heard from a little birdie that you had a run-in with the bane of your existence."

You raised an eyebrow. "The tax man?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "No, the other one."

Now it was your turn to roll yours. "Oh, right. The Dark Lord."

Taehyung gave you a weird look. "Is that a movie reference or..."

"Harry Potter, ever heard of it?"

"You're such a nerd."

"That's not... anyway, so what?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "He spoke to you."

You narrowed your eyes. "Where do you get your information?"

He fidgeted. "Uh... a reliable source that chooses to remain anonymous."

Your eyes became slits. "Who."

Taehyung stick his tongue out at you. "The whole point of anonymous is you not knowing!"

"Who are you, fucking Rita Skeeter–"

"Stop with the weird references!"

"For fuck's sake," you hissed, causing a mother sitting at a table near yours to chastise you, covering their kid’s ears. You frowned, lowering your voice. "Alright so what? He opened his mouth; nothing original came out." You jabbed another piece of chicken.

"Well? Feel any tension? Sweet romance? Unbridled fury?" Taehyung piped, greatly interested in your two-second interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

You chewed, huffing. "I had a big kid to take care of. I didn't give a shit."

"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you’re more important to me than poking his pretty eyeballs out of his head, so I didn't even reply."

Taehyung paused, mid-chew. "Really?"

"Yes, I didn't say–"

"No, that I'm important to you."

Taehyung was doing that thing where his big brown eyes went all sparkly and sentimental. It was making you uncomfortable. Bad with feelings and all that. The only reason you tolerated it was because Taehyung had been like this ever since he was that dorky weird kid you defended from bullies in elementary school. A folding chair was involved and you might have watched too many WWE TLC (tables, ladders, chairs) matches as a kid, but hey, those bullies didn’t bother Taehyung ever again, did they?

You got sent to detention for the rest of the year and anger management counseling appointments, but Taehyung remained your friend throughout the whole ordeal and for years to come, tolerating your poor life choices so… worth?

You reached over and shut his open mouth. "Of course, you are, that's why I'm not calling you a disgusting pig for chewing with your mouth open."

"Oi, that's bullying!"

"You bully me all the time," you snorted and the same mom made a noise of distaste that you pretended not to hear. "Like now you keep bringing up the spawn of Satan."

"You're also the spawn of Satan, by the way."

"Yeah, and you're my guardian angel and he ain't got shit, so I’ve already won this war."

Taehyung laughed nervously.

"Er, yes... totally..."

-

Another day, another conquest.

Well, you had to find the prey first, but that wasn’t going to be hard.

“You’re a chronic asshole.”

“Thanks, Tae. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

He rolled his eyes at you as you shrugged on one of his black dress shirts. You checked the tag. Silk. Damn. Kim Taehyung was a fancy bitch. He leaned against the closet doorframe as you fitted your black leather corset-style belt at your waist to cinch it in. You often raided Taehyung’s closet and paired it with your accessories. Did he enjoy your fucking in his clothes? Probably not, but you always returned them cleaned in the proper way, so he couldn’t complain.

He did anyway.

“No, I don’t. Let me sulk.”

“Ah, yes, moody starving artist, I’ll let you be,” you snickered, slinging the waist bag over your shoulder, wearing it across your chest instead of your hips. You lightly punched him in the arm and he pretended to topple over exaggeratedly. “You going to paint today?”

He shrugged. “I think. Dunno what media I want to use.”

“Just use a bunch of different ones. Your mixed media stuff is amazing,” you replied, waltzing out of his bedroom, past his messy studio with a blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel in the center of absolute chaos of paints. You helped him organize them once, but Taehyung often was too in the zone to pay attention to neatness.

“When’s the exhibit? I want to drop by,” you commented, seeing the line of his works safely wrapped up, leaning against the wall.

“Um… next week, Thursday through Sunday,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, cheeks flaring red at the mention of his own art exhibit. He was humble even though he was talented. “I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up looking like a high-paid escort.”

You tucked your feet into your heels and raised an eyebrow.

Silk black men’s shirt worn as a dress, belted at the waist to show off your curves, bare legs out, toned calves standing out due to your sleek black high heels.

“Who, me? Never.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Text me if you need a ride.”

“You got it.”

-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You tapped your nails on the bar, having already finished your peach mojito.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

You needed to invest in a bow and arrow, like, yesterday.

Shoot right between his pretty eyeballs. Dude even pulled back his long, deep purple hair into a smooth ponytail with wispy strands framing his sculpted face. Was that damn eyeliner and mascara making his eyes look sharper, sexier? Fuck, he even knew how to make himself look even hotter.

Not as hot as you, of course.

“How does he always know where I’m at?” you muttered under your breath, turning away to look at the bartender and order another mojito. Watermelon. It seemed interesting. Fuck it, you were going to focus on drinking rather than the thorn in your side, Jeon Jungkook and his black dress shirt halfway buttoned and his tight-fitting black slacks with sleek oxfords. The bartender slid your glass in front of you, a gradient of pink to transparent with a little sprig of mint on top. It was a pretty drink.

You reached into your waist bag to pay, but the bartender stopped you.

“The gentleman over there paid for you. A gift.”

Oh? Maybe a potential for the night. You shifted your gaze to–

Oh.

“Tell him to fu–”

But the bartender was already off servicing other customers on this busy night.

Shit.

You know what? Fine. He put himself up as the target. He wanted to play this game.

And you never missed a bullseye.

You tilted your head to survey Jeon Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, making his way over to you, bringing your drink close to your lips. He stopped right next to you. The colorful lights of the club made rainbows dance across his lightly tanned skin and his dark lips, curled into a smug smirk.

“Hey.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Drank.

Mmm, fuck, that was some deliciously smooth rum. The watermelon was a refreshing addition to the mint too. You probably weren’t meant to drink it all at once, but you were glaring at Jungkook who was pointedly watching your throat swallow and it was aggravating you more and more, the entire drink disappearing in record time, leaving nothing but ice and mint.

You smacked the glass down on this table with a hiss.

Jungkook purred your name with that deep, silvery voice of his. His eyes flickered down to your exposed collarbones and then back up to your face.

You clicked your tongue.

Then you turned away from him dismissively, walking past him, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose.

But instead of letting it happen, Jungkook shifted his weight and slid to block your path. You stopped, eyes darting up to narrow at that conceited little brat’s face. Now you could smell his cologne, fresh, sensual, a mix of pungent dragon fruit and black coffee.

Hold on.

You inhaled. Yup, no mistaking it.

That was your perfume.

Jungkook grinned as the realization hit you. How did he know what perfume you used?

“The fuck you want?” you growled.

He licked his lips slowly. He ticked his chin, taunting you.

“Finally got you to talk to me,” he purred, chuckling.

Alright, you were past causing actual bodily harm these days – jail being your primary reason – but that didn’t stop you from staring down Jeon Jungkook and his self-satisfied smirk with your signature tapering of your sharp stare.

You just stood there.

Menacingly.

He bit his lower lip, exposing that tiny mole underneath, shivering under your gaze. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, almost innocently, but there was no chance in hell that he was.

You quirked your head, lifting your chin defiantly. “Absolutely fuming,” you replied acidly.

He took a step towards you, closing the distance, so close you could feel his warmth, your breasts brushing against his chest. Now people were whispering around you two, sensing the tension between you and Jungkook. The similar outfits, the same violent energy, the same predatory aura.

As if the fox had confronted the wolf.

“What’s there to be mad about when we play the same game?” Jungkook drawled.

Cocky. The fox was so damn cocky.

“You’re just nibbling on my leftovers,” you countered, stepping forward so you pressed against him, burning body heat to burning body heat. “Which makes you the scavenger.”

Jungkook leaned down, dark brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then why so angry?”

His lips ghosted over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“I’m just a pest, right? A mere annoyance in your eventual victory.”

His lashes lowered, arrogant smirk reaching his dark eyes.

“Play your ace. Let’s see if it works,” he purred in the deep, sexy octave of his.

Shut up.

A low snarl rumbled in your chest.

“Shut up, Jeon Jungkook.”

You gripped his belt and yanked him to your body, rolling your crotch into his, your lips colliding with that maddening smirk, alcohol, dragon fruit, black coffee, flint igniting the dry wood, devouring his lips hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides, and his smile.

Triumph.

-

Shit.

-

You couldn’t give two fucks about Jeon Jungkook and he was into it.

Like the impossible enigma, he couldn’t figure you out but he was drawn to you anyway. The whole world was your plaything, and you treated it as such. There was something exciting about you, the thrill too irresistible to avoid when you made your presence known. Always you and that teasing smile, never getting serious, making everyone hesitate to take it farther with you. Who could blame them with your borderline brash attitude and ease of moving from one to the next?

That and your friendship with Kim Taehyung, who was a whole damn tiger next to your wolfish nature.

At first, Jungkook was intrigued.

As time went on, he became frustrated and annoyed.

What gave you the right to ignore him?

You picked up guys far less attractive than he was, not that he was that vain but, seriously, he was right here! Waiting to be caught. He didn’t try to interfere at first. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t even the sleep-around-and-mess-with-feelings kind of guy. But the more he watched you, the more impressed he was, seeing the way you charmed your way into everyone’s hearts, the way you focused on them for that moment, making them feel like they were the most perfect creature on Earth before slinking to the next, leaving them with a pining heart and lost in fantasies of what-ifs.

And, yeah, you were hot.

What was Jungkook going to do?

He could do nothing.

Or he could befriend Kim Taehyung, get under your skin, and make you notice him.

Not a scheme, per se.

Kind of a scheme.

Alright, definitely a scheme.

In Jungkook’s defense, your best friend Taehyung was all for it. Taehyung was the one who came up with all the ideas, informed him of your location, and the names of the girls you were after.

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. She needs a reality check.”

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t really want to let you go now that you were in his arms.

-

“Silly pretty boy.”

You had his chin in your palm, pressing your thumb against Jungkook’s lower lip, opening his hungry mouth to tease him with your tongue, tracing his soft lips and thrusting in, his low moan filling your lungs. His hands on your waist tightened, pulling you closer even through you were already in his lap, murmurs and eyes on you, but neither your nor Jungkook cared, used to this by now.

You were, after all, making out in the club.

The chair scraped against the ground as Jungkook firmly placed your thighs on either side of his, thrusting upwards into your core, letting your feel his rapidly growing hardness with every one of your kisses. Your hair feathered his cheeks and shoulders as your free hand toyed with his ponytail, twirling it in your fingers, smirking into his lips with his gasp from you grinding back down on his crotch, rolling your hips into him.

“Thought I was the bane of your existence?” Jungkook taunted under you, squeezing your ass through the silk and meeting your movements, staring into your eyes with his. So dark, so smokey, so fucking sexy, almost like looking into a mirror, because you too wore similar makeup, maybe a little darker and a little more of a flick to your eyeliner. “Just going to kiss me to shut me up?”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other clubgoers were eagerly watching now, waiting to see what was going to happen between you and him.

“I don’t need to be on your mouth to shut you up,” you mused, tugging his ponytail back and kissing down his neck, tongue tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling him shudder under your lips and teeth, lightly nipping at his skin. Tracing circles, gentle kisses, relishing in his gasps and his tightened grip on you, letting your breath linger for that extra second, that extra what-if, kissing back up his neck and onto his jawline, murmuring his name sweetly, tip of your tongue curling around his earrings and bouncing them, sighing softly in his ear.

“Can’t claim my leftovers when my leftovers are you, now can you, naughty boy?” you chuckled darkly, pressing your breasts on his hot chest and your clothed pussy on the tip of his stiff length, rutting against it, making him hiss your name.

“I have no intention of being leftovers,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes flew open as his lips transfixed to the space under your ear, sucking hard, forcing you to squeeze your thighs at the attack on your erogenous zone, sparks of arousal flinching through you, soaking your panties. You gasped, hips bucking into his needily, barely processing his words, his tongue flicking against your throbbing skin, lips and teeth, and then his mouth was moving, traveling up your earlobe, nipping at the curve, your eyelids fluttering, clutching his purple ponytail tightly.

How did he know? Did he ask your previous conquests to spill the information? There was no time to think, his hands traveling up your back, clenching fistfuls of your shirt and digging his nails into your back, your body responding and squirming against him, the quiet whine of his name escaping your lips and drifting right into his ear.

“J… Jungkook…”

He groaned, turning your head forcefully, him kissing you this time, just as ravenous, just as powerful, basically simulating sex in the middle of the fucking club with the way your hips were twisting into his and he was thrusting back against you, breathless, whispering in your mouth so only you could hear his words resonate in your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, you turn me on so fucking easily, I just have to have you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, capturing your lips again and again. “There’s no way you’re any good for me, but I don’t care, fuck.”

You snickered, eye to eye, trapped in those expanding pupils and his heavy pants. “They say the same about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You felt him smirk. “Nah, not me. No one calls me the spawn of Satan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I do.”

Jungkook’s tongue licked your lips, making your shiver in delight. “That was special treatment. Just for you.”

Hold on a second.

Through your hazy buzzed brain, you began to piece the puzzle together. With each part falling into place, the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes grew and grew, seeing you fill in the missing blanks. Your eyes widened and you curled a finger around his ponytail, yanking roughly to pull his grinning face away from yours. You jerked back, but his strong hands held you in place.

Wispy strands of violet framing that devious expression.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, venomous.

Jungkook had the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

You were going to kill Taehyung. That little shit! Taehyung was no idiot, so he must have planned this somehow. He always telling you to get serious and stop messing around. That’s why Jungkook always knew who you were dating, where you were, and what you were wearing! Did Taehyung recruit Jeon Jungkook to trick you? Fuck! He was dead meat, scheming against you like this!

Jungkook brought you out of your homicidal tendencies with a soft drawl of your name.

“For the record, he was helping me out,” he murmured, pulling you to him, pressing your chest to his. You narrowed your eyes, his hard cock still throbbing against your panties. “I want you.”

He lowered his face, breathing hard.

“Not just like this.”

Your eyes widened.

“I said I’m not going to be leftovers.” Looking deep into your eyes, holding you tightly. “I’m not going to let you throw me away like the rest.” Every inhale making your body rise into his touch, his deep, silvery voice saturated with lust and determination. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me as much as I am in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but…

Jungkook gave you this look.

The look of ‘you-know-you’ve-already-lost’.

You could sit here and pretend, but you were also grinding back onto his dick right out here in the open, clutching his purple hair and his pretty face. His hard body was tucked snugly in your thighs. That smug little smirk. Shit, shit, shit.

Jeon Jungkook got you and he got you good.

He knew it too, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass again, rolling his hips into yours.

“Come on. Let’s fuck.”

-

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Jungkook threw his head back onto his pillows, exposing his straining throat, veins popping out, clutching your hips strongly to rut back against you as you smacked your crotch down onto him, riding him hard and fast, your hands next to his head, his long purple hair a mess even if it was still in the ponytail, sweat glistening on his forehead, moaning loudly with your walls closing in on his hardness. You were too busy fucking the daylights out of him to say anything, but Jungkook had plenty to say, hazy eyes opening and gasping as he viewed your body hovering over him, naked with his hickeys on your neck and breasts, strong thighs flexed on either side of him, his rock-hard cock repeatedly disappearing into your tight, wet hole.

“Fuck, I knew it, I knew you would be so fucking good and so fucking sexy,” he whined, nails digging into your hips and adding more force to your thrusts.

Your clothes and his clothes were all over his bedroom floor.

Your phone was on his nightstand.

Tonight, you sent one text to Kim Taehyung.

I’m gonna buy a bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.

You screen flashed, indicating Taehyung had replied. One quick flick of your eyes and you smirked.

Oh shit.

Jungkook squeezed your ass, making your return your attention to him.

“Focus on me,” he begged, blown-out pupils. “Only me, please.”

“So needy,” you teased, licking your lips slowly. He groaned under you, mouth opening, his pretty pink tongue lolling out, desperate to be sucked. “If you think you can keep me, you’ll have to last longer than this, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard at the way you said his name, a mixture of warning and desire.

“P-Please… it’s too good, I-I can’t…”

You redoubled your efforts, roughly slapping your hips into his, enjoying the loud sound and the way your core tightened, constricting him inside you, telling him he couldn’t cum until you did and deliberately holding yourself back, shifting your attention when you felt it rise, denying him over and over, until he was like this, whole body shaking, grasping your ass, sweat on his chest. His right arm, covered in tattoos, looking extra delicious in the moonlight, so fucking perfect with his forearms flexed with tension. You purposefully stared into his brown eyes overtaken with lust, his lips trembling from denying himself his own orgasm.

Jungkook whimpered your name.

On the verge of breaking, helpless at your command.

A sharp throb inside you, wildly turned on by his duality.

You smirked.

“Jungkook.”

You inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction with the wave of pleasure, intense shivering pulses running up and down his length, sinking down so he could feel it all, the tight and rough massage of your orgasm taking over, low moan of his name emitting from your throat, and Jungkook followed suit, louder and lewder, eyes rolling back as he shot into the condom with jerking hips, burying the twitching head deep inside you, swelling the latex with thick cum, rocking you back and forth on his length, your juices dripping down and coating the inside of your joined thighs.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck, so good, s-so fucking good…”

You know what, he was right.

It was so fucking good.

You savored it, the ecstasy that seemed endless and overwhelming, squeezing Jungkook between your thighs and moaning, just something about it, so satisfying and gratifying listening to his wheezing gasps and content whimpers, lowering yourself to his face, and he raised his, your hands sliding under his head, giving him what he wanted, light, maddening, carnal kisses, his cheeks, his chin, his quivering lips, whining your name, pleading with you to play with him more, more, tugging on his ponytail and his hands stroking your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between his index and thumb fingers, shaking at your hissing inhale.

“Hey,” you murmured, clenching him between your legs to get his attention.

Jungkook blinked at you, brown eyes unfocused, panting hard. “Y-Yeah?”

“You should apologize.”

The side of his swollen lips quirked upwards despite his fucked-out state. His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “What for? Tell me and I will.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For your scheming and using my own best friend against me.”

Jungkook smirked slyly.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted you and made sure he had the condom before he pulled out, still semi-hard. You narrowed your eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look sorry either, peeling the condom off and crawling over the bed to toss it in the trash before straightening.

“Sounding insincere there,” you remarked coolly, balancing your chin on the back of your knuckles, elbow on the bed, tapping the air impatiently.

“I mean it,” he purred, reaching for the towel beside the bed and knocking the condoms from his nightstand to the sheets. His right hand wrapped around his glistening length, still covered in lube and his cum, toned hips thrusting into his closed fist, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth as you watched him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly jacking himself off as his eyes roamed over your curves, moaning lustfully, lingering on your legs, clutching the towel in his left hand so hard his knuckles were pale, forearms flexed, the slick head of his cock turning purple-red, emerging from between his closed fingers, throbbing as it was choked by his harsh grip.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook shuddered, stroking faster, making wet squelching sounds, his muscular thighs bulging with effort.

Fuck, he was so damn attractive.

You kept an indifferent look on your face, raising your leg, your free hand sliding down, tracing the outside of your already wet opening. Those hungry dark brown orbs immediately fixated on it, moaning imploringly as you dipped your fingers in it, soft squishing noises as you spread open your soaked pussy, slipping a finger in your heat, gently thrusting.

He gasped your name, begging you.

It made you wetter, seeing his want. He knew it too, brutally fisting his cock, hips quivering.

“Stop.”

Jungkook whined despairingly, pulling his hand away, his stiff cock bouncing from the swiftness of the movement, cutting off his own orgasm. He sucked in a shivering breath, tipping his hips up to you so his glossy, hard length twitched.

You shifted, laying back against his pillows, opening your legs.

Smirk on your lips.

“Mmm, fuck, yes, fuck me with that.”

Jungkook smirked back.

It took him no time at all to wipe his hand and crotch off, ripping open another condom and moaning as he rolled it down, the mere contact of the thin encasement stimulating his sensitive skin. He slid up to you, gripping your knees and spreading you even wider, pressing the tip against your drenched heat.

He whispered your name, like sweet smoke.

“Hm?”

Jungkook leaned down, kissing you deeply as he sank into you, drinking in your gasp at the fullness.

“I’m going to make you feel so, so good,” he mumbled into your lips, pecking you softly.

He was about to retreat but your hands snapped up, tangling into his messy violet waves, clutching his ponytail. Jungkook blinked at you, questioning.

“Not too far away,” you said with a playful smile. “I wanna see that handsome face of yours.”

He bit his lower lip, tiny mole and wicked grin revealing themselves.

“Okay.”

He lifted his hips and plunged fully into you, the connection of your hips making a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck, Jungkook…!”

And you could tell from his elated expression and his furious pace that he was ecstatic at your response, chasing it, chasing you, moaning as you caught him between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, gaining some leverage and meeting his thrusts, fingers tightening in his soft hair, fuck, so beautiful, the way the pleasure overtook his handsome features, his hazy dark brown orbs shrouded in lust, his pink lip trembling in his teeth, sharp jaw set, but still maintaining a little bit of that cunning exterior that ensnared you in the first place, unknowingly at the time, the side of his lips ticking up, this cheeky bastard.

Jungkook saw the way you looked at him.

He adjusted the position, hitting deeper, swelling inside you, and, fuck, you couldn’t help it, you smirked too because he was so, so full of himself and so were you, insufferable, troublesome, competitive even now, the obscene smack of his crotch hitting your hips, wet and noisy, the squish of your juices smearing against his inner thighs as you wildly matched his rapid, bruising rhythm, your moans blending together, sweet hot harmony, his bedframe ramming against the wall, and, as usual, neither of you caring, far to occupied with yourselves, pleasure snaking between you, up your spine and into your head, mixing with the light buzz of alcohol, a different kind of euphoria from every other one-night stand, because this was Jeon Jungkook and he wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

His lower lip popped out of his teeth and he gasped your name.

Longingly, breathlessly.

Was he thinking the same thing?

You lifted yourself a little, your hands molded to his head, whispering intensely against his shaking lips.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. We have all night and the morning.”

Fuck, he had a brilliant smile.

It was actually doomed for you, but you weren’t mad about it.

Eye contact, and he didn’t waver, thrusting deep into you, low moan pulled from his chest, jolting shudders sliding down his shoulders and then in between you and him, his cock twitching and spilling into the condom again, roughly clamped by your tightness, and you were already there, falling over the edge with a soft cry, straining your neck and pushing his head down to you to collide your lips with his, greedy for his kiss, his taste, his whimpers at your forcefulness.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He said your name in the same tone, delicate and possessive, a bullseye right to the heart.

-

“On one hand, I’m glad you’re finally serious about someone.”

You paid absolutely no attention to the annoyed baritone voice of your best friend.

“On the other hand,” Kim Taehyung gritted out, smacking you in the shoulder blades as you crawled into Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kisses intensifying, a needy whine in his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Really feeling like a third wheel, you two! Stop making out for one goddamn second!”

He threw up his hands as both of you pretended to be deaf.

-

interlude respect drabble — "how much did you see?" popcorn drabble — "who are they?"

part ii threesome, ft kth — got it bad

--

masterpost

[handsoffmyfriends]

Alrighty for Bakugou fluff, can I request a scenario where he wakes up but he's still REALLY sleepy so he actually thinks he's still dreaming so he goes downstairs for breakfast in the dorms, kisses the reader and hugs them while getting food, just the two of them. Only the reality is he never confessed to his crush yet, the bakusquad is there and he burns his tongue on his coffee thus waking up and grasping what he just did. EMBARRASSMENT GALORE

LUCID DREAMING

— bakugou katsuki was one of the few people who experienced very lucid, very life-like dreams. usually, he was pretty good at telling when he was dreaming and when he was awake. usually.

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,099

WARNINGS: second hand embarrassment, bakugou swearing, distressed denki noises

A/N: HELLO THIS WAS THE FUCKING FUNNIEST THING OF MY ENTIRE LIFE i seriously could not stop giggling over this for a solid 5 minutes !! anon i am BEGGING YOU turn on your location, you deserve all the recognition for this HILARIOUS prompt nhfdsjklhgkjfds

You were in the kitchen, preparing another round of coffee for the squad. It was Sunday and you all agreed to do nothing except indulge in caffeine and watch shitty movies with shitty snacks. Bakugou had yet to weigh his opinion on the matter, but considering he was still in bed - at the righteous hour of 8am, no less - he had waived his right to an opinion. 

“Think I should make Bakugou one?” you called out.

The resounding “NO!” from every single person stopped you in your tracks. 

“Bakubro is really particular about how he likes his coffee,” Kirishima explained, leaning back over the couch to look at you. “It’s so manly.” 

“You mean insane!” Kaminari corrected, voice high in distress. “Have you actually seen how he makes it?” 

“It’s a crime against coffee,” Shinsou added sleepily. “He doesn’t even use real coffee.” 

“Jokes on you, buddy, but Y/N isn’t using real coffee, either,” Sero teased.

“Y/N doesn’t burn the shit out of it, though,” Shinsou shrugged. “Speaking of which, can you hurry up? I’m gonna pass out over here.” 

“Be grateful!” Mina snapped, lobbing a pillow in Shinsou’s direction. “Y/N, don’t make his anymore! He doesn’t deserve it!”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take that back right now, Pinky,” Shinsou snapped.

You laughed at the squad’s banter, tuning it out as you continued to prepare coffee for everyone. Shinsou included, since you didn’t have a death wish. Excluding Bakugou, since Kirishima was right. He was picky when it came to what he put in his body. You doubt he would appreciate the gesture if you fucked up his first coffee of the day.

Speaking of the blasty boy, he finally made his appearance. You’d never seen him look so exhausted, you were actually kind of concerned about him. He was always the first one awake, banging on your door to drag you down for morning training. Sometimes he would try Kirishima, and he knew better than to try getting Kaminari up early. Shinsou was a lost cause. Having him practically drag his feet across the room was a sight you never thought you’d ever see.

He paid the rest of the squad zero attention as he made his way into the kitchen with you. “Good morning, Bakugou,” you greeted, though even to your own ears it sounded like a question. “Did you... sleep well?” 

He grumbled as he dragged himself over to you and— wait, what!? You flushed red instantly as he slung an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You were compliant since you didn’t know what was going on. Why was he—

Your brain shut down when he planted a sleepy, sweet kiss to your cheek and said, in a gravelly voice, “mornin’ babe.” 

He pulled away as if everything was fine, as if kissing you like you were a couple was a normal thing to do. Sure, you might have harboured a secret crush on the guy, but you were friends first! He never showed any indication of liking you back, so you never pursued anything. So... what the fuck!? 

Should you say something? Was this a thing that was going to happen now? You wouldn’t exactly be unhappy if that were the case, but... it wasn’t supposed to work like that! 

The rest of the squad looked on in stunned silence. Of course, they’d seen.

(Unbeknownst to you, the squad had managed to wrangle some of Bakugou’s more personal feelings from him, several months back. It had taken a lot of bribing, and he only ever said it once. That Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you. They’d all been sworn to secrecy, lest he turn to villainy to murder all their asses.)

No one knew what to say. No one dared break the silence. It was so surreal, it felt almost dream-like in the absurdity of it all. 

You just watched as he milled about in the kitchen, making his famous shitty coffee with nothing but boiling water. You’re sure he forgot to add something cooling. Before you could warn him about scalding his entire tongue off, he tipped his head back and took the most daring chug of boiling bean juice you had even seen. 

It ended up exactly how you’d imagine it would. He sputtered it all out with a series of curses, nearly throwing the offending mug across the room. 

And then he froze. Abruptly, as if he hadn’t even been aware of his surroundings, he looked around to see the squad all leaning off the edge of the couches, to see you standing there entirely red faced. 

His face went deathly white for a second before all the blood came rushing back, his face flushing even redder than yours in undeniable embarrassment. “Holy fuck, I’m awake.” He sounded so mortified, wide eyes flying to you and then locking onto your friends.

The silence lasted exactly three more seconds before Kaminari burst out laughing. “So bold, Kacchan!” 

“That was so freaking manly!” Kirishima praised with a tear of pride.

“It’s about time Bakubabe made a move,” Mina squealed with excitement.

“Bakugou really is an all or nothing guy, huh,” Sero nodded, vaguely impressed.

“I’m never going to get my fucking coffee,” Shinsou groaned, curling up on the couch and burying his face into the cushions. Through some other worldly powers, he was out like a light, fast asleep despite the ruckus going on around him.

The squad roared with laughter. There was no stopping their whooping and hollering, both cheering and teasing Bakugou. 

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugou shouted, hands sparking off. That just made the idiots laugh even louder. He felt embarrassed, he felt humiliated, and he wanted nothing more than to blast the smug faces off his dumbass friends but you were there, looking at him with a mix of your own embarrassment, confusion and concern. It was enough to pull him back from his murderous rampage. 

“Bakugou...” you started, but he interrupted you.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Y/N. I thought I was dreaming.” 

Wrong choice of words. Your face turned sweet, your smile like sunshine. “Aw, you dream of me? Bakugou, that’s so sweet!”

If it were even possible, he went redder in the face. Your group of friends laughed even louder. 

Feeling bold, you decided to tease Bakugou just a little more. You stepped up close to him, mimicking his moves on you earlier, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “You could have just said you wanted a kiss, Kacchan.”

[honey-milk-depresso]

Heartslabyul with s/o who chugs expresso shot (because being the school therapist is harder than you think aye-)

Alright Alright- last request! I've already stated, but I'll let this one slide. I still have other old requests I need to finish so this is the last one for now ^^

Honestly, amazing idea lmao-

Tbh, that is so me. I chug a minimum of 5 cups in the morning before school to STAY A W A K E- and also help me to stare at a computer screen-

And my name says it all lmao- 

Hope you enjoy!

Heartslabyul with an expresso chugging s/o

Riddle Rosehearts

Man-

I don't think Riddle likes bitter things too much.

So he’s pretty much in disbelief that you can drink so much

of something so bitter!

Won’t you get sick??

Well, he actually advices and recommends you to try out some tea instead.

Some can help you stay awake, and some can help you peacefully sleep.

Two birds with one stone!

And tea is really mellow, lighter! Or at least, his favorite ones.

But if you want bolder flavor, 

you can try pure matcha!

Maybe, just a little milk.

Listen, I drank pure Match before, it is bitter as F C K-

I’m not joking fam-

add some milk, seriously-

And maybe sugar-

It’s THAT bitter

Yo even I can’t handle it-

And I drink pure coffee and chocolate-

Anyways, that concludes Riddle <3

Trey Clover

My favorite Heartslabyul boy-

He’s, well-

pretty shock of how much coffee you can drink in a day

He understands that the coffee helps keep you awake-

but-

Drinking too much like 8 to 11 cups a day??

Um-

Coffee overdose much?

Yes, Darling-

It raises your blood pressure by

a lot

And it might increase chances of a heart attack.

Like Riddle, he tries to encourage you to drink some tea sometimes,

he looks after how much coffee you drink,

and will stop you once you take at least 3 cups.

Sorry s/o, he will not allow you to die-

if only you’re there to stop me lmao-

He’ll bake some pastries to compliment your coffee, like fruit tarts, brownies, scones, or just a simple fruit like a banana!

Look, healthy fruits to start your day, okay? He cares about your health like the good husband boyfriend he is <3

FCK I WANT TREY NHKDHKDHKHDJ-

Cater Diamond

Chances are-

he also drinks a lot of coffee in the morning lmao-

But he’ll drink at max 2 to 4 cups,

maybe with some milk or something-

That’s it-

Hun-

YOU DRINK 8 TO INFINITY-

DJJBJBDJBDJ

W H A T

Anyways,

Cater is going to have to stop you-

He can’t have you overdose.

No.

Okay, if you want coffee,

try something like frappes or mocha.

He’ll take you to the trendiest ones in Twisted Wonderland to try.

Maybe some juice?

Smoothie?

Better to start with those unlike 10 cups of coffee.

But also just drink one cup-

And max cups for coffee is 3-

okay s/o-

He just worries, cuz your his s/o and he loves you obviously <3

Deuce Spade

HUH???

WHAT??

IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?????

Yes, Deuce dear, I’m sorry, sugar-

Don’t you feel sick after drinking a lot??

Look, Deuce probably only drinks one cup to stay focus-

You need that much??

I don’t know-

but I think he went to tell his Trey senpai about this-

and Trey warned it can be bad to drink so much-

And he sh00k-

No way is he letting his s/o get a heart attack!

He searches up the web for “coffee alternatives”

I swear-

yo, coffee isn’t even something non vegetarian/vegan-

lmao-

He such a cutie-

*c0ughs* 

A N Y W A Y S-

Try drinking tea!

Eat a banana!

Or other foods containing vitamin B!

Those would keep you focus, fresh, and awake!

He wants you to take care of your health, so he’s going to try his very best to keep you happy and healthy! <3

SWEET INNOCENT DUMBO BOY I LOVE YOU SJGDDUGUIDGB-

Ace Trappola

Bruh-

This dude-

I swear-

He just stared at you in disbelief-

As you chugged down 5 cups in a row-

like a monster-

wtf???

Okay,

now this boy is getting REALLY concern-

So-

What is he going to do?

Well, Ace isn’t that good in trying to figure out things on his own-

So he’s mostly relying on his senpai (specifically Trey-) and the internet-

Like Deuce.

Every day you wake up, he stops you at your third cup.

“Alright, enough. Eat this banana-”

B r u h-

He’s not the best at showing he cares-

in a fluffy

lovey dovey kind of way-

when he’s truly in love-

But, his actions speak louder.

Just know, he cares and loves you a lot, s/o. He’s just trying lmao <3

[stayatiny]

Little Dolly Chapter 6~ Yandere Seonghwa

(Gif made by me)

Pairing(s) – Killer/Yandere Seonghwa x Virgin! Reader

Series warnings – Violence, Daddy kink mentions of murder, TW- beating, swearing, blood, smut and lose of virginity (later on), yandere behaviors, Stockholm syndrome (seriously this is darker than my other fics. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.)

Chapter Warning(s) –Daddy Hwa again, mentions of family troubles, mostly plot for this chapter

Tagged Lovelies - @mirror-juliet @aikyubi @babybunnyalien @mingkisbitch @chonsayeosang @jodidan @cheline @hapapino-cake @ateezsadist @t4elor @soft-teddybear Please let me know it you want to be tagged or if I have forgotten to tag you.

I sat in the office chair again, staring at the door. I went back to working on emails and looking at marketing material. Its already past seven pm. I logged off and walked over to the door. I cracked it just enough to see how she was doing. I see that she is fast asleep in the middle of the floor. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees. I let out some relief and shut the door again. I go to the kitchen and get some food ready for myself. The kitchen was lifeless. Was my life really like this before Y/N was with me. I knew my life was dull but never anything like this.

When I wake up, my body is so much pain that I could hardly move. I whine as I try to turn on my side. I reach out for the bottle of water and sit up slowly, my mouth dryer than the desert. I chug the water until it was empty. I lay the bottle to the side when I hear the door open again. Seeing Hwa with some soup.

“Here, eat this. It’ll help. I also brought some pain killers for you.” He set the try of food down. I nod. He gave me the medicine first then watched me eat. I started to eat slowly waiting for the meds to kick in.

“Do you need help?” For the first time I looked him in the eyes.

“Please daddy,” I say with a little blush on my cheeks. I still wasn’t used to calling him that.

“Alright open up,” he said, scooting closer to me. I open my mouth as he fed me. We stayed in silence for while only hear the spoon clank. When the bowl was empty, Hwa set it down on the floor.

“I’m going to keep you in here for another day to make sure this lesson sticks. I shouldn’t have kicked and hit you as bad as I did but let that be the punishment,” he says. He stands and gets ready to leave. I grab his pants leg.

“No please don’t leave me alone. I’ll be a good girl,” I beg. Even after being in here for half a day, I didn’t like the silence or the loneliness.

“Let go of me little girl,” he growled. A few stray tears fell as I let him go. He turned his back leaving the room, shutting me in again. I wipe away my tears and then lay back down on the floor. Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.

The next morning, I feel the chain on my ankle loosen. My eyes immediately open to see Hwa. He helps me up and into his room.

“What did we learn?” He sits me on the bed and pulls my shirt up enough to look at the bruises and marks that he left.

“Never to run away from you again.” He smiles and kisses my forehead.

“Good girl. Here lay down in bed for a little while. I’ll be in the office if you need me. Get some rest,” he says leaving the room. He leaves the door open this time. I hear him talking on the phone while I sit on the bed. I decided to get up and hobble to the bathroom. I use the toilet and brush my teeth. Hwa comes back in.

“Are you hungry? I’m thinking about ordering some food,” he asks. I nod and then walk over to him. I lay my head on his chest. I missed him being his normal self and not being angry with me.

“I told you to get some rest. Here lay down until the food gets here,” Hwa says helping me back into bed. I sit in the middle of the king size bed and snuggling a pillow. We haven’t spoken very much other than short sentences and yes and no answers.

“I know but I wanted to brush my teeth before laying down.” Hwa smiled a little and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how hard I hit you until I saw your bruises this morning,” he apologized. I chew on my bottom lip. I didn’t actually expect him to tell me he was sorry for what happened.

“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have run away. Even if I did get away with it, I don’t know where I was going or wanted to go. My parents aren’t the greatest people to begin with and the rest of my family aren’t much better.” I hug my knees while speaking.

“Why do you look so down on your parents?” Hwa pulled the rest of his body onto the bed sitting crossed legged.

“When I was growing up, my older brother and sister were twins that could get away with everything. My brother became an actor while my sister became a nurse. There’s several years between them and me, fifteen to be exact. When I was born and up until I was thirteen, I was the baby of the family but once my siblings started getting recognized for what they did you could tell that they were the favorites of my parents. Nothing I did mattered to them. That’s when I left and moved here,” I explain.

“Sounds like a rough time,” he says, patting my leg.

“It wasn’t so bad. My older siblings kinda raised me. My parents were always so busy with their jobs that they weren’t really around much to begin with. My siblings didn’t like that I was moving here in the first place, and they wanted me to stay with them in America. They hated the attention that our parents gave them over me.”

“Why not go back when times got hard? Why not go back home with them?” I scoff.

“I didn’t want to go back home a failure when I didn’t have anything accomplished. I would have never heard the end of it,” I say leaning against the headboard.

“Well, what would they say when we get married,” he asks. Oh, right we are supposed to be getting married.

“They might actually care since you are a CEO of a big marketing company,” I say. He nods in agreement. That’s when the food gets here. He runs to the front door getting the pizza. I stare down at the comforter. I’ve never really told anybody my family history, but he made it so easy to talk about. I hear Hwa coming back in with the pizza on two plates and some drinks. I smile and made room in the bed for him to join me. He then turned on a movie. I snuggled down into the covers and ate.

“Are you comfortable?” I nod and continued eating. He smiled and ate quietly. After eating, I lay my head on Hwa’s shoulder.

“Tired?” I shook my head. I felt okay for the most part besides the pain I sometimes felt. He kissed my head and got up.

“Alright I need to work for a little bit. I want you to stay put. Don’t give me a reason to put you back in the room,” he said, grabbing my cheeks.

“Yes daddy,” I whisper. He kisses me then leaving the room. His office is right next door. I continued to watch the movie and wait for Hwa to get back. I’m bored so I started to loosely braid my hair.

“Are you bored, little dolly,” he asked, leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom.

“A little bit. Usually, I’m always working. I never really had time for hobbies or even to watch tv,” I say. Hwa shakes his head and then brings me my sketch book and a pencil.

“Here, I found this in your bag when I took you that night,” he said. I smiled.

“I thought this was lost forever.” I smile hugging the book to my chest.

“It looked important and its not like you can contact anyone with it.” I nod and open it to the landscape I was working one before I was taken. I loved drawing. I wanted to be an architect when I saved enough money.

“That’s beautiful, Y/N,” Hwa said, sitting on the bed again. I blush.

“Thank you. I never let anyone see my drawings before.” The awkward feeling setting in again. I bit my lip as Hwa watched me.

“Stop biting your lip it’ll be sore.” I blush again. I hear his phone ringing in the office. He groans and runs off to answer it. I’m shading some mountains when he returns.

“Yes mother. We’ll be there tomorrow for dinner. Yes mother. Love you too. Bye.” He hangs up the phone looking defeated.

“Is everything alright?” I put down the book and pencils.

“No. We are going to have dinner with my family tomorrow night. My father wants to meet you,” he says. I took a deep breath.

“Is that good or bad?” Hwa looked at me.

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet but all I know is no matter what he says I’m still marrying you even if we have to go to the courthouse,” he says, pulling me into a hard kiss. No turning back now…