#i didn’t see a word of this i’m colorblind

[iznsfw]

Midnight

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 11 - An Yujin

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

13,838 words

Categories | toxic relationship, degradation, violence, cunnilingus, jealous!Yujin

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Taylor's Version because we're cultured here. For my @usedpidemo <3

Sorry for being gone. It will happen again.

“It isn’t rocket science,” snaps Wonyoung, “so just tell me what’s better: this hot pink top or this baby pink one?”

You stare at the clothes hanging from the idol's fingers. You’re not colorblind by any means, but the two shirts look exactly the same to you. No differing hue, no richer brightness. If you picked up a spyglass to observe further, you’d still be the same oblivious man.

“Wonyoung, I don’t know,” you say. You really don’t. It’s the same truth you’d profess with a gun cocked to your temple. The mournful would know you were a martyr of honesty. “I’m a guy. I don’t usually choose between crop top number one and crop top number two.”

She sighs, lowering the hangers. “This isn’t a crop top. It’s a baby tee.”

“Someone just fucking kill me.”

Amuse dances on Wonyoung’s expression, something the face mask can’t veil. She likes pissing you off more than the world does. But at the end of the day, you’re the only guy she’d allow to be friends with her. It traces back to playground days—on the swing, fingers linked.

You look around. All the clothes hanging from the racks—dresses, crop tops (baby tees?), knitted Bangkok coordinates—share the same primary color. What the fuck was Wonyoung going on about? 

She slips an arm through the looped curve of your own. Her heels click as she’s leading you away from the hell of hyperfemininity, which just so happens to be her trademark. Not yours, though. Which is what makes this a problem. Which adds to the millions of other problems you have.

“I’m sorry,” she says. This is a tone of voice a friend uses when it’s time: sincere and loving. Wonyoung’s a good friend, your best friend. “I thought I was keeping your stress away from…”

The sentence fades out. Wonyoung avoids your eyes. You look down at your shoes. Hate it or love it, the girl you care about more than anyone else is fueling your emotions. 

She’s not Wonyoung, as many people like to believe. You’re surprised, too. When you were twelve, Wonyoung was the most beautiful girl in the world to you—just not the one you’d end up with. This girl who has your heart’s taken her Aphrodite place and needs a mask to hide her identity, too. 

The love of your life, An Yujin. Twenty years old, K-pop idol for longer than you’re able to fathom, and just about everything. It would take hours to list everything Yujin has going on. And although you know each one, it doesn’t stop you from longing.

You think about her all the time and sometimes, you pray that you don’t so the pain won’t splinter your heart.

“Wonyoung.” You’re tired.

“I’m sorry.”

The world is keen on keeping you in shreds. You see a mother and father shopping with their kid. The little boy has the same dimpled smile as your girlfriend. If only Yujin wanted to actually love you. There’s another young couple taking pictures in front of the wide mirror. Their arms are around each other, photo-ready for Instagram. Meanwhile, Yujin only posts about her ambassadorships. 

Wonyoung doesn’t look at the price tags when she places the tops on the cashier counter. The cashier thankfully doesn’t recognize her. If he did, he didn’t show it at all. She slaps a black card into his hand and soon, you’re exiting the outlet. Thank god for it. You were sure you were slowly dying.

But it isn’t the shopping or the commute or the cash that’s killing you. It’s her absence. Are you just a fan again? Feeding on a relationship that’s almost as nonexistent as it used to be?

“Are you deaf?” 

Raise your head. You’re still in the mall. The crowd bustles between you and Wonyoung, who’s looking at you weirdly.

“What?” you ask.

“I asked if you wanted ice cream.”

Oh. You clear your eyes with a blink, then realize you’re in front of an ice cream truck. Pink and white and pretty, a menu of everything delicious, and a childlike joy in the customers’s faces.

Sure is what you say. If that’ll keep my mind off her is what you don’t.

Wonyoung asks for the largest ice cream. For a girl whose physique is slim and toned, she loves to eat. You picked the habit up from her, too, but you can’t stand making her pay for your own food. A mini cup it is.

You don’t realize your silence. It’s natural—like taking another breath, like taking another look at your phone to see if she’s messaged you. 

The stretch of quietness leaves you time to ponder. The sweetness fills your mouth and you can only think that there are other people sweeter—someone with a smile worth gold and a playfulness you never get tired of. It’s not worth the trouble; you doubt that she thinks of you as often as she crosses your mind. She probably doesn’t at all.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it,” Wonyoung adds, thumb stroking the red long spoon. “So we can just eat here and call it a day. Quick and simple.”

Yeah right.

You release a sarcastic huff of breath. The soft hills of the ice cream are delicious but none go in your mouth. “It’s fine,” you mutter. “It’s not like I have anyone to go home to.”

Every day consists of mourning and longing for a girl who isn’t even dead. She’s everywhere in Korea—TV screens, advertisements, large tarpaulins, shop standees—but the only place she can’t be is by your side. 

She’s always with you if you count your phone wallpaper being a stolen picture of her. But besides that, it’s like she’s gone. Cremated in an urn and thrown into the ocean. She’s left you behind for good.

Wonyoung puts down her cup. Sincerity’s evident on her face. “You have to understand… it’s really not all on her.”

Sure, it isn’t. But it’s hard not to put the blame on someone when the other side of the bed is empty. When your phone’s full of messaged apologies and I-love-yous that don’t mean anything. It’s fucking draining. 

You laugh. Nothing’s funny. “Are you saying it’s my fault?” you ask.

“Of course not.”

“So what the hell do you suggest I do?” 

Your voice comes out louder than you expect. Eyes dig holes into your being. Your conversation is a song everyone wants to listen to. They‘ll pick it apart, formulate theories, and wonder who’s the featured artist. 

Wonyoung’s face is full of sadness. You hate that she worries about you the way she would a child. You don’t need parental comfort and a “get well soon” balloon; you need Yujin. And that alone guarantees a wave of pity.

“Well?” you prompt her. She’s got a lot to say, and now she’s refusing to speak about Yujin.

She doesn’t continue.

Lower your tone, for both your sakes. You don’t want a fight to break out here. And she doesn’t need attention when she’s already got enough as an idol. 

Your false smile cracks and you don’t think you can hide the depth of your sadness. In this busy mall, you want to make a scene. Not just a scene, but one that involves a little illegality, which you no doubt would have done if you were raised differently.

You want to tear at the nearest man’s throat. Have him choke, slowly die, and leave his blood as a warning to everyone. His veins would be all over the floor.

You want to break the porcelain plate of banana split over a kid’s head, just to see his cracked skull. Nobody can be happy if you aren’t. There isn’t a treat that would fill the hole in your heart like Yujin does.

You want to hurt anybody, everybody, to make up for your own that’s starting to corrupt your mind.

“We can have this conversation again and again,” you manage, choking up tears, “and she still won’t come home to me.”

Wonyoung looks down at her lap. There’s two perspectives here: yours and Yujin’s. She knows her bandmate’s side better as someone who’s going through the same. She can’t play both roles, choose who’s the victim and villain. 

She’s utterly defeated. But she tries to make you get it. “It won’t be like this forever,” Wonyoung says quietly.

Forever is months of a long distance relationship. You’re in the same country but with the way she never visits and neither do you, you might as well be on the other side of the globe. It’s always texts that go unreplied, occasional pictures reacted to with a heart, that kind of stuff. Always no Yujin, always you looking for her.

You’re a puppy searching for his owner. You’re lost, lost, lost—all while Yujin’s found fame and success. But you don’t need that. You need her.

It looks like fame is more attainable. 

You lift your shoulders. Blink back your tears. “Sure looks like it.”

Wonyoung takes your hand. Her gaze is soft. “She’ll perform with me at a festival sometime next week. I’ll take care of her, pull some strings, let you guys have some time together. Right now, she just needs space.”

Space. Okay. You can do that.

A flash of lightning cracks too close. No storm on the forecast though. Embedded in the illumination, you think you saw Yujin’s face. You see her face everywhere actually—even when she’s not there.

Turn to the empty third chair beside you. If you opened your eyes wider and wished harder, would she come? Or would she be another figment of your imagination?

-

Things weren’t always like this. Once upon a time, Yujin was a love you could go back to. You met everyday, ate together everyday, talked everyday. You’re glad you were there for her after IZ*ONE’s disbandment, a great loss for K-pop. 

She sat beside you in the practice room. Gorgeous. That’s what she was. Yujin was the first love of your life, and the only one. She was pretty back then, too. She had that kind of friendly beauty—it started platonically, but oh, if you were to fall, it wasn’t a surprise. 

Somebody take me back.

Her hair was long and brown, your knuckles sliding down on it. She was dressed in baggy clothes that made her look small despite her height. You couldn’t fall more in love.

“I’m sorry about the… you know,” you said, before stopping to place an arm around her shoulder and kissing her. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but how are you?”

“Things can be better,” Yujin said with a shrug. “We’d be having our world tour, if things went differently.”

“Damn, Covid was a bitch, huh?”

Then, despite it all, Yujin laughed—that beautiful, loud laugh which made her eyes crease and the cute dimple show. You poked it, and she leaned into you once more, just how you liked it.

She nodded. The remaining parts of her giggles fought their way out of her. “Yeah.” Her eyes locked on the door of the room, as if expecting eleven girls to come back in. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Yeah.”

Her voice faded out. Dreams were there. A bigger discography was on the way, a last in-person concert was supposed to happen. Each was crushed by circumstance. Yujin was not. She withstood every battle and came back holding a bigger sword each time.

It’s not to say it was easy.

“I can’t believe it ended that quickly.” Her sweet and remorseful smile made your heart crack. “One minute I was fifteen meeting all these cool girls, then I’m all grown up and they’re gone.”

She had to move past it. Experience battered her into maturity but she still yearned for younger days. You knew that feeling well. Barely young but barely old. You didn’t know it at that time, but it was the perfect balance. Youth was right there while adulthood waited patiently. Things went by fast and yet it didn't matter. You had each other.

“You know who won’t be gone?” 

“Who?” Yujin propped her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes glimmered with repressed tears.  

You thumbed away one that let go from the side of her mouth. “Me.”

-

You keep your promises as hard as you can, even if it hurts you.

-

You | Hey baby. Good luck on the music show!

Still nothing. You sent it today, eagerly waiting for her appearance on TV. But Yujin left no sign that she got your text. 

So, nothing unusual.

You sit down and try to assure yourself. That’s fine. Yujin’s fine. She just needs space. She needs to focus on her job where people focus on her and she can’t focus on you. Okay. It’ll be alright. It hurts, but if it’s how things should go, do you have any other choice?

The song comes on. The show is dark red with the background playing a looped animation. It’s a heart, stabbed with an arrow over and over. How familiar. The girls are beautiful, as always. Preppy but kitsch outfits were chosen for them to perform in. The varsity jackets cinematically slip off their arms and the skirts sway like they were paid to look that good. 

Smile, because this is what Yujin loves doing the most: dancing and singing for a crowd. She gave everything up for this. She deserves all this love, and she knows it. Her confidence is the sexiest thing about her.

“Baddie, b-b-baddie baddie—” 

That’s your cue. You’re on the edge of your seat. You’ll cheer for her, even from afar.

However, it’s… not her.

The voice and backtrack are different. Another girl’s taken her place. She’s tall and pretty, too. She performs the line with overflowing charisma, but she’s not Yujin. She could never be Yujin. 

You | uh

Wonyoung

Where’s Yujin???

You take no interest in the stage playing out before you. Your only concern is where their best member is. 

The response takes painful hours. It’s a live stage, so of course you have to wait till it’s over. But everything feels so wrong—the catchy beat doesn’t sound quite as good when Yujin’s rich voice isn’t playing over it. 

Wonyoung | i thought she was with you? what are youu talking about?

Yujin definitely isn’t with you. But she needs space. Besides, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. She might have just needed to visit family that would be announced by the company later. Nothing worth the panic.

But as you look at the screen, you can’t help but feel a little pain in your heart. Like grief that happens a few days in advance.

-

Wikihow doesn’t offer a proper guide in dealing with a girlfriend like Yujin. You’ve resorted to articles, to YouTube videos, to question forums. None of them help you out.

They say, in order to make the long-distance relationship better, you should communicate.

Yujin doesn’t reply to your messages. They’re always left in the conversation without a read receipt, or even a simple reaction.

They say to gift her flowers and sweet things, all through a trusted courier.

The staff always throw them out. They probably think you’re a crazy fan.

They say to let it take time. 

She never shows up. Letting it take time means that it’ll happen. But you only meet her twice a month, if you’re lucky. This time—you haven’t seen her in person at all.

But, like a dog waiting for its owner to unleash it, you wait.

-

And wait.

(What’s lost of Yujin remains as a memory: you and her in a café at midnight, looking sullenly at your cups of coffee. Who gets coffee at 12 a.m.? 

Perhaps a couple nearing the parts of their journey where they crash and go up in flames. The police would be too late.

“Okay,” said Yujin. She crossed her arms and leaned back into the detailed metal chair. “Not to be, like, you know, a nosey bitch or anything. But you’re awfully dismissive.”

Charming. “And you aren’t?” you fired back.

The thing about you and Yujin is that you could beat around the bush for days. She would ignore you, give blunt answers, and keep to herself. You would go around for a drive, sleep in a separate room. It’s all fair and square. She doesn’t bother with you, why should you?

In the end, however, you have to come to a conclusion. It isn’t pretty. 

“Babe, if this is about those MC partners I have,” she told you, sounding every bit the nonchalant partner you made obvious she was, “be a little mature. It’s a job. It pays.”

That was all that mattered to her. She grew up to be the breadwinner of her family and now the feel of paper in her palms was all she looked for. 

You looked past her. The sidewalks and pedestrian lanes were full of people, from all walks of life. There were many women who were kinder than Yujin in the masses. So why did you stay?

“You spend more time with those men than me.”

“Then step up your fucking game.” Yujin regarded her iced latté with a cold gaze. “I don’t remember the last time you got me flowers.”

“I told you, your shit security guard has—” 

You paused. Something just hit you. It was a slap that messed up all the curves and chemistries in your brain. 

“They bring you flowers?”

That’s your thing with her. Yours. You bet that she’s more confident posting the bouquets some stupid florist made for her than the ones you handpicked. Always left in the dust, always turned away.

Yujin rolled her eyes then took a sip of her drink. “There he goes.”

She didn’t see it in the same light you did. You got the thing about keeping the relationship a secret. You knew that. Yet what was better here, a rumor with a fellow idol or someone unknown? 

She gave no fucks about it at all. There she drank the overpriced coffee and looked at you casually. Yujin was ashamed of you, and she hid it so badly it was laughable.

“Thanks for being such an empath,” you said.

“Anytime.”

“Do I seriously mean that little to you?”

“I never said that. You’re the one getting your panties twisted over some sunflowers.”

“Your favorite flowers. Maybe if you showed a little more gratitude to the ones I get you than the crap they paid a florist to—”

Yujin sighed loudly. “For fuck’s sake.” 

She slammed her cup down on the table. The plastic cover was no soldier to the pressure and let the brown liquid explode all over the surface. The open design of the white table let the coffee spill on your pants.

You were horrified. Everyone was looking at you. You drew a crowd every time you were out with Yujin and for no good reason. 

“I’m tired of every conversation, every conversation we have turning into another fight.” Her chair creaked as she shoved it up to the ruined table. You flinched again. The aggressiveness wasn’t the only thing that scared you—she had this snow-cold tone that made you melt in all the wrong ways. “So if you want to say something that’s actually not trash about my job, say it now.”

You held her glare for a while. It was a new record. It was deadly, the expressionless plaque of her face. Her teeth were clenched, her whole being was tense, and all the strength she had was spoken through her eyes. You lost at keeping it.

The lurk of silence felt longer than the hours the moon was in the sky. Yujin waited. Perhaps she wanted you to speak. She smiled bitterly. Whatever response she expected, it didn’t come.

“Thought so.” She licked coffee off her thumb and let her hair be the last thing you saw of her.)

-

And wait.

(Yujin smiled when you saw her again. She threw her arms around your neck, kissed you, too. 

You never forgot what happened. You didn’t want to bring it up—she was so happy that it infected you, too. Still, flashbacks of that moment churned in your head as she picked away at her favorite food and joked around.

“I’m a terrible cook,” she said. She forked a burnt broccoli in the air and shook her head in amusement. “I can’t believe you still eat it.”

“Someone has to.”

Her smile was beautiful. Then, broccoli to your lips, she said “I’m happy you’re here,” and it was better again.)

-

And wait.

(Who’s surprised? It all went down once more.

You never told anyone that sometimes, you were tired of it.)

-

And wait.

(What now?)

-

“That’s the nineteenth time you checked your phone.” Sunghoon leans forward on the floor, thumbs mashing into the controller. He shoots you a look. “Yep, I counted.”

You’re that in love with Yujin. No surprise at all. That doesn’t stop the red in your ears though.

She still hasn’t texted you back. No calls were made, which goes the same for TV appearances. No tall girl is spotted amongst a group of five. She isn’t there to brighten up the set with her clever jokes or charisma. 

You text her continuously. Sometimes you try not to sound so desperate, so you space the messages between hours. That doesn’t work, because Yujin is still nowhere.

“Excuse me for being concerned for my girlfriend,” you say. In the darkness of your apartment, she’s the only one who can light it up. 

Sunghoon shuts the game down. He’s losing the game while you’re losing your mind. You two have your own battles.

It really shouldn’t be this painful having her gone. You’re to blame; you bought into it knowing you weren’t built for this kind of relationship—the one where you scrawl and yell while she couldn’t give a fuck if she were forced to. Her love for you is highly debatable, and you’re still here, waiting for that to change.

How did you and Yujin become a couple if you only hurt each other?

“She’s been MIA for like a week. Not counting the months I haven’t met up with her.” Your gaze keeps dashing to your phone. You’ll stand by forever if you had to, but that doesn’t make it easier. “I’m allowed to be worried, right?”

Sunghoon nods. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stay.”

“What?” 

He releases a thinly patient breath. You remain oblivious to whatever he’s referencing. 

“Dude,” he stresses, a hand in his hair, “I don’t have shit for brains. I know that you and Yujin fight like animals.” 

You wince. The elders were right. The truth hurts.

You and your girlfriend argue so much you’d think you’ve been married for sixty years. She’s a fierce woman who won’t let down an opinion if she believes in it that much. On the other hand, you won’t stop at anything to have her hold faith on your side. The walls are thin and let everyone in the dorm hear your quarrel, including poor Hyunseo. And now, your friend.

You keep your eyes on the desk below your television so you won’t have to look at Sunghoon. And even there you search for her. She could be sitting in your kitchen or studying on the staircase. Anywhere, as long as you’ve got her.

He rests himself on the sofa. There’s a very small grin on his face. “But you guys also…” 

You don’t reply. Wish you could put your palms on your ears without being obvious. You’re not sure you want to hear it.

“You and Yujin.” He turns to you. “You love like animals, too.” 

It’s a lighter truth, so why are you sad? 

“It’s kind of—” Sunghoon cuts himself off with a laugh. “You’re lovebirds. If she’s gone, you get so lonely. You’re gonna die if you don’t see her. And I know she’d do the same.”

You never would have guessed. Yujin doesn’t care about you. She doesn’t love you either. Her excuses for not visiting are perfectly designed to look like they benefit you—”I don’t want to disturb you”; “You need more sleep.” 

She’s gotten tired of you.

You lift your head from your hands. “What should I do now?” you ask.

This isn’t a venomous reply. You actually have no idea how to move forward. Yujin’s so far out of reach that you’re beside yourself, scared and helpless. You can’t disturb her schedules and start rumors. You can’t text her too much. There aren’t choices left for you to navigate. And if there are, you aren’t allowed to pick.

You want to curl yourself into a ball and cry yout heart out.

“Hello?” Wonyoung’s recognizable voice sounds out from the entrance, interrupting your trainwreck of thoughts.

You sprint from the sofa. It’s Yujin’s closest friend, the only one who might know where she’s been. You don’t welcome Wonyoung in. You don’t say “hi” or “what’s up?”. The first thing you tell her, upon meeting her at the entrance, is the only thing that’s important to you.

“Where’s Yujin?”

“Has Yujin visi—” Wonyoung pauses, realizing something. The bump in her throat resurfaces again. “She isn’t here?” 

“No. She’s at the dorm, right?” 

“Of course not. Yujin hasn’t stayed over since our last stage. Her parents said she wasn’t at their place.”

That’s more than eight days ago.

Seeing your friend isn’t so pleasant when you know that the one you love most is gone. It’s similar for Wonyoung. The horrors roll scene after scene in your minds, each one portraying Yujin in the cruelest of situations. Not everybody loves her purely—some of them want to hurt and tear and dehumanize her, and you can’t stop it. 

The sobs build up in your throat. “No.” 

“Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong,” says Wonyoung. It’s a singsong without the glee. She laughs nervously as she slips her hands in her pockets and looks behind you, as if it’s all just a cruel joke and Yujin’s safe and sound.

You take it all in. This can’t be real, but it is. The worst thing that could ever happen has finally unfolded. 

Sunghoon gets up, but you place a hand in front of him. He can’t save his friend from this. You feel yourself melting into the person everyone said you were: a mean, jealous god who reigned over Yujin and held her back.

Take a deep breath. “Where is she?”

"I don't know!” she cries out. The puzzle is pieced together. Yujin has disappeared, and both of you thought she was still someplace where it mattered. “She’s not answering my calls. The girls are looking for her. Her family’s looking for her.”

The fear, buried beneath the arteries of your heart, resurrects in the most cruel way. Its bony hand chokes you in its tight grip. If things went wrong tonight, Yujin would remember the merciless words you let go of the last time you saw her. They might be all she’d ever remember.

“Wonyoung.” You try to breathe. You can’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew!”

You’ve never seen Wonyoung this distressed. Sunghoon’s passed your barrier to comfort her, but it’s not going to happen. She’s pacing around the room and cursing every vulgarity she knows. And the thing about Jang Wonyoung is that she never, ever swears.

The anger stacks up. You did not just let this happen. All those signs—her being missing from performances, the lack of updates—you ignored all of them. 

“You promised to take care of her!” you shout. There’s no room for shame here. You can yell as loud as you want. You’ve been keeping it in for so long. ”That’s what you said to me, now you’re telling me you lost her?”

Sunghoon’s words go unnoticed. You’ve got your own conversations inside your head. The voices go back and forth, saying you’re a terrible boyfriend, saying you’re the worst match for Yujin. This is why she doesn’t love you, they say. This is why she’d rather go missing than see you.

“I’m not the bad guy here!” Wonyoung almost rips her hair out when she faces you. “I’m trying to help you! Don’t you fucking dare pin this on me!”

You and Wonyoung glare at each other. Fierce stares rip at the friendship you nurtured over a girl you both love. Love causes hate and hate causes a flurry of hands and fists. Will you and Wonyoung end up like that, too?

“Wonyoung,” Sunghoon says. His voice is surprisingly steady. “Calm down. Check your phone, Yujin might have texted us.”

Too angry to protest, similar to how she was too angry to hear a notification sound, she turns her spiteful eyes from you and on her device. 

Then, it happens.

Liz | https://gossiphangug/forum/did-i-just-see-ive-yujin

Is that …?

-

오마이갓닛 아이브안유진인가요????????

I saw Ahn yujin at the seoul city highway. i was in my car on a road trip so sorry for the blurry pic but shes so pretty in real life!!!! her face is so small ㅠㅠ i dont think she's shooting something because she's alone. i dont want to invade D: an yujin im your longtime fan!

— What’s she doing all alone???? 

— Yujinieee why do you look sad

— im worried for her, shes famous and a woman. she cant be by herself at night 😭

— OVERRATED……………….

— If you didn’t want to iNvAdE why did you go on a public forum and share her location? Dumb bitch.

-

You get in your car. While you collected your keys from the door, you sent your girlfriend a total of thirty texts. Yujin hasn’t read a single one. You don’t care about space anymore—that’s the last thing she needs. 

The night covers the whole of Korea with an eeriness about it. Shiver, closing your jacket around yourself. The cicadas chirp and footsteps click around when no one’s there. You can’t imagine how scared Yujin must be if these are what she’s going through outside of Seoul, the most dangerous parts.

Place your phone on its holder. It’s always switched on so you can see her picture. She might be gone physically, but she’s always there on your screen—eating lunch, looking at you with wide eyes when she realizes you’re taking pictures of her. She’s in shows. Articles. 

She’s not dead, but she’s been gone for so long you would’ve thought she was.

If you aren’t quick enough, she will be.

Before you drive, you text her again. This time around, she’ll see it. 

You | Yujinnnn how are you?? please reply to me :)i’m coming over right now <3 I’m just here!

You always are, aren’t you? It’s her who’s not.

But you get it. It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to see you after the last time you met. 

Yujin was on her phone, (like always), not speaking a word. You brought up to her that you would appreciate it if you two could go on that dream trip you planned. 

It was the one you formulated when she wasn’t in IVE yet, not even IZ*ONE. You were young and passionate—you had a lot of dreams for yourselves. Being financially stable now compared to those days in Yujin’s practice room, sneaking a little time together, you thought you should go now.

Without looking up, Yujin sighed. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m shooting with the members in Jeju. Maybe next time?”

It was always next time. And it never, ever, happened.

“Okay, when are you planning to live up to your promise?” you told her lightly.

Yujin finally unglued her eyes from the screen. You froze. You didn’t mean to sound so antagonizing. 

Yujin set her hands on her hips, standing to meet your level. She’s scary when she’s mad. The cute dimple’s gone and the brightness from her eyes dissolves. Arguments and silent treatments couldn’t train you from the way the nonchalance on her face disappeared. Or remained. 

An Yujin scares you, and it’s not a laughing matter.

“Why can’t you just wait?” she asked. Her voice was hard as stone. “It’s not that hard. You know I can’t get out of it when I signed a contract.”

Shake your head. You try to focus on the road and its twists and turns, but all you can think about is her. When the possibility that things would go wrong actually happens tonight, you’ll never forgive yourself.

You hear her yells and excuses in your mind. Always the excuses with Yujin. Ladies and gentlemen, what’s new?

Remember how you lost all kindness in that moment and started to spew all these hateful words you didn’t know the impact of. Your hands tighten on the wheel.

“That contract didn’t say you’re legally required to forget about me.”

“I would never do that!” said Yujin angrily, taking a step closer to you. Despite the comfortable clothes, she looked like she wanted to punch you. Her fists were balled and her jaw was taut. She could do it right now and not regret it. “I’m busy, I can’t just show up and say I’m bailing because of a stupid trip.”

Your mouth had fallen to the floor. How could she say that so easily? It was the first promise you made to each other. Something like that ought to be taken more seriously. 

“You think it’s—” No, you couldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe it.

But Yujin nodded with all the conviction there was in the world. Your heart was broken, glass shattered from the hit she blew. “As stupid as you think my career is.”

Unbelievable. The apartment you two chipped in together suddenly looked like a blur. In your timeline, the minimal stars in the sky were blobs of unfocused light. Cars looked like clear road. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. How could she believe something so false?

“Why the fuck are you putting words in my mouth?” you snapped.

She wore this evil smile that challenged you to not back out for once. Yujin pushed you to your limits and loved it. “And why are you such a little bitch about it?”

And you swore you didn’t mean it when you took the quest, when you said—

“Why are you my girlfriend if you’re this selfish and unloveable?”

Her arrogance was gone in an instant. Yujin’s retort never came. She bit her lip tightly,  fearing her response would be in the form of a sob. It was in these moments that you forgot she cried so easily. You shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t intend to.

The words were easy to say, but hard to take back. The expression on her face changed. It went from a fiery summer to a hailstorm that didn’t want to pour down but the clouds overflowed. There was no other way out. In the close distance, you could hear her breath shudder.

Yujin crept up until you were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Intimacy was out of the question because of her busyness. You hated that she was the closest she’s ever been now—when the tears stormed down her eyes, when her face radiated hot anger.

Her finger jabbed into your chest. She hoped its nail would transform into a knife. 

“Fuck you.” 

You didn’t intend to say what you said, but she did.

She shoved past you and was gone. Her footsteps were loud, crashing down on the floor with the impression that it’s you she’s running over. She wanted to bury you in the ground so you could never hurt her again. So she could never hurt you again.

The door slammed, and since then, you haven’t seen her.

The tear slides down your eye. You can’t hold it back anymore. Before you turn at the red light, you leave her a message:

You | And I love you.

My baby <3 

This is what you meant.

Driving in the night used to be your way of clearing your head. There’s less traffic, less civilians, less everything. The moon signaled home for everyone while you wanted to be anywhere else. It isn’t such a pastime now. Knowing that Yujin is out there, probably feeling very small and very alone—it honestly makes you want to kill yourself.

Not the first time she made you think of it.

The grass tumbles with sprinkler wetness. Trees whip past the vision of your sideview mirror. The streetlights cast a shadow over no one. She isn’t here. 

You won’t accept it. Reject all the paths that she’s been kidnapped and tortured and killed or whatever. Those aren’t true. Yujin’s doing well. She just needs a breather so she went out here.

Going on trying is exhausting. You’ve looked everywhere. You’re already at the darker parts of the highway. The road breaks into the soil and tapers off to the edge of an unprotected cliff. 

There’s no tall girl. There’s no love of your life. Considering that she isn’t here, she‘s most likely dead. She was put in a sack and thrown off this mountain. And nobody heard her screams.

You lost her. Forever.

Then a shadow of frazzled black hair passes by your window. The exhaustion’s creeping into you, so it might be a hallucination. But then you see the fabric hanging below the woman’s hair.

It’s your jacket.

You turn the engine off. Its death allows you to jump out of your car, takes one for the team so your girlfriend doesn’t have to. All the clues are there and you remain unsure if it’s really Yujin.

Until you see the strained, regretful smile that accents a dimple on her cheek.

Until you see the length of her legs as she sits on the edge.

Until you see her face.

“Yujin!” you call out. A murder of crows flies out from your feet as you sprint to her. 

She whips her head to you. Tears still speck her face but she’s wearing your jacket and your boxers. Not a wound blemishes her skin.

The relief courses through your blood like lifesaving medicine. Yujin’s safe! She’s okay. Her sneakers crash on the plateau. She’s missed you, too. The fabric of the jacket lifts to her shoulder as she raises her arm—

“You shameless motherfucker!” 

Yujin brings her hand down and slaps you right in the face. Its brutality brings tears to your eyes yet there are more on hers. Red blooms from where she smacked you. Her round little face is filled with the unholiest anger, the kind the devils would love her for. But she doesn’t seek salvation—because one after the other, she hits and pushes you backward.

The pain doesn’t stop. She doesn’t stop. The violence of it all—her hands reddening your skin, the bruises her knuckles leave on your chest, her booming voice—leaves you speechless. Yujin’s gotten angry, but never this angry.

“Fuck—you—fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” She says it like a promise, living up to it with accompanying punches to your sore body. She’ll loathe you till the day you die. It’s a pledge she makes to all her red flags. “Get out of my life!”

Yujin shoves you into your car hood and beats your stomach with a plummet of fists. Your legs crumple. The resistance is there. Your shoes try to remain glued to the ground and withstand her assault, but you’re too weak. You’re so dense around Yujin and it doesn’t stop at her little seldom glances, her little touches.

It goes right up to every abuse—the one at your belly, chest, and arms.

The air’s being knocked out of you. Each bout of oxygen you try to take is out of reach. You’re losing what’s left inside thanks to Yujin’s cruel punches. 

Her screams echo through the forest below and the sky above. Not even the crows can stand her beating. They fly away instantly, afraid they’d be next. Fear is wholly understandable. Yujin’s eyes are alight with bloodthirst.

“Stop! Yujin, it hurts!” you scream. You don’t want to push her. But if she keeps hitting you like this, you’re leaving the place seriously injured. Thus, you’re forced to knee her in the stomach. 

And you still don’t want her to leave your touch.

Yujin stumbles backwards. She looks at you, not stunned or shocked, but furious. Angry is one thing. It makes people passive-aggressive, makes them curse, makes them snarky. Furious is what gets her to stand up and approach you. Furious is what makes her throat sore from yelling and her abuse go on despite the skinned burn. 

She’s psychotic—sweat beads at her face and her hair’s messy and knotted. What scares you is how she’s growling. The raspy noises pair with the murderous look in her eyes. She’s ready to beat you up again, and you can’t run to save yourself.

Yujin hurls into you with a shout, using her height and weight to damage you. It’s effective. You lose balance and knock into your vehicle again. The metal cuts through your skin. You don’t want to retaliate. You won’t stoop that low. However, it’s starting to actually hurt.

She’s not a challenge to carry, so why does she feel so heavy right now? Her cries rock your ears like how she’s ruining your strength. She’s beating you down with the goal of leaving you a bloody mess. Yujin won’t stop at anything to reach that.

“Yujin!” 

The more purple bruises she leaves on your body, the more you’re confused. You put your arms up. That’s enough. Yujin yells frustratedly and tries to push through them. So, place your hands on her shoulders tightly. She’s a restrained animal, teeth bared and wildness still running through her blood. Her whimpers speak of frustration and her will to go on hurting.

“Baby,” you say, squeezing her, “what the hell is going on?”

"Why do you care?” Yujin's sobbing. The tears are plump and fast as she’s pushing you off her like you didn't even matter. Your touch doesn’t console her anymore. It just makes her rabid. "Go rail that bitch, you’re all hers, I don't give a shit."

You don’t know what she’s talking about. All you want to do is wipe the sadness from her face and bandage her wounds. What’s stopping that is Yujin herself.

The night is silent except for her heavy pants. Even the crickets are quiet. They seem to be watching and waiting for your next move. 

Try again: "Yujin—" 

"Just go!" Yujin screams. Deafening is not good enough of an adjective to describe her voice. It wrecks your eardrums and you think the trees whistle back because of it. The whole world is static for a minute.

She pins you into the hood of your car again, but then she's suddenly pressed to your form tightly. Her supple body's joined your touch, as if you were always one.

For long seconds, Yujin glares down at you. Her steely eyes force your breaths to shorten. She leaves you breathless in so many ways—in bed, in performances, in the hour where she’s holding you down after cruelty. Fuck. 

You stare right back at her. Yujin’s teardrops land on your face, like a perfect kiss. It won’t save you. Instead, it’ll kill you. Her fingers gather the fabric of your collar around your throat before she shoves you away.

“Forget this ever happened.” She backs off for the first time. She’s tired, too. Furiously dabbing at her swollen eyes, Yujin walks away until she’s at a measured distance where she can actually stand to be with you. “It’s over. It always was.”

She’s so… small. Yujin’s at a height equal to yours, however, there’s her legs being too thin for your boxers. Blood streams from a tiny open wound. Your jacket pools around her arms. Her teary face needs the comfort she rejects. 

You can’t bring yourself to accept that this is how she breaks things off with you. She needs you. You need her, the way gasoline needs a lit match to roar into flames, the way a knife needs ill intent to murder.

“Please. At least tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been gone for months, Yujin. Months.”

“You know what you did,” she snarls, holding her bruised knuckles to her chapped lips. “Parading around with Wonyoung in public, what were you trying to do? Just because that whore bounces on any dick doesn’t mean you have to give in.``

The bricks fall into place. They build a bigger picture where you could see everything. Yujin’s jealous. She thinks you’re cheating on her because you went out with your best friend. 

Her streak of envy is terrifying. It’s never gotten to this level though, where your cheek still burns. The same fire in her face—curled brows, eyes full of contempt—grows higher. You can’t put it out with water or snow. It’ll eternally be there inside her, waiting to be provoked.

“Is that what this is about?” you laugh. Have to crack a smile to keep from crying. 

Yujin tilts her head with a cross of her arms. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I get it. If I’m jealous because you’re with that rookie idol, it’s bullshit. But when you are, I have to get fucking assaulted.”

You’re still recovering. Your body’s sore and your legs feel like jelly. The lengths Yujin would go to make a point are terrifying.

She sucks in her teeth. “Probably because he isn’t my childhood best friend I had my fucking first kiss with.”

“Wonyoung and I were five, Yujin. She’s a friend. I was helping and spending time with a friend.”

“A friend you went on a cute little ice cream date with?” she asks. “The one you drove her to even when your car doesn’t have goddamned headlights?”

Yujin hammers a foot into said headlights. The lights resurrect and die all over again, flickering in hopes that she’d give them a chance.

How does she know about that outing? Someone must have recognized Wonyoung that day. You need to file a lawsuit against whoever took a picture. They caused Yujin’s spiral into insanity. That’s reason enough for the judge to hammer down justice.

Thumbs pressing behind her ears, she screams as loud as she can. She wants to cause an earthquake that’ll eliminate everybody, including herself. Let the mountains fall on her. At least the last thing that hurt her won’t be you. 

“Is she your girlfriend now? Is that what you went to her for: help? Forget it.” She rubs her scarlet eyes. They’ve seen things you can’t understand well—a love she thought was hers only. “I’m not stupid, and Wonyoung isn't better than me. You could’ve texted, called, anything.”

“Yujin,” you reply quietly. “If I did, would you have come?”

You could hear the labor of her breaths, the whip of a crow’s wings. Yujin’s speechless. She’s not as sinless as she thinks she is. You neglected her and she did, too. 

And, as expected, you let her go without an apology.

“P-plus, I bet my life they’re gonna say the same thing: Wonyoung and I are just friends. That’s it.”

“You didn’t call her unloveable or selfish? Wow, you really are a match made in heaven.”

Flustered: “That’s not how—”

It’s your turn to be quiet. You didn’t realize the impact of your words. They hit her harder than her punches did to you. Blood won’t seep yet there’s an ache inside her heart you’ve planted forever.

You see the shape of Yujin’s mouth quiver. No, you can still fix this. This doesn’t have to be the end.

Is it still salvageable when she’s already breaking down? Her whines ricochet and she’s crying into the sleeve of the jacket, your jacket. She’s utterly hopeless. She needs someone. You aren’t an option anymore.

She doesn’t look up from the road. One finger pointed to the car, Yujin says one thing:

“Go.”

It’s all she tells you. She’s ready for it to be over. You’re too intense. She’s gone, you cry. You’re gone, she floods the world with her tears and leaves no survivors. You fight her, she replies with a hit in the face. When she fights you, you fight as a soldier would. Your schedules collide and result in no sweet dates, no time together. You just weren’t meant for each other.

You feel like crying, too. Refuse to believe that the girl you were with ever since the two of you were teenagers—the girl you comforted before she took the risk to become who she wanted, the girl in the trainee headcount—isn’t for you. It’s so wrong. 

Shake your head. “Never,” you murmur.

"I swear to god, leave me alone. You know what? Leave Wonyoung alone, too. She doesn't want a bastard who sticks like glue to other girls."

“I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

She’s so perfect. Yujin’s fingers bleed from hitting you and her face is puffy with dried tears, yet she looks beautiful to you. How could you not? She’s got that sweet puppy love smile, that soft heart that’s so easy to love but so easy to break. You won’t fall for anything else.

Yujin scoffs. “How fucking romantic.” 

Romance. What a dead thing. Its corpse is still lying around and waiting for tears to turn to shy smiles it used to provoke. There’s only Yujin’s bleeding fists, dry pout, and your presence. A presence she doesn’t want.

She turns her back to you and faces the round moon in the sky. Its bright light on her, Yujin laughs into it tauntingly. She wordlessly relays her complaints to it and all of them are about you. How dare it watch idly and not let the sun take its place? 

“You’re a liar,” she spits. “What about me is worth loving?”

Maybe you weren’t enough. You loved and loved and loved her and she still doesn’t want to see the truth. You should’ve made a way to surprise her after shows. You should’ve hugged her and told her you want her rather than expecting her to know it.

“You’re an angel.” You’re near tears. You’ll fight tooth and nail for her to believe you. “You’re such a hard worker and you get me through stuff when I don’t think I can anymore. I’m sorry if I never told you that.”

Yujin sniffles while you pause. There’s more things you need to apologize for. All the times you spoke before you thought, all the times you said something you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment.

“And… and…” Swallow your pride. “I’m sorry if I told you anything else.”

Her shoulders shake. You don’t know how much that means to her. Her doubts are numberless and you just alleviated them, even for a little while. You don’t notice that you’re crying, too. 

“You have this gorgeous smile, your pretty bare face and I fall for it every damn time. You’re so adorable, baby. I think about you everyday.”

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m batshit insane.” Yujin’s inching closer and closer to the edge. She raises her hands and slams them back down on her sides. “I’m always mad, always gone, and always such a fucking bitch to you.”

“Then you’ll just have to fix that.”

“Why?”

Everyday you play a losing game against her when you’re not supposed to be opponents. You scratch and tear but it’s all out of desperation, a dog-like want to be told it’s loved. Lies have been said and the wounds have been made, but this is what you mean after all this time. 

“Because I want to marry you, Yujin!” 

The subdivisions below this mountain hear your proclamation. Nope, you don’t care anymore. Let them hear it, let them wonder about it. You love An Yujin, and that’s not gonna change.

You’re no longer embarrassed about your shaking words and tears. There’s only one thing you’re humiliated of, and that’s the lack of love you showed to her. That will change tonight.

“And when we have kids,” you cry out with your voice breaking, “I don’t need them losing the smile they got from their mother.”

Time slows down. The wind stops blowing her hair harshly. The few cars passing by are nonexistent. There remains only An Yujin, who turns to face you with bloodshot eyes and a red nose. 

The violent fire is gone from her face. Here, you see what she’s trying to hide: a tired, broken kid who needs love. She’s a girl who, behind it all, only wants you.

Yujin and you are a complicated matter. Fame skyrocketed her career while she left you in the dust. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t yours. But you go to war until you’re left to die in opposite corners of the room. And the last beats of your hearts will still be for each other.

She’s got everything you like—plump red lips, a sunshine brightness, and faith in herself—that you won’t trade a bloodless battle for. There she goes, also having everything you hate: a workaholic attitude, jealousy, and a boastfulness that, still and all, you find so fucking attractive.

You have a love that can’t be broken, a variety of jackets you hug around her. But then you possess the need to spend every waking hour with her that it gets inconvenient, and a hold over her she can’t shake off. 

Through fights and scars, you stay, because the way Yujin feels in your arms never goes out of style.

-

The rosary on your rearview mirror clinks before you take off. The headlights are off, soft music plays on your radio, and Yujin’s in here with you. You missed her so much that it hurts with just her head on your shoulder.

She’s still crying softly. Your sleeve is wet but you let her sob. You’d be doing the same were you in her position. All this time, it turns out the only thing you needed to do was put yourself in her shoes. 

Yujin’s glassy eyes reflect the road before you. They’re much better to look at than your rearview mirror. You could see galaxies in them—numerous stars, countless worlds.

“Still me?” she asks quietly. Her legs are bunched up under her chin while she’s leaning on you. Forget about the seatbelt, about the fines. They’re all not worth obeying when Yujin’s finally with you.

Ponder about what she’s talking about until you see that your phone’s on. Your lockscreen wallpaper is her. Change your phone, change your device, change your camera, and she remains there.

One hand on the wheel, your other one strokes her hair. Nostalgia pours in and you’re taken back to your shy kisses behind the building, running away from practices and meetings.

“Yeah. It’s always been you.” You look at the mirror. “Always.”

Yujin’s eyelids float closed. “I’m sorry.”

You almost stop driving. Yujin just apologized. She doesn’t do that. Whether it’s because of her ways or pride, the word never left her lips.

Not until now. And it’s in your heart to forgive her, regardless of your bruises and exhaustion.

“I-I’m sorry, too.”

Yujin buries her face in your arm and releases a held breath. There’s relief in it. She’s glad you’ve got her again. Someone has to. And you know, by her hand curling yours into place on her shoulder, she’s got you as well.

Pass through the toll gates with a kind of easiness you didn’t have before. Having her with you creates more of a difference than winning the lottery. She’s worth more than the biggest prize. Before you take out your ticket or cash or say “I’ll reload next time,” you see Yujin’s face. Once, you could only see her in your imagination, in your dreams. Now she basks in the dim yellow light with a comforted smile. Your jacket’s pooled around her legs in the form of a makeshift blanket and her midnight hair’s gotten pretty long. Her lips are kissable despite their dryness and you find that whatever An Yujin does, she makes you want to stare.

It’s a long drive. Not too long, though. Yujin lifts herself off your body to gaze admiringly at the city lights. She’s been here a thousand times before. Something about tonight makes it all better. 

A convenience store’s brightness reflects her expression on the car window. The childlike innocence in it makes you sentimental again. You and Yujin were once barely sixteen, looking out the taxi windows and not believing that life could be so beautiful.

She meets your eyes in the glass for a brief moment before you look away. Without giving her another look, you know she’s smirking through her tears.

“Eyes on me again, huh,” quips Yujin.

“I already told you, baby: you’re the only one.”

“I know that now.” Her brows raise. “Why are we going this way?”

You’re driving up a hill to her group’s secret house. Kept hidden behind trees and a well-guarded entrance, no one knows the girls live there. It’s where she’s safe, from stalkers and paparazzi and the general public. How she got out there all the way to the highway with just one post about her whereabouts, you don’t know. An Yujin has her tricks.

Pull the brakes. “Your dorm, right?” you say.

“No, I want to stay at your place.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

Yujin leans in. The windows aren't tinted, so maybe security saw you. But she’s all secure in your arms, lips on yours. 

You forgot how good Yujin was at kissing—her soft mouth feels amazing. Her daring tongue makes you a little wobbly. When it’s over, she’s never looked more sure. 

“Is that convincing enough for you,” asks Yujin, “or do I have to do it again?”

-

Her fists are bright red. The other is skinned through, overlapping with a hissing paleness. The cotton slides over the open wounds and Yujin mewls in pain. Seeing how wounded her hands are, you’re surprised she didn’t break them. 

“You spend too much time in the gym,” you note. Her arm muscles have gotten bigger and her legs are more toned than before. You wonder if she uses exercise as a way to vent out all her anger, just so she doesn’t do so to somebody else. 

Yujin can’t disagree with that. Her posture deteriorates on the carpet. The shoulders of the baggy white t-shirt lift. Almost everything you lend looks too big for her. It’s cute.

The TV’s on, jabbering with news and reporters you don’t care to listen to. It’s mostly on to fill the silence in your apartment. Yujin refuses to talk much.

Her head hangs. “I don’t know why I get so jealous.” She lifts it and there’s tears in her eyes again. “It’s so…”

Yujin’s ferocity scares even herself. There’s a lot of things and places she hasn’t met in your apartment. The kitchen has a newly installed table that serves also as your workplace. Blooming flowers decorate the front garden. But all she takes interest in are her guilty hands. She can’t believe she did what she did: used them to hurt you.

“Yujin, it’s alright. It’s over.” You tape the bandage on. “I forgive you, remember?”

“Doesn’t mean what I did is okay.”

“Then we’ll fix the damage,” you promise. Kiss her hand, then make another promise: “Together.”

The used cotton balls are blood red. Yujin watches as you throw them away and gather the first aid equipment in their kit. You didn’t think you’d have to use them. The alcohol was only ever meant for additional cleansing. The cotton buds were used for your ears. Nothing more.

Then she arrived again. And although she beat you to a pulp, you’re glad she’s home.

Things work differently with her, apparently. 

“How did you do it?” you ask. Sit beside her, your empty space finally being occupied, and hold her bandaged hand. 

Yujin fixates on the screen’s headline. It’s something about a child running away. Speaks to her, in a way. “I told Wonyoung I was going out for a walk,” she tells you simply. “I got my phone, charger, mask, that stuff. I never came back.”

And now she did. 

Her thigh’s propped over yours, reminiscent of the old times. Plus, back then, you didn’t have the TV. The apartment wasn’t this big. The deal about loving Yujin is that you dreamt bigger and bigger to make things better for her. Though she spends time in the dorm the most, you appreciate that she’s here. 

“They didn’t recognize you?”

She strokes the blunt ends of her hair. “Losing the Rapunzel extensions does wonders.”

It must be difficult being under the public eye. It’s a typhoon that isn’t afraid to rain down on her if she slips up. Perhaps that’s why she ran away. An act of rebellion done too late, too perfectly. 

Yujin wipes her face and giggles despite herself. This is the real Yujin: intelligent, prettier without makeup, and sensitive to the point that she acts up. Her fans might not like it, but you do. 

You place a hand over her knee. “You’re beautiful.”

She always is.

“That’s probably why you let me get away with so much.”

Chuckle. “You’re half-right,” you admit, finger raised and wagging.

There’s a funny smile on her face. “What’s the other half?” 

She’s right. What is the other half?

You don’t need to ask yourself a question you know the answer to. 

“I brush off your crimes because… uh, I dunno. I love you?” you say shyly. The confession is truer than diamonds. You find the courage to say it in her touch, trickling over your jaw and shoulder. “I don’t even like getting mad at you. Do you have any idea how much I cry after we fight?”

Yujin brushes her thumb over your earlobe. She has this habit of causing you to burn up feverishly without the need for colds. It’s the charm in her that she brings everywhere. She knows how to make you close your eyes and have you see vividly the dirtiest things at the same time. She’s familiar with you, inside and out.

“We’re more alike than I thought, then.”

“Is that a good thing?” you ask.

She pecks your cheek. The strawberry heat of her breath is, well, a little gratifying. “You got this far,” says Yujin. “I think you can figure that one out.”

You think you’re losing your mind. 

She scatters it more by closing her hands around your face, a gentler touch than earlier. Focus your attention on her—you can’t revert it to anything else. Yujin’s got your heart locked into hers and you aren’t going to do anything about it. Not when she’s this gorgeous, this gentle, this loveable.

You mean it. 

“Thanks.” She tilts her chin, observing your soul and expressions. “For saving me.”

“You could have done that by yourself.”

“No shit,” Yujin laughs. She still has this pensiveness on her face as she strokes your lip. “But it’s nice to know someone’s gonna catch me when I fall.” 

The comfort her touch brings to you almost lulls you to sleep. She’s so soft and gentle that you forget the previous Yujin, who wasn’t afraid to throw you around. Then you study her again—almond-shaped eyes, round lips, and the knife of her jawline—and you realize that you would let her do it again.

This is love. This is love in its prettiest and ugliest form. It isn’t the type you see romanticized in movies or sought after by young girls. Love means staying, because you’re too selfish to let the other have anyone else.

It’s a little fucked up. But that’s you. And Yujin… she’s Yujin.

“It’s weird.” Her grin is mischievous. “When I ran away, I knew you’d come get me. I guess I just wanted to see if you actually would.”

The fact that she’s aware you have her anytime draws a smile on your face. It’s a real one—the ends of your lips pull and they won’t stop past the circles of your blush. You’re enough. Yujin knows you love her. There’s just these doubts sometimes, all the time. Nothing you can’t fix.

“And I did,” you say reflectively.

Her eyelids are lower than before. “That’s why I still have faith in you.”

Your heart floats. Its wings initiate all the butterflies in your stomach. They’re stressed, not knowing where they came from. Meanwhile, your head’s in the clouds and you could never feel any better than this.

After what happened, Yujin believes in you. It makes each aching muscle and permanent scar worth it. 

She gives them a one-over. “Want me to give that some amateur medical attention?”

“I-I’m good. They’re not that bad.”

“That’s okay,” Yujin says. “I’ll just bruise you up another way.”

You want to ask her what that means. Her lips on your neck wordlessly tell you exactly what she’s implying.

Her fluffy thighs top your knees while the kiss reaches up to your jaw. Yujin’s shorts ride up and you’re met with every patch of tanned, full skin closing in on you. She fully got you from that lick behind your ear. 

Sink into the bed of the sofa with no protest. She’s so deep in the crook of your neck and she wants to go further. Knowing who and what Yujin is, you can’t stop her from doing that. You don’t want to.

“My poor baby,” she breathes. Her lips pucker on your cheek, your nose, and arrive at their final destination on your mouth. Stroking your hair, Yujin pouts. “Does Yujin put you through too much?”

Your lips purse above her worrying thumb. “Kinda.”

She’s intimidating enough with the bedroom voice and eyes. You want to run for cover, scream for help. The only thing you don’t want to do is pretend this isn’t happening. 

Yujin grinds herself down deliciously. Friction gives way to heat, and it’s exactly that which gets you to put your hands on her sides and guide her. Your mixed groans spur on the dry humping. 

It’s a little taste for what comes when she takes off those shorts (oh please oh please oh please). Her wide hips come into view as she hovers her naked crotch above your mouth. Her sweet honey drips from her core and onto your waiting mouth.

“Good.”

That’s the last thing you hear before a set of powerful, full thighs immediately comes together to crush your head. Your tongue creates contact with her center and begins to lick fast. The more you lap, the more of Yujin’s juices end up in your throat. She’s a favorite food you haven’t eaten in forever, and now you’re not sure if you want to stop.

Love—a little complicated, isn’t it? You love Yujin (she knows) and she loves you (you know that, too.) Is that what makes you go on eating her out in spite of your neck being her seat, your natural need for air going ignored? Close to that. Yujin’s rich moans—heard even from her thighs, the thickest of earmuffs—trigger a sense of need in you to make her cum that originates from want, then mixes together. It’s confusing, exhilarating, and you don’t think deeper thanks to her face denting your head deeper into the pillows.

However, here’s the conclusion: you love Yujin, up to the sharp danger of death. 

She could suffocate you and not know it. Hours would go on until she notices you’re quite still. But you grab her flesh, every bit of the meaty sweaty skin, and pull her in. Because dying is worth it for Yujin. Perceive your fervent suckles on her clit that evoke the prettiest gasps from her tilted throat as a soldier’s sacrifices for his country. Interpret your nails reddening her thighs as scratches and scrawls to escape a trap you don’t want to get out of. Yujin makes you want to die everyday and she’s the best you’ve given all your lives for.

You leave a kiss on her lips before running your tongue up and down. They’re slick and slippery as they brush on your mouth. When you welcome yourself into her tight hole, you could feel her shake on top of you. She tastes nothing short of delectation. You would eat her out for days if it came to that.

Yujin curls a hand through her hair. “Fucking slut.”

The fact is further founded. 

“You like it? You like my perfect pussy?” She sports a cruel grin. You don’t know where to look: there or her supple tits bouncing as she rocks her hips. 

You shut your eyes and moan. Yujin pushes further down on your face. Her inner thighs warm your cheeks but you’re warm elsewhere, too. Something about her crazed smile while her jagged hair whips against her neck… your blood runs cold. Good thing it’s going south.

She pulls herself off you and you ridiculously chase after her. Her palm flattens you down to the sofa. Whimper, which means nothing to her. She needs to hear it. Or else.

“I don’t think,” Yujin reiterates, grip locked on the base of your neck, “I heard an answer.”

“Your pussy’s the best, baby.”

“Say it like a man. Do you like the taste of my cunt?”

“Yes!” Your words are muffled. “I want it so bad!”

Yujin’s laugh clears any doubts you might have about her enjoying it. She leans down, lets your breaths mingle, then licks her juices off your pursed lips. “Good boy.”

You’re sent back to heaven again.

Capture her clit and seize it with harsh suckles. Her deep cries of pleasure fill the space in your apartment’s four walls. If they penetrate through them the way your tongue does to her folds, the neighbors would have plenty of complaints. 

Nevertheless, you go on fucking her hole with your ready tongue, dragging every bit of the delicious wetness out and for you to take. There’s something you have to prove. What is it?

Yujin’s not worrying about that. The pressure on her most sensitive parts is overwhelming enough. Yujin pants heavily and threads her fingers through your hair. She keeps your head between her delicious thighs, nowhere else. Her hips come to and fro as though they were waves, and you’re the shore drinking up every delicious tanginess in them.

“Oh god, oh shit, you fucking—” 

She rises off your mouth but you pull her back down. You’re addicted now, riding her high. No one can pull you away from her. Her squeals are loud and her pretty head is thrown back. You catch sight of her strong jawline and the sweat rolling down her neck—there’s not a chance in hell or heaven you’d let her run away again. 

Yujin’s strong groans deafen you as she rides your tongue. She’s a source of curses and obscenity, and she gives herself out freely. Her sinful pussy is everything you can ever eat, and her moans and cries of your name are all you’ll ever hear.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” she whines. Her fingernails threaten to pierce right through your skull. “I bet you’d like that. Your dumb whore self is just waiting for it like the whore you are. Am I right?”

You nod. Rub your aching cock over your pants because you can’t take it anymore either. The hitches of her breath and how fucking crazy she is—bouncing on your mouth like it’s just another sex toy, calling you all these names you’d never use to address her in a lifetime—it’s making you pent up.

“Then just take it, baby—” Yujin’s losing herself. Her knees cage your head. “Fuck, do it!”

She twitches and shivers until you’re sure you can’t take her pending release anymore. The flood she rains down is one you drink of until no drop is left. Feel for her silken walls to have more. You’re greedy. Even here, where she‘s on top of you and choking you with her heavenly thighs—you want Yujin all to yourself.

Yujin’s pleasured noises go from deep to whiny, whiny to needy. Your jaw feels sore at this point. You’ve been at it for an eternity. But, for the first time with Yujin, you don’t feel tired. Keep a cruel suction around her nub and finger her to keep those little sprinkles going. 

Your carpet catches her afterwards, a puff of breath leaving her lips. Yours are smudged by her. You can still feel her on them.

Perhaps you should say something to kill the loud silence. Crack a joke? Talk a little again? Then Yujin’s eyes train on you, and it’s all downhill from here. 

“Come on,” she says with a laugh. Her mouth’s pulled into an eerie grin. You didn’t know you’d be so terrified to see her happy. “You really think we’re over with this?”

You’re unconsciously backing away. “Yujin—”

She rises, and you’re again thinking of how tall she is. Yujin’s leg propped over your beating heart alone could stop everything. She could crush you, and she’ll do it, so help her god. 

She strips you of your jeans and underwear. The cold air hits you and you throb harder. You’re on your trusty old sofa again, which is now witness to Yujin stroking your tip. Her lithe finger, long and thin, curls around your cockhead and teases your slit. You’re dripping, and she is, too. It’s self-gratifying to her, the way she knows she has you—your heart; your brain; your dick—all of you. 

“Whose dick is this?” 

And she still needs to hear it.

You gulp. Her voice has dropped lower and her eyes… she’ll be the death of you. “I—I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Yujin coaxes, nothing close to gently. Her grip is tight and she’s jerking you off hard, rough palm sliding over your sensitive skin and making you weak in the knees. “You can’t avoid me, unless you’re the property of that bitch Wonyoung now.”

Her nails scrape your cock, sending your teeth burying in your lip. The pleasure is as heavy as the pain. You’re twitching in her fist, whimpering, crying. You sound pathetic, and Yujin loves it.

“N-no. I’m yours, Yujin. Nobody else can have me.” 

Because you know the lives Yujin would ruin if anybody else owned you, the tears you’d cry if you weren’t hers. Pain is a hell of a drug that turns the hurt into pleasure. It’s messing with your head. It violates, skinning away your dignity and dreams, and you can’t get enough.

“Good,” she says. She tips your chin up. “‘Cause nobody can make you cum like I do.”

Her ego can’t get any bigger but it somehow does. You look up at her helplessly, while she proudly admires the purple she’s left on your neck. Her thighs lock your hips in place. There’s no getting out from Yujin.

She proves this further by sinking her core down on you. You let out a dual moan, seizing for the other and tensing up. Yujin’s center is set on a mission to choke your length. She’s so wet and hot and tight, and you already forgot how to deal with it.

“This cock,” Yujin emphasizes, “is all mine. Every drop of cum in these heavy balls are mine. You understand me?”

Her plump ass thunders on your lap as she rides you. You spread your hands on it in a silent urge for her to go faster. And she will. 

Her wetness is enough lubricant for her to sink all the way down to your base. Feel her lips spread to allow you inside, and how they hold onto you and never let go. You’re never completely out of Yujin. It’s always her fluttering walls accommodating your girth, sliding up and down. 

“Aw.” Yujin laughs, soft and nearly delicate. “It’s alright. Don’t talk. I know you haven’t had good pussy in a while. It’s too much for you, huh?”

False concern. All false fucking concern. Yujin doesn’t give a shit. She’ll keep riding you. The impact of her center taking you to the hilt, right up to her womb, and her thighs rippling rid whatever sleep you have in your eyes. It’s been a long night, but Yujin keeps you high and awake. You’re always waiting for what she has next. You can’t miss out.

Her fingernail lightly stimulates your nipple and you cry out. The heat spreads to your legs and arms. You’re trapped in tropical weather with her being the sun that shines and shines and shines.

“Fuck, Yujin—”

“Can’t take it?” She smirks. “You’re a fucking wimp, of course not.” 

Yujin pinches your nipple and reaches to you for a kiss. Her teeth knit on your lip and you guess you know if she meant it or not. It’s one of the few puzzles you can solve about her.

The sofa starts to creak, and you honest-to-god think you’ll have to pay for a new one. Yujin’s weight batters you down on the plush. Save the distraction of her tightness draining the life out of you, you would have told her to calm down. But Yujin’s anger is like that of a jealous god—she’ll flood the world and kill to keep you.

You got to start praying for Wonyoung. But what deity would listen to you? The goddess in front of you, who’s riding you to death and isn’t that convinced you could join her in paradise?

You’re whimpering again. She massages your shoulders, rubs down your arms and returns her touch to the base of your neck. Yujin could read your weaknesses like a magazine. She knows you’ll bow down for the squeeze of her cunt, the gush of feminine pleasure, and her lips on yours.

“Cute boy.” She looks at you the same way she would a camera flash, now that she’s all too used to being its favorite: with a sickening smile that leaves you in awe. She’s a performer for you, a ticketless transaction. “Can’t believe I’m so mean to you when you have a face like that. Not that you don’t deserve it.”

You were right all along. You’re just a pet to her. She’ll keep you around for entertainment, mostly because you’re adorable in her eyes, and scold you for the littlest things. She’ll do more than scold you. 

Like right now: she taunts you, the smile on her face growing, with her fingers on your collar twisting it around your neck like a dog’s. Her other hand sifts through your hair before seizing your scalp. She then uses the grip to ride you harder. You can physically feel your tip push against her cervix, forced to reach further. 

The pain isn’t all there is to it. Beating everything, Yujin remains slick and tight. You have to fight your hardest to pull out and return inside anyway. Her fluttering walls match the throb of your cock. You’re so deep in her, so big, that Yujin can’t have too little of you. 

That’s why she makes it a point that for every move she does—ride you, lick you, kiss you—she moans heavily. It makes all the soreness worth it. The wanton expression on her face casts a spell that lets you forget about the tears you saw on it earlier. All you remember and witness are the wideness of her eyes and her parted mouth. 

“Shit, oh shit, no…” You close your eyes. Why does her body have to feel so good? Her thighs are soft on your lap, her hands are teasingly slow, and you won’t ever forget about her cunt—so fucking hot and ready. “Please make me cum, Yujin, oh my god—”

You feel delirious. All the sanity you have is lost; Yujin feeds on it like a vampire using each sweep of her hips. She feels too good. Your head’s up in the clouds but you can’t breathe. Her pumps strangle you to get the sweet fill of your semen.

“Oh, sweetie.” Yujin stops to grind herself down on you. “I always do.”

It’s purely instinct, animalistic and wild, when you release all your second thoughts and lift her up. You pin her to the nearest wall. Her back curves off it anyway, but you push it back with your steady pumps. The sounds you’re gasping are pathetic, denying you the dominance you wish you had. Yujin’s just there taking it and laughing at your efforts. The choked mixture of a chuckle and a moan escapes her and you know you’re close.

She tilts your head up and constrains you to match her gaze. You can’t. She always wins this. It’s not fair that she has that body and takes the advantage to get you sweating and whining. You don’t have a dog in the game. Yujin never loses. She couldn’t even lose your love.

“You don’t deserve me,” she says after lifting her chin. It’s true, just not in the way you think. “But I’m still letting you cum inside. So make it count.”

You were going to cum anyway. Yujin’s sweaty form pressed on the wall looks too hot and her thighs are soft around your fists. Somehow, the egoistic expression she wears that tells you she’s not kidding ties the last knot in your stomach,

You pump her hard, thinking: oh Yujin, Yujin, Yujin. Does it really have to be this way? You, improving your strokes between her legs and chasing the approval of that stupid shit-eating grin on her face? You do all this with the knowledge you’ll never be enough for her, but she stays because you can’t let go of each other. Her repeated and pretty gasps will echo in your ears forever. The punches you took stay flashing back in her mind.

You stick to each other like glue, white as the cum that fills her.

Her nails sink into your skin. Rest your forehead in the crook of her neck to breathe. Her scent is hypnotizing, somehow making sweat and sex smell like flowers. Kind of similar to how it felt like a kiss when she hit you. 

“I love you.” 

A blink and a quiet. “Love you, too,” she says finally. 

Something isn’t right. The cogwheels aren’t in sync. “After everything that happened, everything you said,” you manage, “do you mean it?”

Pull away. Stickiness and sex aside, it’s difficult. Parting from her touch is traumatic. It takes you back to when you lost her and you don’t think you can ever allow her to be alone again. In your mind, you state a reminder: Yujin will leave you over your dead body.

She doesn’t say anything, only looking at you with misty eyes, but you think at that moment, you sound exactly like her.

[himechia]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ EYE OF AFFECTION . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀NCT127 ; jeong jaehyun x fem reader (12.9k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ for as long as he can remember, jae's world has been in black and white - giving him no reason to appreciate his mother’s profession as an artist and the beauties that art can provide. however, an accidental meeting with you gives him reason to doubt his former beliefs - proving to him that there may be true beauty in a world that’s void of everything bright, that beauty being the sunshine that you provide. 

contains; colorblind!jae, painter!reader, jae's mom is reader’s art mentor, jae hates art, strangers to lovers, major crushing from both sides, slow burn but also not slow burn (like a nice simmering burn), swearing, fluff, kissing, reader acts like she’s on an adrenaline rush 24/7, jealousy, angst, explosive arguments, lowkey toxic, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness!!, johnny is jae's bestie, happy ending! author's note; hi guys this fic is finally back in the nct tumblr world,, i have this posted on my main blog for blue lock under the name 'rationalism' if u see any name errors that's why,, enjoy!!

Whenever the sun meets its peak at the high dawning point in the sky is when Jaehyun knows it's a perfectly acceptable time to visit his oh-so-beloved mother. If he could, he would spend every waking moment with her - he’s a momma’s boy through and through - not only because she birthed him and taught him everything he knows, but because she’s kind and good. She’s also one of - scratch that - she’s the only person he can stand to be around for more than twenty four hours - and he takes great pride in having such a wonderful woman in his life.

However, despite how dearly he holds his mother to his heart, the issue with visiting her at this time of day is that she’s in her art studio. A place he loathes more than having to wear wet socks with sneakers. While it’s a beautiful space, with high wooden beams and floor to ceiling windows, he finds himself nauseous at the mere sight of the countless tubes of oil and acrylic paints. It’s not that the smell or colors are distasteful, it’s the fact that no matter how hard he squints and struggles, he cannot fathom what the simple color red looks like.

Complete black and white color blindness isn’t a life threatening condition in the slightest, but for Jaehyun, it feels as if he’s being stabbed through the sternum at any notion of the changing leaves or colorful streaks of light across the sun-setting sky.

He doesn’t hate his mother for being an artist, he simply hates the art itself.

And he especially hates pieces of art like the one sitting before him, now. With the blobs of squares and triangles against the supposedly white canvas, sitting perky on the easel as if to mock him - he decides to reach his hand out - and remind himself how emotionally detached acrylic paints make him feel. It’s wet, he observes, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together to mix the possibly different hues. Jaehyun hopes he didn’t ruin the artist’s painting in any way, he wouldn’t know if he’d accidentally smeared shading or contrasting primaries - but surely the artist could fix it in a jiffy.

“Do you like it?”

Well, that certainly isn’t his mother’s voice.

“I tried using cooler tones in the corner here, and then migrated towards warmth in the lower portion.” You’re beside him now, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his position, and completely ignoring his personal space - all while he’s never met you before this day. Your finger is extended, pointing towards the artistic decisions you’re elaborating on that, in all honesty, he doesn’t give two shits about. “I’m thinking about sketching some paper cranes on top of it all, I want it to represent the change of seasons.”

“What do you think?”

You’re staring at him now, bright eyes shining with curiosity. Jaehyun is at a loss for words, mostly due to your unannounced appearance in the studio, but also because you’re possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on - which is shocking, considering the sight of thick paint smudged against a person’s face typically sends him running the opposite direction. He’s never felt an immediate connection to the women of his past - however you, a strange girl who resembles a dog waiting for its treat, has his heart beating at twice the rate.

“I like this shape.” Jaehyun purses his lips into a straight line, never having felt so awkward in his whole life. “This square is nice, too.”

You look utterly unimpressed with his evaluation. Your nose is scrunched in distaste and the fold beneath your right eye seems to be twitching in disapproval for your own artwork. “That’s all that you like?” You step ever so slightly closer to him, chin tilted up to meet his gaze, before retreating quickly and coddling your painting. “Perhaps I overestimated my color palette. I really thought it would be the outstanding moment of this piece, but I guess I could rework it if the shapes are all that matter—”

“Did you touch my painting?”

Oh boy, he’s in for it now.

A nervous laugh leaves his mouth, embarrassing him further as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in an attempt to look casual, only for you to grab his wrist out of thin air. “Oh my god, you did!” Your mouth is agape, inspecting his tattered skin in shock - yet somehow he knows that you aren’t truly upset with him - you don't seem like that kind of person. “Did you not realize that you’ve got scarlet red all over your palms?”

Jaehyun’s mind is blank, his ability to form coherent sentences is gone, and he can only muster up the cheesiest, most terribly dreadful joke that he’s said in the twenty three years he’s been alive.

“I guess you caught me red handed?”

There’s a moment of silence, with the two of you displaying the most aloof expressions either of you have ever made, until your face lights up with laughter. He doesn’t understand what could possibly be so funny - his joke was awful - but the sound of your contagious fits of giggles make his heart feel a little bit warmer in a place that he commonly feels suffocated in. For the first time, the studio gives him a sense of comfort rather than distress - and he knows it's because he’s developing a very clear crush on the pretty girl beside him. 

You’re hysterical, resembling that of insanity while Jaehyun is simply stuck in time. He can’t tell if he should be steadying you before you trip over your own feet or if he should simply take his leave and forget this day ever happened. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he begins, watching you wipe a tear of laughter from the crinkle of your right eye, “but why are you here? Do you have an appointment, because I could’ve sworn there weren’t any other people that were allowed in the studio at this hour—”

“Oh, I do know you!” The volume of your voice just seems to get louder and louder. “You must be Miss Jeong’s son! She always mentions how lovely her little boy is, I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you! Though, I expected you to be like six or seven, not my age. She should’ve mentioned that you were handsome, not cute - she really chose every adjective other than the ones that wouldn’t make you sound like a primary schooler.”

Does she ever stop talking? Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever heard another person ramble on-and-on like you do. Normally he’d have ended the conversation by now, walked away without a second thought of whether he acted rude or not, but he knows that his mother would strangle him if he was to blatantly disregard her current favorite student. The student that she loves telling him stories about at the dinner table every Sunday night as he’s just trying to eat his fingerling potatoes in peace.

The same student who he’s somehow enjoying talking to - though it’s mostly just you talking to his blank face - and is causing a soft yellow blush to form on his cheeks. He doesn’t actually know if yellow is the color related to blushing, but he thinks he’s read it somewhere before. 

“Anyways, to answer your question—”

Jaehyun feels like he’d asked you hours ago.

“—I’d walked all the way to the train station and realized I’d forgotten my wallet here - which is strange because normally I never forget anything. I’m a very organized person—”

Yeah, he doesn’t believe that. 

“—and then I had to run all the way back here—”

Your shoes are scuffed. You definitely tripped on the way.

“—where I accidentally ran into a stroller…poor baby—”

Yep. Tripped.

“—which led me to you!”

You’re smiling now and Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s seen so many teeth shining at him in all of his life. God, do you ever run out of energy? No matter, he knows exactly where your missing item is. The anonymous wallet had been the first thing his eyes had grazed over when striding towards your artwork - good thing it’s only an arm’s reach away.

He snatches the wallet from the art easel and is pleasantly surprised by the quality of the possibly monochromatic leather. The clasp is simple, requiring just one twist before the contents of your identity are laid out before him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Jaehyun recites the name written on your license and holds the items out to you, to which you reach out, eager to reunite with your belongings. However, at the last second he waves it in the air - away from your dying fingertips - and clicks his tongue two times. “Try not to lose it again. It’s a luxury brand, isn’t it? I like the black color.”

“Black?” Shit. The tilt of confusion your head makes indicates that your wallet is not, in fact, black. “I’m either stupid or color blind, but this is red.”

Before Jaehyun can respond, he’s saved by the bell. Well, technically his savior isn’t an actual bell, but you get the gist. “Miss Jeong!” Thank god she’s finally here to distract you. He’s been fighting to maintain his pride throughout your entire interaction. “I made an extra trip to the studio and ran into your son, here! You weren’t lying when you said he’s a little quiet - honestly, I feel like I’ve been talking to myself this whole time.”

You quite literally have been doing that very thing for the past ten minutes. 

“Oh, Jaehyun! Have you been acting rude?” His mother’s expression is tense, stricter than the time he ‘accidentally’ took her (grey?) Kia Soul on a joyride that one weekend he and Johnny decided to go on a midnight run to the department store. “Please don’t mind him at all, dear. You see, he doesn’t exactly get out much - his social skills might be a little underdeveloped.”

She can’t actually be saying this right now. This is exactly why he hasn’t had a girlfriend in months - his mother embarrasses him in front of every pretty girl they come across in the first two minutes of saying ‘hello’. It isn’t that Jaehyun is a terrible flirt - which he is, but he likes to deny it - it’s that he loves his mother so much that he can’t bear to tell her that her attempts at ‘hooking him up’ are always bound to fail. 

However, you don’t appear to be phased by her words. If anything, you’re actually pleased by the sound of him being socially impaired. 

“That’s actually perfect!”

What.

The.

Fuck?

“He can be my portrait model!” You’re still talking. Please, for the love of God, stop talking. “You know how I’ve been trying to become better skilled in the emotional aspect of my paintings, he could definitely help me out by showing anxiety and embarrassment - and you’ve been telling me it’s about time that I found myself a model.”

The endless trail of words that continue to string from your mouth seem to reach their end. Rather than speaking in spitfire, you’re now crazily staring at Jaehyun, himself. Both of your fists are clenched together in a pleading hold and he doesn’t think that you’ve blinked since the start of your conversational rampage - but despite the absurdity of your proclamation, he believes you have good intentions. There really is no reason to deny the request - after all, he’d be helping out his mother in the process, she does love having successful students - but he just can’t imagine himself spending any more time in the dreadfully grey studio than he already does. 

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea, ______.” His mother catches your words before he has a chance to give you his own oral letter of rejection. “Jaehyun’s never been one for art.”

“Oh.”

All you have to say is ‘oh’? 

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you continue. The expression on your face is suddenly stern. Has he offended you in some way by saying no? “I’ll figure something else out, Miss Jeong. I apologize if I overstepped.”

You’re bowing your head before him now, and Jaehyun is shell shocked. His first impression of you was undoubtedly a dud, considering how you actually do seem to have a rational bone in your body despite the hyperactivity you displayed just moments before. While he’s mustering up a response, you lift your eyes - lashes fluttering like upwards brush strokes on a canvas - and send a small smile his way. It’s as if you’re silently apologizing to him for the undivided attention you tormented him with, but he doesn’t want you to apologize. 

He just doesn’t know how to say that he actually liked your personality. 

God, he’s so bad at flirting. 

“Thanks for finding my wallet, though.” Your fingers are suddenly touching his, momentarily grazing against his skin as you pluck your wallet from his hands. There’s no chance that you haven’t noticed the rising heat that’s currently warming the blossoms of his cheeks, and he hopes that you find it endearing. While he isn’t great with words, he likes to think that he may be at least a little bit cute. His mother always calls him a ‘cutie’ - which he appreciates, but it’s also so degrading for someone of his age. “Maybe I’ll be forgetful more often, now.”

He hopes you’ll start being more forgetful, too.

You’ve left your entire bag this time. 

He can’t tell if you’re trying to be subtle and coy with the budding feelings that’re growing between the two of you, and you’re just as awful at flirting as he is - or if you’ve just given up on leaving small signs of attraction. Honestly, in the past few weeks of you leaving paintbrushes and lanyards in the studio, he’d assumed it was all naturally an accident. This, though? How do you expect him to believe that you left your entire satchel in the studio? Sure, you can be a little dense, but not that dense. 

It’s obvious that you’ve begun to lose track of your belongings for the simple reason that you enjoy partaking in the awkward exchange of items when you ‘hastily’ return to the empty renovated greenhouse and get to act surprised to see him standing there with his arms full of things with your name written all over them. In fact, this instance has happened so often that Jaehyun is beginning to believe that he actually enjoys it, too. 

Sometimes he thinks that maybe you should just write your name on him to speed up this dreadful ‘will they, won’t they’ process that you’ve been pacing together. 

He likes you. He really really likes you, and you both know it.

You’d picked up on his feelings from the second time you met - when he willingly stayed behind in the studio for an extra two hours just to hear you ramble about the difference between heavy and soft body acrylic paints. There was something about the way you grinned at him. How your chin would angle upwards to his height in order to have a proper conversation. How you weren’t afraid to say anything and everything that was on your sporadic mind. How your eyes would sparkle at the dedicated eye contact he was making - letting you know that he was hanging on to every word that left your lips (which he just recently found out are pink - and boy does he wish to know what that undoubtedly lovely color looks like against your skin). 

He hates to compare you to a painting - which he still finds a positively dreadful blob of nothingness - but to him, you are one. You’re a captivating piece of art hanging on the walls of the nationally acclaimed museum in his mind. 

A captivating piece of art whose art of subtlety is extremely lacking, considering that your phone number is quite literally painted on the largest white canvas your easel can hold, in bold lettering that he would have to be visually blind to miss, plastered behind the hiding place of your bag.

‘P.S. It's written in red paint. I know you have a thing for red.”

As much as he likes you, you can be such a pain in his ass. The bane of his existence, if you will. 

It pains him to notice how he hadn’t thought twice about typing the digits into his text bar, smiling to himself at the sight of your make-shift contact with the horrid selfie you’d taken on his phone to be your future contact picture. Your hair is an utter mess, with flecks of paint scattered across your hairline - which, to be honest, look like dandruff to him with their lack of vivid color, but he told you that they resemble snowflakes. He lied - but what you don’t know doesn’t hurt you. 

Without hesitating, he types a singular ‘hey’ before backtracking. What if you don’t know that it’s him texting you? What if you think that it’s a random stranger who just so happened to be in the art studio and thought to add your contact information to their phone? He better be more clear. 

‘Hello, ______. You know me.’

Perfect. 

In less than a split second, you respond. He can feel his nerves itching at the sight of the grey text bubble popping in and out of view. Jaehyun can’t even remember the last time his heart beat so fast. Perhaps when he was standing in front of his secondary school health classroom and he accidentally mistook a photo of the urinary system with the ovaries during a speech about the female menstrual cycle? The stream of liquid projected against the white board was in fact not what he thought it was (how was he supposed to see the difference between red and yellow?), which turned into a horribly disgusting presentation that Johnny still bothers him about to this day. That was dreadful - but this is definitely equally as dreadful, if not more.

‘Stalker much?’ Huh? ‘Hi though, Jae. That text was very…you.’

‘You added my number pretty quickly.’ Man, you text really fast. ‘You just couldn’t resist me, could you?’

He doesn’t know what to say back. It’s as if his mind has been scraped raw of all romantic material that one would usually use in this situation - the situation in which an unbelievably pretty girl is talking to him through a phone screen. Jaehyun is completely frozen in place, time, and thought. The only part of him that isn’t paralyzed is the hole in his chest that is beginning to be thawed by you. His frozen heart of past relationships has found its fire - and oh does it burn for you. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

Where the fuck did you come from?

Swiveling on his heel, he turns to face your approaching figure. Your footsteps are lighter than air, likely being the reason as to how you managed to stealthily sneak in so quietly while he had been distracted with his phone. The light denim jeans that cover you from waist to ankles are perhaps his favorite pair you own. You’ve painted on them over time, sketching out a garden of patterns that don’t require color to appreciate. Your artistic ability is uncanny - he can’t deny the fact that you’re incredibly skilled - and he believes that you should be given an award for making ‘art’s number one hater’ a growing fan. 

“You left your bag.” No shit, Captain Obvious. “Do you want it back?”

He’s so bad at this. 

You skip towards him, your left foot following your right in a rhythm of peppiness, and lean up towards him with a shine in your eyes. God, you look so pretty. Sure, seeing you from a comfortable distance with an easel separating your bodies was nice and all, but when you pull stunts like this - with no room for him to scurry off and run - he actually takes the time to digest your features in their true beauty. You’re the artist, yet he seems to be the one who’s always studying you.

“Do you have any plans for today?” You ask in a curious tone. Your hands are held together behind your back as you send him a beaming grin with an upturned lip. “—because I was thinking about grabbing some tea, and it would be so unfortunate if I had to go all alone and sit by myself with all of those strangers around me. Who knows what could happen? If only there were someone who could protect me in case a sleazy guy asks for my number…”

Are you trying to manipulate him, right now?

“I’ve got nothing to do today.”

—because he’ll gladly let you do so. 

The peaks of your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting him to accept the offer so quickly. Over the short time you’ve known one another, you’ve noticed that Jaehyun’s reluctance to spend one-on-one time with you has dwindled. He’s slowly becoming more comfortable in your presence and whatever inner turmoil that he’s facing is fading into the tide of your raging tsunami. There’s a peaceful gaze behind his brown eyes, now. One that you love to study whenever he isn’t looking your way (which isn’t often). 

“Then it’s a date!” Surging forwards, you take his arm in yours and link yourselves together. He’s initially shocked by the immediate physical connection you’ve managed to make within mere seconds, but he thinks that he likes it. It’s been so long since he’s even held hands with a girl, so he’s understandably tense, but you’re giving him time to adjust. After all, scaring him away would be your last intention. “I’ll even pay for your drink, since you were kind enough to find my lost satchel.”

“Yeah, your lost satchel was so hard to find.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He smiles to himself.

Yes, you do.

He isn’t sure how, but he’s somehow burned his tongue again. 

“Shit!” Jaehyun hurriedly places his mug down onto the circular wooden table that separates the two of you, while attempting to be gentle since he doesn’t want to waste the perfectly tasty coffee that you paid for. He groans, dabbing the corners of his lips with one of the complimentary paper napkins. “Why does it get me every time?” 

This is perhaps the third week in a row that you and him have ditched the studio and decided to claim the neighboring cafe as your designated date spot - though you’re still an unofficially exclusive couple. Unofficial as in Jaehyun hasn’t found the nerves to ask you to be his girlfriend, and exclusive as in neither of you are nor want to see other people. It’s a confusing situation for both parties to be in, but he just can’t seem to take that next step with you no matter how hard he tries to push himself towards the ideal solution. 

Jaehyun is a rationalist. He takes in the information given to him through interactions and associations, working through it with logistics on his mind, and tries to find the best outcome. It’s how he’s lived every hour and every day of his adulthood, and he’s fairly set in stone with his mannerisms at this point. He always known who he is, what he wants, and how to obtain those things. What he didn’t know, though, was that an unpredictable variable (you) would crash into his life and disarray the routine that he’d been building for twenty-three years. 

The hypothesis born of the situation isn’t a difficult one to solve, after all he’s had it written down for a month: if Jaehyun finds the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, then you’ll likely say yes and the two of you will live happily ever after. Easy, right?

Wrong. He’s a chicken.

“Here. This might help you cool down.”

Your arm is extended, offering him your drink of the day without hesitation. Every time you come here, arm-in-arm, you order something different. ‘There’s no fun without surprise’, is what you tell him after the consistent strange glances he sends your way when you’re ordering, and he can’t help but disagree. You’re very different individuals - and that difference is extremely apparent with the light, mint garnished tea in your glass compared to the dark roast coffee in his. 

“Thanks, ______, you’re a lifesaver.” He sighs in relief as the cool liquid flows down his throat in an internal waterfall. “Holy shit, this is actually so good.”

You laugh, “I would hope so. I only got it because of the photo on the menu. It’s like a rainbow of color.”

And there it is. The thing that isolates him the most from your world. 

As much as he likes you, which is more than he can explain, he can’t help but have that itching thought at the back of his mind that you’ll never truly be able to connect with one another. You bask in the beauty of the world around you. From the apparent golden sun showers and bouquets of stark red roses - two things that you’ve described to him in great detail amidst your walks through the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings -  to the countless brush strokes against the white canvas at his mother’s studio, you adore a world in color. 

It’s a viewpoint that’s shaped who you are, from infantry to your current age of twenty-two, and it’s something that you’ll never be able to let go of. 

To be quite frank, it scares him. It keeps him up at night knowing that seeing the world through your eyes is impossible. That it’s a far off dream that is unobtainable, taunting him in his mind and heart like a bone dangling in front of a dog’s face. He wishes that he could admire the blue streaked skies and emerald green ferns that line the streets of the city. He yearns to feel overcome with pride at the sight of your watercolor drafts - which you attempt to show him after every class session to no avail - and congratulate you on the progress you’re making. There are so many things that he dreams of doing with you, dreams that exist solely in your world, as they’ll never be possible in his. 

He hasn’t officially asked you to be his yet, because how could he?

How could he bind you to him? You’d be miserable looking through his eyes - having to see only hues of black, white, and grey, similar to the pencil sketches that you’ve openly shown your hatred for in front of him. ‘There’s just nothing there,’ is what you mumble to yourself. ‘No life, no anything without color.’ To which you then drop a single ounce of paint against the seemingly dreadful piece of art - and the sparkle in your eyes as it comes to life is something that he loves to see but can’t understand… 

…as you see the world in a way that he can never understand. 

Jaehyun doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell you about his condition. It would end everything all at once, and he isn’t sure how he would recover from that kind of heartbreak. You’re so blissfully unaware of how much conflict runs through his veins on a daily basis. Hell, you don’t even notice how he orders a singular black coffee every time you approach the counter together. You don’t see how he struggles to agree with you as you admire the assortment of blended beverages with a forced smile on his face. You don’t understand why he chooses to indulge in such a bitter drink and make sure to comment on it every single time.

He can’t blame you, though - it really is disgusting - but he also can’t tell you that he orders his coffee black since it’s a universal drink that appears the same to everyone who sees it. At least when he’s holding the steaming mug between his large palms, he knows that it appears to you as it does to him. That the divide that’s ripping a ravine through your connected hands is lessened in a sense - and you’re truly viewing one thing as the same. 

Which is why he sits pretty and appreciates the short time that you do spend together, and suffers through piping hot coffee three times a week with no interruptions. 

“I think I’ve made some progress on my portfolio.”

Your drink has been returned to your hands now. The small, clear glass is ringing as you tap the sides with your fingernails. It’s somewhat soothing, the rhythm following the tune of one of your favorite songs that Jaehyun happens to know very well after walking in on you in the middle of ‘art therapy’, in which you blast the music at full volume and deafen all other sounds. You have a tendency to be impatient - art being the only thing that can really pin you down for a long period of time - yet you’ve made room in your heart for Jaehyun despite this. 

“Really?” Jaehyun dabs his mouth carefully, being ever the proper suitor in your presence. “My mom hasn’t given you any recent critiques?” 

“No, she has.” As your words continue, you take a long sip of your tea. He can feel his cheeks flush while you swallow. He loves anything you do. “Just little comments about negative space and color theory, but I’m getting there.”

“Nice.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Yeah, nice.” 

Despite his seemingly rude reaction, you’re still gazing at him with a smile on your face. It isn’t an exceedingly joyful smile or one of excitement, but something of contentedness. You’ve become comfortable around him - shedded the hyperactive layers of skin that you display to onlooking strangers - and have begun to share the side of yourself that only your bedroom walls know. Seeing this side of you has made him fall even harder. Knowing that someone so confident, so bold, is just like him - caring so much about first impressions and likeability - and has their own insecurities is validating. Validating in the sense that you find him special enough to throw away the filter and be your true self in his presence. 

“You know,” you begin in a wistful tone, “you aren’t a man of many words, Jae - and if I’m being totally honest, my patience is running out.” 

He hopes this isn’t going where he thinks it is.

He’s not letting you ask him out before he can—

“What am I to you?”

Oh.

Your eyes are giving him an expectant look, now. 

What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

This is the quietest you’ve ever been, you aren’t even swirling the star-shaped ice cubes in your strawberry lemon tea. 

Why can’t he think of anything to say?

His silence is causing you to furrow your eyebrows in concern. 

This is so embarrassing. Just say something. Anything. 

“You’re my mom’s student.”

Anything but that.

“I’m…” the words at the tip of your tongue seem to dissolve like damp sugar cubes, “I’m your mom’s student.”

Your sentence is more of a statement than a question. It’s as if there’s a machine in your brain, working through his given answer and comparing all of the other possibilities he could’ve said. There were endless responses to your inquiry, and he somehow managed to pick the worst one. 

He needs to fix this. How can he fix this?

“You’re not just a student, though.” His words are tumbling over one another in somersaults and you seem to perk up at his continuity. The hope in your heart grows a little bit larger, pulsating and yearning for him to say exactly what you’d been wanting for weeks-on-weeks. “You’re my mom’s special student.” 

Oh God, he made it worse.

“What?” Jaehyun tries to reach for your hand in an attempt to compensate for his actions through physical touch, but you retaliate and instinctively jerk away. You quickly stand, drink in hand, and back away from him as he follows like a lost puppy. Your head is shaking from right to left, disbelief exerting from the pores of your skin like poison - sentencing him with death while it seeps through his gaping mouth and empty palms. “I’m a special student?” 

How the hell are you so fast?

Within seconds the two of you are at odds outside of the building. The weather is somewhat chilly - springtime having just come around with the cherry blossoms in full bloom - and it’s probably a beautiful day with the petals raining down on the pavement. You’d usually make a comment about how wonderful the horticulture was outside of the shop, but now you’re stomping over every fallen flower and budding stem that lies in the way of your rage-filled path. He’d always thought of you as a gentle soul, but apparently even gentle souls have their breaking points - and he never dreamed that he’d be yours.

“If I’m so special, what makes me different from the girl before me and the one before her?” This is the first time you’ve ever raised your voice at him. “Did you take all of them out for drinks? Did they all get to spend one-on-one time with their mentor’s ‘handsome’ son? Did you lead all of them on, too? Jaehyun, what kind of answer is that?”

You’ve found yourselves in an alcove now - about a block from the cafe in a small garden nestled between two buildings. The blossoming trees continue to surround you from all sides, perfectly framing the tragic picture of him saying anything and everything you absolutely do not want to hear. A large sigh leaves your lips, heaving from your chest as if he’s popped a balloon and is pushing all of the air out with the strength of his smooth hands. 

“That’s not what I meant!” He pauses as you halt in place, slowly turning to face him like you're something out of a horror movie - a monster who’s ready to murder their prey. A gulp runs down his Adam’s apple. You’re terrifying when upset. “Please, just let me explain!”

“Explain what?” Jaehyun flinches at your volume. “If you want to explain yourself so badly then tell me why the hell would you say something like that?”

“Sure, you aren’t the best with banter or having a crush - but dear God, you cannot possibly be that dense.” This is getting bad. “I’ve left hundreds of hints! Every single goddamn day - and you’ve picked up on all of them! You know, I thought that when you’d hold my hand or kiss my cheek that you actually meant something by it. I figured ‘he spends so much time with me, he can’t possibly not like me’, but no. I’m just a student.”

Your face is fuming with every dreadful word that comes out of your mouth. “Oh, sorry. I’m a special student.”

If this were a scene in an animated film, your hair would be on fire now. Flames as high as mountain tops would be spiking in sharp peaks at every end of sentence and statement spitting from your mouth. Your normally warm irises would be drawn as ice cold, not leaving any room for life as they skate across his timid features - wishing for him to reach freezing level so you could smash him into a million pieces. 

You’d always told him that red and blue - fire and ice - were two things that you admired most. With their ever changing states of matter and forceful power amidst the seasons, he found himself believing as you do. Jaehyun actually learned to appreciate their vast palette as if he could see it with his own eyes - but now? Now he thinks that they’re the two worst things in the universe - as their destructive nature has decided that their target is him, and he has absolutely no defenses prepared. 

“I should’ve caught on sooner, shouldn’t I have?” You’re still going, hot tears building up and threatening to stream down your cheeks. Never in his life has Jaehyun been at the receiving end of such anger - and never in his life has he learned how to manage a situation as such. So, he does what any clueless man would do - he returns the anger. 

“You’re not even listening to me!” His hands are violently moving while his words cut like knives. “You never listen to me!”

“I never listen to you?” He’s apparently hit another nerve. “Is that some kind of sick joke? Jae, all I do is listen to you! It may not look like it, but I see the way you tense whenever I talk about my passions and dreams. I notice the way your face drains when I’m asking you for your opinion on my works in progress. Sometimes it’s like I can physically hear your eyes rolling when they see me walk into the studio with my bag of brushes and materials. Yet, you think that I don’t listen? I take note of every single thing that you do when you’re around me, because I don’t want to miss out on a single moment with you, and you don’t even care!”

He can’t believe that you’re pinning this on him.

“How could you even say that?” Jaehyun can’t tell who’s in the right or wrong anymore - all he knows is that if he doesn’t stop speaking, you’ll walk away forever. “I’ve never cared about anyone as much as you! I’ve done my best to entertain your interests and the absurd things you ask of me—”

“Well, your best hasn’t been enough.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Are you being serious, right now?” 

Your eyes are stoney, rock solid with stubbornness as you refuse to accept his side of the story and he knows that you won’t be budging from the beliefs that you’re choosing to hold against him. Jaehyun doesn’t know how everything went so wrong so fast, but he does know that he doesn’t have what it takes to save the situationship that he mistakenly put the two of you in. 

“What the fuck did I do wrong that you resent me this much? Not even an hour ago all you wanted was to see me get down on one knee and profess my ‘undying’ love for you.” He’s so angry. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry. “Now I’m some asshole who doesn’t give a shit about your wellbeing? If everything I’ve done hasn’t been enough, then I might as well go fuck myself, right? I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you! I’m sorry I can’t see the world through crystal lenses like you! I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for you!”

His face feels wet. When did he start to cry? Was it ten minutes ago? Five? Just now? The hurricane of emotions that he’s putting himself through is more than he’s endured in years - his mental blockage of his condition finally coming to light as his heart runs off of the rails - and you’ve definitely seemed to notice considering the concern etched into your expression. 

“I was never going to be perfect for you,” he begins with a softer tone. Perhaps his hot bundle of rage has subsided for a few moments. “I can’t be with you. I can’t understand how you see the world. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life listening to you ask me all of these questions and opinions on your work when I can’t even see it fully.”

You’re so close to him. Somewhere in the flurry of words, you took a step in his direction. “Jae, what’re you talking about?”

As he bites his bottom lip with the fear of judgment raging in his mind, his secret is set free. 

“I’ve always liked this shirt on you,” he solemnly smiles, “This shade’s my favorite color that you wear.”

You look up at him, pulling at the fabric against your chest in confusion. “Red?”

“Grey.”

He’s laughing lightly, making up for the thoughtful silence that you’ve found yourself in. It’s like he can physically see the gears turning in your head as they attempt to make sense out of his statement. “It’s more of a rich grey - almost black - and it compliments your skin tone. You know, my mom used to tell me that the way to a woman’s heart is through compliments. I’ve always tried my best to do that, but it clearly hasn’t been working.”

His hands somehow find yours as he shares the inevitable truth he’d been hiding so hard - and with a deep gulp, his secret is finally exposed.

“After all, how could I ever reach someone’s heart without even knowing what color their eyes are?”

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does. 

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Jaehyun wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers. 

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Johnny’s call is distant from the turning gears within Jaehyun’s brain. He’s sure that his best friend has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Jaehyun feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk. 

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Jaehyun had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Johnny continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Jaehyun hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Jaehyun care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Johnny scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Jaehyun stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Johnny holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his best friend chuckles, causing Jaehyun to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Johnny continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Jaehyun takes his best friend’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him. 

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Jaehyun’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other. 

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears. 

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth. 

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Jaehyun doesn’t even know. 

It could’ve been when you showed up to his concert unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon, Jae! I know you can do better than that! Sing louder!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of his group - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of insecurities on stage that day. Jaehyun was solely focused on performing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good. 

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things. 

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Jaehyun’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Jae, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard. 

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Jae! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Jaehyun’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Jaehyun feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Johnny to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his best friend was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Jaehyun on the back. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!” 

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Johnny eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Jaehyun knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along. 

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Jaehyun’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing. 

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Jaehyun knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you. 

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Jaehyun can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago. 

Jaehyun has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you. 

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back. 

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Jaehyun hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him. 

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before. 

“Jaehyun?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Jaehyun, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?” 

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Jeong Jaehyun.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Jaehyun fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you. 

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Jaehyun relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Jaehyun’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right. 

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Jaehyun can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls. 

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Jaehyun almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful. 

Jaehyun brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it. 

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay. 

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it. 

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they’re a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own  - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him. 

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel. 

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Jaehyun cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss. 

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

This is a fancy-ass venue. 

Jaehyun can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Jaehyun can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it. 

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster. 

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Jaehyun is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are. 

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own mother approaching. 

“She’s talented isn’t she?” 

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Jaehyun, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all related when he notices they’re wearing the matching watches they got for Christmas last year; and when Johnny walks up with his teeth beaming, he also practically looks like part of the family. Long lashes and a toothy grin, the physical brand of the Jeong family; famous in not only arts, but good looks!

“Your girlfriend’s a pro at this shit, Jaehyun.” Johnny ruffles his little best friend’s hair and lightly nudges his shoulder. “I’m surprised anyone could like your annoying ass, let alone a pretty girl.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes at his best friend’s quips, completely ignoring him and focusing on his mom. Johnny’s just jealous because he can’t get a girl to deal with his narcissism. He’d be surprised if Johnny actually kept a girlfriend longer than a month with his high standards and demanding schedule; but that’s a story for another day. What matters now is his mom’s praise of you.

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Jeong has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her youngest son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her youngest son, and Jaehyun doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his groupmates saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Jaehyun sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Jeong’s eyes and Jaehyun can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Johnny gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Jaehyun knows he loves them. Their mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Jaehyun.”

Johnny smirks, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first hug he’s given Johnny since he was nothing but a young boy, afraid and stressed, auditioning for the very first time. Jaehyun finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his best friend, who’s been there for him for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he made his first song and ran into his mother to celebrate his newfound passion. For a long time, Jaehyun believed that it was only possible to have that one singular passion. Oh how wrong he was. 

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Johnny pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his younger sibling, to which their mother laughs. 

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Jeong nudges Jaehyun on, standing beside Johnny. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room. 

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking. 

Never in Jaehyun’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his groupmates). 

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Jaehyun looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Jaehyun believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Jaehyun feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Jaehyun’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You’re everything to him. 

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Jaehyun raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it. 

He sees himself. 

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his best friend, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his groupmates, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life. 

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular. 

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Jaehyun can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Jaehyun. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much. 

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you so much for reading + supporting! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[komoboko]

𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬

sanemi shinazugawa x gn!reader + genya (mentioned) ・modern au ・ implied romantic but can be read as platonic

I think we forget sanemi is colorblind most of the time so I just wanted to write a little Drabble about it also why does the title sound like a smut title 😭

“I’m not wearing those.”

You sigh staring back at the white haired male and the looking back down at the glasses in your hand. 15 minutes passed and the man hadn’t budged, you swore it would help him but he believes his dignity matters more. You couldn’t blame him per say, as you wouldn’t wear these by free will either.

Think rounded glasses in your hand, it reminded you of bottlecaps, you would be lying if you said they looked somewhat nice. You ignored your own thoughts as the doctor had assured you the look wouldn’t change the medical values to it. The moment Shinazugawa put them on, he’d finally be able to actually see color. Real color.

“I promise you it will only be a moment.” You plead as your only answer is an irritated grunt from Sanemi. he opens his eyes again as his eyes meet yours, then back down to the “cursed glasses” in your hands. He could feel his ego wilting away every second.

Without a word he snatched the glasses from your hands, you blink trying to process what happens only to see Sanemi holding the glasses up to his face. He was mumbling something incoherent but you can tell just from his tone he was annoyed. Slowly he brought the glasses up to his face putting them off.

You stared at him like he was an alien for a moment, a snicker escapes from your mouth until you fall into a laugh fit. Sanemi only yells at you to be quiet but you can’t help but laugh at how much a nerd he looks as he can only respond with walking you in the head.

Sanemi eyes peek open, one small peek only for them to shoot open immediately. His lips part in complete shock. Everything was so vibrant, the sky was as blue as the ocean and the grass was so radient it nearly hurt his eyes.

He stares back at you, and he can’t help but admire you. The amount of details that decorated your face were so many more than he thoughts. The different shades from your skin to your hands. The vibrant color of your clothes and anything that surrounds you were so much more lively than he thought.

He looks at his hands and then back at yours comparing his hand still decorated with scars and marks compared to yours. He only notice his eyes watering when your hand pokes the lense of the glasses he has on his face, bringing him back to his senses once again.

“Sanemi? Sanemi? Are you alright?” You can only poke at him until you get a proper response back, his eyes blink showing he’s more responsive now but you can tell he’s beyond amazed by what he was able to see.

He pauses for a moment before he opens his mouth to speak again. “I didn’t think anything was.. this bright.” He mumbles, his eyes trail up to yours. They were so much more vibrant then he would of ever imagined. You were so much vibrant than he imagined. Your features had so much color, the world has so much color. Something he missed seeing every since he was a child.

“Maybe I’ll wear these.. things more than I thought.” He blurts out, your eyes widen slightly at his new revelation. Until a smile appears on your face.

The moment is so peaceful, tranquil. It’s something you know you’ll treasure, as he will as well. You open your mouth to speak until you hear unpredictable footsteps approach you both.

“Hey! I just came to stop by and-“ Genya cuts himself off swing his older brother with the thickest pair of glasses he’s ever seen. On cue he burst into a laughing fit. A boisterous Laughter you haven’t heard from him before. Anger once again fills Sanemi as his face nearly grows red before taking the glasses off, as carefully as his anger lets him. Before running at Genya, who took the due to start running prior.

“GENYA!” Hé screeches as you could only facepalm at both of their stupidity.

[milfsloverblog]

hello! I love your Larissa fic and I was wondering if you would write for Jane Murdstone (ik she is a red flag but I’m colorblind) ? Jane and reader are in a secret relationship, maybe a oneshot about reader waking up in Jane’s bed after they spent the night together ? Some fluff and angst ? Thank you 🛐

A/N: Hi anon!! Thank you for your request, sorry it took me so long to write it. I’m in post con/post meeting Gwen depression lol. I hope this exceeds your expectations, I added some smut because why not ? Thank you again for the request <3

Unlace me (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

TW: smut, internalised homophobia, Jane is a tw in herself

You could talk about it for hours, the feeling of waking up next to Jane for the first time. And yet it was indescribable.

—————

Jane had waltzed into your life a few months ago when her brother had married your Lady. You knew right away that she would be trouble, not only in your Lady’s household but in your personal life too.

What had struck you first was, of course, her height. When she had walked into the kitchen where you had been working to introduce herself, you looked up right in time to see her duck to get through the door. Her face had been hidden by her black bonnet and when she finally lifted her head, you dropped the whisk that you had been holding. Her cerulean eyes looked you up and down and the corner of her lips tugged into what you later learnt to be Jane’s way of smiling.

Your Lady had told you that Miss Murdstone would be living at the manor, ostensibly to relieve you of some of the housework. It didn’t make much sense to you as you’d never complain about the number of chores you had to do, but it was not your place to question your Lady’s decision. Quickly after that, the Murdstones siblings moved into the manor.

It didn’t take you long to realise that Jane Murdstone thought of herself as superior to you, and treated you more as her maid than a fellow housekeeper. And so you had found yourself, more often than not, caring for the tall woman’s needs. Not that you minded, you would be a fool to complain about tending to a woman like Jane.

You had been another kind of fool though, for your heart skipped a beat every time Jane’s eyes bored into yours and your knees went weak each time your name was on her lips. You still had a hard time admitting that you had fallen in love. Not only had you fallen for a woman, but a cruel one at that. One who only seemed to acknowledge you when she needed someone to brush her hair or unlace her corset.

But then again, you didn’t mind. You thought there was something deeply intimate in unlacing the woman’s corset, allowing her to close her eyes and take a deep breath as she stretched her back.

Jane rarely said a word as you helped her disrobe before leading her to the dressing table. You would take the pins off her hair and carefully brush through it, your fingers often lingering there for a second too long once you were done braiding it. And if Jane noticed, she never mentioned it.

Once that was done she would usually gesture towards the door, silently letting you know that your help wasn’t needed anymore. You would nod and leave the room, never forgetting to wish the woman a good night. Jane never answered, but as soon as you were out of the room her lips always spread in a small smile as her fingertips grazed her braided hair. Perhaps she was a foolish woman too.

—————————

You knew that evening would be different as soon as the woman stepped foot inside the manor. You heard her climb the stairs two at a time and close her bedroom door a little too vigorously.

“Miss Murdstone ?” You called from the hallway, waiting for permission to walk in. After a few long seconds of silence, you decided to push the door open and walked inside the room. Jane was standing in front of the tall mirror, hands twisted in her back as she unsuccessfully tried to loosen up her corset. She was muttering something under her breath that sounded unintelligible to you, making her look like a crazy woman.

“Let me help you, I will unlace it.” You said as you took a few long strides, hands reaching for the woman’s back.

“Keep your dirty hands off me!” Jane immediately snapped at you, making your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. “I do not need your help. I do not need you, or anyone else for that matter!” She said nearly out of breath, hands still fumbling with the lacing on the back of her corset.

“Jane for Heaven’s sake! You will make yourself faint, let me help!” You said urgently, so urgently that you didn’t notice you had used her first name until she spun around to face you, her eyes wide and her face flushed.

“How dare you ?!” The tall woman spat the words out and raised her hand, making you flinch as you waited for her palm to hit your cheek.

Jane realised what she was about to do as soon as you flinched and her hand immediately dropped to the side of her body. You were scared of her. You were expecting her to hit you. And she almost had.

A strange feeling crept inside the woman’s chest, making her take a step closer to you.

I am so sorry, please forgive me. Jane wanted to say, but she was unable to. She’d never said those words before and they died in her throat before she even managed to push them out to you.

You watched as Jane’s brows furrowed, her mouth falling slightly open as she seemed to be searching for something to say. Her eyes were filled with something you’d never seen in them, something you did not think Jane Murdstone could feel. Remorse. Guilt.

“I love you.” You whispered barely audibly, eyes still locked on her face. You had no idea why you’d said it, but you did. You knew Jane thrived on power, and you had just given her the power to ruin your life with this simple admission.

And so you waited for her harsh and cruel words to hit you, for her to call you unnatural or deviant, but she didn’t. She let out a shaky breath and the next second her lips were crashing against yours.

It wasn’t soft nor sweet, Jane’s kiss was almost as demanding and almost as bruising as she was. You couldn’t help but wonder if she had wanted this for as long as you had, thought about you the way you had thought about her.

You grabbed her waist, your fingers digging into the fabric of her corset as you pulled the woman impossibly closer. Don’t let go, you wanted to say. But you wouldn’t take the risk to pull away from her lips to speak, too afraid to ruin this moment.

Jane eventually broke the kiss, her blue eyes searching for yours. “Speak.” the word came out sounding like an order and she cleared her throat, her voice softer when she added, “Tell me what you want, what this means to you.”

“You.” You answered, your hand moving to cup her cheek. “I want everything you are willing to give me. I have no idea what this means, I simply…want you.”

The older woman blinked a couple of times, taking in your words. When had anyone ever wanted her? She knew what people thought and said about her, most of it being true. But you, you’d always been nothing but nice to her, even when she rarely returned your kindness.

This isn’t right, Jane. You can not, you should not, the thoughts flooded the woman’s mind.

You could see the fight that was happening inside the tall woman and gently rubbed your thumb on her cheek. “Jane…” you whispered and her blue eyes bored into yours again. You got on your tiptoe and claimed the woman’s lips, making Jane’s hesitation wholly dissipate in an instant.

It was only a matter of seconds before Jane took control of the kiss again, her hands grabbing your waist to push you up against the wall.

Your heart started racing in your chest when you felt one of her hands bunching up your dress. You had never done anything like this before and by the look of it, Jane had way more knowledge on the subject than you did.

Her fingers grasped a handful of your hair, tipping your head back to latch her lips on your neck. You couldn’t hold back the whimper that passed your lips when her mouth sucked on a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.

“You are such a sweet girl, offering yourself to me so easily.” She whispered in your ear, her hand slipping inside your knickers only to find you soaked. “Have you been thinking about this ?” She wondered aloud.

You felt dizzy, your head spinning when her fingertips grazed your clit. “Please-“ you whined, not even knowing what you were begging for.

“Please-“ Jane mocked you, a low chuckle escaping her throat.

“Look at me.” She demanded and you happily obliged, the tall woman relishing the way your eyes widened when she pushed two fingers inside you until she was in knuckle deep.

There was nothing like it, Jane thought, watching a woman being made love to for the first time. And to be the one making love to her.

You knew Jane was a passionate woman and the way she pulled and pushed her fingers in and out of you in a perfect rhythm only further proved it. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, the older woman curved her digits inside you to rub on a spot that had you writhing against her in a couple of minutes.

“Can you feel it ?” She asked looking into your eyes. “The coil tightening inside you? How close it is to snapping ?”

You answered something unintelligible, your mind hazy from the incessant movements of Jane’s fingers inside you. All you could focus on were the sinful wet noises coming from between your thighs.

You felt something, yes, something growing inside you and on the verge of exploding. And for a second you feared that this is what dying felt like. Oh, what a beautiful way to go it would be, you thought, to die in the arms of the woman you loved and with her lips on your neck.

“I wish we could let the whole household hear you. What would your lady think knowing you are nothing but a depraved whore, fucking a woman under her roof…” Jane grinned, giving your collarbone a harsh nip.

To hell with your lady and the whole household, you’d let the whole world know you were in love with Jane Murdstone if only you could.

“Look at me, please.” You managed to say, feeling your core tighten around Jane’s fingers when her blue eyes locked with yours.

You threw your head back against the wall, the older woman’s name leaving your lips in a streak of moans as you came.

Jane didn’t let it show, but her heart swelled with a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long while, making her hold you a little closer as you came down from your high.

“I love you, Jane.” You repeated, a small giggle escaping your throat as you watched Jane’s cheeks turn a pinkish colour.

“Silly girl.” She simply answered with a shake of the head and turned her back to you. You quickly unlaced her corset and helped her out of her heavy black dress.

You expected her to dismiss you as soon as you’re done braiding her hair but instead, Jane turned around and unbuttoned your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

“Stay for the night.” You knew it was neither a question nor an offer, not that you would have declined anyway.

It felt weird, lying down next to someone else. Next to her. Next to the woman you loved. You wanted to ask what this meant, if there would be more moments like this, or if it had just been a one-time instance. But you stayed quiet, listening to Jane’s breathing becoming slower and evening out as she fell asleep.

“I love you.” You whispered, knowing the older woman couldn’t hear it this time.

—————————

You watched as Jane’s eyes slowly fluttered open and it was the sweetest thing really, waking up next to the woman you loved. But it made you want to cry knowing it was morning and this moment wouldn’t last. In just a moment she would go back to being the cold and often cruel Miss Murdstone, and you would go back to being a housekeeper. But it didn’t matter, you thought, not now that you knew what it felt like to be kissed by her lips and touched by her hands. No, it didn’t matter anymore. You would walk through Hell and back for a chance to wake up next to her again.

[michiiyann]

Joongdok Random AU Ideas

Joongdok shenanigans

Colorblind

Imagine both kdj and yjh are red-green color blind and one day hsy tries to put bright red lipstick on kdj and he’s like

“BUT I DONT WANT BROWN LIPS” and everyone is just like

“wut?” And he gets really confused.

Then Ysa is like

“Dokja-ssi, the lipstick is red…” and kdj is like

“no it’s not” and jhw is like

“wait, are you colorblind?” And kdj is like “No?”

And then yjh walks in and is like

“what’s wrong?” Cause everyone is just silently pondering kdj’s color blindness. Then kdj says

“Yoo Junghyuk-ah, Han Sooyeong’s lipstick is brown right?” And yjh is like

“yeah?” And all of Kimcom (the name for kdj’s group) is internally like “OMFG THEY’RE BOTH COLORBLINDDDD”

Read more ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Squid and Sunfish

Once upon a time, there was a little squid. The squid had no purpose in life, so it just drifted along with the current.

Until one day, it came across a sunfish. Strange, thought the squid. Usually sunfish don’t come down this deep.

He asked the sunfish what it was doing in the deep ocean. To which the sunfish replied

“I’m looking for a companion.”

The squid was confused. The only one this deep for miles was him.

He looked the sunfish up and down. Surely this guy wasn’t looking for him?

“Well there’s nobody else here but me,” said the squid.

“That’s fine,” said the sunfish.

The squid blinked. Did this stupid sunfish really not get it? He was a loser with no life! Why would this guys want /him/ as a companion.

The sunfish noticed the squid’s distress.

“If you don’t want a companion, there’s nothing I can do,” He said flatly.

As the sunfish swan away, the squid felt an aching in its heart. He realized, he didn’t want the sunfish to leave!

“Wait,” said the squid. The sunfish stopped.

“If you really aren’t bothered, I’ll be your companion.”

The squid couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Him someone’s companion? Really? The sunfish turned around and smirked.

That annoying way sunfish do. “Knew it.” He said. And from then on. They lived as companions.

The end.

Department story YJH

What if Joongdok AU where Yoo Junghyuk works at A department store and Kim Dokja comes in as a single dad who has to fix his door handle. Except he has no clue how and has no mechanical knowledge.

When Yjh saw a man walk in with a little girl holding his hand he thought--nothing of it. People bring their kids places all the time. But when the man seemingly walked through every isle in a lost manner for what felt like hours, Yjh thought it might be time to step in.

Usually he’d let one of his coworkers handle helping costumers since he-- hated when people went to department stores not knowing what they needed.

Alas, it was a busy day and all of the other employees were helping equally lost customers.

Yjh approached the man when he heard the little girl say

“daddy, why don’t you just ask for help?”--To which the man replied,

“don’t worry sweetie daddy knows what he’s doing…” and went back to looking at shelves that clearly didn’t house what he needed.

“Can I help you with anything?” Said Yjh almost startling the man.

He noticed the small girl staring at her father clearly--waiting to see his response.

“Ah, yes… well… could you point me in the direction of the doorknobs?” Said the man.

Yjh had to hold in his sigh. Only because he had seen the man pass the doorknobs twice in his search.

“Right this way.” He said in the most polite voice he could--muster. He lead the man a couple of isles down.

“Thank you.” Said the man gratefully.

Yjh simply nodded and went back to walking around.

20 minutes later he happened to walk by the isle again, and to his complete and utter shock, the man was still standing there. Yjh walked up--to the man and asked him what the problem was.

“Oh haha, it’s just that… I don’t seem to know what doorknob I need….” The man let out an embarrassed chuckle.

Yjh had just about had it with him. Really, the amount of stress this man was causing him was unnatural.

Yjh tried asking him which model he currently had or if he needed a knew one. The man said he just needed to fix his old one but beyond that he just pretended to ponder. Yjh asked if he had a picture of his old one to which the man said

“ohhhh that’s what I forgot!” At that--Yjh snapped.

He quickly offered to buy one of each kind of doorknob for the man and personally come to his house and instal the one he needed. The man simply seemed taken aback by the offer and the forwardness.

Of course, who wouldn’t with an offer like that. They exchanged--numbers and the man introduced himself as Kim Dokja. Once he finally left, Yjh’s shift was over.

Yjh realized this man had been in the store for a total of 2 hours. As well as that, he had only been looking for a doorknob. A DOORKNOB FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! Yjh took an angry shower and went straight to bed.

The next morning he went into work and after his shift bought exactly what he said he would. When his coworker Hsy asked what he was doing he ranted about the situation to her.

“Wow, you’re down bad” she joked to which Yjh replied to by walking--to his car and driving away.

He texted Kdj and got his address. When he arrived he rang the doorbell. For a while nobody answered. He was getting annoyed because Kdj had told him he was home over text. Then he heard a door open from the back and the sound of rickety wood.

He-turned towards the sound to see Kdj with a tree beach in his hair.

“Hey, sorry about that. The front doorknob is the one that’s broken so we can’t get in and out of it,” he explained.

Yjh felt a pang of pity for this poor man. Kdj gave him permission to forcefully pull-the door open to fix the knob. He did so without much of a struggle. When he saw the state the doorknob was in he wondered how Kdj could’ve let it get this bad.

He wondered how many times he had jammed the door in and out before it got so bad he just couldn’t anymore.

He fixed the doorknob, and when he went to leave Kdj stopped him.

“You know, you could stay and have dinner. It’s the least we can do for all the help you’ve given us.” He paused. “Even if it was out of spite,” he added.

Yjh’s ears went red. Had his reaction really been so obviously out--of frustration?

“You don’t have to though,” said Kdj when he saw Yjh’s hesitation. “No, I accept,” said Yjh curtly.

When he sat down and tried the food, safe to say, he was thoroughly disappointed. Along with knowing nothing of mechanics, he also could barely cook? Yjh’s pea-sized brain saw this as an obvious cry for help and he offered to cook for Kdj every weekend. Kdj at first said know but Yjh was very adamant about it.

Finally Kdj agreed out of the guise that he wanted his daughter Byoo to have better food. In reality he was touched that Yjh-would want to help so bad.

Fast forward a couple months and Yjh asks Kdj to go out.

Somehow, unknown to even Yjh himself, he had fallen for the man who he had met lost in a department store. Kdj agreed and they became boyfriends.

End

Shoe on the other foot

Joongdok Idea that Kdj has really Small feet and Yjh has normal/large feet and as a scenario penalty they have to swap shoes.

So while they’re fighting Kdj has to deal with big boots that keep slipping off and he keeps tripping and falling.

And on the other hand Yjh can’t feel his toes but at the same time is in constant pain.

Not to mention Kdj wears dress shoes so Yjh is having even more fun.

By the end of it Yjh just gets tired of Kdj faking so he just Carries him.

Pillows

What if Joongdok crack au where Kdj keeps buying decorative pillows and Yjh is losing his sitting spots

Yjh tries to sit on the couch but falls to the ground because there’s too many pillows on the couch.

Kdj: oh sorry let me move those^^

He throws them on an already humongous pile of other decorative pillows.

Yjh: why do you need so many??

Kdj: They make the house look nice

Yjh takes a look around the room and there’s piles and piles of pillows everywhere.

He gives Kdj a look of exasperation.

Kdj: well maybe we can put some in storage?

(I imagine this is on some kind of reality tv show and there’s a camera)

The camera cuts to Yjh gesturing violently to the tons of pillows in storage already.

Kdj: huh…

Then the scene switches to their bedroom and Yjh’s side of the bed is covered in pillows.

The camera cuts to one of those interview scenes

Yjh: I have 10% bed space left… I did the math

By the end of it they get Kdj help and he agrees to get rid of most of the pillows, begrudgingly. And Yjh can finally sit in his own house again.

The end scene is Yjh sitting in a couch and just smiling.

Pizza Hut vs Domnioes

Pizza Hut vs Domino’s but make it Joongdok

Also hsy is sys sister cause I need an adult

When lgy and sys decided to make the Domino’s and Pizza Hut in their local town call each other, they weren’t expecting it to blow up this much.

Or even in fact, kickstart a relationship It started as any other harmless little prank by kids would.

They grabbed two phones and had dialed the the two stores on them.

They snickered uncontrollably as the phones rang.

“Shhhhh- haha, shhhhhhhh” said lgy trying to contain his laughter.

“I know, I know,” sys was having an even harder time.

Brrrrr brrrrr brrrr.

“Hello? This is Pizza Hut what can I do for you?”

And

“Hello this is Dominos, what would you like”

Two men’s voices could be heard from the phones.

“What?” They both said in unison.

“This is dominos, you wanted to order a pizza?” Said the deeper gruffer voice.

“If I ordered something from you it definitely wouldn’t be pizza, heck, I’d be weary of a soda from you guys!” Said the other voice.

The other phone went silent. Then,

“Well that’s too bad cause that means you’re stuck with the stuff you people make… yeesh.”The other voice let out an obviously exaggerated gasp.

“How dare you? You know what, where’s your store??”

“123 west rd, and what’s /yours/“

Sys and lgy were dying laughing at this point, they had to go to the corner of the room.

“246 North st!” The other voice said harshly.

“You know what?” It continued, “meet me at 135 south blvd, I dare you!”

“We’ll get ready to be defeated!” Announced the other.

Then both calls hung up. Sys and lgy were silent for a momen before running into the other room.

“HSY!! CAN YOU DRIVE US TI 135 BLVD?? WE WANT TO SEE TWO GROWN MEN FIGHT!!” They said, in unison to the author who was trying to get her work done, now unsuccessfuly. Hsy looked at them seemingly to debate the pros and cons of granting their request.

However it wasn’t long before she gave in to her need to see grown men being idiots and she found herself driving. When they got there the pulled into a parking lot.

Nobody was there at first but then two men showed up.

One was a very plain looking man in a black button up and a Pizza Hut apron.

The other a very handsome man in a Dominos Apron.

“So you’re the apparently handsome man who thinks Domino’s sells pizza!” Shouted the plain looking one from about 20 ft away from the other.

“What do you mean, ‘sells pizza’ THATS WHAT WERE KNOWN FOR!” Bellowed the other from the same distance. “I wouldn’t call what you’re known for /pizza/!” The scrawny man taunted.

The handsomer man opened his mouth to reply but then paused.

“You- wait did you call me handsome earlier?” He asked befuddled.

The latter’s face went beet red. “W-well, yeah! Who wouldn’t,” he stuttered.”

The taller man seemed the think for a moment before stating,

“If you come to Domino’s we… /I/ could treat you a lot better than those guys at Pizza Hut.”

The other man seemed to short circuit for a moment. “B-but nobody out pizzas the Hut!” He said in a last ditch attempt to save his already fleeting dignity.

“Bet,” responded the other who then smirked devilishly.

Meanwhile lgy and sys were fighting over the left back window of the car for better view than the other. Hsy was simply enjoying the scene from the driver’s seat. They had their windows cracked slightly as to hear what was being said.

“10 bucks says they go out,” announced Hsy suddenly.

“I’ll take that bet! No way they’d go out!” Said Lgy. “Yeah! If you heard them on the phones you’d know!” Boasted Sys.

“We’ll just see,” mused Hsy.

Meanwhile in the parking lot, the men were at a standstill.

“What’s your name?” Said the skinnier man.

“Yjh, and yours?”

“Kdj”

“Well Kdj, you wanna come to the better pizza store and earn a date with me?” Said Yjh confidently.

Kdj let out a small “sure” and walked away.

Unfortunately he was so far away Yjh didn’t hear him.

“Well?!” He shouted

“I SAID SURE!” Kdj shouted back.

“GREAT! SEE YOU AT THE DOMINO’S BUILDING THIS SATURDAY”

“SEE YOU THEN!”

And just like that Lgy and Sys had orchestrated one of the best and most entertaining events of their little town.

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

Stay

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[a/n] sorry for the lack of posts for valen-cries I’m still working on my requests but I thought I’d finish this wip. Also if it wasn't obvious this is a songfic based on stay by Colorblind

[warnings!] self deprecation, metaphorical abuse? Implication of drugs but not actually taking any cause it’s also metaphorical. Its just angsty and ambiguous, feel free to interpret the ending how you wish.

Valen-cries masterlist available here!

Abuse me, I like the punishment

You keep me focused, I don't need no Ritalin

I like when you keep me guessing, its alright

Its alright

It was only supposed to be one night but one night turned into two., two to three until there were too many to count. It had started with just some light flirting and the odd touch yet it quickly became so much more, so much so that you weren’t sure where you stood anymore. 

Steve was so persuasive with his sweet whispers and cheeky looks, how could you refuse? It didn’t help that you had a major crush on him back in high school and the moment he’d so much as looked your way, you’d fallen again. 

How pathetic, here you were fighting off your feelings for a guy who only ever saw you as a fuck buddy. Just another toy to warm his bed like numerous others before you, as if you even stood a chance. However, saying that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Can we turn our feelings off?

I need you baby, just for one night,

One night

He’d call at the same time every night you spent apart, his gravely voice sending chills down your spine in the silence of your bedroom, where the boundaries of friendship and romance blurred across the distance. Some nights you’d talk for hours and hours, others simply bask in each others silence finding the need for words overrated.

In the darkness of the night you’d find yourself tracing over the freckles and faint scars that kissed his skin, trying to memorise every inch of him as if he would disappear at any second. If you could contain this memory forever you would, alas that would only make the pain harder when you inevitably parted.

I know what you’re looking for,

You make it feel like its the first time, every time

Every time

Coming down from the high was always difficult, doubt crippling you as you lay cold and empty. You tell yourself it will be the last time and it never is, the unhealthy hold he has over you enticing you back again and again. Unsure of wether you could do this anymore and chest tightening with every breath, what other choice was there but to run?

I don't really wanna fight right now,

I don't really see the point right now,

And if the love wasn’t real enough what the hell we gonna do when the truth comes out?

Steve wasn’t really one for commitment, you both knew that, so why did it hurt so much watching you leave each time? Would you stay if he asked? Or were you only in it for the sex? He had no right to ask, his reputation made sure of that but that didn’t stop the conflicting feelings threatening to spill with your presence. 

I’d rather start it on a blank page,

I think I like it with a new face

You dont wanna wait for me, its safe to be

Stuck inside this place where we keep faking things,

Running in circles looking for an end that didn’t exist seemed pointless but anything was easier than confronting your feelings, even uncertainty felt more stable than the mess you were floating in, head barley above water and still refusing to swim. You hadn’t realised that in the ocean of your mind Steve had been searching for you, begging you to stay afloat with him. 

I think you’re finally breaking me,

The way it seems you’re making me,

Stay 

[svtskneecaps]

soulmate! dk

hiya. my new years resolution was “get this shit the fuck out of my drafts” so while i’m only SLIGHTLY more enthused by this fic now i was than when i wrote it, i’m publishing it. if people like it i’ll call it part of the main soulmate saga but otherwise i’m just going to call it a standalone like when i posted “see you when i fall asleep”

reader x dk ; fluff ; words : 1.4k

synopsis: you go to a concert as the emotional equivalent of a cat walking on the keyboard. this has consequences.

soulmark: the colors you see correspond to your soulmate’s emotions.

Seungkwan || The8/Minghao || Hoshi/Soonyoung || Junhui || Jeonghan || Joshua || Mingyu || Vernon || S.coups/Seungcheol || Wonwoo || Woozi/Jihoon || DK/Seokmin || main masterlist

you were one of the lucky few that knew you had a soulmate before you turned that magical age of ten

usually that’s when everybody would get their soulmark but it didn’t take long for your parents to realize that your apparent colorblindness could only be explained by a soulmark

or. well. you could just be chronically colorblind and genetically see in grayscale, but that theory went out the window when you turned ten, and the Colors started appearing

seemingly at random, certain colors would be highlighted in your vision. maybe pink and yellow, maybe red and blue, maybe green and purple

you had to carry a color sheet with you for years before you could correctly name the colors you were seeing

eventually you concluded that it had to be the famed emotion color mark, which was exciting as supposedly it was fairly rare

it was also deeply upsetting because it was rare enough that nobody knew how it manifested exactly

see, apparently when you got physically closer to your soulmate, the colors would get more vibrant and your emotions would be amplified

but also, reportedly, if you got physically further from your soulmate, the colors would get more vibrant and your emotions would be amplified

FUCKING PICK ONE, HELLO??

and you weren’t sure what emotions the colors corresponded to either

some colors had common correlations (like, yellow and gold were usually happy colors, blue was sad, etc.) but it wasn’t guaranteed that those colors corresponded to those emotions for YOUR particular soulmark. it could theoretically be different

and you didn’t know your soulmate so it wasn’t like you could call them up and ask what emotion was making you see red

anyway, the lack of any real definitive knowledge of the mark meant that when you noticed the swatches on your color sheet were getting distinctly brighter, you had no idea what the hell it meant

seokmin was on tour. they were flying around the world, and they were performing everywhere and meeting carats and seeing so many beautiful things, and the colors swimming in his eyes kept getting brighter and duller with the path of their travel

he was determinedly hopeful that his soulmate would be at the height of his emotions, even though nobody could really tell him for sure (not even joshua and his soulmate, the resident soulmark experts)

but it just felt right

you had tickets to the concert, as it so happened, and you were beyond excited

like, even without the heightened emotions you would have been bouncing off the walls. as it was you’d cried for three hours after you got the tickets and you kept bursting into tears every time you saw them, it was that bad

regardless, you were really hoping you could make it through the concert without having a complete emotional breakdown

the day of the concert dawns and your vision is vibrant in yellows and golds and pinks and you can’t sit still for a second

seokmin is the most hyper and the most nervous he’s ever been. he had to look up breathing exercises just to keep himself together

with how absolutely bananas his emotions were being and how bright the colors were, he was either a couple meters from you or he was on the exact opposite side of the planet, there wouldn’t be an in between

(he was a little scared of the answer, sending a few flecks of purple across your vision, but mostly excited)

you managed to keep your energy to a level that was acceptable during the concert (it wasn’t nearly as hard as you were expecting; the energy in the crowd was high)

the members seemed as enthusiastic as ever, maybe even more so, especially seokmin

it was contagious, how brightly he was smiling, and your heart thrummed in your chest seeing it, seeing him silhouetted in the stage lights

(seokmin wondered absently why there was suddenly so much pink)

but concerts have to end, like it or not, and eventually the members waved goodbye and vanished backstage, and you, well

you were not expecting the post concert depression to hit so hard

curse your hubris

so, it was extremely embarrassing to be sitting in the lobby, hiding your face and sobbing so hard you’d started to hiccup, but you’d managed to explain to security (between each gasping breath) that it was your soulmark messing with your emotions, and they understood the risk and were willing to let you sob it out in the lobby instead of out on the streets somewhere more dangerous, which was very nice of them

unfortunately your gratitude towards the venue security was amplified by your soulmark and sent you into yet another fit of tears

seokmin wasn’t faring all that much better, although the concert crash was a physical enough thing that he wasn’t sobbing as hard as you (the choreographies really take a lot out of a guy)

that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling the height of the mood swings, and even through the post concert crash, his determination to find the epicenter of the emotional activity just grew (aided by the soulmark, of course)

and then their manager tells them that there’s a fan in the lobby sobbing their eyes out and attributing it to a soulmark that was heightening their emotions

and for a minute seokmin can’t breathe

you thought it was weird that the guy watching over you in your crying corner asked you if it was a color emotion mark, until he said he knew somebody with that mark. then it made sense

either he was looking into it to see if they were your soulmate or he was checking to see if they would be equally as emotionally destroyed as you were at that moment

(the thought of how you must look right now was hilarious enough that you were now laughing and crying at the same time, and lord but the emotions just kept soaring HIGHER)

and then the guard suggests you go backstage, and you trail him because you can’t really argue, it’s way better than being in the lobby where people are still leaving the concert hall and probably staring at you

you’re not expecting to be lead into a room that holds, of all people, lee fucking seokmin

YOU ARE A SOBBING MESS, YOU DO NOT WANT TO MEET LEE SEOKMIN LIKE THIS OH GOD

thankfully the thought of whatever bizarre first impression you’re giving him is funny enough that it takes over and you’re finally able to stop crying, even though you’re now doubled over laughing so hard your stomach hurts and DAMN THIS SUCKS

when you finally collect yourself enough to look up you notice him bouncing on his heels, adding a good few inches to his height at the peak

“I THINK WE’RE SOULMATES!!” he yells, because he’s so excited he literally can’t contain himself

you’re not forming a lot of coherent thoughts at the moment so the words that slip out of your mouth end up being “DUDE NO FUCKIN WAY THAT’S AWESOME” and you’re only vaguely aware that the entire backstage probably heard it, with how loud you’re yelling

and he’s looking at you and abruptly you notice that his hair is pink, it’s so brightly pink and you’d never been able to see his hair color before, not like this, but before you even get a chance to remark on it in a no doubt ridiculously embarrassing way, he throws himself forward and closes the distance between you

and then his arms are around you and the colors grow so bright and your heart swells so much you think you’ll burst with the love and the joy filling your chest

and then your emotions abruptly return to normal and you’re suddenly acutely aware that you’ve spent fifteen minutes sobbing in the lobby, you yelled a swear word at lee seokmin- FUCK, YOU’RE HUGGING LEE SEOKMIN

YOU’RE SOULMATES WITH LEE SEOKMIN???

you start crying again, but at least it’s more dignified this time. and he’s crying too, so. at least you’re not alone there

he sinks into your arms and you sink into his and he can’t help but think that you fit, that your arms sit around him perfectly, that you lock together like a pair of puzzle pieces and he never wants to let go

(he does, eventually, but he keeps your hand in his)

[nerdzzone]

Worlds Apart

Chapter Six

Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?

Series Masterlist

-----

Bridget was notably less nervous as she drove towards Chris’ house for their second date than she had been for their first.

There was still a flicker of anxiety in her stomach as being face to face was slightly more intimidating than texting or their occasional phone conversations, but she was more confident in Chris’ interest in her after their months of talking and was hopeful that the level of comfort they’d reached would help counteract any potential awkwardness. They’d never had to force conversation while he’d been away and things always felt very natural between them, but she was aware that the strain of the long interlude between the two dates might seem more obvious in person.

She tried not to let herself get too in her own head about the situation as she knew from past experience that worrying about potential trouble before it arose tended to cause more problems than it solved, but she didn’t want to be caught off guard by anything that might help her anxiety get the best of her. She’d settled for simply assuming things would be just as easy when they were together as they were when they were apart while also bracing herself for the potential of a slightly awkward settling in period as she hoped that their evening would go as well as she was expecting.

However, as she drove up his long driveway until his large house came into view, she was once again reminded of how different their lives were. She stared in awe at the incredibly nice house until she was parked in front of it and drowning in a feeling of inferiority. It made her house look like a tiny, old shack and she was embarrassed by what he must have thought when he saw it. It was enough space for her and Landon and she took pride in taking care of it and making it a nice home - hence the quick and thorough interior design shift - but compared to the standard that Chris was clearly used to, her house was practically a shed.

She was surprised though when movement by the front door caught her attention and snapped her back to reality as the sight of Chris leaning against the doorframe had all of her worries slipping from her mind. They were replaced with the giddiness that always seemed to hit her whenever his name had popped up on her phone, but now he was there - just a few feet away - and she hurried to grab the things she’d brought with her from the passenger seat before climbing out of the car.

“Your house is amazing,” she gushed as she walked up the stairs of his porch.

“Thanks,” he smirked. “Just wait until you see the bright pink accent wall in the living room.”

His teasing earned a bark of laughter as Bridget rolled her eyes.

“Very funny, but I’m sure you have better taste than the possibly colorblind previous owners of my home.”

“I do, I definitely do,” he chuckled at his own joke, but as he peeked through the plastic wrap that covered the top of the mixing bowl she’d been holding, his eyes widened. “Did you actually make the pizza dough?”

After Chris had spent so much time on the road and away from home, they’d decided that their second date would just be a nice quiet evening at his house. He’d offered to order in some food, but Bridget had suggested making homemade pizza instead. She thought it would be a fun little activity for them to do together and had offered to bring the dough if Chris got the toppings so she was slightly confused by his question.

“Yes?” She answered, the word sounding far more like a question of her own than a statement. “I thought that was the plan?”

“Yeah, it was,” Chris assured her as he led her into the house. Despite his teasing, it was just as nice inside as it was on the outside. The decoration was quite minimalist and the level of tidiness and organization had her feeling another twinge of embarrassment about the well lived-in state of her own home, but Chris pulled her attention away from the décor as he continued. “I just didn’t expect you to make it, I guess. I thought you’d just buy it.”

“No way, homemade is way better,” she insisted, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the thought of bringing anything else. “It didn’t take me long, it’s Landon’s favourite so I’ve kinda mastered the process.”

“Oh, so you’re a pro?” Chris flashed her a smirk as he put all the stuff on the table. “I guess I’m in for a treat then.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bridget protested. “I haven’t necessarily mastered the recipe, but I’ve mastered the preparation process so it doesn’t take long and I had to work late last night so I took the afternoon off and had plenty of time to make it.”

“Well, I appreciate your dedication,” Chris smiled. “The toppings are in the bag on the counter.”

Intrigued to see what he’d chosen, Bridget rolled up her sleeves as she moved towards the bag he’d pointed to, but she was surprised when she passed by him and his hand shot out to gently grab hers. She froze, wondering if she’d done something wrong, but the look on his face and the way his other hand slid around her waist to steer her body in towards his had her relaxing slightly despite the way her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest. 

The anticipation had the air around them suddenly feeling thick and heavy, but the way Chris had paused once he’d pulled her into his arms had her feeling a little confused and after a moment of waiting for some kind of explanation, she asked, “Is everything okay?”

Her voice was low and soft, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the room and pried Chris out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, never better,” he smiled. “It’s just that I was gonna use some line about hoping we could say hello properly, but it seems a little cheesy.”

Bridget matched his smile as she moved her hand that wasn’t being held by his up to rest on his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“What does that even mean?”

“Who knows,” Chris shrugged. “But I’ve been thinking about kissing you pretty much from the moment our last kiss ended so I’d really like to do it again if you don’t mind.”

It seemed cliche, but Bridget swore her heart literally skipped a beat at his confession. However, despite her sudden heart palpitations and the fact that how he was holding her had her almost forgetting how to breathe, she bit back the smirk that was threatening to sneak onto her face.

“That was pretty cheesy too,” she teased him. “But I’ve also been thinking about that a lot so I’d very much like it if you did.”

Her confirmation was all it took for Chris to move his hand up to cup her cheek before leaning forward to press his lips against hers. It was soft and sweet - tender, if Bridget had to sum it up in one word - as the emotions and feelings they’d developed over the last few months of conversations clearly heightened their connection. She leaned into his embrace and revelled in the feeling of his lips that she’d spent so many hours daydreaming about until he reluctantly pulled away.

“That was even better than I remember,” Chris murmured, a soft and satisfied smile on his face that had a giggle slipping from Bridget’s lips. “Definitely worth waiting for.”

“I agree,” Bridget nodded. “But I hope you won’t leave me waiting so long for the next one.”

Chris opened his mouth to reply - with Bridget hoping that he’d simply offer to kiss her again immediately with no waiting necessary - but the sounds of scratching and a loud, indignant bark distracted them.

“That’s Dodger,” Chris explained as Bridget moved out of his grasp. “I put him in the backyard. I don’t think he’s very happy about it, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about dogs.”

“I love dogs,” she rushed to assure him, horrified that there was any doubt. “I just don’t have time to train one while I’m taking care of Landon, but we had a great time when we borrowed him from Carly while you were away.”

“Okay, great,” Chris smiled, appearing visibly relieved by that information. “So is it cool if I let him back in?”

Bridget nodded enthusiastically and Chris briefly disappeared from the room until the sound of claws pattering on the floor echoed down the hall and Dodger barreled into the kitchen with Chris right behind him. As soon as Dodger saw Bridget, his tail began to wag frantically as he bolted towards her and jumped up to lick at her face in greeting. She could hear Chris chuckle as he told Dodger to behave and leave her alone, but she simply laughed as she rubbed at the dog’s fur.

“Hi, buddy,” she greeted him. “How are you? Do you remember me from that big walk we went on?”

“I think he does,” Chris observed. “He seems to like you.”

“I get the impression that he likes most people.”

“That’s true, but he is a good judge of character,” Chris insisted before whistling to get Dodger’s attention. “That’s enough, bubba, leave her alone.”

Reluctantly, Dodger listened to his owner and sauntered back over towards Chris as Bridget made her way over to the bag on the counter that she’d intended to investigate before Chris had interrupted. What she found seemed to be almost enough supplies to make pizza for half the town and she told him as much as she started unpacking the bag, placing the wide array of toppings on the counter as Chris chuckled at her teasing.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” he explained. “Your answer of ‘whatever’ wasn’t super informative.”

“No, but I meant it,” Bridget shrugged. “I’m used to settling for whatever Landon prefers, it’s made me adaptable.”

“Well, I don’t want you to have to settle tonight,” Chris insisted. “I want you to have whatever you really want.”

The sincerity in his voice had Bridget filled with an appreciation for his thoughtfulness and she flashed him a grateful smile as he leaned back on the counter beside her and asked, “So, it’s been a while since I made pizza at home, what do we do first?”

Happy to explain, Bridget launched into a brief rundown of what they would have to do before pushing her sleeves back up her arms, asking where the flour was and liberally sprinkling it on the counter. She unwrapped the bowl with the dough, gave them each a decent portion and they set to work, molding and shaping their pizzas before adding all the many toppings that Chris had chosen for them. With Chris’ kiss breaking the tension, Bridget was pleasantly surprised by how casual the physical contact was between them as they worked. His hand on her waist to let her know he was there as he moved behind her, a bump of his hip following a teasing comment, tucking her hair behind her ear when her hands were too floury to do it herself. He hadn’t been lying when he shared that he was physical with his affection and Bridget was soaking up every minute of it.  

Any worries she’d had that it might be awkward or that the conversations they’d had over the phone might almost seem like they were with a different man than the one who’d taken her on a date all those months ago were clearly unnecessary. Her lack of recent practice in the dating scene left her far from an expert, but from her previous experience she was pretty certain that it was rare to connect with someone as quickly as she had with Chris. As early as it was, she had a very good feeling about their relationship and was hopeful that Chris felt the same way.

Time flew by as they cooked, ate and got lost in conversation, and they stayed sitting at the table long after the meal was finished as they were too engrossed in each other to even realize they could move to somewhere more comfortable. They covered a wide range of topics from typical everyday things to more personal revelations, but Bridget found herself letting her guard down so easily around Chris and noticed that he seemed to do the same. Considering his career and level of fame, she wouldn’t have held it against him if he held his cards a little closer to his chest, but he opened up just as much as she did and the trust that she knew he was putting in her every time he spoke about his family or his hopes and dreams only solidified her belief that he shared her hope for their relationship.

And that belief only got stronger when she glanced at the clock later that night and announced that she should head home and he immediately blurted out the question: “When can I see you again?”

“Well, next week is my week with Landon,” she explained before sharing the suggestion she’d thought of to avoid going an entire week without seeing him. “But I don’t work on Tuesday and Thursday when he’s with me and he did really enjoy spending time with Dodger so I was thinking maybe we could all go for a hike?”

“Yeah? You’re okay with me spending time with him?”

“Yeah,” Bridget shrugged. “He knows that we’re friends.”

“Friends…” Chris repeated, shooting her a sly smile. “And is that all that we are?”

The question had Bridget’s cheeks growing hot as she knew the answer that she wanted to give - and that she was fairly certain he wanted to hear - but the potential rejection that came with being the first to admit it had her feeling rather vulnerable.

“Well,” she started, forcing a smirk to hide her nervousness. “I don’t let any of my friends kiss me the way you did when I got here, but explaining the concept of dating to a four year old might be kinda tricky.”

“That’s fair,” Chris chuckled. “As long as we’re on the same page.”

“I think we are,” Bridget nodded, unable to control the grin that he always seemed to put so easily on her face. “But I also understand if you don’t want Landon to be around. Obviously, eventually that would be important to me, but if you’d rather keep things just us for now then I totally get that.”

She was being honest with her reassurance, but the surprise on his face and the quick shake of his head definitely put her at ease. Landon was the most important thing to her and if whatever they were starting was going to go anywhere then it would only work if Chris was as happy to include him in their plans as she was.

“I don’t mind at all!” Chris insisted. “He seems like a really great kid.”

“He is,” Bridget smiled proudly. “And if you bring Dodger then that will keep him entertained all afternoon.”

“Well, Dodger would be pissed if I went for a hike and left him at home so he will definitely be there,” Chris chuckled. “I do have an appointment on Tuesday though. It might not be long, but it’s right in the middle of the afternoon so maybe Thursday would be better?”

“Thursday sounds great.”

Bridget rose from the table as she confirmed their plans, but as she grabbed the plates and turned towards the sink, Chris stood as well and voiced his protests.

“Don’t worry about the dishes, I have a dishwasher.”

“I figured, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you clean up a little.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to,” he insisted. “I thought you had to get home.”

His reminder earned a snort of laughter from Bridget as she put the plates in the sink and turned back to him with a smirk and an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Are you trying to get rid of me now?”

Chris took advantage of the way she’d moved away from the counter to face him and slid his arm around her waist to tug her body towards his as he’d done earlier in the evening.

“Definitely not,” he assured her, a cheeky grin on his face. “But if you’re gonna stick around then I can think of a few things we could do that are more fun than washing dishes.”

As Chris let his hands settle on her waist, Bridget let hers drape over his shoulders as his words had her swallowing hard.

“Oh yeah?” She questioned, her voice softer than it had been moments before. “Like what?”

“Like this…”

As he dipped his chin down, the brief moment of anticipation had Bridget’s heart fluttering in her chest before he finally captured her lips with his once again. His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her even closer to his chest, but Bridget needed no encouragement to lean into his embrace. She found herself noting how easy it would be to get lost in his touch, his warm and comforting scent and the way he nipped at her bottom lip, but after letting herself indulge for a few moments, she slowly dragged her lips away and let out a happy sigh as she peered up at him.

“That is a very tempting offer,” she informed him. “But I really should get going, I have to work in the morning.”

“On a Saturday?”

The surprise in his voice was clear and Bridget begrudgingly nodded her head.

“We’re doing a storytime picnic thing on the first Saturday of every month for the summer,” she explained. “And tomorrow is the first Saturday in June. It sounded like a good idea back in February, but now I’m regretting it a little bit.”

“I know that feeling,” Chris chuckled. “But maybe it’ll be fun?”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Bridget smiled as she pulled herself out of his arms as much as it pained her to do so. “The morning might be a little hectic, but once things get underway it should be a good time.”

She picked up her mixing bowl from where she’d left it on the counter, but Chris quickly took it from her hands.

“Leave that here,” he insisted. “I’ll wash it and give it back to you on Thursday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Unless you need it before then?” Chris waited for her to shake her head before placing it back on the counter. “Then leave it. I don’t want you taking home dirty dishes to clean at home, that would make me a pretty bad host.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Bridget shrugged with a smile as they headed towards the door. “But thank you, I appreciate your chivalry.”

Her word choice earned a raise of Chris’ eyebrow as he questioned her.

“Is that really chivalrous?” He asked. “You must have a pretty low bar.”

“Trust me,” Bridget scoffed. “My bar is pretty much on the ground, so you’re absolutely exceeding expectations.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Chris mused, his eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare as he opened the front door. “You might just need to raise your standards.”

“I don’t think so,” Bridget admitted. “I think you’d be a catch regardless of how high my standards are.”

In a move that surprised them both, she stretched up to emphasize her words by stealing another quick kiss before slipping out the door and heading back to her car as she waved over her shoulder.

-

Bridget thought that it would be almost impossible for anyone to be more excited about seeing Chris on Thursday than she was.

However, when she mentioned their plan to spend the afternoon hiking to Landon, she had to admit that his enthusiasm definitely rivalled her own and even though she was pretty sure that it had more to do with Dodger than it did with Chris, she was happy that he found the prospect of hanging out with their new friends to be as exciting as she did. He spent the entire morning asking when they were leaving and as much as the perpetual ‘how much longer?’ usually got on her nerves, Bridget could hardly complain as she found herself checking the time just as frequently.

By the time they were pulling into the small parking lot by the trail that Chris had sent her directions to, their anticipation had them both practically leaping out of the car as soon as it was parked. Landon waited to walk beside Bridget - knowing better than to dart off in the middle of a parking lot - but as soon as they reached the trail and could see Chris and Dodger waiting for them by a tree, his restraint slipped and he bolted towards them, calling out for his new favourite dog. When Bridget caught up, Chris was laughing and warning Dodger to be gentle as he practically wrestled with Landon on the ground and she smiled as she rolled her eyes.

“Landon, did you even say hi to Chris?” She asked. “Or did you just go straight for Dodger?”

“He went straight for Dodge,” Chris admitted. “But I’m used to him stealing the show whenever he’s around.”

“I’m not surprised,” she smiled, but when Chris whistled for Dodger to pull his attention away from his new friend and Landon stood up, Bridget reminded him of his manners again. “Are you gonna say hi to Chris too?”

“Hi, Chris,” he grinned, waiting for Chris to greet him before he added, “I really like your dog.”

“He really likes you too,” Chris chuckled. “He was very excited to go on a hike with you today.”

“Me too!”

Landon’s enthusiasm spoke for itself, but Bridget chuckled as she nodded in agreement.

“He was,” she confirmed. “He’s been counting down the minutes all morning.”

“So was I.” Chris flashed her a smirk that had her smile widening even more as his words hung in the air between them for a moment before he changed the subject. “Are we ready to head out? The trail isn’t too long or challenging, but it’s pretty scenic so it’s one of my favourites.”

“Everywhere is scenic around here compared to living in the city,” she pointed out as they headed down the path. “I feel like an idiot for not exploring more around here, it’s not like Boston is a million miles away.”

It was something that Bridget had been reflecting on as they explored their new town and she realized how little she’d ventured out of the city. She’d been to a few places for weekend getaways, but it was surprising - and embarrassing - how little she’d really seen of her home state and she was determined to embrace any opportunity to experience the beauty that it had to offer. However, before she could elaborate on her statement and share that with Chris, Landon interrupted. 

“You’re not supposed to say that,” he informed her. “My teachers say idiot isn’t a nice word.”

Chris chuckled at his scolding as Bridget cringed, knowing he was right. The daycare he attended had mentioned in their weekly update email that words like that were a problem they were currently working on with all the children and had gently reminded parents to be cautious how they talk at home as the kids were always listening. While Bridget was fairly certain that Landon knew better than to use words like that when talking to or about his friends, clearly she needed the reminder to watch what she said.

“You’re right, buddy, I shouldn't have said that,” she admitted. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome,” Landon shrugged before turning his attention to Chris. “Are you an astronaut?”

“Me?” Chris asked, his shock at the question written all over his face as Landon nodded. “I wish! That would be so cool, but unfortunately not. What made you think that?”

“Mommy said that you know lots about space,” Landon informed him, his voice laced with disappointment. “I wanted to go with you.”

“I know a little bit about space,” Chris corrected. “But I do like learning about it and I would love to go too.”

“I wanna go to Jupiter! It’s the biggest planet!”

“It is,” Chris nodded in agreement. “I bet it’s pretty cool, but the pictures I’ve seen from Mars are pretty amazing too.”

“There’s pictures from Mars?” Landon asked, his eyes wide with excitement. “I haven’t seen that!”

Chris gasped and shot Bridget an accusatory look as he pulled out his phone, but she simply shrugged.

“I told you, I don’t know much about it,” she defended herself. “That didn’t come up when I was Googling stuff.”

“You must not have been looking very hard,” he teased, but after a moment of typing on his phone, he slipped it back into his pocket with a sigh. “I don’t have a great service out here so I can’t find the pictures, but maybe it’ll work when we get back to the car. Can you remind me then?”

“Uh huh, I’ll remember!” Landon promised and Bridget had no doubt in her mind that he would as he asked Chris another question. “Can I hold Dodger’s leash?”

“Of course!”

Chris happily handed it over to Landon and they watched as he darted off down the path with Dodger galloping along happily beside him. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Chris slipped his hand into Bridget’s and pulled her close enough against his side for him to lean down and steal a kiss before letting her slip away as if nothing had happened. She appreciated his discretion around Landon, but the fleeting warmth of his hand around hers was almost enough for her to throw caution to the wind and she was relieved when his voice distracted her from the temptation.

“I think I’ve said this before, but he’s a good kid,” Chris observed, nodding his head towards Landon as if she might not know who he was referring to. “I see what you mean about his energy though.”

“Oh yeah, energy and enthusiasm are two things that he is definitely not lacking,” Bridget smiled. “I used to be kinda worried about how he’ll do in school, but he really loves to learn so I think that’ll motivate him to focus some of his energy.”

“Does he like to learn about everything? Or just things that interest him?”

“Right now, he’s into pretty much everything. I’m sure when he gets older he’ll have more specific things he likes and things that he’ll find painfully boring, but he finds everything fascinating at the moment,” Bridget explained. “He loves numbers, letters, and trying to read. He’s obsessed with how things work and why things happen. He just wants to know everything about everything.”

“It’s hard to imagine how big the world must look to kids his age,” Chris mused. “I know there was a time when we were all just baffled little four year olds, but there’s so much knowledge we have as adults that we take for granted.”

“I know what you mean,” Bridget agreed. “But his curiosity is definitely making me smarter. There’s a lot of questions he asks where the first answer that comes to mind is ‘just because’, but that’s never satisfactory for him so it forces me to really think about real explanations for why or how things happen.”

“I’ve run into that with my niece and nephews a few times,” Chris sympathized. “But then it can be hard to explain some of the big concepts that they want to know in a way they can understand.”

“Exactly,” Bridget smiled. “I’m always like ‘chill, kid, let’s focus on learning the alphabet before we start tackling all the mysteries of the universe’.”

Her words pulled a bark of laughter from Chris that had her biting back a smirk at the pride she felt at being responsible for the sound until they settled into a comfortable silence. The only sound around them was the crunch of the trail under their feet and Landon’s giggles as he paused to play tug-of-war over a stick with Dodger and the moment filled Bridget with a contentment that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing from her life. However, the next question out of Chris’ mouth put her a little on edge.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Of course,” she assured him. “You can ask me anything.”

“Have you told your ex about me?” He asked before clarifying, “Landon’s dad, I mean.”

Relieved that despite his suddenly serious tone that was all he wanted to know, Bridget nodded her head.

“I told him I was seeing someone when he dropped Landon off on Sunday,” she informed him. “I was vague - I didn’t tell him who you are or anything - but I told him that we’d gone on a couple dates and that I hope we’ll be going on a lot more.”

Bridget couldn’t help but notice the smile that her admission put on Chris’ face and it had her hope shifting into optimism even when he glossed over it as he continued his questioning.

“Does he know that I’m hanging out with you when Landon’s around?” He asked. “Is he okay with that?”

“I told him about our plans for today and he was fine with it. I think he trusts me to handle it in a way that won’t lead to Landon getting hurt.”

“That’s good,” Chris nodded. “I know it can be kinda complicated and I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

“You’re definitely not,” she assured him. “And as much as I will always try to be respectful of Marcus, he doesn’t really have the right to comment too much on any relationships that I have given the way that his relationship started.”

“Do you mind if I ask about that?” Chris questioned. “About how it all went down?”

“I’m a pretty open book, you can ask me anything,” Bridget repeated with a smile. “But there’s not that much to tell. He got a little distant almost as soon as I told him that I was pregnant, but I thought that I was just hormonal and paranoid. It got worse around the five month mark so I confronted him and he completely fell apart and told me everything - how he’d been struggling with his sexuality, but he was gay and he couldn’t hide it anymore. Then he told me about David and how they’d been seeing each other for months, pretty much since the day I told him I was pregnant.”

Chris shook his head, the furrow of his brow showing he was clearly unimpressed by what she’d shared as he asked, “And you were able to get over that?”

“It definitely took some time,” Bridget admitted. “I was devastated at first. I went from thinking we were starting a family to realizing I was going to be a single mom and it felt even worse knowing that Marcus was still starting a family, but with our child and someone else. I was terrified that they were going to cut me out and that I wouldn’t be able to give Landon everything that they could. All while I was trying to deal with just how horrible it felt to be cheated on.”

“So how did you get through it?”

“Because I had to,” she shrugged. “I knew I had to think about Landon so I gave myself a week to be sad and mope around and then I made myself regroup. The best thing for him is to have two parents who love him and can work as a team so that’s what I focused on and Marcus was always very clear that he did love me, he just wasn’t in love with me for reasons he can’t control so after some time passed and all the dust settled, we were able to keep the strong friendship that we’d built while we were together.”

There was a moment of silence as Chris took in her words before he processed it enough to comment.

“You’re a very strong person,” he commended her, the sincerity shining through in his voice. “I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive something like that so easily.”

“If it wasn’t for Landon then I’m not sure that I would have either. Marcus is a good friend though so I am happy that I did,” Bridget admitted. “But that’s kinda why he can’t say much about my dating life now. I never argued about David’s involvement in Landon’s life so as long as he’s safe and happy then it’s none of Marcus’ business who I let into his life and I think he knows that.”

“Well, I’m glad that he’s not giving you a hard time. I wouldn’t wanna get in the way.”

Bridget appreciated his concern, but his worry had a scoff falling from her lips.

“If he had an issue with it then it would be him getting in the way,” she insisted. “As long as Landon is safe then his opinion is not important.”

The confidence with which she spoke seemed to remove any lingering doubt that he had as a chuckle fell from his lips and he threw his arm around her shoulder to pull her close enough to press a kiss into her hair.

They followed Landon and Dodger down the path, happy to let them lead the way as they enjoyed the time it gave them to talk as Landon enjoyed hanging out with his new furry friend. He did a great job of running free without going too far ahead or veering off the trail and it wasn’t until they were halfway back to their cars that they had to call for him to stop when Bridget needed to re-tie her shoe. Chris took the opportunity to call Dodger over for a drink of water, but Bridget didn’t even notice that Landon hadn’t followed until a question from Chris pulled her eyes up from her shoelaces.

“Uh, how do we feel about climbing trees?”

Bridget followed Chris’ gaze to see Landon - unsurprisingly - beginning to scale one of the large trees on the side of the trail and a sigh fell from her lips.

“It depends which one of us you ask,” she explained as she quickly finished tying her shoe and rose back up from her squat. “Landon loves it and thinks it should be his new favourite hobby, but I find it very stressful and have visions of him falling and being impaled on a branch so we came up with a compromise.”

“Oh, yeah?”

A soft smirk was on Chris’ face as he questioned her, apparently amused by the situation as Bridget nodded and turned to Landon to remind him of their deal.

“Landon!” She called, catching his attention. “Remember not to go any higher than my head!”

Even with the distance between them, his disappointment was clear as he let out a whine of frustration.

“But you’re not big!” They heard him call back before proposing a counter offer. “Can I go as high as Chris? He can help if I get stuck!”

It was less about him getting stuck and more about him falling to his death that had Bridget worried, but she also knew that taking risks and pushing boundaries was how kids learned and improved their skills and there was an argument to be made for how climbing trees could help his confidence and coordination. She could feel Chris watching her, waiting for her approval before he offered Landon his support so after wrestling with her concern for a moment longer, she let out another sigh and nodded her head.

“If Chris doesn’t mind then I guess that would be okay.” The words were barely out of Bridget’s mouth before Landon let out a cheer of excitement and continued his scramble up the branches, earning an eye roll from his mother as her and Chris sauntered over to him. “I can tell him to stop if you’re not comfortable helping since he clearly isn’t going to wait for you to agree.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Chris chuckled. “I used to love climbing trees when I was a kid so I don’t mind helping out if he needs it.”

As promised, Landon stopped when he got about six feet in the air, but after he took a moment to observe - and express his jealousy that Chris got to see from so high up all the time - he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure how to get down. Bridget could see the panic growing on his face, but before she could offer him any reassurance or advice, Chris beat her to it. With admirable patience, he gently and calmly guided Landon down through the branches in a way that allowed him to get himself out of the sticky situation that he’d created without Chris physically needing to help him. It was a display of Chris’ natural comfort and skill with kids and by the time Landon had both feet safely on the ground - proudly celebrating that he’d done it by himself - Bridget’s heart was feeling very warm and full. Unable to resist, she slipped her hand into his and pulled him close to her side as she murmured her thanks while Landon dragged Dodger off ahead of them once again.

By the time they made it back to the start of the trail, it was safe to say that Landon was exhausted. He tried to deny it even as he dragged his feet and rubbed his sleepy eyes, but he found one last burst of energy as Bridget helped him get strapped into his booster seat.

“Chris! You didn’t show me Mars!”

Bridget laughed at his reminder as she heard Chris chuckling behind her and as she backed out of the car he quickly asked her for her phone. She unlocked it and handed it over, watching curiously as he searched until he found a video and hit play before handing the phone to Landon.

“There you go, buddy,” he smiled. “Watch that for a minute, okay?”

Landon absentmindedly agreed as he was already distracted by the video from the robot on Mars and Chris carefully closed the car door. Satisfied that Landon was sufficiently distracted, he pulled Bridget into his arms and wasted no time before he pressed his lips against hers. The speed of his movements had her letting out a gasp, but it didn’t take long for her to smile against his mouth and lean into his body. She’d been surprised by how much of a struggle it had been to keep things strictly ‘just friends’ between them all afternoon and she embraced the opportunity to indulge in his touch. When he pulled away a moment later, she was desperate to chase his lips for more, but she forced herself to remember the little eyes that could be watching and let him step out of her grasp.

“I had fun today,” he smiled. “We should do something like this again soon.”

“We should,” Bridget agreed, trying to shake the daze she always felt after he kissed her. “I’ll text you later?”

“Sounds good,” Chris nodded as she opened her car door. “Get home safe.”

“You too.”

Bridget flashed him a smile as she climbed into her car, reflecting on how it seemed to get harder and harder to say goodbye every time they parted ways, but as she drove away and waved to him in the rearview mirror she was feeling incredibly grateful for the afternoon they’d spent together and how easy and natural it felt to include Chris into the life that she was used to sharing solely with Landon.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Caine Coming To You After Facing John

Caine X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injury, mentions of death, angst, stitching wounds, fluff, and spoilers

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested by @the-marshals-wife​

(A/N:) It has been soooo long since I’ve gotten to write for the John Wick universe! It’s hard for me to get ideas for franchises that I adore as I don’t want to ruin them or the characters. Soooo that’s why I haven’t been writing more John Wick stuff though I really want to! So I am sooo glad that you requested something for Caine, cause it gave me the push to write something and I’m really happy with the way it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Spoilers for John Wick 4 below!!! Do not click if you haven’t seen the movie!!

Seriously spoilers!!!

Caine stumbled while trying to staunch the blood flowing from his wounds. He gritted his teeth trying his everything to ignore the pain. He never wanted to face friends as their killer but he had so much to lose that he had no choice in the matter. He would have cried and begged if it would have changed anything, but it didn’t. So he took his orders with little complaint and now he had to face the consequences. Before he realized he wound up at your doorstep, blood seeping through his fingers and barely conscious. Fumbling around for his cane he knocked twice upon the door he collapsed at. He could hear you fumbling around trying to get to the door, it was still really early and he knew he’d wake you up if he came. At the moment he just wanted to hear your voice again as it was the one thing in his life that could soothe him.

“Coming,” your muffled voice called still full of sleep. Your slippered feet padding against the floor before the door opened.

“Morning,” Cain grinned at your gasp. In seconds you were at his side not worried a bit of the blood staining your morning robe.

“What happened to you,” you choked dragging Caine’s weak form inside.

“I faced John in a duel,” he coughed. “Watch out for your rugs.”

“Screw the rugs,” you argued placing him down gently. “You can’t even see them I don’t know what you’re worried for.”

Caine laughed, grimacing as it tugged at the bullet wounds that were still seeping blood. “Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean everyone else can’t.”

“They make new ones I can assure you,” you retorted. Before he could answer, he heard you leave him alone in your living room. You returned moments later, your hurried footsteps telling him how worried you were. Caine also heard the sounds of your first aid kit rattling in your hands.

“I’m still bleeding out on your rugs,” he called when he knew you were close enough to hear.

“Shut up about the rugs,” you huffed. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll let you buy me a new set. I’m picking them out though you have no sense of style.”

Caine grimaced in pain but couldn’t help the smile that came to his face, “It’s hard to tell which color is which.”

“Oh yeah,” you snorted, “did you suddenly become colorblind?”

“How did you know?”

“Woman’s intuition.”

When you first met Caine his sense of humor had made you feel awkward as you didn’t want to offend him for his lack of sight. But despite his line of work, Caine didn’t take much seriously around you and he liked to joke around to keep things light. It had taken you some time to get used to his form of humor. But now as you had gotten to know him more you played along.

Caine quietly touched your knee as you prepared to patch him up the best you could. It reminded him much of the first time you both met. A woman such as yourself taking pity upon a man bleeding out in the street, despite not knowing that he could possibly be dangerous. In return you had found a new friend and Caine found someone who he could share a little of himself with.

“You do know that the only thing I sew is holes in my clothing right,” you asked, shattering his train of thought.

Caine reached for your wrist holding it tightly as you trembled at the thought of hurting him worse. But the thought of him dying in your floor, scared you more.

“I trust you,” he replied with conviction laced in his words.

“You really need to go to the hospital Caine,” you whined.

“Can’t afford the questions they would ask.”

You sighed, “Whatever. Just promise me not to die on my watch okay?”

Many grunts, tears (mostly yours), paper towels, and swears you had Caine patched up once more. You had guided him carefully to your couch where you made sure to get him comfortable. Now he laid there listening to you clean up the mess he had caused. Your humming was wobbly and he could hear your fingers shaking against each other as you had a hard time grabbing the soiled bandages and cotton balls from your floor.

“Are you okay,” he asked turning his head in your direction though he couldn’t see you.

“Getting there,” you answered.

Caine always liked how truthful you were with him and yourself. You never hid a thing from him and he found it refreshing. His life revolved around lies and secrets that he was finally free from. His thoughts circled to his daughter and he wanted her to meet you. As you had been his only friend for a long time now, Caine wasn’t willing to let that disappear now that he no longer had any obligations to the High Table. He breathed deeply, his skin pulling taut against the stitches you had carefully put in him. He grinned to himself until you came back again, finally done from cleaning up.

“Are you hungry,” you asked taking a seat on the floor beside him.

“Maybe later.” 

“Okay.”

Silence settled back in between you both and for the first time in a long time you felt awkward around Caine. He could tell that you were wanting to talk more, you just didn’t know how to start the conversation. Nor did you want to pry too much into something that you didn’t need to know. Caine hated when you felt this way and he hoped now that he had found his freedom once more that you would find the freedom to talk to him more. Ask him questions you normally wouldn’t due to his life he had hidden from you. You had been his oasis, a hidden one in the desert that he wouldn’t let the High Table even lay eyes upon. Now he had you to himself and you were always there for him no matter what.

“You can ask me (Y/N),” he said searching for your hand. You offered it to him and he held it with a firm grasp. You sucked in a breath at the feeling of his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“What happened,” you asked finally. It had been bothering you and while you didn’t want to pry into matters you had no right to know, you couldn’t deny the curiosity eating you inside.

Caine sighed but refused to release your hand, “I gained my freedom but I had to kill one of my friends to earn it.”

He was glad in this moment that he couldn’t see your face or the expression that had to cross it. He could imagine it though and it tore his heart to shreds.

“I’m sorry Caine.”

“What are you sorry for,” he asked. “You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I just can’t imagine the hurt you’re going through right now.

Wordlessly Caine cupped your cheek, his other hand never leaving the grip on your hand. He traced your features with the rough pad of his thumb, finally allowing himself the moment to ‘see’ your face. Your skin was flawless beneath his touch, your lips soft, and the outline of your jaw round. Though he couldn’t see you visually he found you beautiful all the same. Your breathing quickened and you found yourself losing to his touch. He had taken the life of his friend and by the way he said it many others. You couldn’t imagine what Caine was going to have to live with for the rest of his life, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to abandon him. You suddenly didn’t care about his sins, what mattered to you most was that he was here. He was finally free and now you could see the man Caine was actually, the man he didn’t want to hide. You remained still, letting Caine do what he needed. You couldn’t deny that feelings had grown after that first encounter, you just never made them known or want to push him in anything. Caine just didn’t open up to outsiders and you didn’t want to be the woman who cut off his only escape from the daily life he lived. You were always his confident and while you longed for something more you never wanted to push your feelings upon him. But now as he smoothed his fingers across your features you couldn’t suppress the excited shiver. He grinned at the emotions he was making you feel. The thoughts of John on the back burner as he was now free to acknowledge everything he couldn’t before, and one of those things was how he felt about you.

While you didn’t believe so, to him you were absolute perfection and he wanted to spend the rest of his days making you believe it. He leaned in closer, ignoring the pain that the tugs on his stitches created. You were more important, this was your time, and this was the moment that he was going to make you his. You pressed closer seeing what Caine was trying to do. Mere seconds lapsed and the distance closed, his lips upon yours. He moved gently caressing you with all the pent up emotions, the salt of your tears dancing upon his tongue, while the sharp tang of disinfectant filled his nose. It couldn’t have been a more perfect moment to him as he found his new beginning laying on your couch, wounded, tired, and still sad. But there was brightness ahead and he couldn’t wait for you to meet his daughter. Caine smiled once he parted from you, laying back to finally relax, did he fall asleep while you remained at his side.

[voidartisan]

Clone Wars characters as things i've heard in class

you have no idea how long i've been saving these up

Fives: Stop licking my dryer sheet!

Ahsoka: Yeah, he transferred to the Senate guard, he doesn’t like it there. He says they smell like pencils.

Ahsoka:*Walking in* Barriss, what’s the average life span of a woman? Like 70-80 years, right? I need comfort. I need to know that I will die eventually.

Anakin: Just get a giant hammer, name it kindness, and then BAM.

Palpatine: Yes, taxing the peasants, very good!

Obi-Wan: I am begging you, stop spamming the cringey Twitter account I made in high school.

Anakin: How much Spanish do you you speak?

Kit Fisto: Enough to know all the cuss words.

Leia: Thus, philosophy’s flaming razor sword: It doesn’t matter.

Riyo Chuchi: I actually blew a couple of fuses in my room last year, so maintenance says I’m not supposed to plug in five waffle irons at a time any more.

Rex:*Swears upon knocking over something hot and heavy, looks up* In case you didn’t hear that — KRIFF.

Ahsoka: Just eat the frog already!

Ahsoka: You know what’s worse than freshmen? Freshman boys.

Obi-Wan: *As Korkie walks past in the hallway* Hello, mini-me.

Quinlan Vos: Anyone here watched the movie Jaws? Well, I’m writing a book, and it’ll be kind of like that, but with fantasy Puritans and a giant spider. I’m calling it “Puritan Spider Jaws”

Later: I haven’t decided who’s gonna die yet, but I’m thinking the spider’s gonna get set on fire.

Young Obi-Wan: Qui-gon’s a cool teacher, he’s so laid back. I think he might be high like half the time, but his class is really fun.

Mace Windu: Anyone else going to answer? Alright, then. Go ahead, Ben. You could probably teach this class better than me anyway.

Anakin: You know what would solve all of Coruscant’s population problems? Lab babies.

Han, to Luke: You were at that school for three years and didn’t memorize the camera locations?

Leia: Look at my other mask

Han: Why?

Leia: Because it’s black, like your soul.

Kix: I don’t like fighting. Sometimes Rex gets frustrated and yells “Hit him!” Then I hit him once and Rex’s like “Yeah!” and the other guy’s on the floor crying and I’m like “AUGHHHHHH!”

Padmé: Just because I have money doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.

Ahsoka: Are you going to have any chocolate milk, Rex?

Anakin: Ahsoka, he’s lactose intolerant.

Ahsoka: Oh, sorry—

Rex: Nope. Only for you, Ahsoka.

Rex: *proceeds to pour and chug an entire glass of chocolate milk.*

Obi-Wan: *sarcastically* Didn’t you know? Gingers control the sun.

Korkie: *panicking* Well, no one told me!

Anakin: You know, Master Fisto. Really super buff. Looks like he would run a 5K at the drop of a hat.

Obi-Wan: Anakin, stop making pterodactyl noises.

Din Djarin: Sometimes people ask me about my pronouns. I say that I don’t care what they call me, but it’s not true. I just want to be pronounced “dead.”

Anakin: 4’11”!

Ahsoka: Hey, Master

Anakin: I’m so glad she responds to that. It’s the highlight of my day.

Fives: What are tootsie rolls, anyway? They’re not chocolate, they’re not taffy—

Jesse: It’s better not to ask

Waxer: I got—

Cody: Got expelled? Welp, get your stuff, see you never, nice knowing you.

Ahsoka: Madame Nu don’t care

Jocasta Nu: She don’t

Bail Organa: I have only ever had one person in my life who actually liked banana-flavored Laffy Taffy. And I no longer speak to them.

Obi-Wan: Be careful with these, they’re fragile and expensive—

Anakin: Like my heart

Barriss: The afterlife should be Communist

Hamsters: *frenzied squeaking*

Anakin: *pulling out a small pail* awww…you guys want some Nutella?

Obi-Wan: Stop offering them Nutella

Ahsoka: Is that WHOLE THING filled with Nutella?

Anakin: I mean, not anymore…

Luke: What does a kilogram weigh in American?

Luke: Legally, I can say whatever I want

Han: And I can legally fight you

Boba: Actually, I’m asexual. My son will look exactly like me.

Leia: Han’s got a rough life. Already colorblind, now he’s going deaf at seventeen.

Luke: How do I cite my brain in APA?

Din Djarin: Costco is a cult

Obi-Wan: Can anyone tell me what this is called?

Anakin: A diagram

Obi-Wan: It starts with a k

Anakin: A kdiagram

Ahsoka: *holding up energy drink* Look, Master! Third one today!

Obi-Wan: You are going to die.

Obi-Wan: *checks nutrition facts* 800 mg. Less than a cup of coffee, not too bad. Maybe you won’t die. But you probably will.

Anakin: Master, what if we each brought you a thousand dollars? Then would we still have to take the test?

Mace Windu: I mean, I guess would be better than bringing me… disappointment—

Fennec: It was overhyped

Boba: You just have no soul, that’s what it is

Luke: Eight! Y’know, the devil’s number.

Jango Fett: Why wouldn’t you clone yourself?

Ahsoka: So, when will the grades be in? Tomorrow, or… when should I expect to be depressed?

Padmè, during a mock senatorial campaign: Would you like some of The People’s™ lip balm? It has sparkles.

Luke: Are you okay?

Han, without looking up from his work: I’m straight.

Luke:…

Luke: Well, congratulations on coming out—

Ahsoka: The only one of these I can apply for is the poetry scholarship

Anakin: Roses are red, violets are blue…

Rex: …please give me money.

Ahsoka: Hey, what’s that? Are you planning how we’re all gonna die?

Cody: Yup

Luke: You should play Abba!

Han: You sound like my mother.

Cara: Who’s the main character in your life, Mando?

Din: Uh… my cat, probably

Fives, spinning across the room in a rolling chair: Bounty. The quicker picker upper.

Hondo: No scams for me please, I like money.

Anakin: I’m gonna do a patriotism

Waxer: What is it…

Boil: What’s what?

Waxer: That thing Commander says we’re not allowed to do to the shinies.

Boil: Initiation?

Waxer: There was another word for it.

Boil: Hazing?

Waxer: Yeah! That’s it.

Kix: Fives, if you drop those donuts I will drop YOU

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter twelve: PATH that I FOLLOW

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, mentions of vehicular accident, mentions of motorcycle accident, mentions of religious sacrifice, ptsd, bodily injury, body horror, graphic violence, angst, blood, major character death

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know. 

YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM.

YOU ARE WEAK.

YOU ARE EMPTY.

I tried to scream as Michael’s eyes pleaded. For me? For God? For mercy? I could never tell. How did Jolly’s song go?

We asked Him if He would take us back, He would surely tell us no.

“Mikey, please, hold on,” I pleaded. It felt like I had been saying those words for hours as I tried to scrape my way forward, but either my fingers couldn’t find purchase, or with every inch I gained, another inch of pavement was created.

My head dipped, forehead pressed against the searing hot street. Tears streamed down my face. Was this my own personal Hell? Some kind of divine retribution from a god I stopped believing in when this scene actually happened? Could I not be happy for just once?

I tried summoning some strength using that momentary burst of anger, pushing myself up and shoving myself further. But when I looked up, I could see that I barely moved again. Michael’s eyes seemed to laugh at me, rather than beg for me.

I let out a sob. “Please…”

YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM.

YOU ARE WEAK.

YOU ARE EMPTY.

“Oh, shut up.”

My head shot up at the sound of the familiar voice. “Nick?” I asked, almost a whimper.

“Something like that. It’s kind of complicated, but if it makes it easier, then we’ll just say that’s what I am,” he said, sitting next to me. His clothes were intact, hair thrown up into a messy bun. He looked just like he did when he explained this whole mess to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The leader of the cult cast a malediction on you, attempting to Hollow you out. I’m guessing he was trying to put the Black Stag in someone since his first attempt didn’t work out,” he said.

“Am I… Am I dying?”

“No, no you aren’t dying. But if you give in to despair, It wins, and we’ll lose you.” He looked up at Michael. “Do you really live with this guilt all the time?”

“N-Nick—“

Nick waved his hand, and the horrific scene around us froze. No city sounds. That’s when I realized I couldn’t feel the pain in my side, and felt energized. I pushed myself up to where I could sit.

“Can I wake up now?” I asked.

“No, you’re not dreaming… not really. I’m working on that, but it’s gonna… it’s gonna take a lot. The Black Stag has to take a Vessel, so It’s using the cult leader instead.”

“What do you mean—“

“It wasn’t your fault, y’know?” he said. Nick looked from Michael to behind me, and then to me, his green eyes piercing me. “You feel guilty for not being there for your brother, or for your parents, but there was nothing you could do. I know how that feels, not being there for your best friend. Believe me, it nearly killed me."

“But unlike me back then, you have friends now that can help you, if you let them.”

“Your friend tried to kill me,” I stated flatly.

Nick’s mouth quirked to the side. “Did he now? We’ll have to kick his ass for that later.” He sighed. “Not long now.”

I tilted my head. “Not long for what?”

Nick stood up. “Promise me you’ll forgive yourself? Stress is a killer.”

“What do you mean? Where are you—?”

He held out his hand, and pulled me up when I took it. His hand moved up my arm and curled around the back of my neck, pulling me for a breath-taking kiss. He parted, resting his forehead against mine. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I want you to know that I love you.”

Before I could ask him what was going on, I felt him evaporate from my grasp. Still dazed from his kiss, I slowly opened my eyes, and found that I was no longer on that street near Virginia Beach. I was back in the cold hollow, lying in the dirt.

I started pushing myself up, pain settling back into my bones as I remembered that yeah, I definitely have several broken bones. That’s when I heard something fall to the ground in front of me.

“Nick?”

Noah’s voice was like a bucket of ice water being thrown into my face. I managed to get up, stumbling my way over to where he and Nick were—

Why was Nick on the ground?

“Nick?” I asked, falling to my knees next to him. “Nick?!” I shakily pressed fingers to his neck, placed a hand on his chest. Nothing.

“Nick!”

Nick was dead.

I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. Nick couldn’t be gone; he just pulled me out of a nightmare.

“No no no no no no no—“ I stumbled over my words. This couldn’t be happening. This was all another nightmare. Another malewhatever Nick had called it.

Then Noah was beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and he was gripping Nick’s shoulders and shaking him, shouting his name and crying. Folio and Jolly stood only a few steps away, the Drowned supporting the Grim from collapsing.

And I was just sitting there, numbly staring down at another lifeless body. “…you have a little piece of me in you, and I love you.”

I had fallen unconscious shortly after Michael died, and I wasn’t there when my parents died. Processing their deaths had been… delayed, for a lack of a better word. And when it was time to truly grieve, to put them in the ground and then move on with life somehow, I did nothing but swallow it down and run off.

Nick? There was no unconsciousness to hide away in. No run-down house in the middle of the woods on a sparsely inhabited mountain to run away to. Here was death, staring me right in the face as it spit on me, and I was going to stand there and take it whether I wanted to or not.

No, this was reality.

That’s when I started screaming. Screaming with every atom in my body as I poured every emotion on the bad end of the spectrum into it. I screamed into the void beyond as if Nick could hear me from there:

“I can't lose you too!”

I barely felt the hand on my back; barely felt the tears that streamed down my face. I couldn’t feel the cold that permeated the hollow, nor the dirt and blood that coated my skin.

“Please, I’ll do anything; give anything, just bring him back. Please!” I pleaded with anything that could hear me, not caring if it was the Woods or the Dark or whatever who answered. “GIVE HIM BACK!”

All I could feel was the invisible string that bound us. That string that we strengthened last night when we came together. That string that first bound us when he healed my wounds. That little red string around my wrist, still there despite the hell it went through, paled in comparison to that golden thread.

I pressed my lips to Nick’s, like I felt compelled to. Like this was some stupid fairy tale and true love's kiss could bring him back. I couldn’t care less that Noah was also there, his forehead pressed to the back of my shoulder, or if I was being watched and judged by Folio and Jolly.

His lips were still warm. I love you, too, I said to the ether, wishing I could’ve told him to his face.

All of a sudden, my stomach lurched, like I was going to throw up. I tried pulling away, but it was like I was magnetized to Nick. A warmth spread from me, up my body, and into my mouth. Like I was a conduit for something greater.

"I had to use some of my own energy…"

“You have a little piece of me in you...”

When I was finally able to pull away, I looked down at his face, his cheeks coated with my tears, and Noah’s as well from the sounds coming from beside. I watched as a warm golden light lit up the veins in Nick’s face, traveling up until they lit his iris’.

As the golden light quickly faded from his eyes, I felt a soft thud below my hand. And then another.

It was like someone took shock pedals to his chest. He took a gasping, deep breath, his back arching violently. With a shout, Noah backed away, but still stayed close to Nick’s side.

Nick settled back down, his chest rising and falling. His green eyes searched until they found mine, wide with disbelief.

And with a groan, he gasped, “Thanks for… holding on… to that…”

My mouth dropped open.

Suddenly, a large something fell on top of us, and it wasn't until I heard the hysterical laughter - or sobbing, I couldn't tell - that I realized it was Noah wrapping his arms around us. Multiple sounds joined him, and I realized I was in the middle of a supernatural dog-pile. Quite literally, when I felt fur shift to warm skin.

“Geroff… can't breathe!” Nick shouted.

The others pulled back, if only by a little bit, but I didn’t lift my head from Nick’s shoulder, even when Nick slowly sat up. It wasn’t until he lifted me off him did I let it settle in that Nick was here with me; he was alive.

I hadn’t let myself believe it until he smiled at me and pushed my damp hair away from my face. Couldn’t believe that I had actually saved someone until he opened his mouth and said two words: “Thanks, Tay.”

And I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long while, something akin to true happiness. And it caused me to burst into tears again. Nick tucked me into his side, trying to soothe me.

Folio was the first to break the silence. “We gotta get out of here,” he said, nudging the body of a headless corpse with his bare foot.

Nick grimaced. “Gimme a second, I need to recuperate.”

Once again, I had forgotten about my broken bones. “Yeah, some of us are only human,” I joked. Nick squeezed my waist, which earned him a small yelp of pain.

As Nick sat on the ground amongst the roots of a great oak tree, leaning back against it for support, I looked over at Noah, who was looking at me instead of Nick. When our eyes met, which I had just realized were almost identical to mine, he nodded.

THANK YOU.

I held his stare for a moment before I mentally shrugged. You owe me.

The only response I got was the sound of low laughter rumbling in my head.

The aftermath of the night was shockingly unremarkable. Jolly, Folio, and Noah did most of the heavy lifting, moving the bodies to a wide part of the river, where the water would carry them off to various silt-covered crevasses. There was nothing left off the cult leader, whoever he was, thanks to Nick. Eventually his body had rotted away to wet dust, so he was left on the forest floor.

Folio and Noah helped me and Nick back to my house, where Folio helped us indoors - Noah’s permission had been revoked, but luckily Nick didn’t know that he had been allowed in in the first place. I’m pretty sure I slept the entire day away.

When I woke up, it was to an empty room save for Jerry, curled up into a black and white cinnamon roll on one of my pillows. I had panicked, anxiety constricting my rib cage to a point of pain. Folio came in and assured me that Nick was outside, sucking a few trees dry of their essence. In the meantime, I was forced onto bed rest with only some pain killers and water to help.

As I stared up at the ceiling of my room, Lydia having come in and curled up next to me, I couldn’t help but notice something felt off about me. Not just the broken bones and the bruises, nor the fact that Nick must’ve changed me into clean clothes. It felt like something was missing from me. Like in the nightmare, the Black Stag had been slightly successful and had hollowed out a tiny bit of me.

It wasn’t until later, when I had woken up from another long rest did I realize what it was. I had woken up with no pain, my head resting on Nick’s thigh as he drew something on a tablet. He gave me a small smile when he saw I was awake. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah… Are you the one to thank for that?” I groggily asked, rubbing my eyes to free them of sleep. I hesitantly stretched, but was only met with the faint echo of pain. Like the last remnants of a bruise that you press to feel if something was still there.

“It’s the least I could do for what you did,” he said, putting down the tablet.

“Yeah, about that… Did you…” I trailed off, trying to put into words what I was thinking, “When I was put under that spell, did you try to communicate with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were in my nightmare… well after a while you were. You weren't in the bad part,” I hastily said. “But you were there, and you helped me break out of the trance I was in.”

“The malediction?”

“Yeah, that’s what you called it.”

“I can’t communicate through dreams, so I don’t think that was me. Maybe it was your subconscious?” He suggested. He lazily played with a lock of my hair, twisting it loosely around his finger.

“But… It didn’t feel like it! It felt like you were really there,” I said.

We were silent for a few moments, unable to describe what the feeling between us was. Why did it feel so awkward all of a sudden?

He rubbed the red string attached to my wrist between his thumbs. “Was this how you found me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I casted my first spell,” I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. I sounded like a small kid showing their parent their first preschool project.

His thumbs stilled. “Oh… That’s what it was,” he said, more to himself.

“Nick, for the love of all that is unholy, we’ve gone through too much for you to go back to being cryptic ‘n’ shit—“

“The ‘Nick’ in your nightmare,” he interrupted me, “was the bit of energy you kept.”

“I kept what now?”

“When I healed your concussion, I had to use my inner power to do it. It’s like… using a little bit of your soul instead of using the Woods. I gave you a piece of myself, and you held onto it until you used it to bring me back.”

“…So that’s how I was able to do your magick? How I talked to you?” I asked. He nodded. I sat up. “Is that why I can’t feel you anymore?”

I already knew the answer before he slowly nodded after a while. The emptiness I felt was the absence of Nick.

“Does that change how you feel about me?” he asked.

I stared up into hopeful blue-gray eyes, and I knew my answer. “You tell me,” I said, caressing his face.

His answer was on his lips.

As for the other members of the Court, Folio and Jolly concerned themselves more with clearing out the woods of any more cultists, which thankfully there were none. They would occasionally visit, whether it was at night or when it rained.

Noah wasn’t as frequent a visitor, though it wasn’t due to jealousy. Nick found out what Noah had done to me when he was gone, and they got into it badly. It took over a month for them to get over it. A bad month, since that was the month of getting Granny’s funeral and assets wrapped up.

After the wake, when Nick was conversing with his family, I had slipped away. During the burial, when the pastor was talking, I felt a pair of familiar eyes peering from the treeline a ways off. The familiar feeling reminded me of my first night here, when I was scared and unprepared for what was out there.

“Come to pay your respects?” I asked the silent spot.

CAN’T REALLY GO OUT THERE AND DO IT PROPERLY, NOW CAN I?

“No, I guess not,” I said, peering over my shoulder. Luckily no one was looking over this way.

IS HE DOING BETTER?

“Yeah, he’s getting there,” I said, slipping my hands into the pockets of my black jeans. Autumn had come to Appalachia, and my black blazer had barely kept off the slight chill. It was weird to think that a month ago, I was practically boiling alive.

Noah and I had forgiven each other before Nick had. I had kept up the offerings, but had changed from apple to carrots for a week straight.

“How's the clean-up going? No more cultists?” I asked.

HAVEN’T SEEN ANY. WE’VE SCARED MOST OF THEM OFF, IF THERE ARE ANY MORE OUT THERE.

“I haven’t heard missing people reports of the ones you guys killed,” I said. Granny’s death and the restaurant guy’s death were the only ones that were being talked about, asking with the mystery of where the killers might be.

POLICE ARE PROBABLY COVERING IT UP.

I nodded, peering over my shoulder again. Nick was looking at me. When he saw that I was looking, he gave me a small smile before turning back to his family.

“What are you gonna do now?” I asked Noah.

There was a rustling sound amongst the trees, and for some reason I imagined him shrugging his shoulders.

SAME THINGS WE NORMALLY DO, I GUESS. HUNT THE PATHS, TERRORIZE LOST HIKERS—

“That’s so not funny, Davis,” I said.

SERIOUSLY, I DON’T USE THAT NAME ANYMORE. IT DIED WHEN I DIED.

“Then stop calling me little rabbit,” I said. I could feel him rolling his eyes, so I sighed, “I gotta call you something besides Noah when I’m pissed at you.”

SEBASTIAN.

“But that’s too long—“

“Who’re you talking to?”

I looked behind me. Nick raised an eyebrow at the treeline.

“No one, really,” I said. I could hear some branches in the woods snapping, and I wondered if I made Noah grumpy. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nick said.

I looped my arm through his as we walked back through the cemetery. With one last parting glance, I shot back to the treeline, Don’t be a stranger for so long.

BE SEEING YOU REAL SOON, LITTLE RABBIT.

One night, about a week after the funeral, I was woken up by a knock at the front door. I panicked for a few seconds, grabbing my phone out of habit, when it buzzed in my hand.

Nick 😺🍌: I’m sorry if I woke you. Let me in please?

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t… I couldn’t sleep in that house by myself,” he sighed as I wrapped my arms around him. I could see his eyes were rimmed with red.

“I know, Nick. I know,” I said reassuringly.

“Can I… stay here? Until the house gets sorted out?” he asked.

“Stay as long as you like,” I said, sighing into his neck. “The cats are already here, anyways.”

He chuckled, the puffs of his breath tickling my scalp. “Thank you.”

We slid into my bed, and he rested his head on my collarbone. “When we were kids, she used to tell us these stories to help us go to sleep,” he said.

“Why don’t you tell me one, if it’ll make you feel better?” I asked.

“Well, if you insist,” he said. And he started telling me this story…

Tysm for reading! Final part coming soon!

[hanisdaisys]

The colours of you- S.JY

Pairing: Sim Jaeyun! X Reader!

Informations: A spin off of Filipino movie " Love is color blind"

Warning: death of character

Summary: When an embarrassing story turns into a sweet melody. You and Jake were just students when it all happened, and that explains why it was destined to end. Years later you face him again to start over again, will it be a good idea? Is this the same old sim jaeyun you remember?

Word count: ~2.7k

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Colours. Everything revolves around colours. The sun is yellow, the grass is green and the sky is blue. From dark red to bright blue, colours consist of our everyday life. But it’s hard to fill in the pages when the outline is the same shade as the pens. Jake swore he tried. But he was colorblind, unable to distinguish between different hues. Even when he tried to fill in the pages with different shades, he would often mistake one colour for another. When he picked up a red pencil and called it green when he didn’t see what everyone else saw. “Hey Jake can you pass me the yellow pen,” his friend asked. Jake didn’t see yellow, he saw different shades of gray.

PRESS ON KEEP READING

The world felt dull to him, almost monochromatic. Gray was the only colour he could see, which made everything look even more depressing. There was still warmth in gray. But it’s saddening. When you open your eyes to a dark room, it looks ten times darker. You can’t see the beauty of colours. But he wasn’t always colour-blind. Both his parents were artists and he loved painting with them. The last Color he had seen was red. When he got so angry at his mom he did notice the truck rushing in their direction. Fortunately, he survived, but his mother didn’t...His karma? Losing sense is colours. His dad had left him early on, and now, he was all alone. He couldn’t tell between the sun and the sky anymore. Everything was just gray. He refused to let anyone know. It was embarrassing enough to be known as an orphan.

When you showed up in his life years ago, you were an embarrassing teen. You moved to a new school, in a foreign country you had never seen. You were just erasing the board as people started laughing. “Look at her pants!”. Great what an amazing day to wear white. Everyone just laughed at you as you locked eyes with Jake. He just stared at your pants and he said “A new shade of red”… What the actual hell? You ran out of the class, tears flowing. He followed shortly behind, offering his jacket to cover the stain. “Hey I’m sorry for what happened back there… I just love painting and that’s the first time I saw this shade of red,” he said rubbing the back of his nape. You looked at him again, noticing his plump lips, blonde hair, and beautiful eyes. He had you captivated. “Oh no worries” you mentioned before walking away.

Well, now you kept seeing him everywhere. Posters of his soccer games, of course, he had to be the main player. Damn him and his sexy face. You’d go to his every match. Staring at him as he ran across the field. And oh, of course, he had to be part of the violin team. Just like a pied piper, charming you with his instruments. But you were just a watcher, you’d never been close to him. Just far admirer. That was until the last year of school. Your school had organized a dance party for couples. Little did you know, Jake was making a painting of you with the prettiest Colors to ask you out. But of course, he hadn’t finished in time. He was late and Jay had already asked you out, you agreed. If you couldn’t get Jake maybe his friend was good enough. The whole night you wished Jake’s hands were holding you instead of Jay's. You didn’t enjoy the night and went home. Crying in the rain, in a bright purple dress.

Jake was stopping by the convenience store when he noticed you crying on the street. Where was Jay? And how dare he let you leave this way. He came up to you and brought you home. The rain wasn’t stopping anytime soon so you invited him into your room. “Sorry, it's messy..” You mentioned, sniffling while picking out some clothes for him. “ These are my brothers.. hopefully they’ll fit,” you said staring into his eyes as you passed him a sweatpants and a white shirt. He nodded while you continued your phrase “I'll go change in the bathroom, you can stay here..” He had already finished changing and you were still in the bathroom. He decided to look around when he spotted a picture of you and your friends back in the US. While grabbing the photo, he accidentally dropped the picture you had beside... It fell to the floor while he looked up the see the huge letters written in red. You walked into the room and screamed. “WHAT HAPPENED OMG” You quickly used your body to cover up the words on the wall... “Jake and Y/N forever together… interesting” he moved you aside as he kept staring at the wall.

“You know I was going to ask you to prom” he stared into your eyes “but that bastard Jay beat me to it” You were shocked. “ I wanted to paint the picture of you in the flower field, but I was missing my carnation pink paint… and by the time I bought it Jay had already asked you.” He told you holding your hands “I like you” you blurted out “Well me too..” he confessed. And that’s when your journey had begun. He’d take you out on picnic dates, showing you the prettiest Colors he had ever seen. He took you to see his mom, of course, he liked painting because of her… their house was full of Colors and painting supplies. You were together for years, an inseparable couple. That was until your family fell into debt, and you had to go back to America to help out your dad with the family business. Lots of tears and sadness were shared. Jake knew he had to put on a smile on his face if it meant he could see you happy. And so he did. You left.

Years later you found yourself back in Korea. You had missed your childhood here, with Jake. Your sister begged you to let go of him and focus on work. After all, he has cut you off and completely ghosted you. Yet his face still showed up when you’d go to sleep. You’d be lying if you said you had gotten over him. But you were ready to start again. To find him. You walked through your old school, looking at the mural he had painted, The trophies he had obtained and the soft gentle music he had created. He was everywhere. You take the bus home, the same one you used to take after school. Arriving at your small cozy house. You stepped into your old room, seeing the red words still engraved into the walls. This didn’t age well. As much as your sister wished you forget his ass, she'd rather see you happy than sad. So she helped you find where he worked.

When you walked into the tattoo shop, you were shocked he didn’t open a painting business. Yet when you saw his tattoos spread across his body, it all added up. The bright Colors engraved into his skin. He looked like art. “Welcome-“ he stopped when his eyes met yours. “Jake…” you said walking up to him. “I need to leave..” he said packing his essentials and leaving the room. You followed shortly behind getting into the taxi with him. The taxi driver was confused on you had randomly entered the taxi. yet he just shrugged it off and started driving to jakes destination. “you can't be here, and I’m going to tattoo a client!” He said. “It’s okay, I won't say a word” he rolled his eyes at you. The ride to the hotel was quiet. You stayed in the room as the client walked in. “Good evening ma'am! My name is Jake and I’ll be tattooing you” he said giving instructions to the woman for her to sit down. While he started working you two were arguing over the fact that he had left you hanging while you waited for him to call back.

“oh come on Jake! you could've left me a message! yet im here following you like a crazy lady on my first night back” you argued. His eyes were glued to the lady's skin, tattooing a beautiful tiger lily. “I'm sorry to interrupt your lover's quarrel but could you fill in the tattoo with some orange?” the lady asked. Jake looked around in his colours…. Putting your anger aside, you noticed he was confused. he couldn't tell them apart. They were all different shades of gray. “Ma'am your butt looks gorgeous without colour! Don't add anything to it” you said looking at her. “Really? okay ill keep it simple” she said going back to her phone. Jake finally let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

When the client had left the room was quiet. “thank you..” he said. “what?” “I said thank you..” He repeated. You nodded sitting on the bed beside him. “when you left Korea, I stayed to look over my mom... We got into an argument one day-“ he said. “you don't need to continue Jake, take your time. You said rubbing his back “No I need to tell someone. I was driving when she started crying. She said I reminded her of my dad. I got mad, my dad left us. He was a horrible man. We started arguing. I hadn't noticed the truck speeding our way and we got hit… I survived and lost all sense of colours,y/n, my world is black and white... But my mom, she fought, she tried but she didn't make it..” he was smiling but you noticed the tears falling down his face. “Oh, Jake… im so sorry. I couldn't help being mad at you but it all makes sense. You lost both the things you loved in one day… It must've been hard. I'm sorry Jake” You said hugging him. “no y/n it's not your fault at all” You smiled at him while he packed up his bags.

“So where do you live now?” You asked following him. “I live a few minutes from here if you don’t mind coming with me,” he said putting his bag onto his back.

You nodded and followed him through the narrow alley. The wind was blowing softly and you noticed how much he had grown. His height, his hair, his body… he was completely different. When you arrived you noticed the building looked quite expensive. “Jake…” you said. “It’s not much but you know I try my best,” he said saying hello to the bodyguard and swiping his card. When you got into his apartment, it felt cozy. “Sorry if it’s messy!” He said picking up a few cans of beer that were on his coffee table. “Hey, Jake can I know where the bathroom is? I just need to go real quick” you said looking around. “Yeah it’s right down the hallway, second door to your left” You nodded again and walked as the lights opened. Something caught your attention on the walls. Pictures. Pictures of his mom, pictures of his art and mostly pictures of your first date. You slowly passed your hand over it. “It was beautiful wasn’t it” You jumped a little looking back at him. “Yeah, it was nice, Jake.” You said smiling

“Didn’t you need to use the bathroom?” He said clearing his throat “Oh? yeah!” You rushed off entering the small room. What will you tell him???? Without knowing it, you spent a few minutes in their pacing around. Suddenly you heard a small knock “Hey you okay in there?” He asked. “Yeah give me a second I’ll be right out!” You pretended to flush the toilet, washed your hands and exited the room.

“So how were the states,” Jake asked. “It was good, there weren’t many companies interested in what I wanted to give… I came back here because I didn’t want dads business to fail.” You said, playing with your hands. “Hey it’s okay, don’t worry, you know even I wasn’t able to succeed….” Jake mentioned looking down at his legs. “My dads paying for this room here, I just need to work and give him back some money once in a while… even if he left us, he still takes care of me from away… he got a call the other day asking to finish my mom's paintings…. I wanted to decline because I can’t see Colors but they’re offering so much money Y/N and I don’t think I can reject that…” Jake added. You nodded listening to him. “I can help you, you know? You’re the reason my childhood was so good Jake. When I went to America I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You never left my mind, and now I don’t want to make the same mistake. I’ll stay and help you” you told him caressing his hands. He gave you a genuine smile while you talked the night away.

For the next few months, you tried helping Jake regain confidence in his work. You’d bring him outside on trips to make him realize that maybe colours do look different. Even if he could only see gray, he was able to start noticing the difference between colours and complete them. His Sun turned yellow, his sky turned blue and his flowers turned a beautiful array of colours. He was so happy that you had accompanied him throughout this journey, taking him back to the world of colours. He was so great full for you and you were happy to just help him out.

When it came to D-Day, helping him out to complete his mom's work, you stayed by his side the whole time. Letting him know what colours he was using and letting him know if it made sense. He added new meanings to the paintings that not even his mom noticed. He tried to honour every little stroke to his dear mom. Once the painting was completed he was in awe. He couldn’t believe that after years of setting this aside, he was able to finally complete it. You were so proud of him for doing this. When the photographers arrived at the exhibition, everyone praised him for his work. He was able to complete a whole painting without even being able to see colours… While you were admiring the work, Jake came running to you.

“Hey, I have something for you!” He said. He takes your hand and began pulling you outside. “Close your eyes!!” He sounded too excited so you trusted him and closed your eyes. “Open them!” He said. When you opened your eyes you saw the most beautiful thing. There were a bunch of paintings and pictures of you guys together. You began walking down the alley of pictures, admiring each and every photo. “It’s beautiful Jake… I don’t know what to say..” you said. Jake just smiled and followed you while you walked. At the end of the walkway, you started noticing a few rose petals and candles lit. A beautiful picnic was set up for you two. “Jake thank you so much… I’m not sure how to react. This is the most beautiful thing ever” you said tears falling out of your eyes. Jake wiped them as he began talking “Look, my love, thank you so much for being here the past few months. My mom's project, you were the reason I was able to complete it. You were the reason I continued working every day to see progress. Ever since we were kids, you were always my reason why. And even if I left you alone for weeks and months, you still came back to me to treat me the same. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you. I love you, Y/N… thank you this is all because of you..” he looked at you again “Can I?” He asked as you nodded. His lips touched yours as you smiled.. whispering against each other's lips soft words of love … “I love you more than I loved colours”.

[catharsis-in-darkness]

Colorblind: Part 1

Pairing: Ricky Olson x Reader

Content Warnings: angst, self-deprecating inner voice, heartbreak, crying, anxiety

Author's note: Un-beta'd. Here's some angst for you guys! Haven't really been in the mood to write, but this song got the cogs in my brain spinning. I hope you enjoy <3

Inspired by Colorblind -Movements

Breath in, Run fingers over scarred skin.

“Ricky, I just don’t think this is working anymore.” I muttered, staring at him. Tears were forming in my eyes quickly. My heart was slowly cracking into small pieces as I analyzed the expression on his face. His mouth was morphed into a straight line while I could see the disappointment filling his eyes. 

Let the guilt rain down all over me. 

“What do you mean Y/N? It’s only been a month.” I flinched at his harsh tone. You need to do this Y/N. You’re only going to hurt him in the end. It’s better to do it now. I shook my head at him, before looking down at my cup on the counter. The coffee was definitely cold by now. Rick had come over this morning, breakfast sandwiches and coffee in his hand. My heart sank to my stomach the moment I opened the door, seeing the soft smile on his face. 

He was an amazing person and this last month with him had been everything I had ever hoped for. He was caring and sensitive. One of the biggest goofballs I had ever met in my life. He was too good for me. I didn’t deserve it. 

I had years of built-up walls, and it was making it hard to let him in. He deserves someone who could do that for him. Someone who knew how to love him back… 

“Look, you’re an amazing guy and I’m sure any girl would be lucky to have you, but I don’t think that girl is me. I can’t give you what you want.” I stated, my heart panged in my chest. The tears in my eyes slowly started to fall down onto my cheeks. Good job. Now he won’t even get the chance to hurt you either. 

“Why are you even crying??” He questioned; a look of pain washed over his face. He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Try to justify my hypocrisy.  

“I feel horrible. I know you don’t deserve this.” I whispered, wiping my tears away with my sleeve. It was starting to get harder to breathe. My lungs felt as if they were collapsing in my chest. 

And breathe out, watch the words as they fall from your mouth.

“You’re right Y/n. I don’t deserve this. You won’t even let me know anything about you. I barely even know who you are.” He scoffed. He didn’t even say goodbye as he stood up and made his way out of my small apartment. Flinching as the door slammed shut, my tears now started flowing freely from my eyes. 

They sound pretty sharp, and they probably sting.

About how distant I’ve been lately. 

Sobs racked my body as I slowly moved over to my couch. You stupid, stupid, girl. You really thought he’d fight for you? You’re nothing. You can’t even let your friends in, what makes you think you could ever be in a relationship? The voice inside my head mocked me as I covered myself with a blanket. Poseidon came over to me sitting in my lap as he purred lowly. I gave him a few scratches behind his ears. 

I couldn’t stop my breath from coming out shallow. Starting to hyperventilate, I tried an exercise my therapist taught me. After it didn’t work, I finally gave up and let the grief of losing Ricky consume me. I cried myself to sleep that night.

[wyn-n-tonic]

O! I feel this on the writing juices!

How about i want to see you for Marcus Pike?

well... this is about four months late and i'm so sorry but thank you for being patient with me, my love.

Word Count: 477 Author's Note: Not explicit. Written in first person but no descriptions so...

Maybe I’ve forgotten what it felt like—touch, desire, the quiet intimacy of close contact in a warm bed.

Love.

With a gentle touch and soft brown eyes, he’s right here. Telling me what I’ve been missing the whole time. I keep thinking about how funny it is, too. Because I don’t think I ever really knew what all those things I’ve been missing felt like.

Everything up til now—up til him—has been about my body. My sexuality. My willingness to perform for their pleasure and never demand any of my own. But I was in love with him before I knew it and I didn’t want to give solely because he wanted to take. Truth be told, he didn’t want to take anything.

It was constant back and forth from the moment he held on close and half drunk and whispered, “I wanna see you.”

Marcus’ fingers are curled around my upper thigh, a tight grip as he fights against heavy lids as if sleeping is just unacceptable right now.

Six weeks ago, I’d given up on something like this ever being my reality and now I’m too hasty with my feelings and declarations without an ounce of embarrassment because he beats me to it every time and all it’s ever felt is right.

“I know it’s early—“ 

“Marcus, it’s midnight.”

He yawns, trying his best to shake his head against the pillow. “I meant between us.”

“Oh. I guess.”

“Don't do that, baby,” he whispers. “Don't give me that tone, I’m not saying it as a bad thing.” 

His grip tightens and he pulls my body closer to his, resettling his own body against mine with a closeness I’ve never had.

“You're so beautiful,” he breathes out. “I’m so glad I spilled coffee all over you, can’t believe that put us here together now.”

“I think my chest is still a little red from that.”

His nose bunches up. “I think that’s a hickey.”

When I try to pull away in mock annoyance, he grabs harder still to hitch my leg around his hip and presses himself up between my legs again. It took him three dates to say he loves me and he immediately backpedaled and begged for forgiveness never wanting to cause discomfort. 

“I love you,” he says for the second or fourth or eighth time tonight. “God, I fucking adore you and I know it’s early but—fuck—nobody’s ever seen me the way you do.”

Waiting for another yawn to pass his lips, I try to push more space from between our bodies—try to take in as much warmth from him as possible. He’s right, it’s early and, maybe, there are flags my colorblind eyes are missing in this teenage daydream, honeymoon haze we find ourselves in. I’d like to soak in as much of it as possible.

[jimblejamblewritings]

little situation | part 14.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader, peter parker x black!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist) 

“Aunt May! I brought over someone else besides Ned, I hope it’s alright,” Peter called into his apartment.

“It’s probably not as big as the compound but it’s home.”

“I lived in a cell for a good chunk of my life, nothing’s too small.”

You didn’t want Peter to feel like just because you came from the Avengers’ lifestyle that you were some stuck up.

“Oh, of course, Peter. That’s fin— Oh, hello, you’re a girl.” Aunt May came from around the corner making Peter groan again.

“Hi, I’m Sarah Rogers. It’s nice to meet you Ms. Parker.”

“Please, just call me May… Sarah Rogers? As in—”

“Yes, May! We’re just going to hang out in my room until her ride gets here,” Peter cut her off.

While Peter pushed you and Ned towards his room, he caught the look of May.

“She’s cute,” May mouthed.

“Friend. I just met her.”

“I’m just saying.”

May and Peter communicated in various facial expressions and mouthing words until he couldn’t see May anymore and you, he, and Ned were down the hall. There was nothing better to do while you waited but homework. Peter let you take the desk chair while he and Ned sat on the bottom bunk of his bed.

“Do you two mind if I put on music? I work better with music,” you looked up from the math textbook.

Ned and Peter shrugged.

“What do you listen to?”

“Honestly our house listens to a lot of jazz. Two out of four of us are from World War II.”

“Well, at least it won’t be distracting.”

You turned up the music on your phone and set it down on the desk while the three of you kept working. Once you finished, you checked your phone and still didn’t see any text from Happy or Tony. You watched Ned and Peter until they finished doing their own work.

“So…”

You didn’t know what to say. You never had friends your age before. Plus, Peter and Ned seemed so close that you weren’t sure if you would impose by saying the wrong thing. The two boys looked over at you and suddenly you felt the rest of Peter’s room was more interesting.

“Is that a Rubik’s Cube?”

You walked over to the drawer that it was laying on top of about to grab it when you stopped.

“Oh, can I?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You grabbed it and returned back to the desk chair. Fingers moving at rapid speed, you listened to Ned and Peter talk. You held up a solved Rubik’s Cube in accomplishment.

“You’ve heard us talk all week, what about you?” Ned asked.

“What about me?”

“Who is Sarah Rogers?” Ned asked all serious that made you laugh. You threw him the Rubik’s Cube and spun in the chair before stopping, facing them again.

“Hmmm. Sarah Rogers. Um, I’m a super-soldier baby, deaf, colorblind but only with blue and purple. Engineering is one of my favorite academics. Favorite color is (f/c), I love Disney. Oh, I like to draw… I can teach you how to snap a man’s neck?”

“Awesome,” both boys said at the same time.

“Yeah?” You felt the corners of your mouth lift up. “So what exactly are these lego sets we’re doing this weekend?”

Ned began to go into a tirade about them and how he and Peter save up to buy sets. You were amazed to find out how expensive they could be. Peter pulled out a few of the sets that were kept at his house. Most were kept at Ned’s since he had more space.

“We were gonna get a new set for Sunday, we just finished saving up for another one. You wanna pick?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You guys saved up a lot… I don’t want to pick one you don’t like.”

“That’s the beauty, the goal’s to build them all at some point.”

Peter pulled up the sets in their price range and called you over. They scooted over so you could sit on the bed and flip through. You bit your lip nervously as your eyes landed on the one you wanted.

“Which one?” Peter pulled his phone out of your head. “Steamboat Willie? You really do like Disney.”

“We don’t have to go with that one. I’ll pi—”

“Looks cool enough,” Ned said as he peered over Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll pick it up. Just text us when you want to come over on Sunday and I’ll bring it.”

“Knock, knock,” Aunt May said as she stood in the doorway. “Sarah? A Happy is here for you.”

“Happy! Thank you for letting me come over, May.”

“No problem sweetie, anytime really.”

You turned to your new friends.

“I like hanging out with you two. I’ll see you Sunday. Catch you later, Ned, Peter Parker.”

You greeted Happy at the door. He was holding an apology burger and milkshake courtesy of Tony. You gave a final wave goodbye and left with the big bodyguard for the drive back to the compound.  

~~

You wished Steve was here but he was still on a mission. Bucky and Natasha had come back from their separate mission so they were accompanying you along with Tony and Sharon who was now S.H.I.E.L.D’s plug with the CIA. Everyone wanted to wait till Steve got back but the UN wasn’t having it. S.H.I.E.L.D. had a sneaking suspicion that they were up to something and this was just the start but there wasn’t much they could do.

“Why do I have to straighten my hair?” You asked as you sat in the salon chair while on the phone with Sam and Steve.

“I don’t know, the PR team said it was best you do.” Steve shrugged and looked at Sam.

“It makes you seem more ‘presentable’ is what they want to say.”

“Presentable?”

“They think our hair’s not suitable for the workplace. A lot of those country leaders and diplomats at your UN meeting aren’t black. PR wants you to appeal to the masses, you’ve already got the blonde hair America’s darling thing going. They want to place you as close to whiteness and Steve as they can… yeah, I know. Unfair, sweetheart, I know.”

You frowned but continued to let the salon lady straighten your hair. You appreciated that Sam was always blunt with things you and Steve didn’t understand. He truly was there for the two of you.

“Dheaidí, can you braid my hair when you get home? Like the ones that Howard girl did?”

“Um, I can try, Babydoll.”

Sam chuckled already knowing the gears turning in Steve’s head as he tried to figure out how many tutorials it would take him to figure it out. You could’ve found someone to do it for sure but you really wanted some time with Steve.

“I wish you two were here.”

“We do too but we couldn’t cut the mission shorter than tomorrow. We’ll see you after the meeting though, we promise. But you’ve got Aunt Nat, Uncle Tony and Buck. You’ll be fine sweetheart, it’s just a little meeting think of it like a parent-teacher conference… What are we going to do if they schedule a parent-teacher conference when we’re on missions?”

Steve started to focus on a different problem, overthinking once again.

“Babe,” Sam broke through Steve’s hyperfocus. “Bridge we’ll cross when we get there, okay. You’ll do just great, Sarah. Knock it out of the park, got it?”

“Got it. Dheaidí?”

“Yes?”

When’s the wedding?

Steve choked, leaving Sam a confused mess between your laughing and Steve’s blubbering. You hoped he wouldn’t try to learn sign language. There was something fun about being able to talk with Steve, Clint, and Bucky behind everyone else’s back… only in front of them.

Sarah.

Yes?

Sam and I… this is still new to me.

Steve shook his head. “Why am I talking with you about this?”

“Because I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Always my baby.”

But you two have been together since I was gone right? He’s already a part of the family.

“Let it go.”

I’m gonna be the flower girl, right?

“Don’t you have a hair appointment to finish. Bye, Sarah.”

“Bye, Dheaidí. Bye, Dad.”

You hopped out of the salon chair and looked at yourself in the mirror. The straight hair wasn’t bad. But it was a lot of work and with an Avenger lifestyle, you were almost positive it would be sweated out and it probably wasn’t for you. You exited the salon and into the black van waiting for you outside— the good thing about living in New York was that the UN headquarters was there and that’s where they chose to have your meeting. Tony, Bucky, Nat, and Sharon were already in the car along with the head of the Avengers’ PR team who was giving you last minute tips and prep.

“Don’t scare the poor girl,” Bucky said. “It wasn’t that bad, little doll. I’ll be up there with you anyway.”

Bucky was a stand-in for Steve as legal guardian. If it wasn’t him, it was going to be one of the other Avengers. They were all your pseudo-guardians. Bucky had a hand on your shoulder the whole time as you entered the UN floor. For the most part he was right, it wasn’t too bad. You got mainly sympathetic looks from the dignitaries in front of you.

It was time for a brief recess and you left the stand to stretch your legs while Bucky got you a water. You shook hands with more people you could count and accepted so many apologies and questions about your position on the Avengers— which Tony swooped in to answer most of those, including your unofficial status until you had a suit and a moniker… and your dad actually let you go on missions.

“Miss Rogers, I’m King T’Chaka and this is my son Prince T’Challa,” an older gentleman said as he shook your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“We are utterly sorry to hear all you’ve been put through at such a young age. If you would like, for both you and Sergeant Barnes, Wakanda would be glad to help.”

“Wakanda?” Your brain scrambled for where you had heard that before. “Oh, vibranium like my dad’s shield.”

“Yes,” T’Challa chuckled. “We’re a little more than meets the eye. Feel free to visit at any time, we find the fresh air of our country can be very beneficial. Work miracles almost.”

T’Challa shared a knowing look with his father. You didn’t have time to ask more questions before they called you back to finish speaking. Bucky intercepted a question about the Avengers taking responsibility for collateral damages when events such as Sokovia happened.

“With all due respect, that’s a question for Captain Rogers not his daughter. And we’re trying to figure out how to save the world with less damage which aside from bigger cases, we’ve managed to do pretty well. Once again we do apologize for damage caused to Sokovia and have been working closely with the city to continue repairing damages. If there are no other questions for Sarah, we would like to wrap this up. She does have homework she has to finish.”

That earned a small laugh from everyone on the floor. Bucky nodded to one reporter who stuck his pen up for the last question. The man stood up and flipped open his notepad to read off his question.

“This is actually in regards to both Sergeant Barnes and Miss Rogers about your time in HYDRA.”

“Yes?”

“How do we know that you are working for the Avengers? That this isn’t some HYDRA scheme?”

“Well, I suppose we—”

“For instance if an agent were to come in, you wouldn’t turn on us?”

“Both Sarah and I have no positive affiliation with HYDR—”

“Not even if they were to say Longing. Rusted.”

You and Bucky both froze like deers in headlights. Bucky recovered first and ripped your hearing aids out to at least try and save you while Nat ran from her spot in the back of the room to stop the reporter. But it didn’t matter because the reporter’s pre-recorded voice came over the loudspeaker and no matter how much you covered your ears you and Bucky could still hear it.

“FRIDAY, locate the source and shut it off!” Tony commanded.

“On it, Mr. Stark.” The A.I’s voice came through.

“Benign. Homecoming.”

You and Bucky tried to run.

“One. Freight Car.”

Both of you stood still in your tracks while the other Avengers yelled for people to run while it was oddly silent. The crackle of the pre-recorded voice came back over the speakers with your instructions. You and Bucky pushed past everyone. Bucky picked up the reporter while you attacked anyone who got in the way. You entered a hallway, Bucky twisting the door so it stayed locked. The reporter asked you questions that whether you wanted to or not, you both were answering. There was pounding at the door, attempts by the Avengers to get you out.

“You’ll get me to safety and where I need to go. Now, Soldat. 001.”

You ripped the door off of the handle and threw it at Tony. Bucky set the reporter down and picked you up, throwing you into Nat and Sharon. The Avengers had never seen you fight before and not as a tag team with Bucky— although, right now, this was not exactly where they’d be wanting to see you two in action.

Someone in a catsuit had also appeared to stop the fighting. Bucky ran with the reporter, fighting off anyone that stopped him, while you tried to distract and hold the others back. He succeeded in getting the reporter to a helicopter and starting it up before he turned back around— even under programming, Bucky always came back for you. He almost twisted the man in the catsuit’s arm behind his back when he saw him corner you.

“We’re gonna have to shoot,” Everett Ross said.

“Are you crazy?” Tony started, much to the agreement of others.

Tony hadn’t packed his whole suit but he did have the glove. It formed around his hand and Tony hesitated for a split second before coming after you and hitting you in the temple with the glove.

“Sorry, G.I.”

You stumbled back and Bucky’s attention was immediately focused on Tony who was now backing up. Your head was spinning as you came to your senses. You blinked a couple times and looked to see Bucky stalking towards Tony. You ran in front of him.

“Uncle Jamie, I’m okay.”

You snaked a hand up to his temple, knowing you could get away with it as he assessed that you weren’t injured. You hit him as hard as Tony had hit you and he stumbled back but also came to his senses. Bucky looked around to see everyone but the two of you almost out of breath.

“What did we do?”

“Honestly, we’re not sure yet. We’re trying to figure out who that reporter was and how the hell he slipped through the cracks.”

“He’s HYDRA,” you said, dryly. “They always find a way to slip through the cracks… who’s he?”

Everyone turned to see King T’Chaka coming up behind the man in the sleek black catsuit. He removed his helmet and you were surprised to see Prince T’Challa. So this was what the two of them meant when they said Wakanda was more than meets the eye. The king approached you and Bucky.

“Miss Rogers, Sergeant Barnes… it is hard to explain but we strongly suggest that you take up our offer. For the safety of everyone and our Avengers, we think we can help with your programming problem.”

Bucky was all for it. He had enough of HYDRA’s control on him but he sensed your hesitation.

What’s wrong, little doll?

“I just started school… I was starting to enjoy my life.”

T’Challa spoke up.

“Maybe for the weekends? It would take longer, maybe two months instead of one. But I don’t think we want to disrupt and upset Miss Rogers’ life any more, Baba. Does that work for you?”

“I think we should talk with Steve,” Bucky took over the guardian role again. “But that seems like it might be best for the two of us.”

T’Challa and his father nodded, leaving contacts with Bucky, and then left before anyone else on the UN floor could spot T’Challa in his suit. You and Bucky went back to the UN floor for a final statement that no one was truly paying attention to. They didn’t need it, everyone had witnessed firsthand the damage HYDRA had inflicted on the two of you. You were quickly ushered into the van to head back home.

“Shit,” Tony muttered as he put his phone down. “The helicopter was ditched as soon as he could. We’ve lost the guy.”

“He’ll show up again eventually, they always do.”

“What did he want from you two? What was he asking you in that hallway?”

You and Bucky couldn’t remember to save your lives.

“Doesn’t matter. He probably wants what all of HYDRA wants,” Nat said. “Why the long face, kiddo?”

“Can we dance when we get home?”

Nat nodded. Your question answering hers. The van stayed quiet for your sake, understanding you felt like crap after everything. HYDRA had that control over you. Being born under them, it was always harder for you to shake off a spell than it was for Bucky. He would go straight to the moping stage but you usually spent a few hours in the stages of guilt and fear. You pulled out your phone and texted Ned and Peter in your newly formed group chat, Two Weirdos and Rogers.

Favorite Avenger: Guys, can we reschedule to Monday? I don’t think I’m feeling the weekend anymore.

Mastermind (Ned): No problem, are you okay?

The Awkward One (Peter): Are you okay? We saw what happened.

Favorite Avenger: It’s already on the news?!

The Awkward One: Yeah… but no one’s saying anything bad.

Favorite Avenger: whatever, can we do Monday after school?

Mastermind: P and I have decathlon after school but if you’re cool waiting till after that.

Favorite Avenger: Yeah, sounds fine.

The Awkward One: are you sure you’ll be okay?

Favorite Avenger: yeah, I’ll be fine. See you guys Monday

Sam and Steve came back from their mission to see you and Bucky laying on the floor of your living room, with face masks, foot masks, hand masks, and two candles between you. Sam snapped a picture on his phone before either one of them stepped further into the room. As if he wasn’t going to use this as blackmail against Barnes later.

“We’re back, Babydoll… and we picked up the braiding hair.”

You held up a hand since you couldn’t speak with the mask on. You signed to Steve that it would take ten more minutes before you could move so the two men left you and Bucky on the living room floor. For Sam, the new scent in the house was a lot. For Steve and Bucky it was downright overwhelming but you had made the whole house smell like (favorite scent) thanks to your candles.

“Is your niece like this, too?” Steve asked Sam, half-joking.

Once the self-care was over, you called Steve out of his room and into the living room. He laid out everything and took a deep breath. He laughed at himself a little. He could jump out of planes without a parachute but had to mentally hype himself for braiding your hair. Steve sighed after starting over on the first braid for the fifth time. Sam entered the area after hearing Steve yell in frustration.

“You good?”

“He’s struggling,” you said, not taking your eyes from your phone where you were texting Ned and Peter.

“She made it look so easy, but I’m sorry. Gripping and making the separate pieces is not easy,” he yelled back at the video on the laptop resting on the couch.  

“Move.”

Sam walked over and Steve gladly moved out of the way. He watched as Sam split the hair and started working. He sulked into the kitchen when it became apparent that Sam could braid it no problem. You set your phone down, it was too hard to concentrate with your head moving about, and turned on the TV.

Bucky came back from a sparring session with Nat and Pietro— they wanted to teach him skills past just being fast. He smirked when he saw the scene, Sam braiding your hair while Steve sprawled out on the couch invested in the movie and very occasionally feeding Sam popcorn.

“How domestic,” Bucky fake swooned. “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes open up a salon. Ever think about quitting your day job, Wilson?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Keep laughing but I got a picture of you and Sarah with those mud masks on.”

Sam held up his phone in satisfaction. Bucky stepped closer and Sam threw the phone at him.

“Go ahead and delete it. Already sent it to the whole team… shouldn’t have called me a bird-brain,” Sam smiled proud of himself.

“Steve, get your boyfriend.”

“Give it up, Uncle Jamie,” you sighed, making Sam and Steve laugh. “You done been caught.”

“… Man’s whole family gangs up on him, just not right.”

Bucky muttered as he stalked off. He came back after his shower like you all knew he would and sat down silently. Steve handed over his popcorn bowl which of course Bucky accepted.

~~

“I’ll be late for dinner,” you said as the car pulled up to school. Since they were free, Steve and Sam could actually drop you off for once.

“Why?” Steve asked.

“Ned and Peter have their nerd decathlon practices right after school so we can’t start the Steamboat set till after that.”

“Steamboat set?”

“Yeah, Steamboat Willie. The lego set based on the Disney… we watched Fantasia last month? Never mind, Dheaidí. Dinner, I’ll be late. Happy already agreed to drive me home.”

“You got Happy in on your little plan?”

“… maybe…”

“How late are we talking?”

“Fifteen minutes? No more than twenty-five, promise. Bye!”

You ran out of the car and met up with Peter and Ned who were waiting for you up front. They complimented the new hair and you flipped it obnoxiously for effect.

“And she had the nerve to call them nerds. Has your daughter met herself?” Sam asked.

“At least she has friends?”

“At least she has friends.”

Both men chuckled as they watched you high-five the two boys and walk inside the building, throwing your arms around their shoulders.

(Part 15)...

[kariachi]

Who wants nearly 3500 words of Kevin and Irene's first meeting and date?

Doesn't matter, you're getting it anyway, they're precious.

~~

“Oh, that’s a good one!”

It was probably a good thing that Kevin started at the statement, his shrink would have things to say about ‘getting past the need for hyper-awareness’, but he still felt like a fucking idiot. Adjusting his grip on the book in his hand, he turned his attention to the Lenopan who had just a few minutes ago joined him in the aisle. Done up in contrasting colors like a poison dart frog, they seemed to have realized they’d said that out loud and retracted their mass in embarrassment.

“I hope so,” he found himself saying, “the selection out here’s normally pretty crap.” That was the problem with moving to a new station, if there were stores for something it was probably only one and it probably was casting a wide net. With a galaxy so varied as the Milky Way, that meant it was harder to find, say, any one book that fit your tastes.

“Tell me about it,” they said, desaturation rolling swiftly over their body. “Irveh has an amazing grasp of words though, and the poems were written in Gal Standard so you don’t get any of the issues that come with translations.” Kevin blinked. He hadn’t known that, and it definitely affected his opinion.

“Awesome. Translating’s rough, I know, but fuck is it nicer to read something in the original language.”

“You lose something in the cultural differences,” they said with a bob of the head, “but not in language ones. Seriously though, the one on page… Frick… Can I?” Reaching out a bit of mass, they gratefully accepted the book and flipped to the table of contents in the back. “Yes! Page sixty-two. I spent at least five minutes splayed out on the floor, you’d think I’d been dropped there.”

“Probably shouldn’t read it now then, huh?”

“I can guard the aisle for you.” Kevin gave a snorting laugh as he took the book back, prompting a chuckle from the Lenopan.

“Wouldn’t waste your time.”

“Lucky you, there's next to nothing here worth sorting through so I have it to spare.” Their colors shifted to something a touch more desaturated. “I want to support local businesses, but…” Huffing a sigh, Kevin nodded.

“But they gotta at least try to meet a fucker halfway.”

“At least we’ve got a bookstore though,” the Lenopan admitted with a sigh. “I keep having to order my art supplies on the ethernet and that gets expensive.” Immediately Kevin’s interest was piqued. He’d been enjoying the conversation before, but didn’t meet other artists in person very often. Mostly because he’d only begun openly working on his art again when he moved out there and, well, no supply store to meet people at. Tucking the book under his arm, he smiled widely at them.

“What sorta art do you do?” Their colors shifted again, richening with the new topic.

“Photography and painting, sometimes sketchwork. Most of my stuff is digital anymore but, sometimes you just need to slap some paint on a canvas, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Not specifically paint, but he knew. “I got back into sculpting a few years ago and depending on what I’m making getting new materials is a fucking bitch.” Metals he could do, there was a place for parts on the outer rim of the station, but wood, glass, stone? All had to be ordered in if he didn’t want to pull from preexisting work.

“Oh? I haven’t met a sculptor since college. What mediums do you work in?”

“Mostly metal and stone, you’d be amazed what you can do with that stuff, and some of the colors you can get.” Whoever had said stone was just boring grey had been an idiot and possibly colorblind. The Lenopan bobbed their head again.

“I’ve had to do metallics on commission before, the range can be amazing.” Kevin chuckled with a nod.

“And I’m guessing that was without heat treatments. Steel does awesome stuff over a fire.”

“Really? Cool! I’d love to see, if you have pictures?” Without even a second thought- and wouldn’t that hit him later, that he hadn’t had a second though about getting close- Kevin pulled out his tablet and went searching for a piece as he moved to their side. Eventually he settled on a butterfly Rad had commissioned for his mother, colored in a host of yellows, blues, and purples.

It struck him, as they ooed and ahhed over his work- far more than he felt it deserved, he could see a million problems he wished he could reach into the picture and fix- that he didn’t know who the fuck this was. They were a painter and a photographer who liked poetry and was also annoyed with the lack of shopping options on the station, that was it. But here he was, showing off his art. For a moment the thought that not having names was good darted across his mind like a spooked deer, but he shoved it back.

“Kevin Levin, by the way,” he said. “Pronouns he/him/his.” The Lenopan’s attention was pulled from commending the detail he’d managed to Kevin himself. They tilted their head, just slightly, and a ripple of discordant color change flashed over their body.

“Middle name Tevin, maybe Jevin?” He snorted.

“Ethan.” There was enough quiet for a heartbeat before they broke into gurgling chortles.

“Kevin E. Levin,” they said, “the man is a pun.”

“What can I say-” Kevin grinned and shrugged- “-I’ve got good taste.”

“Yes, you do,” they continued to laugh, something going light in Kevin’s chest at the approval. Before the pun had been his mom’s choice and so he’d been pitied, but anymore people, sometimes affectionately, judged him for keeping it. “Irene Beyer, pronouns she/her/hers.” Ah, one of the Earth population. The head tilt had had him wondering, he didn’t know if it was a general Lenopan thing. But there were more important things, like the name being familiar.

“'Irene'. Like, ‘Princess and the Goblin’ Irene?” She perked up like she’d just won a prize, tendrils wriggling, colors going wild and bold.

“Yes! Exactly! Nobody ever knows it!”

“It was everywhere when I was little,” he said. The Princess and the Goblin, plus its sequel, were among the books his mom used to read to him, and his dad had of course been going to buy him the movie where singing and music held the power that saved the day. “I don’t think I’ve ever met somebody whose name was pronounced like that though.” Irene drew herself up proudly.

“Well, somebody other than you had to have taste.” Feeling that much more comfortable, Kevin burst into snorting laughter, Irene following behind with her gurgling tones. More than likely they attracted the attention of anyone else in the small store at that point, but neither gave any indication of noticing or caring. As they died down, Irene sunk back into herself, colors toning down. Her tendrils kept wriggling though.

“Um… It’s getting to get that time,” she said, “…can I buy you lunch?” As he caught his breath, Kevin considered the offer. When was the last time he’d been on a date that hadn’t involved him flirting out of hunger prior to it? Since leaving Gwendolyn he’d been a lot more focused on his mental health than on his love life and only had a sparse few attempts at relationships. But, he was enjoying himself, Irene seemed nice, and most importantly he was comfortable.

Standing tall, he grinned down at her.

“Lead the way.”

~~

Did he shoplift the book rather than waste time not talking to her? Yes. Did she say anything about it? No.

~~

They ended up at one of the annoying number of restaurants on the station in comparison to things like art supply stores. An Appoplexian place that sold the most unctuous braised meat Kevin’d had outside of Osmosian cooking and a fried fish so hard you had to soak it in soup or crack it like bone. He ordered both sorts plus the meat- he'd gone hungry too often in his youth to pass up a chance to load on calories and no matter what anyone said any pudge he managed was a gift- while Irene went the meat, soupy fish, and something akin to a British pudding Kevin had never bothered to try.

“So,” Irene asked as their waiter, a young Lewodan, left with their orders, “um, what do you do for work?” In a heartbeat Kevin decided to have some fun.

“I’m a spy,” he said, pulling on all his con experience to not grin while he did it. Not that it mattered, it was a wild lie and Irene smirked as she leaned partly over the table.

“Why do I not believe you?”

“Just an untrusting soul, I guess.” He shook his head sorrowfully as he said it. “Major character flaw.” She just chuckled.

“If you get to be a spy, then I get to be a model.” Snorting, Kevin let the smile back out.

“I bet you’ve been in every major magazine.” Irene hummed.

“I mean, technically… My work has been in a lot.”

“Wait, really?" Kevin was honestly a little impressed. “What sorta work?”

“I’ve done some freelance photography,” she said, drawing in again, “but most of the time it’s just ads and things. I’m a graphic designer by trade so… Most of what I put out is logos and posters, stuff like that. I do commissions on the side sometimes though.”

“Cool. Remind me to buy something off you sometime.” Snorting, Irene flashed brighter colors for an instant.

“At least see my art first.” She pulled out a tablet- from where Kevin had never asked Lucy and didn’t intend to ask her- and poked through it a moment before sliding it across the table at him. He couldn’t help a small whistle as he flipped through the folder she’d brought up. She clearly played heavily with mixing colors, outside of a few simpler pieces he assumed were day-job related, and seemed to prefer broad, textured strokes. A closer look showed a propensity towards swirls that he vaguely remembered maybe being a facet of traditional Lenopan art? One pair of nearly identical images felt entirely different because, he realized, one using swirls and curves to give it a lightness and sense of movement while the other felt heavier and still with only, in truth, straight lines.

“Yeah, I’m buying something,” he said, flashing his throat as he gave the tablet back. “You’re good.”

“I- Thank you,” she said, stowing the tablet away again. “I’ve been drawing and painting for as long as I can remember. Even went to school for it.”

“I considered that,” Kevin said, “but I never ended up doing college so…” He shrugged. Gwendolyn had encouraged him to go, but the only things he was interested in learning more of had been the arts, which he had been uncomfortable engaging with openly at the time. It had all felt very private, and he’d known that Gwendolyn would have expected to, insisted on, being allowed to engage with his work. When he’d left he’d moved to the Saturn Station and, well, it wasn’t worth the effort of ethernet classes, even if he was already doing therapy that way. “Mostly I do engineering, some writing and sculpting on the side.” He chuckled. “I’ve been considering combining the sculpting and the machines. When I was little I always wanted to do practical effects like in movies, the animatronics and stuff. Figure it can’t hurt to give it a try.”

“You should! If that butterfly was any indication you’re really good at the sculpting part, and if you’re engineering without a degree you’ve got to be good at that too. You could be the next big thing!” Irene’s colors got more saturated as she went, perking up and tendrils going again.

“Can you imagine,” Kevin laughed. “Finally make a fucking name for myself.” Outside of the crime, at least. Irene didn't have to know about the crime. If things got serious she’d have to, but he had no intention of scaring her off just yet. “Not getting recognized isn’t so bad though. I’ve got buddies everybody knows and they’re always bitching about it. Well, expect for Argit, but he could turn a mosquito bite into a mountain, get a publishing deal for being the first one on it, and get me to write the book for him.” Chortling as their drinks arrived, Irene mirrored him in a polite ‘thank you’ before asking

“Why do I think I’d like him?”

“He’s a complete asshole,” he said, taking a long sip of his soda as she dipped some of her mass into her own to soak it up. “He’s also my oldest friend, first mate, and the most reliable guy I know on a personal level so long as his tail’s not on the line.” Her head tilted again, slight tension in her mass.

“‘First mate’?” Oh, he hadn’t even been thinking…

“I don’t have kids,” Kevin assured, “not yet at least, but…” For a moment he questioned whether to admit to being Osmosian. The information wasn’t hard to find, but well over a decade of people enslaving him had made him wary. He’d started this though, and he wanted to trust her. “I’m Osmosian, we take a lot of mates at a time, share rights and responsibility for any kids. Sorta we’re married? Not like, legally but...” The tension drained away, tendrils giving a wriggle.

“We do the same sort of thing, but it’s not considered a marriage of any kind and sires don’t really have a right to their children.” That made things so much easier.

“Is there anybody I should know about?”

“Not right now,” she said. “I’ve always been kind of… wary, with my dating choices.”

“And you went for me?!?” Clapping a hand over his mouth, Kevin went red. He had not intended to say that aloud. Even if it was a valid question. He'd seen himself. Irene tucked herself away again.

“You seem nice, and fun, funny, smart. And unlikely to try to murder any of my other suitors.” For a long moment, Kevin was silent, mouth hanging open.

“I will try not to- did that actually happen to you?!”

“Not to me,” Irene said, her colors evening out as she leaned in, Kevin mirroring her as was proper with gossip, “but my uncle’s other brother’s cousin. She started seeing a human Plumber and her other suitor lost his shit. I mean, yeah he was a Plumber and this was right at the end of the whole feud, and the only other human I know of that courted a member of our community was a complete asshole, but still. Bit of an overreaction to somebody deciding to be serious with somebody.” As she spoke, things clicked into place in Kevin’s mind.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a Lucy Mann, would you?” She went still, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Yessss.” Figured.

“Yeah, the human side of that family can be iffy. My clan and my mom’s are this far from starting a feud with them themselves.” Irene sighed.

“I wish I was surprised. I mean, she did follow in her grandpa’s footsteps and become a Plumber of all things. People are still talking about it, the only positive comparison to her I’ve ever gotten is I don’t associate with them.” Kevin cringed.

“How close does it have to be to be ‘associating’?” She slumped.

“Tell me you’re not a Plumber.”

“I am not,” he assured her, “I was pressured into becoming one like a decade ago but I only lasted like three months before I quit. Couldn’t do it, nearly ate my boss.” A chuckle, a good sign. “I’ve got like five relatives who used to be Plumbers too, but the only one who didn’t quit was my dad and he both died and only joined because he’d received a holy vision about dying.” Her eyes went wide.

“Damn.”

“Yep.”

“And the others?”

“My mom joined as a mole for her gang after they threatened to toss her in prison and quit after my dad died, my other mom joined normally but quit after like six years when she found another job she could feed my brother with that wasn’t morally bankrupt, my brother joined because he wanted to be like mom and dad and quit when his partner died, hated every minute of the job, and my cousin Molly joined as a mole to keep an eye on that side of Lucy’s family because I was dating one, quit as soon as we broke up.”

“I repeat, damn.” Irene heaved a sigh. “If this lasts my family is going to throw their biggest fit yet.” Kevin snorted despite himself.

“So, we’re good, despite the history?” She drew herself up, colors going monotone in seriousness.

“Depends, what’s your opinion on the Plumbers as a whole?” Oh that was easy, his opinion had been drug around a while as life battered him in every direction, but in the end…

“Corrupt, ineffectual, bigoted by design, untrustworthy. Looking back, I can’t believe I dated someone who liked them nonetheless became one.” He chalked it up to just how shit his mental health had been at the time, combined with social pressure and expectations from the Tennysons. Whatever the cause of the base issue, his words caused tension to fall off Irene in buckets this time, color returning to her mass as she gave him a smile.

“Then we’re good, as long as that’s the case. And you’re okay knowing my family’s probably never going to like you as a result.” Kevin shrugged.

“I’ve been hated for worse reasons. How often can I expect it to come up?”

“Well, I moved out here,” she said, throwing a gaze around the place, “and they’re still on Earth, so… For my species, this is about two steps from just disowning them entirely.”

“So, they’re assholes.”

“They’re assholes.” Nodding, Kevin sat back in his seat and took another sip of his drink.

“Okay. Assholes I can deal with.” He smiled at her. “Promise as long as you treat me well you’ll probably make a good impression on my family.” Irene gave her gurgling chortle again.

“But will I make a good impression on your mate?” Kevin snorted, perking as the waiter headed over with their food.

“Treat me well and buy him jewelry, you’ll be set.” The table became awash with ‘thank you’s alongside pleased rumbles and purrs as lunch arrived. Immediately Irene downed her pudding with a slow swallow he could only describe as luxurious, while Kevin set to work tearing his meat into pieces he could lay over his fish. “So, got any pets?” Her colors dimmed slightly.

“No, I’m in one of the blocks that doesn’t allow them. I’d trade one of my sisters for one though. I have three, it's fine.”

“Lucky them I’ve got a baskurr, then, huh,” he chuckled, warming at the way she perked back up.

“See, I knew asking you out was a good move-”

~~

Kevin could feel a deep purr rolling in his stomach alongside lunch as the two of them exchanged contact information. It had been a while since he’d been on a proper date, and longer still since he’d been on a date with somebody he took to this readily and this fondly. Irene’d was fun, sweet, so smart, and aside from the brief Plumber situation hadn’t judged him on a single thing. Even eating that fish like it was a cracker. It had been nice, chill, in a way that still felt fresh when it happened.

Certainly didn’t hurt he was even then thinking of what he would use to get the rich, bold colors she was showing in a piece.

“Call you tomorrow,” he asked, mindful of the plans she’d mentioned that evening and the nap she intended to go home and take.

“Text me,” she said, “my schedule can get weird and, it’s just easier that way.” Nodding, Kevin stowed his tablet away and gave her a smile he hoped warmed her like the pleased wriggling of her tendrils did him.

“‘kay, I’ll make sure to.” With a not-negligible amount of effort he took a step back. “See ya, Princess. Sleep tight.”

“I’ll try to avoid any peas,” she chortled with a little shake of her head. “See ya, Kevin.”

The smile wouldn’t leave his face as he turned and walked away, heading for the rim of the station on a few more errands. He already wanted to see her again. But no, she had things to do, he had things to do, and he didn’t want to come off as creepy. He could wait, text her maybe around dinner, just to say hi. There was a Khoron romantic drama playing in a few days, he could invite her out to see it with him, pay her back for lunch. Until then he had errands, projects, and a brand-new book to read.

He got the feeling he was going to love it.