#i just don't feel confident in writing them yet

[backinmyphase]

Not alone

Synopsis: After your horrible introduction to each other, Satoru and you have finally time to get to know each other on your honeymoon now. That's everything that is happening - surely right?

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 2800 words

Series Masterlist

I want to thank all of you for the support and the comments, I'm so happy other people like my writing <33 Anyway I hope you like it!

"I can't believe I really listened to you. What am I doing?"

Gojo grinned to himself and went on as if he didn't hear you.

"To the trainstation, please." He handed the cab driver the destination and sat next to you in the back instead of the front.

And suddenly his body was so close, his presence became impossible to not notice.

"I'm so happy to be able to convince you." He looked out of the window.

He sat so relaxed, legs stretched apart and his body lying comfortably in the seat. How could he be so relaxed?

"They'll freak out. Kill me. And then wipe out my clan. In that order."

Gojo laughed. "Sure they will."

"They really could." You shook your head and looked out the window on your side.

"No, they couldn't. They don't dare do anything to you." His voice was full of confidence.

'If only you knew what they dare to do.' You thought about the letters. 'If only you knew.

"Just forget about them, okay?" You felt his body turn towards you. "It's always just higher ups this, clan that. Just try to relax."

"Yeah, yeah." you whispered and look outside. You could see the pitiful look of the driver from the side mirror outside the car.

What were you thinking? This morning you somehow thought that it wouldn't be so bad to just leave. And Gojo looked at you so full of expectation that you didn't want to disappoint him.

But now?

The only thing you could see as you closed your eyes was the disapproving face of your mother. She wouldn't have done anything that would damage the clan's reputation.

And on top of that the panic began to settle.

You were on your honeymoon. Alone. With your husband. It the higher ups don't kill you, well, they will at least expect a child. Or expect you to expect a child. Doesn't matter.

You couldn't even breath near Gojo out of panic, how could you sleep with him?

He yawned loudly, breaking you away from your thoughts. His eyes half lidded open, he stretched his arms.

Maybe it wasn't just the panic.

You looked outside again to hide the on creeping redness on your face. It just wasn't fair. You weren't made for this, weren't made to be Gojo's wife. He just was so… Gojo and you were… Well you.

The two of you just don't make a good pair.

And surely not a good heir, which will be your doom.

"You look tired." his voice was since yesterday really soothing somehow. "When we are in the train you can sleep."

"Are you sure?" you looked at him as he smiled.

"Yeah, I will wake you up."

You smiled hesitantly back. "Thank you."

~

"What were you thinking? I mean-" your mother paced through the room of the arrangement. "Have I taught you nothing?"

Her voice was loud, piercing, ready to hurt you. As she stood before you, you made yourself ready. "You have to inform the higher ups! Is that to much for you stupid brain?"

"I know mother." your voice trying it's best to be steady as you looked at the ground. "But Gojo…"

She shook her head. "Don't come me with that, it is ridiculous! As if he would be soooo passionate about going with you to the honeymoon! Do you think I'm dumb?"

She looked you in the eyes. "You two are not that close. You prove that every time you talk about him."

"But he was really excited to see…"

"God, stop with your excuses! We are not mad you are on your honeymoon and you know that!" she raised a hand to shut you down. "We are mad because you didn't provide us with information like promised."

You hung your head a bit lower, the guilt pushing you down. You didn't feel guilty because messing up, you felt guilty because you seem to have disappoint her yet again. After she gave you all these chances.

"Yes, mother."

She sighed. Her voice becoming unsteady for a second. Suddenly you felt a cold hand creeping up your back making you shiver.

"You have to get yourself together."

The hand caressing your cheek while wind blew inside your ear. Was there someone beside you?

"All of Jujutsu Society is counting on you right now. A new heir is needed to keep the world balance right. And you are the one needed right now."

The cold fingers went down to your throat. First careful, then more forceful. You wanted to stand up and scream, kick around yourself, but you didn't want to seem that crazy in front of your mother.

"Do you understand?"

Carefully slow your head rose. The hand now pressing down and chocking you slowly.

"Yes, mother."

She smiled. But it wasn't sincere. No, it was her mask smile, the one she kept on when the arrangements occurred. Steady and stern, not revealing anything.

"Well then you can say it to them directly."

The room around you began to spin and transform. Dizziness flooded you, but you were unsure if it came from the sudden change or the deficit of air. Or both.

When you could see through the spinning, a room full of nothingness became clear. The only thing you could decipher was-

"Mrs. Gojo. We thought we were on the same page."

The presence of the higher ups.

You couldn't speak, no everything was blurry and dark and just… Just unbearable. Your body seemed like a prison that kept you there, your mind trying to push out of it.

"Didn't we make ourselves clear?"

You didn't get any air anymore, tears started to dwell up in your eyes. When was the last time you let yourself cry like that?

"Mrs. Gojo. We THOUGHT you knew now of what your importance your marriage to Gojo Satoru is. Why we have to know your decisions."

You hiccuped and almost choked on your tears.

"So WHY did you just LEA-"

A sudden push and pull of your body made you jump. Your eyes now blinking wide open, while the world seemed to keep spinning.

"Hey… Hey! What's wrong??"

You kept your eyes open and the only thing that didn't spin were the eyes in front of you. The sunglasses pulled down, Gojo's blue eyes were wide open. The world around you seemed to stop spinning and you started to feel his close presence.

"Nothing, I'm okay." you looked down and noticed his hands on your shoulders. His grip on you was steady yet still soft.

"Are you kidding me? You were crying in your sleep just now." He tried to look you in the eyes as you looked stubbornly onto the ground.

"I just had a nightmare." you winded yourself out of his soothing grip. "Are we there yet?"

You looked him in the face with your usual mask on, trying to hide the panic in your head. Gojo frowned and looked almost concerned.

"Next station. But are you sure you're okay-"

"Alright, perfect. Thank you." hastily you cut him off, not wanting to go deeper into the topic while you smiled your best 'everything is alright' smile at him.

He swallowed it. For now.

But his hand was still close to your shoulder. And he didn't pull it away. While looking outside he spoke again.

"We will sleep in the little hotel of Hinas Grandmother. It's not far from the train station."

You nodded while trying to calm down from the roller-coaster of emotions you were just on.

"Okay, then let's get our things now. We are almost there."

~

"Gojo, let me carry on thing please." you pleaded while following your husband as he shook his head.

His hand on your suitcases and an additional backpack on his back. "No chance. I'm not letting you carry anything. You are exhausted enough."

You looked around seeing the stares of other people in this small place. It must have been a really odd picture. A big man carrying two suitcases behind him while his wife was just following him. Oh god…

"Please Gojo, people are staring." you whispered to him but he just whistled with a smile on his face.

You sighed and embraced your fate. He was really something.

"There it is!" he nodded in direction of a small old, building. It had charm and you couldn't help but smile.

You opened the doors for your stubborn husband and adored the older structure of the house. And at the counter stood an elderly woman smiling at you. You couldn't help but smile back.

"Good day to you two. Sleeping here for the night?" she spoke calmly and slow. And still had that glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, we have reservations on the name Gojo." Gojo smiled and leaned onto the counter while holding his ID. The woman looked at it and gasped.

"Oh, you were the lovely couple Hina told me about! Of course we have a room for you two. Honeymoon, wasn't it?" she smiled at you.

You wanted to disagree but slowly it dawned to you. She thought you were married. Well, you were married, but she thought you were married because you wanted to.

"Yes, Honeymoon. Took awhile to convince her to go here." Gojo laughed while taking the key.

"Oh, really?" the woman looked at you surprised.

"Well, that's just not right." you gasped while taking your own suitcase before gojo could take it. "I didn't want to leave immediately, but he wanted to just go, go, go."

"Well, Darling, I just couldn't wait." He grinned at you with that sparkle in his eye. "Is that so bad?"

"You know it is-"

The woman laughed and shook her head. "Oh you two…" she swiped a tear away. "Young love is so refreshing."

You couldn't help the blush that was creeping up again, for the second time this day, and just wanted to hide your face forever before he saw you like that. You looked at the stairs.

And there stood Gojo ready to go upstairs. Smiling at you.

You cleared your throat, while hoping to get a grip on to yourself and pulled your things behind you. "Thank you for the lovely Hospitality."

"Oh, any time." she waved as you stood before the stairs. "Just make yourself at home. Just like Hina has a home at yours."

You waved back, while smiling, before pulling your things up. You forgot how heavy it was, since Gojo carried it till here. But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of asking for his help and proving that you were just as exhausted as he thought.

As you stood before your room you raised an eyebrow at him. "Darling?"

He smiled and turned around to open the room with the key. "Oh, you know. Just slipped."

"Really?" you pulled your things into the room, while following him. He chuckled lightly.

"Yeah. And, well, we are here just a married couple. Not an arrangement for the future of the jujutsu society. So we should act like one."

"Suree." you looked around. And horror began to settle.

You were registered as a married couple. So you had only one big bed. And a normal married couple wouldn't have problems with that, would it?

"I will take the couch." your voice was much more quiet now. It was like they were here, chanting that they need a heir. And you shouldn't be so irrational.

"No way." he shook his head. "You look like you need days of sleep. I'm not letting you sleep on the uncomfortable couch."

"It's not a problem." you walked over to the couch and sat down. It wasn't comfortable, he was right. But who would hurt a little lie?

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you. "Let's make a deal."

You looked him in the eyes, in those beautiful eyes. "I'm all ears."

He grinned. "You lie down in the bed for now and sleep till evening while I explore the town. You need the sleep. And later we can discuss who sleeps where."

"I don't have to sleep nooooo-" a yawn interrupted you. "hw. Forget it. Let's do it like you said."

He grinned even wider while handing you the backpack with water inside. "Then make yourself comfortable."

He stood up and took his things and the key. But while pulling the door handle down he stooped.

"Oh, and one thing." he took a book out of the backpack and handed it to you. "I read this before sleeping. Helps me. Even for nightmares. Just in case."

You looked at the title of the book and it said 'Before the coffee gets cold'. A black cat on the cover and you couldn't help but smile.

You looked up at him and chuckled to yourself.

"Thank you, Gojo."

~

You did have problems sleeping. It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable.

But you couldn't help but think of the things that the higher ups expected you to do on it.

The covers laid heavy on you, while your hand reached for the book Gojo gave you. A chapter couldn't hurt. And maybe he was right and it really helped.

He was really nice to you. He seemed to make an effort right now. And you appreciated that he wanted to make this arrangement easier (since he was really making it hard in the beginning).

And he was so nice and open to you. And he helped you with the luggage and while sleeping. And his eyes were so-

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no.

No that wasn't happening right now. Not after you just had a couple of conversations. It couldn't be.

But as you read a couple of sentences and felt yourself relaxing to the story, you knew that it was. You couldn't fight the smile that made it's way onto your face.

God dammit.

~

Satoru was worried about you. You looked like you didn't sleep in weeks even though it could have only been last night. You were stressed.

And as much as he wanted you to relax, he couldn't force anything that would just stress you more.

But it was so nice to see you smile from time to time. After all the silence and hiding was it like fresh wind.

"Oh, Mr. Gojo already going out?" Hina's grandmother smiled at him while going through the oages of the visitor book.

"My wife is tired, and I wanted to explore the town." he made his way to the counter again. "Do you have any advice for good restaurants? Or cafés?"

"Oh, I do." she smiled at him. "Sato's kitchen down the street is lovely. And the atmosphere is perfect for a romantic dinner."

She sighed. "My husband and I went there a couple of times, when we were younger. It's a lovely place. Not cheap. But lovely."

He chuckled at that. "Thank you, that sounds like something we have to check out. And anything for take out? I don't want her to have to move again today."

She laughed. "Aren't you a gentleman! Well if you look for good take out, we have a good ramen shop in the main street."

"Then I have to check it out." He made a little dramatic bow. "Thank you for your wisdom Mrs. Sato."

She made sure it wasn't a problem as he left. And if he has any questions of what to do here with his wife he could just come to her.

And he wouldn't forget that.

~

Your body felt heavy as you heard a quiet creak. Your eyes were shut and your head felt a bit dizzy. You still held the book in your hands as you heard a couple of steps.

"You back, Gojo?" you mumbled, your eyes not wanting to open.

"Yeah, but it's not important just keep sleeping."

You wanted to sit up but your body felt heavy. You groaned as you realized what that meant.

"You tricked me…" you weren't sure he would even understand your mumbling. "I'm sleeping now in the bed, and I can't do anything about it…"

You heard a light chuckle that made your traitor of a heart jump.

"I didn't trick you, we had a deal. And now we decided that you sleep in the bed and I sleep on the couch."

"We didn't decide anything…" your voice became more of a whisper as you felt your consciousness drifting away.

"Well," his voice was suddenly really close. "You only have a say if you drop the last name."

Your eyes opened and looked into his. He sat at the end of the big bed, head on his hands as he looked at you.

"I'm Satoru. We are Gojo." He smiled.

"And as Mrs. Gojo you are not alone."

Your eyes fell shut after that. And maybe you were just imagining that. But it still made you feel traitorous warm inside.

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[sparklingblu]

Pulse

Sohyun X Xinyu

P.S: I'm trying a new style of writing here.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

There's something calm and comforting about the crowded coffeeshop. The hissing of the espresso machine, the bustle of human conversation, the clinking of ceramic cups - they all seem to blend together to create a new yet totally familiar world. That's the reason I've come here. To be swallowed by this background noise and extract myself from reality if just for a moment.

I sit in my usual corner, my elbow against a cup of cappucino which has long since gone cold and a textbook opened but largely ignored. I have read the same line for the last thirty minutes but none of it seems to stick. I'm too distracted by the noise and my own thoughts, adrift in this place.

University is supposed to be a place where you "find yourself" but I seem to have lost my sense of direction as soon as I step my foot here. Everyone around me seems so sure of what they are doing, raised chests and energetic steps. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to keep my head down, pretending like I belong while I don't even know who I am yet.

Outside, the leaves are just starting to turn yellow - the afternoon light casting a lazy red glow on them. It's the start of a new season though I barely feel like anything have changed in this new life I'm settling into. It's just a struggle to fit in from day to day.

I bring my lips to the rim of my cofee cup, grmiacing as the bitter taste washes over me. It doesn't come as a surprise. The only reason people come here is for the atmosphere - to mingle and jingle . The cofee is just a necessity to stay.

I glance at the moving world from my seat near the window. A steady flow of students rush past the platfrom on the otherside, their laughter echoing through the glass. It's as if they know a secret I have yet to understand.

I pull the sleeve of my sweater over my knuckles, retreating into the soft fabric. Nearby, my phone buzzes with a notification from a group chat that I never have been a part of. I don't bother to check and it becomes one of the many sounds that fills the place.

I used to think university would be different - a total contrast to my mundane high school life. That I'd step into the place and everything will click into place. Like the rest of my life have been a prelude to this. But here I am. Already chickening out in the first week.

I chug down the remainder of my cold coffee, shove my books into the bag and was about to leave when a burst of cool air sweeps through the place, followed by the jingle of the bell above the door. And I happen to be one of those people who instictively gawk at the newcomer.

There she is, waltzing into the room like she owns it. The energy of the outside world seems to radiate from her body. There's nothing loud or brash about her but she draws attention anyway - an easy confidence that ripples through the place. She brushes a stray strand of hair our of her face, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

She stands out naturally,moving as if she's utterly home in her skin, in this place. It's the kind of self-insurance that seems totally foregin to me. I can't even imagine what it's like to be in her shoes. Not like I will have a chance. She's everything I'm not.

Her hair is slightly tousel, falling in loose waves that looks almost intentional. She's wearing a plain white shirt, its crispiness a total contrast to her slouch jeans.

She orders a cofee - espresso, no sugar- and while she waits, she cracks a joke at the waiteress, painting her cheeks red. All this time, my eyes linger on her with a strange sort of fascination, watching like she's the only form of enteratinment I have had in a long time. And it's true in a way.

She takes the plastic cup and the change from the waiteress with a smile. She turns and that's when the trouble starts. I have expected her to leave as swiftly as she has come. Someone like her probably have more important businesses than slothing around.

Her eyes dart around the café and it takes me a moment to realize she's looking for a seat. So she's staying. But luck doesn't seem to be on her side today beacaue every single seat has been occupied. Well, except..

"Hey" she says, and it's casual, like we have been friends forever. "Mind if I sit there?"

She's gesturing at the seat across from mine, which I have strategically left empty to create a distance between me and everything else. I hesistate a tad bit too long before I response.

"Sure" I mumble, nodding towards the chair.

She sits, sliding the cup of coffee on the table with a soft thud. I have expected her to pull out a phone or do anything a stranger sharing a table with another stranger would do. But instead, she leans back and scans the room before her eyes come to rest on me.

"I have seen you before" she speaks, offering a slight smile as if she can read my thoughts.

I blink, caught off-guard. No 'hello' s. No 'hi' s. Straight to the point.

"Have you?" I say, sounding awfully stiff.

"Yeah. You have been in the same corner for the last week. You come here a lot?" She sips her coffee, eyes still on me.

I shrug. "Not always. But yeah. It's quiet"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around the packed café. "Quiet?" she repeats, half laughing. "Compared to the dining hall, perhaps"

Just then, I realize how rudiculous I must sound. "Well, not today" I admit, lowering my gaze back to the books. "But usually"

She laughs again, but not mockingly so. "I get where you are coming from. Sometimes, it's good to be alone even though you are not truly alone" She couldn't have worded it better.

"Exactly" I say, nodding slowly.

A brief silent passes between us. She sips from her cup again. If the cappucino here is strong, I can't imagine what espresso would taste like. But she shows no sign of distaste.

"So, what do you study?" she asks, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

"Literature" I answer, shifting in my seat. For some reason, talking about my major always make me feel like I'm giving something away. Like I'm exposing myself.

"Ahhh Literature" She repeats the word, as if she's trying to decipher its meaning. "That must be....intense. Lots of complicated story about lots of different stuffs"

I nod, still unsure where she's headed. "I guess so. It's more about trying to understand them through their words. Deep fry your brain sometimes"

She huffs. "I can imagine. That's why I try to understand them through their heads, it's less exhausting that way. I'm in psych"

That makes sense. She has this way of speaking, as if she knows what the other party will say before they even open their mouths. But at the same time, respecting their boundaries.

I'm still trying to think of a valid response when she lifts her cup and stare at the remaining coffee like she's studying it. Then her gaze lifts back to me, eyes bright.

"You know, espresso reminds me of people"

I blink, surprised at the strange comparison. "Espresso? Why?"

She beams, leaning in. "Espresso's small right? Concentrated. If you take a sip, there's this rush - sharp and intense. It hits you so intensely that if you are not prepared, it can be overwhelming"

She takes a sip, as if giving me time to register her words. "But if you take it in bit by bit, the taste changes. The bitterness mellows out and you can feel each layer of richness underneath"

I stare at her, my tired brain struggling to understand what she's implying. Why espresso, out of all things?

She leans back and continues. "People are like that. Emotions, life, they come at you in the most unexpected times - swift, chaotic. Sometimes it can be too much to handle. But if you give it some times, let it breathe, you start to see the little parts that makes it up. That's when you start to discover yourself"

I can't help but smile. "You have thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just obsessed with espresso"

"Not the one here, I hope"

She smiles, instantly getting what I'm implying. It seems she's a regular customer too. "You gotta work with what you have. But you get the point"

"So....people are like espresso? Is that why you study them?" I question as she finishes up the last few drops of her coffee. This girl really likes espresso.

"Exactly" she snaps. I'm not sure if she's joking here. "It has always been my dream to do a thesis on espresso and emotions"

"Are you....?" I drift off and she bursts into laughter.

I feel the slightest hint of joy, like by asking that stupid question, I have contributed to her amusement in some way.

"Serious? No way. I'm not risking my degree for my unhealthy addiction. The last person I explained this to leave the table as soon as I'm done"

"Well, I'm still here"

Does it sound too cheesy?

"I can see that" She glances at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly. "I should get going. I have a class to prepared for"

I nod, feeling that familiar twist that comes with endings. "Right. Of course"

She stands, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "It was nice talking to you" she says, her voice warm. "You can call me Sohyun"

"Xinyu" I reply. It sounds so much easier to say my name now.

"Xinyu" She lets the word roll off her tongue. "I like it"

"Thanks" She's already walking to the door when I response.

With one last glance, she re-enters the reality outside of this comforting bubble. I feel a strange sense of anticipation, like the conversation I just had have dropped some hint to solve this puzzle called life.

Sohyun and Espresso and People.

How peculiar.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The walk back across the campus was pleasant. The scene that welcomes me when I enter my room is not.

As I enter, I'm greeted by the familiar chaos of Yooyeon's world - clothes draped over the chair, a half eaten bag of snacks spilling out on the desk and music playing softly in the background. The mess have become such an essential part of the space that without it, you doubt you will recognize the room.

Yooyeon looks up from her bed, where she's lounging with her phone. She's dressed causual with a twist as usual - an oversized grey t-shrit with the words "You Shall Not Pass" emblazoned across the front and swetpants of the same color. As soon as she notices me, an infectious grin spreads across her face

"Xinyu! You are back!" She exclaims, eyes bright. "Did you finally make a friend or are you still on a first name basis with the library?"

"Ha ha. Very funny" I retort sarcastically as I shove my bag on the bed. "But yeah. I guess so"

She immediately sits up, her attention solely on me. "Wait, what? For real?"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. That's the thing about Yooyeon. It's like she has her own respirator of dopamine. Always on her feet. Not a hint of worry in those blue eyes.

"Her name's Sohyun. We met at the café" I answer, keeping my tone casual. One wrong octave and Yooyeon would immediately detect it.

"Ooooh, a café conversation, huh? Sounds like the opening to a great novel" She laughs, flopping back down to her bed. "What did you two talk about?"

I shrug, though I have anticipated the question. "Just espresso and....people"

Yooyeon grins even wider. "Don't tell me you spill your heart out. Cuz that would be really really-"

"It's nothing like that" I quickly interrupt. "It was just small talk. She's really easy to talk to"

"Easy is good. You need easy" Yooyeon bounces off her bed and start rummaging through her cupboard box of numerous books and posters. It has been a week and she still hasn't bothered to arrange her stuffs.

Not a moment sooner, she pulls out two bright blue mugs. "We should celebrate your burgeoning social life. I have got hot chocolate mix somewhere"

I roll my eyes. "You are impossible"

"Impossibly fun" Yooyeon winks as she pours the hot chocolate mix into the mugs and adds some hot water, the steam curling up. "You are on your way to becoming a social butterfly. Next thing you know, you will be hosting literary salons"

"Sure. After I finish this semester's readings" I reply lightly though the idea terrifies me.

Yooyeon hands me the steaming mug with a triumphant grin. "Here's to new friends and the magic of coffee! If you ever need a social coach to take you on this emotional espresso journey, I'm always available"

I take the mug from her, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. "No thanks"

"Aww come on. I can be the Ron to your Harry. Or the Peeta to your Katniss. Wait, nevermind. That's not a good idea" Yooyeon says, never failing to showcase her obsession with fiction. If Sohyun wants to do a thesis on espresso, Yooyeon would probably make one on Hunger Games. But her dream is closer to being a reality, given how she's in media studies.

"Isn't that the guy....who got like brainwashed or something?" I try to recall the memoies of the movie from time immemorial.

"Yeah. Poor Peeta..." Yooyeon says with a dreamy tone before she brings the mug to her lips.

"Fuck! It's hot" She yelps, immediately recoiling and almost spilling the hot drink.

"Who? Peeta?" I ask.

"No. The hot chocolate. Wait, no. I mean yes. Peeta, not this god awful drink" Yooyeon says while she furiously fans her mouth.

I can't help the chuckle that escape my lips. "I have always liked that Gale guy better"

Yooyeon's eyesbrow knit at my remark. And I already know a debate is headed my way.

"For starters,..."

And so it begins. I participate anyway although I know Yooyeon would win in the end as she always does. I'm not geeky enough for this.

But it doesn't matter. Because she's the only friend I have for now. Debating on fictional man not to be the odd one out doesn't seem so bad of a trade.

Would Sohyun like Gale better than Peeta?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I'm up early the next morning. The kind of early that makes the world feels like it's still deciding whether or not it should go back to sleep. I look at the bedside clock - 5:55 am. Ha. I beat the alarm today.

Soft gray light shines through a hatch between the curtains, the world outside still enshrouded in the morning mist. All is quiet except for the occasional footsteps and soft snores of Yooyeon , whose face is half buried in the pillow. I smile, knowing she won't be up for at least an hour. The girl's have been up all night finishing an assignment.

I shiver slightly as the cool air grazes my skin when I pull the covers off. The mornings are getting colder, the first hints of autumn sneaking in. And it means I will have a harder time exiting the warm embrace of my sheets.

The chill in the air clings to me as I head towards the common bathroom. The hallways are empty at this time of the day. Not much early risers here. This building, Bradford Hall, is one of the older dorms on the campus. The floors creak with each step I take and the white paint on the wall have faded with age. For no reason, the place indulges a sense of legacy in me. Like I'm a part of something greater. Maybe it's the smell of chamomile that always hangs in the air.

The walk to the bathroom doesn't take long since my room's on the first floor. There's no burden of stairways. It takes five minutes tops for me to clean up - brush my teeth, wash my face and a couple arrangement of my messy hair that will stay the same way after. I still don't understand how some people manage to spend hours in the bathroom. Making yourself presentable shouldn't be that hard.

When I come back to the room, Yooyeon has tossed over, almost draping off the bed and murmuring something that sounds like a spell. She might be visiting middle-earth, Hogwarts and god knows where.

I cross over to my side of the room, the territory determined by an imaginary line Yooyeon have drawn on the first day. The room is barely big enough for two twin beds, a couple desks and a shared closet. My space is plain, simple. Almost empty except for the small lamp and the stack of books. It works fine by me.

Yooyeon's, however, is a total contrast. Her walls are covered with posters of whatever fictional book or movie you cam name. Not to mention the figurines that line her desk. "They give me motivation" Yooyeon has said. In my opinion, I wouldn't want an inch tall Darth Vader monitoring me all night. I bet Yooyeon would consider that 'hot' too.

I rummage through my closet without any initial dress code in mind. There isn't a need to worry. People wouldn't be up yet. There's no one to impress. I decide to go simple pulling on a bright blue sweater over my shirt and pulling on a pair of jeans. I slip on my worn-out sneakers, their familiar creaks greeting me. After a glance in the mirror, I decide to let my loose locks fall freely. I grab my bag and leave, careful not to wake Yooyeon, who's on the brink of falling off the bed.

The campus seems almost unrecognizable at this time of the day - the morning light bathing it in a warm glow that makes everything looks like it belongs to a painting. The air is still, undisturbed by the usual hustle of students. I take a deep breath as I make my way down the brick path.

The clues of autumn are scattered here and there - the air crisp and the leaves tinged with green and yellow like they haven't decided their favorite color yet. To my left, the towering main library roses like a cathedral, fog clinging to its ebony walls. The arched windows reflecting the sun rays.

Further down, the old lecture halls rise up on either sides of the path. They look like relics from the ancient past, a time unbeknownst. The ivy covered walls adding into its timelessness.

They weren't joking about this place being 'old'.

Ahead, the dining hall comes into view, no less younger than its confidants. With the dark wood beams and the high ceiling, it looks almost like a castle. The stone steps leading to the entrance are worn smooth by countless steps and the wooden doors, though thoroughly polished, creaks slightly as I push them open.

Inside, the place is most empty, save for a couple students scattered around. The smell of coffee and pastries fill the air, comforting in a way that makes me want to stay for hours. I grab a tray, throws on a couple of sandwiches and a glass of juice. My morning appetite have never been impressive.

I takes my usual place near one of the stained glass windows, spots of light showering on the table. I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful. Maybe except when Yooyeon's accompanying me.

I'm haflway through a cheese sandwich when the door swing opens.

Sohyun.

She walks in with a group of friends, at least five of them, talking and laughing. Their energy seemingly announcing they belong here.

Sohyun's dressed in almost the same way at our first meeting - a loose white shirt and cargos. And she strides across the hall with the same confidence from that day.

I didn't mean to stare but my eyes follow her, weaving through tables with her friends trailed behind. Like maybe our encounter was an interlude to something more.

I know I should go back to my sandwhich but when the soul craves, the body has to suffice. She turns my way just for a split second and without thinking, I give her a small smile. It's nothing special, really - just a 'Hey. I remember you from yesterday' kind of smile.

But Sohyun's eyes sweep over me as if I'm not even there and soon, she's swept up with her friends again, laughing at something they said.

It stings. Though it has no reason to. It's like a tiny blow that leaves you off-balance but not strong enough to knock you off your feet. Before I even realize it, my lips have pursed into a tight line and I'm already staring down at the unfinished plate of sandwiches. Maybe, yesterday was just a fever dream.

I didn't expect much, really. A nod, a wave, a smile - a sign of acknowledgement. Anything. I tell myself not to care. It's rudiculous to yearn for approval from someone you shared a coffee table with. But I can't help the cold weight settling in my chest.

I glance up at her again. She's still at the counter, taking her sweet time choosing her breakfast. The way she holds herself is so natural, like she belongs anywhere she goes. I envy that about her. I have always been needed to prove to earn a place in society while she just waltz through everything without a care.

Why is it bothering me so much?

Maybe I should be grateful for her brief cameo in my life. Or maybe it would have been better if we never met. Then she will just be another student who comes to eat breakfast. Not Sohyun.

But now, it's infecting me.

I take a sip of my orange juice, focusing on the cold liquid that wash down my throat. It's nothing, I tell myself. It's jst a stupid plea for attention. It doesn't matter. I have always been good at finding meanings in small thing but sometimes, small things are just......small. There's no more meaning to them than what they are.

Maybe that's all this is.

I watch her from the corner of my eyes as she settles down at a table with her friends, her laughter ringing out across the hall again. And for a momet, I almost want to laugh. Not because anything is funny but beacause how easily she moves through the world, through life.

And how easily she has forgotten me.

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Over the next week, autumn have crept in like a quiet exhale. The trees have turned amber and yellow, their leaves falling in slow spiral onto tbe brick paths. The air has become sharp enough to sting my skin when I go out. It's the season of change, like people say. But this year, there's something unsettling about the sudden shift. Like I'm not ready for new beginnings.

Most of my time is spent surrounded by books and notes. Despite the constant pressure, it's nice to finally have a rhythm to life again. The rhythm that my fear of rejection have indulged. I have recovered quick and Sohyun has faded into nothing but another human whose life happen to cross ways with mine.

It's nothing to dwell on.

I sit at my desk, my table lamp casting a faint glow on the pages of 'Jane Eyre'. The word file opened on my laptop is still in the same state as it has been in the last hour - celan and empty. The syllables for the essay due tonight doesn't seem to be manifesting anytime soon.

I tap my fingers idly on the edge of the desk, glancing at the clock. It's nearly midnight now. The campus has gone still save for the ocassional laughter and footsteps of latecomers from the corridor. Peaceful. Quiet. But still not helping me collect my scattered thoughts.

I'm about to give up for the night and go to bed when the door suddenly flies open with a buest of energy and Yooyeon, in all her chaotic glory, stumbles into the room. She's panting, yet she has this wide grin plastered on her face.

I look up from my desk, startled by the sudden enteance. "Hey"

"Hey" she says, plopping down on the bed. "Guess what?"

I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself for whatever dramatic new she has to deliver. "What?"

"Yeonjun wants me to meet him at one of those fancy clubs. And he asked me to bring a friend" She grins even wider. "Guess who that friend's gonna be"

I blink. "Not me"

Yooyeons gives me a look, the kind that says she's not giving up until I give in. "Yes, you. Come on, Xinyu. You have been locked up here for so long. You need to get out"

"I've been studying" It's not enitirely a lie but it's not the truth either.

But Yooyeon's having none of it. "Studying, hiding, same difference. You are coming with me. Plus, it will be fun. Who know? Maybe you will even find a cute boy" She winks, then whispers. "Or a girl"

I'm not quick enough to surpress the blush that creeps up my cheek. "Yooyeon!"

"What? Don't tell me you still can't forget Ms. Espresso"

"This has nothing to do with her" To my surprise, my voice comes out shrill. "I'm just-"

"Blah blah blah. More excuses" Yooyeon cuts me off. "Come on, Xinyu. You will be doing me a huge favour. Yeonjun thinks I have no friends"

"You do have friends"

"Yeah. But no one would be available this late. And I'd rather go with you. You are....less dramatic"

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle. "You mean 'naive' "

She shrugs, throwing a pillow at me. "You know what I mean. I don't need to worry about you throwing up or passing out or sleeping with the wrong guy"

"You just wants a wingwoman who will behave"

"Exactly" Yooyeon snaps. "So, what do you say? We'll go meet Yeonjun, hangs out for a bit. Then, we can come back to your books if you want"

I glance at my laptop, ths text cursor blinking in and out of existence as if reminding me of the marks soon to be lost. It's tempting to stay here but Yooyeon's right. Perhaps, I can take a breather just this once.

I sigh, pushing my chair back. "Fine. But don't expect me to drag your drunk ass back here"

Yooyeon lets out a triumphant squeal, practically bouncing off the bed. "Yes! You won't regret it"

She's already heading to the door when I throw a sweater over my shoulder. Yooyeon's dressed in her usual fit - jeans and a Lord of the Rings shirt, the one that says "You shalll not pass".

"Seriously? You are wearing that shirt again?" I ask, eyeing her.

Yooyeon shrinks away in mock offense. "Excuse me? Have some respect for the classics. Everybody loves Gandalf"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Let's go"

As soon as we step out of the building, we are hit by the cool night air. The campus is fast asleep, the street lamps casting long shadows across the brick paths. It feels peaceful, almost serene.

Yooyeon immediately starts chattering about this new Draco-Harry fiction, her hands waving animatedly as she speaks. I listen, half-distracted, my thoughts finding their way back to a topic unexplored for some times - Sohyun.

Maybe that morning in the dinining hall doesn't mean anything. It's jut a moment, and moments pass.

Despite the countless convincements, a part of me still wonders. What if she had smiled back? What if things have happened differently?

"Earth to Xinyu. Helloooooo" Yooyeon's voice break through my thoughts and I realize she has been talking to me this whole time.

"Sorry" I mumble, recomposing myself. "What were you saying?"

"I said, what do you think of Yeonjun?"

"He seems...nice" I answer, though I barely remember the guy.

Yooyeon grins, clearly pleased. "I know, right? He's the sweetest. And he's really into Harry Potter too, so that's a bonus"

I hum in agreement. Yooyeon's world seems so simple - vibrant, full of energy. Meanwhile, mine feels like the polar opposite. I'm always overthinking, second-guessing.

"Hey" Yooyeon nudges me with her elbow. "You are being all broody again. Stop it. We are going to have fun"

"Yeah, okay" I say, offering her a small smile.

I breath in the autumn air, hoping that mayb, I can stop cllinging onto a loose thread.

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The club is a short walk off campus, tucked into a narrow street line with food trucks and cafés that come alive at night. As me and Yooyeon approach, the distant music grows louder, the rhythmic bass reverberating beneath our feet.

A small line of people snaked out of the entrance, marked by a neon sign displaying its name "The Tavern". The building itself is unassuming, with dark brick walls and small windows dimly lit from the inside.

When we step in, the place opens into a large space with low lighting. The bar run along one side while the rest of the room is a dance floor, dotted with tables around the edge. The air is buzzing with music and energy - people pressed close together, shouting whatever on their mind over the DJ's beat. It's an enitrely different world from the quiet, orderly campus.

"There he is!" Yooyeon yells over the music, wavibg wildly at someone near the bar. I follow her gaze and find a guy leaning against the counter, already grinning like a madman. Yeonjun. I recognize him from the first (and the only) time Yooyeon introduced me. He seems to reflect Yooyeon's restless vigour - a match made in heaven (or Hogwarts, whatever).

"Yeonjun. You remember Xinyu, right?" she says, taking her place next to him. He offers me a smile, not too over the top, but friendly enough. "The one who's always drowning in books?"

I give him an awkward wave. "Hey"

"Nice to meet you again" He says, his voice smooth. "Yooyeon's always talking about you"

"Only good things, I hope"

He laughs. "All good. Don't worry"

Yooyeon reaches for Yeonjun's half-finished shot of whiskey on the counter but get stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Eh eh eh. You are ordering your own drink, miss"

Yooyeon pouts at Yeonjun's remark. "You don't even want to share a drink with your girlfriend?"

"You see. The reason it's called a 'shot' is that it's meant to be savoured by a single individual" Yeonjun's voice has gone unsettlingly serious.

"And they say Xinyu's the smart one" Yooyeon says, punching his arm.

"And they say men are the agressors" Yeonjun retorts. "How do you even deal with this witch, Xinyu?"

Before I can think of anything to say, Yooyeon grabs his arm. "Before I cast a casual Crucio on your sorry ass, we should get to the dance floor"

Yeonjun didn't argue with that. The banter is just their way of communicating. "Xinyu, you should come too" he invites.

"Uh.....no. I'm good. You two go ahead"

"Are you sure?" Yooyeon asks, despite knowing nothing can budge me. "It wil be fun, I promise"

I shake my head, smiling. "I will pass. I think I will just....get a drink"

Yooyeon is silent for a moment, then she's off, dragging Yeonjun into the sea of bodies. I watch them disappear, Yooyeon's laughter echoing back, carefree and loud, like she's exactly where she belongs.

Me, though? Not so much. So, I head to the bar,sliding onto one of the stools and order a Coke. There's no need for anything stronger. I can barely tolerate anything that have the slightest bit of alcohol and that's speaking from experience. The bartender barely looks at me as he hands it over, already moving on to his next order.

I take a sip and glance around. The place is packed, bodies moving in rhythm, couples tangled up in each other and some loners who are just swaying, lost in the music. It's loud, chaotic and I feel totally out of place. It's not that I don't want to have fun - I just don't know how to in place like this. Maybe my definition of 'fun' is different from everyone here.

I lean back against the bar and take another sip. The girls here are all glitter and glamour - tight dresses, high heels and bold colors, shimmering under the disco light. Like the night is made for them.

And then there's me in my oversized sweater and faded jeans. My white sneakers seems an imposter to their sleek heels. I have been so eager to get out of my comfort zone for once that I forget to do the necessary preparations.

I search for Yooyeon's familiar face in the crowd, but she's lost in the restless horde, probably twirling around with Yeonjun. I'm happy for her but all I feel is...detached. It's pathetic. I know. I'm too old not to know my constant fear of being the outsider, of being denied.

I'm halfway through my coke when I feel someone slide into the seat next to me, the barstool creaking under the weight. I didn't look up, hoping that it's just another stranger who comes to mind their own business. But then, he clears his throat, loud enugh for me not to ignore.

"Hey" a voice rings out, smooth but with a cocky edge.

I glanced over and there he is - perfect hair, gleaming jacket and a gold chain around hid neck. I might not be the best at socializing but I recognize the type immediately - the kind that's used to getting everything he wants. I can see it from his look, like he spends too much time in front of the mirror. He gives me a lazy smile, the one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come here often?" He ask, leaning a bit too close. His cologne is strong and mixed with the sour stench of his breath, it's impossible not to flinch

"No" I say flatly, taking a sip of my coke.

"That's a shame. You should. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting alone"

I bristle at that, the compliment feeling more like an insult. "I'm not really into clubs" I reply, my lazy tone desperately showing my lack of interest.

He either doesn't know or care. Instead, he leans closer, his elbow casually resting on the bar next to me. "You just haven't found the right sort of people. I could show you a good time, you know"

I swallow a sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine, thanks"

But he only smiles wider, as if my rejection is part of a game he's used to playing. "You sure? Cuz I don't see anyone with you here. How about I buy you another drink? Something better than coke"

"No, really. I'm good" I say, more firmly this time, hoping he will get the message. But the bastard won't take his eyes off me.

"You are playing hard to get, huh?" He tilts his head. "You wouldn't believe how many girls like you I have seen. Acting all tough, only to end up in my bed at the end"

That did the job for me. I straighten up in my seat. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, come one. I'm just-"

"Fuck off, Taeil"

A voice cuts through the tension and I instinctively turn my head toward the source. Sohyun stands a few feet away, arms folded. Her shirt has been tucked into her dark jeans, casual but sharp. Her eyes narrow onto the guy who is now known as Taeil, as if she's used to seeing the scene plays out.

Taeil straighten up, his smile wavering. "Relax. We are just talking"

"No, you are not" Sohyun steps closer, gaze hard and unblinking. "Here's what's gonna happen. You are going to walk away and leave her alone.

Taeil's smirk returns but it's not so sure as before. "And what exactly are you going to do if I don't?"

Sohyun's lips curve into a smile, one colder than any I have seen from her. She pulls out her phone, holding it up for him to see. "Let's see. I don't think your parents will be so happy to see their son acting like a druggie. Plus, it wouldn't be good for either you or your parents if the video end up in the wrong hands"

All the color drain out if Taeil's face, leaving him gaping. "You are blaffing" He protests, though the panic is clear as day in his voice.

"You know I'm not" Sohyun smiles like a predator who has cornered its prey. "So, fuck off"

For a moment, there's silence, the music filling in the temporary gap. Taeil shifts on his feet, his confidence all gone and finally, he lets out a sharp breath. "Fine. Whatever" His eyes flash with fury. "But this isn't over yet"

Sohyun gives him a mock wave, wriggling her fingers as he strides out of the club.

I exhale, realizing I have been holding my breath. I look over at Sohyun, who's still standing there with her phne. A neutral look has returned to her face. Like the Sohyun just a moment ago was a totally different person.

"You ok?" She asks, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

"I - yeah. Thanks" I reply, still a little stunned.

She shrugs, giving me a small smile, genuine this time. "That guy's a creep"

I nod, processing everything that has happend in the last few minutes. Sohyun, the psychologist. Sohyun, the saviour. What isn't she?

She pulls up the stool next to mine, the one Taeil has occupied just a moment ago and settles in. I shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of her presence, of how close she is. The bar light cast little shadows on her face, illluminating the little details on her face I haven't noticed before. The tiny mole on her nose catches the light first, then the one under her left eye. They are so small, barely there but they stand out now that I'm seeing her up close.

"First time here?" She asks. How she knows, I have no idea. Maybe it's my my clothes that give it away.

"Yeah" I admits, a little sheepishly. "It's not really my kind of place"

Sohyun raises an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. "Yeah, I figured. You don't exactly look like you are having the time of your life"

I let out a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

She smirks, her eyes flickering over to my outfit. "Just a little"

I glance down, fidgeting with the edge of my sweater, suddenly even more aware of my appearance. "It's not really.....I don't usually go to places like this"

"So, not a party person?" Sohyun's voice is more curious than judegemental.

"Not really" I admit. "I'm more of a...stay-in and read type"

Her smile grows and for a moment, the chaotic sounds of the club faded as if we are alone. "Well, you are here now. So might as well try to enjoy it"

She's so easygoing, so at ease with herself it makes me want to throw caution to the wind too. But then, I remembered that morning in the dining hall and my stomach twists. The memory is still nagging at the back of my mind. I bite my lower lip, debating whether or not I should bring up the subject.

Sohyun takes a sip from my nearly empty can of coke and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. "I saw you the other morning. At the dining hall"

Her eyebrows knit together in curiousity. "Oh?"

"I smiled at you" I say. "But you didn't see me"

Or act like you don't, I thought.

Her eyes widen for a moment before she speaks."Wait, really? Xinyu, I'm sorry. I didn't see you"

I blink. "You didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I swear. If I'd seen you, I would have smiled back. I promise. I guess I was just in my own head then. I'm sorry"

Her words are soft, delicate and sincere. It unravels the knot in my stomach I have pretended to be non-existent. Still, she could be lying but I decide to trust her,realizing how much I care about what she thinks of me.

I galnce away, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly. "It's okay" I mumble, sipping from the empty can of coke. "I just thought....maybe I'd misread things"

Sohyun gives me a small, warm smile. "You didn't misread anything. I'm sorry if you feel like that"

She's apologizing too much now it's starting to get uncomfortable. So I dismiss it with a nod.

Sohyun shifts in her seat, her eyes flickering down to my sweater, which have bunched up awkwardly from the way I have been sitting. Before I can fix it myself, she reaches over. Her finges gently tug at the hem of my sweater, smoothing it down without a second thought.

"There" she says, her hand lingering a moment longer more before she pulls it back.

I'm still processing the gesture when almost absentmindedly, she reaches out and brush a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes. Her fingertips skim the side of my face and for a moment, time slows down - just enough for me to notice the way her eyes soften.

"There you go" she says, leaning back. "Now you are perfectly suited for the night life"

We both smile at that and for a heartbeat, I swear I can feel something shift between us. Something I can't quite name. Something that might as well be a misinterpreted signal.

The air settles into a quiet lull, the ghost of her fingers still tingling on my skin. The warmth of the moment hangs awkwardly between us and for a moment, all I can do is sit there, actuely aware of the silent between us.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Do you come here alone too?"

The corner of her mouth quriks up like she finds my question amusing. "Alone?" she repeats. "No. Not really. I'm here with my friends most of the time"

I nod. "So, are they here tonight?"

She glances towards the dance floor. "Yeah. They are somewhere out there" she says with a small laugh. "I kinda slipped away for a bit. Needed a break"

A break. From what, though? The noise? The people? The club?

I hesistate for a second. "Not really your scene either?"

She gives me a sideway glance. "It's fun but...sometimes, I don't know. It can geta little old. Same people, same music"

"Yeah" I agree. "I get that"

She taps her fingers against the bar, thoughtful for a moment. "What about you? Do you come here yourself or did Yooyeon drag you here?"

My eyes widen. "You know Yooyeon?"

Sohyun chuckles softly. "We are friends on instagram. She followed me first, I think? She seems fun"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. She's definitely fun"

Sohyun tilts her head, as if searching for Yooyeon in the crowd. "She told me she's your roommate when I mentioned I see you in one of her stories. She's been hyping you up"

"She -what?" I stare at her, feeling the panic rising in my chest. "Hyping me up?"

Sohyun greans, leaning in just close enough for me to catch a faint scent of her perfume. "Yeah. She says you are a lot cooler than you let on"

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "That's Yooyeon....being Yooyeon"

"Well, she's not wrong" Sohyun adds, her eyes catching mine for a split second before she goes back to staring at the dance floor.

The silence settles in again, like an early intermission. Sohyun's eyes flicker back to me and I try to ignore the way she's watching me like she's considering something. I sip at the can of Coke that has been emptied long since.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" She asks so casually, like it's something she asks anyone alone in a night like this.

"What?" I ask, unsure if I've heard it right over the loud music.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's too loud. And hot. Let's do something fun"

I hesistate, unknowingly squeezing the coke can flat. "Like what?"

Sohyun gives me a small smile, laced with certainity and mischeif. "Trust me. You will like it"

There's something in her voice that disarms me. Perhaps it's because this night has already been so surreal, with Yooyeon dragging me here, the drinks, the noise and then Taeil's annoying persistence. And now, Sohyun, who had seemingly ignored me is suddenly offering to whisk me away. It feels like too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

I find myself nodding faster than my brain can catch up. "Okay"

Sohyun stands, sliding a couple bills on the counter before I can protest. She doesn't say anything, just gestures towards the door, and I follow her out of the club.

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The air outside is sharp and cold and for once I'm grateful for my out of place sweater. Sohyun, however, doesn't seem to be fazed. If not, she seems to be enjoying it.

The music fades into the distant as we walk in silence, winding through the quieter streets near the campus. I don't ask where we are going and she doesn't offer an explanation. Instead, we fall into step beside each other, our shoulders brushing ocassionally. My pulse is still racing, though I don't know if it's from the club or from the cold.

Sohyun's pace is unhurried, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and I keep my arms wrapped around myself, pulling my sweater tight. After a while, we reach one of the taller campus buildings, its ivy covered walls bathed in the moonlight. During the day, these buildings always looks heavy, weighted down by unknown legacies. But under the silvery gloom of night, it has all been replaced by a strange sort of calm.

"Come" Sohyun gestures towards the side door as she leads me in. The hallway is dim, lit only by the low, humming lights overhead. She doesn't say a word as she climbs up the stairs, up and up until we reach the top floor. I'm breathless by the time we come to a stop in front of an old, rusted door, with a faded sign that reads Roof Access: Authorized Personnel Only.

Sohyun gives me a quick wink as she pushed open the door with a soft creak. "Not like anyone ever come here" She mutters to herself as she steps out into the night.

I follow her onto the roof, and for a moment, I'm stunned. The sky stretches out above us, a blanket of stars scattered across the black canvas of night. The city lights flicker below and I can still hear the distant sound of traffic but for the most part, it's quiet. Like the rooftop itself is another world within this world. The wind tugs at my sweater and I pull it even tighter around me, bracing against the sudden rush of cold.

Sohyun is already sitting at the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the side, her gaze fixed on the stars. She pats the spot next to her and I sit, careful to keep a distance between us.

I tilt my head up, admiring the stars, feeling the enormity of the night settling down on me. "You come here often?"

"Yeah" Sohyun says, her voice soft. "Whenever I need to think. Or when I just need a breather"

I nod, unsure what to say. This isn't what I expected when she said something fun. But in a way, it's better.

We sit in silent for a moment, the only sounds the wind and the distant hum of the city below. This calm, it's peaceful and stirring at the same time. As if there's a deeper meaning to it that I can't quite grasp.

"It's funny" she says. "Back in the country, I used to lie out in the fields and just....watch the stars. Sometimes, I would stare at them for hours. It never fails to soothe me"

I watch the way her eyes trace the sky as if she's searching for something. To be honest, I have expected someone like her to be from a big city. An image of her anywhere else is unimaginable.

"Must've been nice" I murmur. "Being able to see them so clearly"

She nods. "Yeah. It's not the same here. The city kinda takes over. Light pollution and all"

I can hear the nostalgia in her voice and for a moment, I imagine her as a little girl lying under that wide country sky, her face lit by starlight. There's something tender about it, something that makes me want to reach for a fragment of her from a different time.

After a pause, I point up at the sky. "Well, we've got stars here too. Not as bright, but they are still there"

Sohyun tilts her head, following where I'm pointing and I can't help but smile a little. "Okay, bear with my nerdiness for a second"

She chuckles. "Go for it"

I lift my hand, tracing an invisible line through the air. "That's Orion. See the three stars right there, in a row? That's his belt"

Sohyun squints, trying to follow. "Oh, I think I see it"

"Orion was a hunter" my voice dropping slightly as I tell the story. "A really good one too. Some says he fell in love with the goddess Artemis but her brother, Apollo, wasn't too happy about it so he tricked Artemis into killing Orion" I pause. "She realized her mistake too late and heartbroken, she placed him among the stars so she can always see him"

The story hangs in the air when I finish. I glance at Sohyun, her face bathed in a soft glow. She's quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"That's kind of sad" she says quietly.

"Yeah" I whisper. "It is"

I shift slightly, turning to face her and she does the same. Our eyes meet and for a moment, the world stills. I notice the way her hair flatters with the breeze, the city lights reflected in her eyes and the faint smile tug at her lips.

"You are really something, you know that?" she says, her voice low. "Is this your revenge for my espresso lecture?"

I blink, then smiles, feeling the tension melt away. "Maybe" I say, my voice almost teasing. "But instead of coffee, I use tragic mythological hunters"

Sohyun tilts her head, her smile widening. "Touché. You really know how to open-up someone"

"It's a natural talent" I shrug, although my sarcastic tone gives away the bluff.

"So, this is how you get back at people?" She continues, her voice still teasing. "By making them feel guilty for their ignorance about constellations"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Please, you are not the first person to endure my mythology rants. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't longer"

"And I thought my espresso thesis was bad enough"

It's like we are back in the café except that now, I'm the one doing most of the talking. But we are still the same two people with their own crazy obsessions.

Then in the lightest of gestures, Sohyun reaches out. Her fingers find the sleeve of my sweater, gently tugging at the cuff, as though fixing it, like she did earlier. She looks at me, eyes warm and amused.

"Revenge or not" she says, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I think I like your stories"

I swallow, trying not to lose my footing in the closeness of the moment. "Well" I managed to say, my voice uneven. "Next time, I will make sure to pick a happier story"

Sohyun chuckles, leaning back, although her eyes never leave me. "I will hold you to that"

The air around us suddenly become charged with something unspoken. There's a quiet, almost reverent pause in the conversation as if neither of us wants to break whatever delicate thread is holding this moment together.

Sohyun shifts slightly, inching just the slightest to my side. The stars seem to burn brighter, and I find myself leaning into the silence, into the space between us that feels both heavy and light at the same time.

"Do you ever feel like....." Sohyun starts, her voice quiet, like she's speaking into the night as much as to me. "Like everything around you is waiting for something to happen?"

I blink, her words sinking into the stillness. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flickers back to the stars. "Like....right now, for instance" Her eyes meet mine again, and there's something in her expression, like she's trying to find the right words. "It's like we are on the edge of something"

Her words send a shiver through me, not from the cold but the hidden meaning underneath. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but it's one I've been pushing aside ever since we met. The strange pull towards her, a quiet fascination that has grown into something else entirely, something that's so wrong and so right at once.

I glance at her and find myself staring at the mole under her left eye, like I'm seeing her for the first time.

"I know what you mean" I finally say, my voice almost too quiet like I'm afraid to break this fragile peace between us. My hands tighten around the railing and I glance down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's like.....something have changed"

She moves an inch more closer, the space between us nearly non-existent now. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat now. My breath catch in my throat as she leans in, enough to cover the remaining space distancing us.

"You are right" she says softly. "Something has changed"

It's so quiet, her voice almost swallowed by the night. MY gaze flickers to her lips for a second - a brief unintentional moment that I quickly pull back from. But I wasn't quick enough.

Sohyun notices. I can see it in her way her expression shifts. And she knows that I know that she knows. Her hand, resting casually on the railing, moves slightly, her fingers brushing against mine in the lightest of touches. It's barely a graze but it's enough to send electricity tingling through my nerves.

The moment stretches, suspended between us, as if we're waiting for something to happen or maybe just waiting for one of us to make a move. The tension is palpable now, not uncomfortable, but thick, charged with possibility.

I can't tell who moves first, or if we even move at all. It's like an invisible force has suddenly drawn us together. Her face is so close now, I can see the way my breath mingles with hers in the cool night air.

Then slowly - so slowly it feels like the world is holding its breath - Sohyun lifts her hand. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my sweater, smoothing a wrinkle near my shoulder like she did the last two times. But this time, it's different. There's an unspoken intentionality to it that makes my breath quickens.

Her hand lingers, tracing the fabric for a moment longer than necessary. And then, without breaking eye contact, she lifts her other hand, gently tucking a strand of stray hair way from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The tender touch send a warmth through me.

Suddenly, everything feels sharper, more vivid - the sound of the wind, the soft glow of the city lights, the way her fingers linger near my cheek, as if she's waiting for my permission to go further.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, not even sure what I'm trying to say, but needing to say something, anything, to break the tension between us.

But she doesn't move. She just watches me, her eyes searching mine, her hand still resting gently on my cheek. "Is this okay?" she asks as if it's a secret we only know.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak without stuttering, unable to think of anything but the way her breath feels against my skin.

And then so so slowly, it feels like time has stopped, she leans in.

Her lips brush against mine in the lightest of touches, barely a kiss at all, more like a promise, like she's testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away, to tell her to stop.

But I don't. I won't.

Because in that moment, everything have ceased to exist - the city, the stars, the quiet night around us. All that's left is the warmth of her lips, the way they press against mine, gentle but certain.

I kiss her back, just as softly, just as tentatively. And for a moment, it feels like my life has reached its epitome.

Sohyun's hand, resting near my cheek, slides down to cup my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin. She tilts her head slightly, pressing her lips more firmly against mine, and I feel a soft sigh escape me before I could stop it.

My hands, awkward at first, find their way to her waist. I hold her there, not too tight, but enough to feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. She responds by pulling me closer, her fingers slipping into my hair, tugging me gently, deepening the kiss.

Her hands move from my jaw, sliding down my neck, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. My heart is pounding louder than the wind around us, around the city below. The kiss becomes more insistent, more desperate, as if we are trying to say something through it, something words can't describe.

Sohyun's lips parts with mine and for a moment, I think she's finally pulling away. But instead, she moves closer, her breath ghosting against my jawline. A soft shiver runs through me when I feel the first press of her lips against my neck, light and teasing.

Her mouth moves slowly, gently exploring, like she's savoring the taste of my skin. Her lips trail down the side of my neck, and when she presses a firmer kiss jut below my ear, I can't stop the quiet gasp that betrays my lips.

Sohyun hears it. Of course, she does. And I feel her smile against my skin.

"You are so sensitive here, Xinyu" she whipsers before her lips continue their path lower, her hands finding the back of my neck.

When she presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of my neck, her tongue barley flicking against my skin, I feel my whole body tense with the intensity of it. My hands tighten around her waist, pulling her even closer, yearning for more.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice and her response is to kiss me harder, her lips hot against the sensitive skin of my neck.

The world won't stop spinning, I reduced to nothing but the sensation of her mouth, the warmth of her body against mine and the quiet, breathless sounds that fill the space between us. It's overwhelming and yet, I can't imagine it stopping anytime soon.

When it finally does, I can still feel the ghost of her lips lingering on my skin. I feel her breath, close to my neck for a second longer before she pulls back. The cool night air rushes in where her lips had been, but the heat she left behind stays, radiating beneath my skin.

I open my eyes, barely realizing I have closed them and glance at her. Sohyun doesn't say a word. She just leans in, her dark locks scattering as she rests her head on my shoulder. Her gaze is fixed on the stars, unblinking as if she's trying to imprint them to memory.

But then, without looking away, she lets out a quiet breath and says, so softly I almost miss it.

"Fucking Apollo"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[darth-jess-my-writing]

Anakin x Padmé

This is smut. MDNI. 18+. Mind the tags on AO3.

~2366 words

These are the early days of the Clone Wars. Padmé is frustrated about Senate business, and Anakin is frustrated with the Jedi Council. So when Anakin approaches Padmé in the Senate building all hot and angry, they decide to blow off some steam in her office.

Teaser posted below, link at the bottom to the full scene on AO3.

This is totally unedited, it might be awful I wrote this in kind of a frenzy. If you guys have edits or comments lemme know!

P.S. This is my first attempt writing smut for these two lovebirds, so while I do take constructive criticism very well (in fact I welcome it, if you have tips for me lemme know I'm always trying to improve my writing) I don't appreciate outright bullies, so try to be nice!

A Jedi Comes to Call

Padmé Amidala stood, locked in deep conversation with Senator Organa just outside her office. A large portion of the Senate hearing today had been a discussion of whether or not the clones should be given full Republic citizenship after the end of the war, and it had not gone well.

“I can’t believe how many Senators are more concerned with how this might affect the job market,” Padmé said under her breath. “It really shows where our priorities lie.”

Senator Organa nodded sadly. “We should be setting them up with pensions, not arguing about whether or not they deserve citizenship after fighting our war for us.”

Padmé was about to respond with her agreement when she felt him.

She wasn’t Force-sensitive, but the bond she had with her husband went beyond the Force. Padmé could feel echoes of his resentment, and they melded with her own frustrations from the day, though she had no idea what he was upset about. The Council? Something Obi-wan said? Something Ahsoka did? It didn’t really matter in the end.

And then she saw him.

Anakin rounded the corner, looking dark and handsome and angry. She knew it was wrong, but damn was he hot when he was angry. His every stride toward her was confident, powerful.

Intense irritation radiated from his form. He was tense, on edge, and he needed…oh, he needed release from it.

Padmé’s breath hitched and her face began to burn.

That’s why he was here.

He was coming to her because he wanted her.

Because he needed her to grant him that sweet release that only she could give him.

“Senator Amidala?” Bail asked. “Are you alright?”

Padmé cleared her throat. “Y-yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she said, completely embarrassed because she’d honestly forgotten Bail was still there.

Had he been talking to her?

Bail’s eyes went to the tall, beautiful, Jedi who was now close enough that Padmé could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. And she really, really, wanted to, despite being incredibly annoyed at him for assuming she wouldn’t refuse him even here at her place of work.

That gentle smirk on his lips as he looked at her made her doubt herself.

Definitely doubt herself.

Alright, maybe his assumption was correct.

But she was still irritated.

“General Skywalker!” Bail said. “How good of you to visit the Senate. Did you watch the hearing?”

Anakin’s demeanor changed completely, and he smiled at the man, hiding everything that was burning within him. “No, Senator, I’m actually here to speak with Senator Amidala.”

Anakin’s eyes went to Padmé, and she still felt the pent up anger rolling of him like boiling water, but beneath that there was lust, there was hunger. And it was all for her.

Excitement and anger heated her blood.

Who did he think he was, marching in to her place of work expecting to seduce her? He was insufferable, couldn’t he tell that she was working on something important? She was already angry and upset with how the hearing had gone, and she would have to spend the next few days working up some way to get other Senators on her side of this.

And yet his boldness seriously turned her on.

And maybe he could help her clear her mind.

He was a Jedi, after all.

“Of course,” Bail said. “Senator Amidala and I were just finishing up.” His eyes glanced from Padmé to Anakin, once, then twice. He stepped back, awkwardly. “I’ll be on my way.”

Finally, the two of them were relatively alone in the hall. There were others nearby, but they were all out of earshot.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, General Skywalker?” Padmé asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Can’t I visit a friend at work?” Anakin asked.

Padmé watched his lips move and all she wanted was to feel them against her own. But his words were absolutely infuriating and cocky. She would show him. Her mouth watered thinking about what she’d do to him later to torture him for this. “You’re going to regret this,” she sneered quietly.

“I really don’t think I am,” Anakin replied, smirking again.

She looked up at him, studying him, probably a little closer than a senator and a Jedi general should ever stand. She could feel his hot breath on her face.

The way he looked at her like he could ravage her here, now, against the wall of the Senate with everyone watching, made her knees feel weak.

The tension between them had become electric, and Shiraya help her, she wanted him so badly.

Heat pooled in her core, and she made her decision.

“I’m going to regret this,” she muttered, and walked toward her office.

Anakin’s voice was low, and seductive. “I’ll make certain you won’t.”

[disastersareajoy]

Alrighty

WHO AND WHAT I WRITE FOR!!

Do yourself and me the favor of reading this before sending in asks or requests.

Speaking of requests, mine are currently OPEN!

You can find the request status here at all times so you know if you can send one in or if you should wait.

You can find my main Masterlist here.

I'll add anything I write to it so that's the place to go for an overview of my works.

What I DON'T write.

Incest

Bestiality

Pregnancy (Pregnancy is 1. possibly triggering for me and 2. something I have absolutely no experience in. Breeding kink is more than okay though)

Non-Con (CNC is all good, but not outright Non-Con)

Scat and/or urine

Anything involving minors.

What I DO write!

Smut and fluff are my go-to but feel free to throw angst, humor and anything else you can think of at me! I'll gladly try and do it justice. I really want to get better at writing horror, gore and spooky shit so if you have ideas or requests in that area, definitely send them in!

I myself am genderfluid and am completely good with writing Male, GN and Female readers! I am most familiar with the AFAB experience.

Trans readers are also always welcome, and I do have a bit of personal experience in that area. Same with queerness in the sexuality sense - Gay, Bi, Lesbian, Poly and everything else is totally fine by me to write about, either for a reader or a character.

I'm a very kinky fucker and I encourage you all to let your kinks run rampant in my ask box, my comments or tags, as long as you pay attention to my "do not write" list because those things also shouldn't be mentioned in any of those areas.

Gladly send me any type of asks! I'd love to interact with you, geek out about a character or movie together, or give advice (where I can). I want to be a positive presence and will reply in kind.

We support sex work of any kind in this household and any hate for sex workers will not be tolerated. Same as any hate towards marginalized groups - Be that homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, racism or anything else. Please just shut up and stay away from my blog. Thanks.

Characters I write for!!

Slashers

Stu Macher 🪱 (Scream)

Billy Loomis 🪱 (Scream)

Danny Johnson/Jed Olson 🪱 (DBD)

Lester Sinclair 🪱 (House of Wax)

Bo Sinclair (House of Wax)

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax)

Thomas Hewitt 🪱 (TCM The Beginning)

Bubba Sawyer 🪱 (TCM)

Buddy Swanson (Stage Fright)

Brahms (The Boy)

Bille Lenz 🪱 (Black Christmas, 1974 only)

The Driller Killer 🪱 (Slumber Party Massacre)

Non-Slasher Characters

Simon "Ghost" Riley (CoD) 🪱

John "Soap" MacTavish (CoD)

König (CoD) 🪱

Eddie Brock & Venom (Venom) 🪱

🪱 - Yes please for the love of god ask me about this character

These are all the characters that I am familiar with and feel confident enough to write for at the moment. This list will definitely get more names added over time as I play around with characters and get a better feel for them. Feel free to ask me about characters that aren't on this list (with some context where they're from) and I can still give you first impressions should I not know them at all. But who knows maybe you'll ask me about a character I'm still unsure about that I will end up rambling about!

Here's some characters you can gladly ramble to me about or ask me stuff about

The Lost Boys! 🪱 (All four of them obviously)

Any other Ghostfaces (including the recent movies)

Sidney Prescott

Tatum Riley

Randy Meeks

Freddy Krueger

Leslie Vernon

Jason Voorhees 🪱

Michael Myers

Ash Williams

The Grabber

General info

Father Paul Hill (Midnight Mass) 🪱

Billy Butcher (The Boys) 🪱

Black Noir (The Boys) 🪱

I don't only write, I also draw! I might post some drawings here and I might not, but I thought I'd mention it just in case.

English isn't my first language so I am aware that there will probably be some mistakes along the way. If you see one, please let me know and I will see to it that I get it fixed. I also have to ask that you aren't mean about it. Mistakes happen and I will not be made to feel bad or be talked down to over a typo, grammatical error or any other type of mistake.

If you send in an ask or a request; Be patient! Sometimes it takes me a bit of time to get into the right mindset to write, and to write confidently. I also have a life outside of this blog which will always take first priority. So if your request or ask hasn't been answered yet, know that I will get to it. And if you send in a request while mine are closed I'll simply let you know, no judgment or anger.

I hope you enjoy my writing, my rambles and anything else I might post.

See ya!

- S. / Disaster <3

[sciderman]

(Idk if someone asked this already) since we’re on the topic of gender

sci what is gender to you and how do you see it in you and how you express it in your art?? (Just a young queer artist who wants some light shined upon them 🥺)

i 'unno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

no but fucking really. "i'd love to get your thoughts. let me know if there's anything you disagree with--i won't take it out, but i'm more than happy to tell you where you're wrong ;)" versus "yeah. mm, yeah. yes; sorry, sorry. um. yeah. ......i just want you to like it. ...i'll leave you be." makes me. fucking. OUGH

trent, confident and playful, telling them he's happy to correct them if they disagree with anything he's written versus him anxiously awaiting ted's approval and actively seeking it out, nervous, eager in a sort of rattled anxious way. the confidence versus the hesitancy, the independence versus the want for ted to like it, like him.

and then ted giving him a word of praise and a word of criticism in one--that it's a good book but it shouldn't be called 'the lasso way'--and trent takes it. i honestly think he does disagree, but instead of "telling ted where he's wrong"--maybe just out of respect for what he wants, trust for his opinion--he changes the title. what he said he wouldn't do. for ted. what if i wailed and screamed

[notmoreflippingelves]

Hi! I just read your post about Mateo recently. If I may, can you give me any specific instances in the narrative of the show where Mateo isn’t called out as heavily as they should have? I’m just curious?

During the Shuriki returns arc in particular, Mateo makes some pretty glaring mistakes that I feel like he should've gotten much more flack for (and based on what we see elsewhere in canon, I feel pretty confident that if Gabe, Naomi, Isa, or Esteban at least --and possibly even Elena-- had made these mistakes, they wouldn't have been swept under the rug nearly as quickly as they were for Mateo).

While it's unfair to completely blame Mateo for Carla's manipulating him during the "Rita" arc, I feel like it's reasonable to hold him a *bit* accountable. He did after all blab highly confidential information (on more than one occasion) to try and impress a pretty girl with how clever and important he was. (Something tells me that if any of the others had done likewise, they would've been called out for it. But because it's "beloved" Mateo, we don't even get "wait, you told Rita how to get into your workshop? And you've known her for only a few weeks? What were you thinking, Mateo?") Moreover, he never even apologizes for this or promises to do better/be more careful with such important, sensitive information in the future.

Even more aggravating is his behavior in "The Scepter of Night." Mateo is so eager to play the hero and claim all the glory for himself that he twice (!) disobeys a direct order/abandons the plan and goes looking for the scepter piece on his own. This directly leads to Fiero and Victor finding the scepter piece and (temporarily) stealing it. And it's really only due to luck and very conveniently-timed infighting amongst Shuriki's allies that Elena and co. are able to get the scepter piece back. While Mateo does receive some (brief) criticism, it's nowhere near the level that it should be.

Also noteworthy Elena doesn't really get particularly "mad" at him (especially considering how angry we see her get at other characters even for more minor things) . She's not truly, actually angry at Mateo (and Gabe and Naomi are only a bit angrier); she's just a little frustrated and disappointed at him in the moment. And apart from a (very short) little "do better next time" speech, Mateo doesn't face any real consequences or lingering resentment unlike other characters who do.

When Isa obeys direct orders in "Sister of Invention," she has to face consequences (Elena grounding her). Similarly, Elena holds a grudge against Esteban for days (if not weeks) after he interfered with the Feast of Friendship (a much lower stakes mistake than Mateo's imo). Moreover, it's possible to interpret Esteban's staying behind in Avalor when the others go to see the Norberg Lights as a punishment (either self-inflicted or imposed by Elena) for his actions in the previous episode.

In contrast, Mateo just gets a brief "I expected better from you" speech from Elena and Gabe jokingly assigning him push-ups as punishment (which he immediately takes back when Mateo tries to do them). I'll give Mateo a little bit of credit for actually apologizing this time (which he doesn't always do). But it's still frustrating that everyone is so ready to forgive and forget Mateo's missteps immediately while this same courtesy is seldom shown to others.

I think it's worth directly comparing a few Mateo-centric episodes with a few more similar ones that focus on other characters so that we can see how there does seem to be a noted narrative bias in his favor compared to the others.

Let's start with two "feeling kind of insecure" episodes: "Spellbound" for Mateo vs. "Naomi Knows Best" for Naomi. In the former, Mateo expresses doubt that he's capable of rising to the occasion as royal wizard. No one (except Gabe and he gets over it by the end of the episode) blames him for not having reached his full level of confidence and potential right away and not being able to immediately solve the problem. And Elena in particular (and by extension the narrative) gives him so much validation and support. Whereas in "Naomi Knows Best" (and to a lesser extent "Finders Leapers" and the "Carla-as-Rita" arc as well) the narrative "punishes" Naomi for her feelings of self-doubt. We're told that *if only* Naomi had trusted her gut instincts and stood her ground right away, Elena and co would not fallen right into the trap and that Naomi needs to screw her head back on straight and embrace confidence ASAP to fix her mistake.

When Mateo feels insecure, the narrative gives him every reassurance about how capable and special he is, that he can learn at his own pace, and his insecurity isn't really such a problem after all. When Naomi feels insecure, the narrative encourages her to get over her doubts as quickly as possible because unlike with Mateo, there's "no time" for her to wallow in self-doubt and actually the fact that she even had said doubt in the first place is what "caused" the disaster.

On a slightly different note, Naomi is also called out for taking a little free, fun time for herself in "The Last Laugh" when the group needs her, and yet somehow I have a feeling that Mateo would've been allowed to take a day off if he wanted without any protest. He complains about long hours in "Movin' on Up" and Elena gives him the big royal wizard's chambers for him to relax and unwind in. Naomi asks for one (1) day off to spend with her childhood friend for her birthday , and suddenly it's big drama. (And at the time, Naomi asked for said day off, all Elena needed from her was help doing paperwork. The Team Ash stuff came up unexpectedly.)

Similarly whenever Gabe and Mateo get their little rivalry on ("Spellbound," "Party of a Lifetime," "Captain Mateo" and a few other examples) , the narrative either presents them as equally at fault or Mateo as the only one in the right.

When Gabe brings in Bronzino to train the Royal Guards in magic, it's specifically because Mateo failed to explain how and why he was training the guards in the way he was. If he'd just explained how they were going apply the seemingly basic exercise they were doing to real magic, Gabe likely would've allowed Mateo to continue the training at his own pace.

(Also like. it's super hypocritical imo for Mateo to get annoyed at Gabe feeling impatient/impulsive about their apparent-lack-of progress when Mateo himself is easily the second most impulsive character in the show after Elena.) Mateo feels entitled to keep important information to himself (or blab it to a cute girl he barely knows) even when its no one else's best interest. He's only okay with being "cautious and patient" when he specifically is the one setting the pace. And yet, Gabe is the only one who is called out for his behavior in this episode--even though he might not have acted as he did if only Mateo had trusted him and the guards with an explanation in the first place.

And then there's just a few other "dude not cool" little moments that never really get acknowledged/Mateo never apologizes for. For instance, there a two low-key terrifying Mateo moments in "Captain Mateo" that are not only not acknowledged but are also framed in context as Mateo being just "so funny and quirky". Near the end of "Should be in Charge," Mateo magically gags Gabe so he can't protest anymore about Mateo taking over as leader of the mission. And this is after having already enchanted one of the stationary suits of armor to come to life and fight Gabe. (Gabe admittedly does lightly shove Mateo out of the way during his parts of the song, but that's still a far cry from literally drawing a sword on Mateo as Mateo does via magic to Gabe.)

It's played for laughs (The Grand Council is just smiling happily in the background throughout the scene which is so yikes), so it's easy to overlook what's actually happening. Frankly, it's pretty horrifying that Mateo's natural instinct upon his experience/authority being questioned is to literally attack and then silence. (And attack and silence someone who is supposed to be one of his best friends and closest allies at that!)

Rather than the narrative acknowledging that maybe it's a bad idea to immediately grant power to someone to someone who is so retaliatory against fairly minor criticism, the Grand Council just gives Mateo exactly what he wants and doesn't even offer a "maybe next time, let's not gag or attack our friends, okay?" alongside it. I mean sure Mateo does step down as captain at the end of the episode, but it's very specifically presented as his and Gabe's voluntary choice and not an order from Elena/the Council.

[hungryslothwrites]

me when all the fics tagged "[Character] uses he/him pronouns" and "[Character] uses he/him and she/her pronouns" are for ships i don't really like: it's time to get real cool about a bunch of stuff really quickly

[em-dashes]

now that suddence is out to betas i'm oscillating between getting more and more self conscious and overthinking about everything that might be wrong with the story vs. knowing that is literally THE POINT of betas and i can't in good conscience let my story slide out into the world with a bunch of faults i didn't catch simply because i was too close to it

[winter-spark]

I notice that even though Citron's my fave, I spend more time here talking about Orange and Navel.

I think it's fear of being wrong.

[catcatb0y]

I have so much respect for people who just put their blorbo into every interation with other characters, as if everyone loves their blorbo and it's SO fun until half the fandom is blorbo-inserting with that one character you just can't fucking stand and every time you try to look for stuff of your own blorbos, they are THERE, HAUNTING.

[uzurakis]

jjk men w gf who’s overly sensitive and they said something that hurt her feelings? ^___^

FALLING INTO ARGUMENTS?!

featuring: megumi fushiguro. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. geto suguru.

n. nonnie, allow me to spice your req a bit by make them getting into arguments which hurts your feelings in the process. sorry it took a longer time to write this cause i really don’t want to mess their characterization on this one t—t you also didn’t say i need to end it with comfort so…

GOJO SATORU.

the atmosphere was heavy with tension, as if every breath you took stirred up a storm of unresolved emotions. the soft glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, accentuating the lines of frustration etched into gojo satoru’s face. his piercing gaze fixed into yours, a silent challenge hanging between both like a veil of uncertainty.

as you stood before him, the weight of his dismissive words bore down on you like a crushing weight. it was as if every syllable was a dagger aimed straight at your heart, each one leaving a deep, painful wound that threatened.

you cried out, "i can help, satoru," your voice quivering with a mix of hurt and desperation. "please, just let me help you."

however, his reply felt akin to a blow to the face. "i don’t need your help, alright?" he yelled, his voice snapping like a whip. "i've got this covered myself.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, filling the space between you guys with a palpable sense of defeat.

you begged, your voice almost audible, "but satoru, we're supposed to be in this together. i thought you trusted me. isn't that what relationships are built out of?”. nevertheless, his expression remained impassive, a mask of indifference that hid the pain lurking beneath the surface. “trust has nothing to do with it," he replied, voice colder than you had ever heard it before. "i do better alone."

with those comments, the abyss between you and gojo deepened, threatening to swallow both whole. then as you turned to leave his room, the weight of his rejection settled like a stone in your gut, leaving only a hollow ache and the bitter taste of regret.

the silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning and the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. every fiber of his being screamed for him to go after you, to swallow his pride and beg for your forgiveness, but something held him back, he didn’t want to pull you into his mess any further.

with a heavy sigh, gojo sank into his chair, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he let out a long, ragged breath. the weight of his actions settled on him like a leaden blanket, suffocating him with its suffocating embrace.

tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let himself break down in the face of his own weakness. he had always prided himself on his strength, on his ability to handle any situation with ease and confidence, but now, in the aftermath of this argument, he felt more vulnerable than ever before.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

"are you okay, megumi?" you asked softly as you reached out to touch his shoulder.

his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a tense energy that crackled in the air, setting your nerves on edge as he flinched away from your touch, his expression hardening as he turned to face you.

he snapped, "i'm fine," in a tone that was unlike anything you had ever heard. "stop asking me that."

the words were like a slap to the face, leaving you feeling with hurt and confusion. all you had wanted was to help him, to ease the burden he carried on his shoulders, but instead, you found myself faced with a wall of anger and resentment.

you tried to protest whilst trembling with suppressed emotions. "you know you can always talk to me, right? you don't have to go through this alone." yet he shook his head, his eyes dark with pain as he pushed you away. "i said i'm fine!” insisted, tone slightly went higher. "just leave me alone."

the tears threatened to spill over, but you just held it down and bit your lips. with a heavy heart, you turned and left his room.

as the door closed behind you, megumi let out a frustrated growl, the sound muffled by the empty room. he cursed himself silently, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as the weight of his harsh words settled heavily on his shoulders.

"damn it," he muttered under his breath, very much thick with regret. "fuck you, fushiguro.”

the memory of your hurt expression haunted him, a reminder of the pain he had caused with his thoughtless words. he had never meant to hurt you, never intended to push you away, but in his fear and uncertainty, he had lashed out without thinking, building walls around himself to keep you out.

now, as he stood alone in the quiet solitude of his room, he realized the magnitude of his mistake. he had pushed away the one person who had always been there for him, the one person who had never given up on him, and now he was left to face the consequences of his actions.

with a heavy sigh, the man sank onto his bed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of the mess he had created. he knew that he needed to apologize, to make things right, but the thought of facing you again filled him with a sense of dread.

ITADORI YUUJI

under the soft glow of streetlights, yuuji and you found yourselves standing at the edge of a heated argument that threatened to consume the bond between you. the cool night air was heavy with tension, each word you and he exchanged hanging in the air like a cloud of unresolved emotions.

"i just wish you would trust me, yuuji." you said, sounding frustrated as you looked for any indication that he might understand.

however, he shook his head, his expression stubborn and closed off. "i do trust you, but this is different. i need to handle this on my own, babe.”

his remarks pierce deeply. it seemed that he was shutting you down even though all you wanted to do was to help him. you looked at yuuji and said, "i can't just watch you struggle."

"just, give me some time alone, okay?”

the hurt in his voice mirrored your own. as you watched him walk away, the sting of his words lingered like a bitter taste in your mouth. just as you turned to leave, you heard him call out your name, his voice filled with panic and regret. "wait! baby, i'm sorry. i didn't mean it like that."

you turned back to face him, the ache in your chest easing slightly at the sight of his vulnerability. in that moment, you understood that beneath his tough exterior, he was just as scared and uncertain as you were.

"it's okay, yuuji," you calmed him down, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "we'll figure this out together."

GETO SUGURU

you couldn't stand idly by as suguru pushed himself into further depression from time and time again, and tonight, you had finally reached your breaking point.

"suguru, you need to take better care of yourself," you begged, tinged with frustration and concern. "you can't keep treating yourself like this."

“is there really nothing i can do to help you?”

only he scoffed at your worries, waving off your concerns with a dismissive gesture, expression stubborn and unyielding. "i'm fine, babe.” with a deep sigh, geto suguru pointed out, "and what would you know about my problems, huh?" he reacted with resentment.

those words cut deep, leaving you mourning with hurt and disbelief.

"suguru..” you claimed, “do you really think i would just stand there as you destroy yourself? when you mean so much to me?”

his eyes softened at your words, a flicker of regret passing over his features before he shook his head, expression hardening as he turned away from you. "i don't need your help," he spat.

“i can take care of myself."

the finality of his words hung in the air like a heavy weight, crushing the last vestiges of hope that lingered in.

"fuck, i'm sorry," he murmured right before you decided to walk away. "i didn't mean to worry you."

“i, i just don’t know what to do with myself. shit, i’m so sorry.”

you turned back to face him, tears welling in your eyes as he crossed the room to pull you into a tight embrace. his familiar arms curled around you, providing comfort and warmth despite the tension. you could feel his heartbeat against yours, a rhythm that expressed both guilt and tenderness. at last, words were unnecessary as you allowed the quiet to envelope both, saying more than any apology could.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[readymades2002]

trying to figure out how to pitch this setting to my current ttrpg party in the event that everyone stops doing their stupid JOB long enough to play toys with me again one day...

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

[3hks]

50 Questions For Your Characters

What motivates your character?

How does the public view them? (Doesn't have to be anything major, it could be classmates, friends, strangers in the park, etc.)

Is your character an optimist or pessimist?

Does your character care about their reputation and/or how others perceive them?

Is your character more of a family or friends person?

What, if anything, sticks out about their appearance?

Is your character good with kids?

What are some internal obstacles that your character has to overcome?

What emotion does your character feel most frequently?

If your character is an antagonist or something of the like, do they self-justify their actions? If so, how?

What events in their past helped shape and influence them into who they are today?

What are some of your character's pet peeves?

Who is the closest person to your character?

How did they become so close?

What habits does your character have?

What is your character's relationship with their family?

Overall, is there anything special or peculiar about your character compared to others in your story?

Who/what comforts your character?

Summarize your character's goals in one sentence.

Who's in the way of those goals?

What is your character's relationship with their emotions?

What regrets do they have, if any? (From any part of the story, not just exposition.)

If your character is at a loud, people-filled party, how would they act?

From childhood to their current age, how has your character changed?

What is the main setting of your story and how does it impact your character?

What are the top three most distinguishable personality traits of your character?

How does your character view themselves? (Expectations, intelligence, confidence, self-belief, etc.)

What emotion is the most unfamiliar to your character and how do they deal with it?

What are the three things that your character values most?

Is your character hiding something from other people, if so, what?

What genre of music does/would your character love?

How does your character view their past?

What are three positive traits that your character has?

What are three negative traits that your character has?

Imagine the ideal home for your character. Where would it be located? What type of housing would it be? Who/what would be there?

What are the things that make your character enter a full rage/cold mode? (Depends on their character.)

What does your character want to change about themselves?

Someone your character dislikes goes up to them and confesses. How does your character react? (Doesn't have to be a rejection.)

What does your character have yet to realize about themselves?

Is your character good at time-management and responsible?

What kind of clothes does your character wear?

What is one thing that your character dislikes about themselves? ("Nothing" is also a valid answer.)

What does your character see as the greatest injustice?

What does your character fear?

On a scale from 1-10, how intelligent is your character? (1 being incredibly stupid with almost no knowledge of the world, and 10 literally being Light Yagami. If you don't get it, that's on you lol; but it's basically having over 200 IQ.)

Does your character specialize or have remarkable talent in anything? If so, what is it?

In a group setting, what role would your character have? Leader, co-leader, follower, or outsider?

What event in your story altered your character the most?

In the end, what is your character grateful for?

Why did you choose to use this character to answer these questions? (I would love to see your answers!)

Happy writing~

3hks :)

[lymtw]

the toji and his shy girl stuff is soooooo good like serious amazing. I WAS WONDERING IF you could do toji and his shy girl teaching her how to suck his dick or something like that?? pls and thanks🤗🤗

A/N: EEHEE, thank you! 🫶🏼 Of course I can write this out!(Please don't look at me after reading 🫣) Anyways, thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and his shy girl...

"Toji?" You call, looking up from where your cheek rests on his thigh. He seems like he's very deep in thought, just staring straight ahead with the smallest crease between his brows. You tap his stomach, and the sudden contact manages to snap him out of his trance.

"Hm?" He looks down at you, like he's lost on the conversation that hasn't taken off, yet.

"You okay?" You ask, rubbing his thigh in an attempt to comfort him. He knows he shouldn't be so turned on by such a lighthearted gesture, yet he's finding it so difficult to keep something at bay.

"Yeah... Yeah, i'm okay, baby. You need something?" He looks down at you, attempting to ignore the way his dick jumps at the position you're resting in.

"No, I'm okay. Do you need something?" you return, your expression still somewhat concerned.

"Don't worry, doll, it's nothing important." He smiles at your attempt to figure out what's going on and cups your cheek with one of his hands, loving the warmth and color that spreads beneath his palm.

"Well... you always help me with unimportant things. Can I try something unimportant with you?" Your brows crease a little when you think back to what you just said. It sounded dirty, and you didn't intend for it to come off that way. "Oh, that came out wrong." You laugh, nervously.

"You're okay, baby. Try again." His eyes are lidded as he continues brushing your cheek with his thumb, the rest of his fingers feeling up the side of your neck and the underside of your jaw.

"I just wanna help you," you mumble, derailing your gaze from his intense, darkening one. You have this feeling in your gut that it's lust that changed his demeanor, but you've never liked assuming things like this. You prefer to hear him say that he needs you or to let his hands communicate and lead his desire for you, so that you know for certain.

"You're such a sweet girl," he says, his voice low and borderline sultry. "Got the prettiest eyes, the cutest nose, and those lips? Mmm..." He sighs, completely drawn to the warm and soft feeling of them against the pad of his thumb as he traces them. "They're perfectly suited for me."

Your heart is racing. Your gut is proving to be correct about this moment. He has this look in his eyes that makes your chest feel tight and his voice is like drizzling honey when he speaks to you.

"You really wanna help me out?" His eyes flit up to look at yours. He can't help the sly grin that appears when you nod, hesitantly. "Be sure about it, mama."

"I-I do. I want to help you. Anything you want or need."

"And if I said I need your pretty mouth?"

This stuns you into silence. You can't formulate a response quick enough to shut down his doubt of you meaning it when you said 'anything'.

"It's okay, doll." His gaze softens, the lust still evident in the way he hasn't released your cheek. "Don't worry about-"

"I don't know how to do it," you cut in. "Sorry," you mumble, recognizing the rudeness of your interruption.

He snickers. You're too polite for your own good. "That's alright. Be more clear, for me. You don't know how to do what?"

This is when things get hard. When Toji asks you to explain yourself during moments of intimacy. When he asks you to tell him what you want or when he knows you have questions about things you've never done before, like now. You freeze up. You don't know how he manages to say such vulgar things to you with so much confidence.

You groan, embarrassed, your flushed cheeks hidden as you pull away from his hand and bury your face into his thigh. "I don't wanna say it," you mumble.

"You're gonna have to put it into words for me, pretty." He grins like a menace. He knows exactly what you mean, but he gets a kick out of making you speak up about these topics. He finds it extremely hot when your soft spoken self verbalizes sexual things.

"Talk to me," he says, tapping your head when you go silent.

You sigh, wishing it was possible for him to read your mind. You try to get the words out in your own simplified way and hope it's enough for Toji.

"Can you guide me? On how to... suck your..." you huff, frustrated by how hard it is to explain exactly what you're talking about. You're not even looking at him and it's still proving to be a challenge. "...you know?"

"My dick?" He says, smoothly.

You nod your head against his thigh, humming to confirm, with so much relief at knowing he understood what you meant.

"Ask properly," he challenges, and your heart drops. He's playing with your hair, twirling a lock between his finger as he waits for you to talk.

"Toji, please. I can't."

"How are you gonna feel comfortable with me instructing you on how to do it, when you can't even say it? Try for me, baby."

You go silent, again, for a few more seconds, subconsciously rubbing the outer part of his thigh. You muster all the courage you have to ask the sinister question. After all, they're just words. The real nerves will appear once you start acting on your words.

"Can you teach me how to suck... your dick?"

"Good girl," he praises. "Now finish that off, nicely."

"Please?" It comes out meek due to the racing in your heart and the tightness returning in your chest.

"Mhm. Of course, my pretty girl." That smirk you know of all too well returns as he releases the lock of your hair he had wrapped around his finger. "You wanna lift your head and look at me? Wanna get a look at your pretty face."

You feel way too light as you lift yourself off of him, but nonetheless, you sit up straight and reveal your flustered state to him.

"Oh, you're so cute. Come here," he says beckoning for you to come even closer. He watches as you crawl towards him, minimizing the space between you two.

You take note, up close, of the way his scar lifts with that smile that drives you crazy. You feel jittery as you practically sit on his lap, feeling his bulging hard on poke you through his pants.

"Yeah, you feel that, don't you?" He thinks the way you nod in response is precious. His blunt nails run up and down your clothed back, making goosebumps rise on your skin. "It's all for you, ma. You did this."

With those final words, he pulls you in for a kiss. It's slow enough to allow you to melt into it, giving you a chance to move your lips along with his. The little breaths through your nose have him scrunching the back of your shirt into his tight fists, partially lifting the hem and revealing small areas of your skin. Your arousal skyrocketed, and you can physically feel it through the wetness collecting in your panties. A few breaths leave him when you start squirming on top of him, giving his hard cock some much desired stimulation.

He breaks the kiss, chuckling when you whine after chasing another kiss and being met with air.

"You ready?" He asks, lifting you off his lap and setting you down between his legs. He smiles at the cute pout and flourished color on your kissed up lips. You just got into kissing him, fully and comfortably reciprocating the kisses, and now you're jumping into learning how to suck him off. To say you're nervous is an understatement.

All of these feelings, just for you to nod and respond with a less than confident, "Yeah."

"You'll be okay. I won't be rough with you." The urge he felt to say 'this time' was immense, but he didn't want to scare you off from this, so instead he pinched your cheek, a loving gesture that brought a soft smile to your face.

You sit back like an obedient puppy and watch as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. Already, just through the small glimpse you have of his bulge peeking out through the split of his zipper, you can see the way his cock is trying to jump out of his boxer briefs. You can't lie, not even to yourself, the sight has you throbbing. His pants are off and you can clearly see the monster he packs in all its glory, tenting through his briefs.

You let out a quiet sigh, squirming where you sit due to the throbbing you know won't be paid attention to anytime soon.

"You wanna take it out?" He asks, smirking at the way you're trying so hard not to look at his dick.

"Uh... yeah, okay." You're trying so hard to not come off as nervous, and failing miserably. The way your hands were clasped before you shakily and tentatively started reaching for him gave it away. You could feel him watching your face too. Those eyes, so focused on your every move that you felt like you were forgetting how to breathe. It all doubled down when you hooked your fingers into the thick band that cinched around his hips. Your knuckles grazed the warm skin of his lower abdomen and you let out the smallest breath before continuing.

Oh, how Toji loved watching your delicate self take charge of things. Even if he was instructing you, your hands were the ones doing all the roaming. He's simply a voice to your ears in this moment, while you do the experimenting.

He hums, relief seeping through him when you finally begin to release his cock out of its confines. The sound makes your eyes dart up towards him, meeting his once again dark gaze.

"Keep going, doll," he purrs, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear. You look down again, focusing on what your hands are doing as you keep pulling the front of his briefs down until his cock springs out and slaps against his clothed abdomen. "There you go," he says, loving the bewildered look on your face. He doesn't feel a bit of shame for the amount of precum he's leaking. Having your eyes on him as you wait for further instruction just encourages it.

"Lie down. Get comfortable."

You follow directions and lay between his legs. This position gives you a direct view of what will be in your mouth in just a few moments.

"Good girl. How 'bout you give it some kisses," he says, starting you off with something he thinks should be nice and easy.

"Kiss it?" You ask, feeling all the nerves rush you when he confirms with a hum. You simply look at it for a few seconds before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his shaft. "That's what you meant... right?" You ask, unsure of whether you're correctly following directions.

"Mhm," he assures. "Gonna need a lot of those."

You do as told and pepper kisses all over it, starting from the tip and trailing all the way down to the base. Every peck of your lips is soft. You look like an angel performing such an unholy act. You're so devoted to making sure you're doing this right that you don't pay any mind to the stickiness that occasionally connects you to his length through weak, thin strings.

Toji smiles as he watches you, his sweet girl, acting so dirty. Your lips are all wet as you kiss his length up and down, the tip of your nose gliding along. It's a view that has his dick throbbing as you continue on. He's pictured this scenario so many times, he's even had wet dreams that involve this exact sight, but he thought that's all they would ever be. That this vision would stay in his head. He never thought you'd actually be open to doing something like this. What a pleasure it turned out to have been wrong.

"You're doing so good, doll." He sighs, grinning with satisfaction at how well you listened. He cups your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. "Wanna use your tongue, now?"

You lick the excess off your lips, a gesture that wiped the smirk off Toji's face. He had to hold back a groan when you looked at him with those doe eyes of yours that struggled to hold his gaze. You had no idea the effect you had on him.

"Just my tongue?" You ask, readjusting your position.

"Yup. That's your next instruction from me."

You felt that surge of nerves from the beginning all over again. You felt incredibly hot, like you were melting on the spot, but again, you jumped into the moment. Your tongue darted out and you brought it up close to his cock. You licked along one of the veins that decorated it, tasting the slight saltiness of his skin.

This was more of a task on Toji, now. His level of restraint was being tested with every drag of your soft, warm and wet tongue. He'll never even attempt to consider the sight of you licking an ice cream cone or sucking on a popsicle, innocent, again.

You keep lapping at the same spot, and it's so inconvenient for him because it's a sensitive point. If you don't move on, there's a chance he might bust before you get him in your mouth. He has to redirect you.

"Make sure..." he pauses, not wanting to stutter over his words as you keep going. "Make sure your tongue goes over every inch, baby." He sighs, somewhat relieved when you move to another part. "Yeah, that's..." he groans, the sound low, but audible enough to make your heart pang. "That's good. You're doing so good, princess."

Your tongue goes to his flushed, swollen tip to collect the pearls that continue forming. You can see the way his cock twitches after every few licks, the sight serving to fuel your roaring arousal.

"Fuck," he mutters. "I think you've got the hang of using your tongue. Think you're ready to put it in your mouth?"

You stop, retracting your tongue. You don't think you've done enough to truly prepare you for taking him in your mouth. You don't want him to watch you do it. What if you get it wrong? It would easily discourage you. Will he laugh at you if you gag? Your heart is racing. There are so many what ifs that you feel he would get tired of answering, so you hit him with a simple question. One that would soothe your nerves even the slightest bit.

"Do you think i'm ready?"

He's quick to kill the doubt in your head. You don't deserve to feel like your effort is being wasted, because it isn't. There's a reason he's been leaking like a faucet this entire time, and if he has to assure you that you're doing just fine, then so be it.

"Of course, doll. Didn't you notice how much quicker the last step was?"

You nod. "Yeah, I did. I thought I did something wrong since you had to correct me."

He laughs, a deep rumble that makes your cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and joy. You give him a perplexed smile, unsure if he's agreeing with what you said through the attractive sound.

"Nah, I almost spewed all over your face. We had to move on a little quicker because of that sinful tongue of yours."

You tried so hard not laugh, but the corners of your lips started twitching and then you noticed the way he was grinning because he caught on to your bitten back giggles. You were internally giddy, it was impossible not to react that way to what he told you.

"You got it, baby. Like I said before, I'm not gonna be rough with you." You've always tried for him, regardless of the nerves that course through you and that's enough. "I'm gonna like whatever you do, so don't even worry about that, alright?"

"Okay," you respond, adjusting your position. Toji looks like some god with the way you kneel in front of him. "Maybe I should put my hair up," you suggest.

"I got you, don't worry. I'll keep your hair back."

You were hoping he'd let you do it to give you more time to mentally prepare, but once again, all there was left to do was jump right into things. You put your forearms on his thighs, and lean forward. As you start opening your mouth, you realize that your jaw is going to be so sore after this. He's long and thick and it makes you even more nervous because you didn't think you'd have to unhinge your jaw to take him in your mouth. You do know one thing very well. No teeth.

"There you go." He sighs, feeling the way you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, a soft sight of relief leaving him. Your lips are soft and warm as ever. "Just breathe through your nose," he continues instructing. As promised, he keeps your hair collected in his hand and out of your face. "Mhm, good girl... Fuck."

Your cheeks are hollowed out as you attempt to take more of him. You're a little less than halfway down, yet your mouth is already so full. Is it even possible to fit the entire thing in your mouth?

You swirl your tongue over his tip, running it through the slit to see if it does any more for him. His hips buck slightly, making your heart drop to your stomach and his cock press further into your mouth causing you to pull back.

"S-Shit, my bad, doll."

You breathe before going back in, this time trying to fit more into your mouth. It's hard. You always feel like you're gonna gag, and that's the last thing you wanna do—make a sound that you don't think you could recover from the embarrassment of. You push your limits, trying everything in your power to control your gag reflex, but it's a lot. He's huge. You're drooling all over him. It's messy, does he even like this? The only thing motivating you is the sounds he makes. His sighs and low groans. The way his voice goes down an entire octave when he curses under his breath. You're pushing it, you can feel yourself wanting to gag, so you pull away, and take a quick breather.

"Doing so good, baby," he purrs, releasing your hair for a moment. "You wanna try taking it deeper? You don't have to be embarrassed about gagging. It's just a part of your learning process."

Within what seems like a quick instance, you're going again. You remember what he said about breathing through your nose as your mouth swallows more and more of his length. You're going further down, shutting your eyes tightly as you try to focus on something other than the tip of his cock hitting your throat. You let out a deep breath through your nose, before coming back up, little pants leaving you as you suck on his tip to not lose contact with him. You try his slit again, this time with more gentle licks. You hear him groan, and his hand tightens in your hair.

"Fuck..." the word comes out somewhat strained. "Keep going, baby. Use that pretty mouth on me."

You take as much of his as you comfortably can into your mouth and start going up and down with your lips, your tongue gliding along that vein that seemed to have a huge effect on him earlier.

"K-Keep going." His resolve was crumbling. It was all happening so quickly and he felt debilitated by you. He's never had something like this happen. You barely know what you're doing, yet he's about to flood your mouth with cum. He thought he'd just be a test dummy this time, so you could get a feel for what it's like having him in your mouth. He didn't think you'd actually get him to cum. You're using those underdeveloped instructions he gave you and actually making them work. He's trying so hard not to buck into your mouth, he's right there. You're relentless with that tongue, using it to find his sensitive areas and then abusing them.

Your scalp is starting to sting a little from the grip he has on your hair, but you don't want to stop until he tells you to. Your jaw hurts, but your gags are starting to minimize.

Toji looks down at you, this may have been his biggest mistake. He challenged his own breaking point by leaning his head against the headboard of the bed and shutting his eyes, leaving his body to you for a few minutes so that he could purely feel you— feel what you're doing to him. Then it occurred to him... When will this happen again? When will you ask him to do this again? It was enough of a task to get you to pronounce the question. How can he get you to want to do this after this time? He doesn't know, but for now, he gets to see the mess you make as you work your mouth on him. You have drool all over the lower part of your face and your cheeks are flushed. For now, he gets to feel the way your hands are grabbing at his thighs and he gets to listen to the lewd sounds your lips make against him. It's definitely a sight worth remembering. It'll go straight into the mental shrine of spank bank material he has of you.

"Fuck... oh, fuck... Baby," he hisses, his hips jolting upwards as he empties himself into your mouth. You pull away, glassy eyed at the harsh intrusion of his dick in your throat almost making you choke. Your tongue is coated in cum, some of it went straight down your throat, and inevitably, you have it on your lips. You watch with bright cheeks as his stomach quivers, cum drooling down his shaft.

He sighs. "Show me your tongue, doll."

The potency of his cum is all you can taste. Every taste bud on your tongue is drowned in the flavor and painted white.

"Look at that," he says, almost in awe at the sight of your sloppy tongue. Your cheeks burn hot with every second you keep your it out on display for him. A glob of cum mixed with spit glides down your palate and spills down onto the bed, and god it stirred something in Toji.

"Whoops, sorry," you say, retracting your tongue to avoid drooling any more.

"That's okay, mama. You wanna keep things tidy, huh?" He grins at the little nod and hum you offer in response. He collects the streaks of white that landed on your lips with the pad of his thumb. "Open," he says, calmly, pressing his fingertip into the slit of your mouth. You listen, opening just enough for him to drag the remnants that litter the pad of his thumb, onto your tongue. "Suck," he says, positioning his thumb onto your bottom lip, slowly dragging it out like he's running it through a wringer.

"Good girl. All nice and clean again," he praises. "What about me?"