#tbh i don't need anyone bothering me about how i look

[blackfangedreaper]

have u ever done a face reveal and do u plan to?

I have, to my moots that is. Also no i don't plan to.

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[renjunphile]

for the rest of ours ᡣ𐭩 song eunseok

୨♡୧ WORD COUNT: 13.4k ୨♡୧ PAIRING: riize's song eunseok x female!reader ୨♡୧ TAGS & WARNINGS: chaebol heirs!au, rich kids!au, one sided enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, angsty at the start, overall fluff, reader is selfish and mean to eunseok for a good chunk of the story, brief unrequited love but y/n is an unreliable narrator tbh, second chance romance, she fell first but he fell harder trope, drinking, partying, non linear narrative

୨♡୧ SYNOPSIS: you find song eunseok to be utterly and despicably insufferable. too bad he's your fiancé since birth! and there was nothing you could do about it!

୨♡୧ NOTES: OHHHH im having such an intense eunseok rot that i had to write the most gut wrenching and nonsensical piece that becomes to sickeningly fluffy at the end. theyre just so in love with each other and there's literally no plot at all!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey one of the worst pieces i've written in recent times since i rushed it but i will edit and add scenes and plot in the future :> but for now, enjoy! ♡ i.b let my by zayn at the end :)

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

It may be disturbing for some and horrifying to say, but your eyes hadn't even fully formed in the womb to open and your limbs weren't even well defined enough to have joints when your life was signed off to another's. For goodness' sake, it had barely even been a month since your tiny, minuscule heart started beating! What would the Song's have done if you grew up ugly?

You sighed to yourself, muttering under your breath how Korea's third richest family should be grateful you were akin to art in anyone's eyes. You were looking through the dusty photo albums that the housekeeper found while tidying the primary study of the mansion, and you grimaced at the photos of your fiancé that appeared from even the very first page.

It was bad enough that you were engaged before you were born, but did he really have to attend your birth? He probably didn't even have memories then! But there it was, under your fingertips: a perfectly preserved photo of a 3-month old Eunseok bundled up in sleep suit being posed next to where the nurses placed you after they literally just took you out of your mother. You don't even think the umbilical cord had been cut yet.

"Y/N, Mr. Song is outside," your favourite housekeeper coos at you from the double doors going into the study. You give her a terse smile and stand up from your father's office chair, straightening your silk gown before taking her hand as she helped you down the marble stairs of your home.

You roll your eyes (mostly to yourself, but you didn't mind if he noticed) as you saw his car parked at the bottom of the stairs leading to your front door.

"You can't even be bothered to come and collect me? Or open the door for me?" you sneer as soon as you settled yourself into the passenger seat.

"Well hello to you too, my lovely wife," Eunseok smirks, immediately revving and setting off around the fountain of your courtyard.

"I'm not your wife," you snap, deciding to ignore when the word 'yet' seems to slip under his breath, "But seriously Eunseok? This car? I'm going to look so stupid trying to get out of this car in my dress and heels. Why do you love sitting on the floor so much?"

Eunseok has an extensive car range. One that any car junkie would envy, but Song Eunseok knew nothing about cars. He just had them because he could. This car was a sports car where you had to sit in such a ridiculous position just so the car could look cool on the outside.

"It's white!" he defends himself, slightly whining in a cute way to which you swallow down a positive reaction. His eyes flicker over to you momentarily and his tongue traces across his bottom lip, "You look gorgeous, by the way. Very bridal."

You're wearing a white silk dress that looks like it's made for your body. It's draped so beautifully around your hips and hugs every part that needs to be accentuated. You loved this dress the second you saw it in Paris, but you never thought then that it would be used for this occasion. 

"Just shut up and drive," you quip. It takes a few moments of silence for you to feel bad even though his expression remains neutral and you sigh, "I guess you don't look too bad."

"Aw, I knew you were in love with me!" he teases again, a phrase he liked to use every time you said something to him that wasn't snarky, sarcastic or an insult.

You choose not to reply, instead taking in the bright lights of Seoul as he pulls into a main road. You haven't been back in a while, holing yourself up in your penthouse in Manhattan, but you always loved the sight of home.

"But seriously, Y/N," Eunseok coughs to get your attention, his voice dropping down low and suddenly serious, "This actually might be your last chance to back out of this. Just say the word and I'll turn this car around and take you straight to Incheon and you can run away around the world long enough until they find me a new bride."

You turn to look at him, perplexed by his words, "And you? You actually want to get hitched off to some random?"

Eunseok shrugs, not meeting your eyes, "You're not some random. I've known you since you were born. I've known you'd be my wife since the day I could understand what that meant. But if I have to find a replacement because you don't want to do it anymore, I will."

"Gee, ever the gentleman," you deadpan, "I think want is a pretty strong word. I don't want to marry you, but I guess I will."

"You're not backing out? Not leaving me looking stupid up on the altar?" Eunseok taps his finger on the leather steering wheel.

You think about his words sincerely. There's really nothing more in the world that you'd love than to run away to a small little town on the southern coast of Italy- somewhere quaint and quiet where you'd find love and spend the rest of your days cooking, cleaning, baking and finding peace in the ocean. There's nothing more in the world that you want more than for someone to ask to marry you because they were in love with your soul and not having you by their side would be like torture in the cruelest form.

Alas, you're Kang Y/N of the powerful Kang family, the eldest child of your father and the next heir waiting to take over the conglomerate. And because you're Kang Y/N, the eldest daughter of the second richest family in Korea, you were contracted to marry the first son of the third richest family in Korea. After that, your companies would merge and you would overtake the Kim's as the sole ruler of the country.

"It's my duty," you swallow nervously as you begin to recognise the streets of where you were driving, signalling that you were soon approaching the venue, "It's fine, Eunseok."

"I wish it wasn't just fine. I wish this was what you wanted." he breathes out and your heart stops beating for a second before anger seeps in through the cracks of your heart.

"Do you think it's any girl's dream to marry someone that doesn't love them?"

Eunseok sighs as he presses on the breaks, moving through the lifted barrier where they had closed a portion of the street in anticipation for his car and your arrival. He twists his body to look at you, "Y/N-"

"It's fine, Eunseok," you grit your teeth as you repeat your words, eyes trained on the paparazzi camped out on the steps of the venue, eager to get a glimpse of you, "Let's just get this engagement party over with."

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

Song Eunseok had to follow you around the world like a lost puppy.

When you said that you wanted to go to that boarding school in Switzerland where only the richest sent their kids, Eunseok was in the seat next to you on that first class flight. When you said that you were going to Oxford to study for your undergraduate degree, Eunseok was tossing away his dream to study at Harvard to join you getting drunk at 18 under the grey British sky. When you said that you wanted to do your masters at Columbia so you could live in New York City, Eunseok was moving into the apartment across yours while he worked at the company his dad created in New York just for him to have something to do there.

If you said jump, Eunseok had to say how high?

That was just the name of the game considering the Song's had more to gain from this arrangement. Your family was richer. Your family was in a greater range of industries. Your family's money went back a lot further than the Song's. And you- you were the most stunning woman in Eunseok's eyes and because of him, you were stripped of your choice to fall in love. That's why the Song family gave you princess treatment from the second you were able to demand things. 

You had protested until your vocal cords went raw when they found out that they were sending Eunseok to university with you. For years up until you turned 18, you had imagined finally getting away from Eunseok for once, even if just for 3 years. He had always talked about Harvard and with the grades to boot, you thought that you'd finally have an ocean separating you.

It certainly wasn't an easy fight at the airport as you threatened to drop out of university the second that you even stepped foot into the new country. All your father did was bat his eyelashes and give you a heartfelt, "Please, princess? Just do this for us."

The phrase 'just do this for us' nearly knocked you sick nowadays after over 2 decades of hearing it spew out of your father's mouth. Ultimately, yes, you were lucky to have such a loving family that never pushed anything evil or truly despicable onto you. This was the one thing they needed from you. They obliged every want and wish for the trade-off of giving your hand in marriage to the Song's first born son.

In June of your third year of university, a couple months out from your graduation, Eunseok turned up at your door completely drunk.

"What are you doing here?" your arms were crossed tightly, trying to cover as much of yourself as possible as you were clad in the smallest pyjamas for the British summer heat.

He grinned goofily up at you, eyes lazily fluttering open and closed, "Hi, Y/N. I'm drunk." He was leaning against the doorway, nearly making out with the frame.

"I can see that," you sniffed the air and grimaced, "And smell it. But what are you doing here?"

"Can't I visit my lovely fiancée on her 21st birthday?" he batted his long eyelashes sweetly at you, taking one step into the apartment. You gazed at him hesitantly, taking one step back.

"I don't think anyone would appreciate their fiancé turning up on their doorstep piss drunk at 2am," you spat, "If you truly wanted to wish me a happy birthday, you would have left me alone."

"I lost my keys," Eunseok groaned, "I didn't know where else to go."

It should be sweet that out of all the places he could have chosen to go to in the city, he went to yours. Instead, it made you feel angrier.

"Eunseok, stop bothering me," your words contrasted your actions as you pulled him into your apartment and locked the door behind him, "Go sleep in the spare bedroom and leave as soon as you wake up. I'm going out for breakfast with my friends tomorrow so lock the door behind you and keep the key with you 'til you see me next." You pulled the spare key out of the drawer and placed it in his pocket.

Like a pathetic dog, Eunseok followed behind you as you led him through the apartment your parents had bought for you.

"Can I sleep with you?" he murmured.

"In your dreams, Song," you retorted, stopping in front of the spare room door, "Plus, you stink like shit."

"Ah, it's okay," he sighed dreamily, resting his head against the door, "We have the rest of forever to sleep beside each other."

You let out a frustrated screech, shoving his chest, "Can you let me live in peace? Why do you have to keep reminding me?"

"In the hopes that one day the thought of it won't make you sick or angry," he replied, opening the door of the room.

Your strong gaze faltered, "What are you- in love with me?"

"No," Eunseok shook his head, "I could learn to though, if you wanted me to."

"The only thing I want from you is to be far away from me," you ran your hands through your hair to soothe yourself, "And even that you can't do."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Thanks for letting me stay," Eunseok gave up on his tyranny and dropped his voice, "Happy birthday."

You muster up a near half-smile, turning to return to your bed where you'd be tossing and turning until your alarm went off, "Goodnight Eunseok."

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

The worst thing about your arrangement with Eunseok was that it was kept secret.

Of course, it was an open secret in your families and to the company- and there were always rumours about it since you two ended up always together around the world. But it wasn't like it was announced to the world at any point to protect the prospective merger happening when you and Eunseok came of age.

That made relationships very hard indeed. It always had to end in heartbreak, at least for the other person.

The two of you agreed that you could see other people if you wanted to, and you agreed on this the same day you had your very first heartbreak.

"Eunseok, can we talk?" you poked his side to catch his attention. Eunseok was bouncing his basketball up and down while he spoke with his friends just outside the school courts. It had been 2 months since you moved back to Korea after spending 3 years in Switzerland at boarding school, where you quickly became homesick. Eunseok followed you home immediately.

Your fiancé bid his friends goodbye and gave you a sweet smile, "Yeah of course. What's up?"

You led him to the adjacent square that was thankfully deserted and settled just under the bloomed cherry blossom tree in the middle, "Um."

Eunseok giggled at your hesitancy and pushed your hair behind your ear, "What is it?"

16 year old you blushed terrifically at that moment, highlighting your plump cheeks and shining eyes as Eunseok peered down at you.

"I know this is um, pretty stupid," you began, breaking his stare and looking down at your Prada loafers, "Well basically, my friend Jimin- you know Jimin?- she told me to-"

"Just say it, Y/N."

"I like you?"

It came out more of a question as you quirked your eyebrow up at your fiancé.

His eyes went wide, taking in a deep breath, "Y/N. You," he paused, "You like me?"

"Yeah," you exhaled, "Is that so bad? We're going to get married someday."

Eunseok looked around and noticed his friends turning the corner to the courtyard, presumably to look for him, "Look, Y/N, I'm sorry but I thought we were going to, you know, try experience life like how others do and meet people and do whatever we want to until they tell us we need to get married. I didn't think we were obliged to date."

Your eyes began to water and your lips began to quiver as sheer embarrassment sunk into your bones, "So what? You want to date around?"

Eunseok reached out to cup your face but you quickly took a step back, feeling humiliated and slightly bettayed, "I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't know you felt like this towards me. Look, can we talk later? I'll swing by your house after basketball practice, okay?"

From the ages of 0-16, you would say that you and Eunseok were close childhood friends. Even though you had no concept of marriage or love, your parents had forced the two of you to be together through every occasion with weekly play dates and attending the same schools. When you finally understood what being engaged to each other meant at around 12 years old, it made you swoon that you were going to spend the rest of your life with your best friend, who you'd always found endearingly cute. He became more handsome as the years went by and at 16, he was the object of all of your desires.

He was manly, he was protective, he was sporty and most of all, he treated you so well. He would run around town with you no question to go shopping and indulge you in all of your cravings even if you needed to have ice cream at 10pm in the dead of winter. He would take the train with you all around Switzerland to see different lakes and ski resorts. He would help you study in the library and pass you your favourite snacks whenever it seemed you were getting tired. He would give you his jacket on the breezy nights watching the local sports matches.

You were so blinded with your affection towards him that you had convinced yourself that he did those things because he liked you back. Because he wanted to treat his future wife well.

The day Eunseok stamped all over your little heart was the day you waged a one-sided war against him. Eventually, Eunseok began reciprocating your snarky attitude and the rest had been history.

You told your maids and house security to refuse entry to the grounds to Eunseok that night, but because of your parents' unconditional offer to Eunseok to make your house also his home, he had spent a good part of the night on the other side of your bedroom door trying to get you to open it so he could apologise. For a man you were once smitten for, it was easy to put on your headphones and drown him out until he got exhausted and left.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

Eunseok opens the car door for you and offers out his hand. In the darkness of his car, you grimace slightly, but force yourself to take his hand and use your free hand to smooth your dress out as you exit the car. The flashes from the press are blinding and carry on all the way up to the bottom of the staircase leading into the venue your parents had hired for the evening.

You try to keep a pleasant smile on your face as Eunseok passes his keys to the valet men before wrapping his arms around your waist. It comes nearly naturally to him, from all the photos your parents had made you pose together in dating back a decade or two. But it's your first official public appearance together, so the flashes intensify and you're taken aback. Eunseok feels you stumble slightly and begins to lead you along the carpet rolled out up to the stairs.

There's shouting from every direction- asking where your dress was from, asking if you were dating, asking why you were with the 'rival' company's son all the time- nothing new to you. After you traverse up the stairs, the two of you turn around and give a small wave at the cameras. You feel Eunseok drop his head down to yours, so you nestle yourself into him a bit more. How sweet, you thought to yourself, pushing down the urge to throw up at all this fakeness.

"Last chance to run," Eunseok murmurs as the doorman opens the glass doors into the foyer.

"Are you begging me to?" you counter, "Why do you keep insisting I back out?"

"I'm not. I just feel guilty, so I'll make up a solution if you want to stop all of this," he whispers into your ear. To others, it's an endearing moment as you keep your face neutral.

"It is all your fault. You should feel guilty. I'm not doing this for you or your family, but for my family. If this is what they want, then I'll oblige," you nod your head firmly.

While Eunseok's family was definitely benefiting more from the merger, it did come with some advantages for your family too: less competition in the market, combined success superseding the current top conglomerate, and for your parents: the knowledge that their first born child was going to have someone that was born to and raised from a good and rich family- someone that would be able to take care of you no matter what and understand your life in a way no other civilian could.

You know that your parents' argument for you to marry this guy was weak- there were plenty of good, rich guys from other companies- but you had been happy with the arrangement at the start and by the time you were 16 and he was breaking your heart, the companies had already started slowly merging or putting the plans into place. It was honestly a shame to your parents that other than rejecting you, Eunseok really had no faults. He was always polite, always courteous and intelligent enough to take over the conglomerate with you when the time would come.

Eunseok drops his arm from your waist, instead sliding his finger between yours.

"Miss. Y/L/N, Mr. Song," your family's general assistant approaches you in the foyer with a tight smile, "The event is about to begin. Please follow me to the stage. Are your speeches prepared?"

"Mhm," you hum, tugging Eunseok with you behind your assistant, "The rest of the family are here?"

"Yes. They're waiting by the stage," she replies as nerves finally settle into your stomach. You suddenly can't even look at Eunseok anymore as the gravity of the situation clicks into your mind. After this, you were going to be officially engaged in front of the world and you were going to be his bride in no less than a year from now. There was no turning back anymore.

Eunseok has to shoot you a look to stop you shaking on the stage as your father and his begin their speeches about their company, and the new era and blah, blah, blah. You tune them out in order to focus on your breathing and make sure you don't barf the second you step up to the podium. After minutes of nonsense, you feel Eunseok place his hand on the small of your back, signalling you to take to the stand.

"Um," you began, suddenly losing all the lessons you had learned in your public speaking classes growing up, "Thank you all for joining us on this occassion. As my father said, we are transitioning into a new era of our company and as I take on the role of COO, we believe it's important to have good people by your side to support you. While my family and the Songs are joining together in business, we are also joining together in family," you look over at Eunseok, who gives you a reassuring nod, "Song Eunseok and I are to be wed in one year's time. We have been close friends and partners since we were born and I couldn't imagine anyone better suited to be by my side. We can go into this business partnership fully trusting each other and our companies and we would be grateful if you could give us your support. Thank you."

You step away from the podiums as gasps ring through the crowd. The business venture was nearly an open secret in the industry, but your relationship with Eunseok was based on rumours only, having never confirmed it. Now that you have, it would stir up all these new rumours- were you only getting married for the merger? Did you two actually love each other? What about all the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes that had been conniving to get even a bit of your or Eunseok's time to beg for your hand in marriage?

Eunseok takes his place beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist again as your families smile together for the pictures. The engagement party also doubled as a celebration for the merger, so at least all of the spotlight wasn't on you.

You're glad that your friends are here. They're all business heirs too, since like attracted like at your school. Your best friend Minjeong attacks you with a hug the second you step down from the stage.

"Ah, my best friend is getting married," she sighs dreamily into your ear, "You know what, Y/N, at least he's handsome. It's harder to hate someone when they look that good."

"Then you marry him," you chide, half-joking, "The problem has never been his looks. It's the situation."

"He doesn't hate you half as much as you hate him," Minjeong tuts, "And he's in the same situation. He never got a choice either."

You know deep down that she's right, but you're committed to making his life hell until the ends of the earth for breaking your heart. If anyone could say anything about you, it was that you could hold a grudge.

"Whose side are you on?" you prod her arm, but she rolls her eyes and links arms with you to join Eunseok and his friends.

"Happy engagement, lovebirds," Sungchan greets you with two kisses on your cheeks, "So excited to be at your wedding."

"I'm sitting you at the back," you retort, sticking your tongue out. You hated that Eunseok's friends were genuinely nice and funny people. It was so hard to distance yourself from Eunseok when your friendship groups had been deeply intertwined since you all could walk.

"Not when I'm a groomsman, right Eunseok-ie?" Sungchan swings his arm around his friend's shoulder, pulling him close, "Now tell me, who's the best man?"

Eunseok shoves his arm off, "You can just draw straws for it."

"I'll be the best man, hyung," Seunghan grins cheekily, "I'll make sure to give a really good speech, okay?"

"It's almost as if it's a real wedding," you smile bitterly, "Jeong, you'll be my maid of honour right?"

"You have to ask me properly," Minjeong whines, "We're going to do this wedding right, okay? My best friend will only get married once. I'm not letting you let your wedding planner do everything; we've been planning our dream weddings since we were 10 so we'll do it according to that."

"C'mon Y/N," Wonbin bumps his shoulder with yours, "We can make it fun. We know you'd rather not marry hyung, but he had always been the groom in all the weddings you'd plan when you were young. Now it's like a dream come true."

"Yah, Park Wonbin," Eunseok grits his teeth at his friend for bringing up the past. You wince at the reminder as Minjeong slaps his arm.

"Y/N, I think your mother is calling over you and Eunseok to dance," Shotaro calls for you softly, and you turn around to see your mother desperately signalling to you to join her on the dance floor.

"I'll see you guys later," you bid your friends a goodbye as you follow Eunseok into the crowd.

The night crawls by. It's nearly painful as you fake a smile with every passerby and acquaintance who congratulates you for your engagement. It feels like you're getting stabbed in the heart over and over again as everyone coos over how in love the two of you seem and how they always knew you were going to end up together. It crushes you as Eunseok leans down to your ear while you dance, apologising for how this was your life.

You get into his car after the party. The ride home is silent, apart from the noise of the city around you that seeps in even through the rolled up windows. Eunseok won't even dare breathe too loud in fear of making your life even less like what you had dreamed it to be.

He pulls up to your house and you make a quick move to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door in one motion, but Eunseok wraps his hand around your wrist gently, bringing you back down.

"What is it now, Song?" you sigh in frustration, closing your eyes in defeat.

"I know this night has made your hatred for me 10 times worse," Eunseok begins, shuffling in his seat to reach into his inside pocket, "And I know that what we have isn't real to you, but I thought you at least deserved this."

Your eyes flutter open and you look over to him. He uncurls his clenched hand, unveiling a shiny ring in the middle of his palm. You bite back the gasp that bubbles up through your throat, and you reluctantly take the ring between your fingers without looking at him.

It's exactly your dream ring. It's what you imagined the love of your life to propose with when you were younger. It's what you wanted to be someone's physical manifestation of their love and devotion to you. That makes it all the worse when it comes from Eunseok.

"I remembered," Eunseok reads your mind, "When we went ring shopping when we were young for fun because you wanted to make sure I would propose with the right ring. I hope it's still what you want."

You can't bear to look at Eunseok at all, so you clench the ring in your hand and open the door, "Goodnight Eunseok. Thank you. Get home safely."

There's 100 steps between your front door and your bedroom. It takes what's left of your energy to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape prematurely. As soon as your bedroom door clicks shut, you collapse against your floor and break down in tears.

Why did Song Eunseok have to be such a good man? Why did you have to hate him? He was yours now, and that was what younger you wanted all along. Why were you taking it out on him? You had been holding onto a grudge for so long and he had been trying to make amends in private ever since, despite going along with your whole enemies thing for his own fun.

You hated how you knew that Song Eunseok could and would give you the life you wanted. You hated how all you wanted to do was love him like it was your choice and for him to love you back like it was his. But in this world, you were privileged enough to have everything you ever wanted, aside from the choice to love whoever you wanted to.

You hated how you didn't even have a choice in loving someone who didn't love you back.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

You fought with Eunseok nearly every time that you saw him through your university years. You found problems in the way he positioned himself too close to you and problems in the way he would distance himself and act like strangers when you did complain about that. You found problems in the way he didn't talk to other girls despite rejecting you and found problems when he would go on dates after you said that.

In short, Song Eunseok was a problem to you.

Yizhuo was forcing shots into your hands and demanding that you downed them with her as you tried to tune back in to the party going on around you. You couldn't think of anything else the second that Song Eunseok walked through the door arm in arm with some girl.

It was the last party of your undergraduate university days, since exams had finished and you were going to graduate in just a couple of weeks. Someone had rented out some kind of manor in the outskirts of Oxford, dedicated for everyone to stay at and party for a weekend. You knew the organiser through a friend of a friend, but everyone that had been invited was someone you either knew personally or knew of. The spoilt brats community at your university was large, but tight.

You obliged Yizhuo's request and bitterly downed the drink, hissing as it burned through your tracts, "What is this? It tastes disgusting."

"Alcohol isn't made to taste nice," she tutted at you, following your line of sight before sighing, "I guess it's time to get you more so you don't have to be sober looking at that."

Minjeong shook her head on the other side of you, "I can't believe he would bring someone here. He knew you'd be here. So disrespectful."

You saw that Eunseok was about to turn, so you quickly spin away in order to avoid eye contact, "It doesn't matter to me. We're not dating."

"But he's your fiancé," Yizhuo stomped in defiance, "He should have some respect for you."

"Since he didn't want to date me, i'd rather him date other people. Then it just looks like he rejected me because he didn't like me as a person," you affirmed, taking another shot with Minjeong.

"Y/N, please. You were 16 when you confessed and 16 year old boys don't have the most mature outlook on life," Minjeong argued, coughing after the bitter shot, "I'm sure he's not stupid anymore. You grew up hot and he's practically tripping over his own feet trying to chase after you."

"He's not chasing me," you scoffed, "He brought a girl here."

"Oh, you're impossible, Y/N," Yizhuo cried out, beginning to slur, "What do you actually want that poor boy to do? Even I would be confused with the way you act."

Your best friends have been trying to knock sense into you since you turned 18 and Eunseok gave up his dream to study at Harvard to be with you in England. They had claimed that Eunseok realised his feelings for you and wanted to make up for rejecting you. You claimed that if that was his intention, he would have told you that by now instead of pestering you by inserting himself into your new life without reason.

"He can do whatever he wants," you turned your nose up, "I don't care about him."

"Well you better act that way. He's coming," Minjeong warned you, suddenly disappearing with Yizhuo and leaving you stranded with your fiancé walking towards you.

It honestly felt like the grim reaper floating over in slow motion before he came to collect your soul. You fought hard to control the grimace on your face as he stopped in front of you.

"Y/N," he greeted softly, leaning in to give you a hug. You stood still, but you don't push him away. You ignored the way your heart skipped a beat when he pressed his cheek gently against the top of your head.

"Eunseok,"

"How were exams? You're graduating this year, right?" his head is tilted at you, eyes focused into yours.

"Why are you even asking? I'm sure you know my plans for the next 10 years considering you're still following me around," you scoffed, "Does your new girl know you're moving to New York after graduation so you can stalk me while I do my masters?"

"Are you jealous?" he smirked suddenly, gentle demeanour disappearing, "She's just a friend."

"Does she know that? I don't care what you do, Song. I just feel bad for the poor girl whose heart you're going to break when you tell her you're engaged," you feigned nonchalance, pouring yourself another shot, "I guess it's my fault for telling you to have your fun and experience things since apparently you'll be so devoid of love when you get married."

"Y/N," he trailed off, grabbing the soju bottle that had appeared in your hands, "You know it's not like that. I didn't mean it like that when I reject-"

"Save it, Song," you rolled your eyes, "Your girl is coming. Don't go blaming me when time comes to break her heart."

You turned away in time and managed to snatch back your alcohol before arms wrap around Eunseok's and a high pitch voice squeals to him about how she lost him. You find Sungchan somewhere in the crowd and convince him to call you a taxi to take you back into the town where your apartment was. Before he could even confirm the booking, you had already disappeared into the crowd, the shots you had taken truly seeping into your blood and making your head spin.

You don't really remember what happened the rest of that night, but if you try hard enough, you can remember being tucked into a bed on the third floor, big eyes peering down at you as you tossed under the duvet, a hunched figure sat at the end of the bed on the floor and a soft voice singing you to a deep slumber.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

"It's gorgeous, darling," your mother's voice takes you out of the focus mode you're in. The sunlight seeps through the stained glass, illuminating the sunroom at the back of your house. If you look down through the windows, you'd find the garden that your mother has been cultivating for decades. The rose garden with its arches and its vines was where you'd dreamed to get proposed to when you were young.

"You think so?" you showed her the sketch in full, turning the pad, "Do you think it's easy enough to create in real life?"

"We can make anything you want happen," your mother takes a seat in the lounge chair next to yours.

"Can you make Eunseok love me back?" you hum dejectedly, shading in the corset of what would be your wedding dress.

"He does, sweetheart. You just refuse to see it," your mother swiftly utters, and you stop your drawing, clenching the pencil tightly in your fist.

"Why does everyone say that?" you growl, "Everyone but Eunseok."

"Because you act like you hate him. You act like marrying him is the worst thing in the world. You act like there's nothing he could say or do that would bring him back into your favour despite you loving him all these years," your mother is lecturing you now, "He follows your lead, my darling. He will go to the ends of the earth for you and he always has. What more does he have to do for you to accept the way he shows his love? What more can he do to have your forgiveness?"

There's tears welling up in your eyes and your mother takes the drawing pad away from you to examine the dress you had envisioned. She carries on while you chew your lip and fight back the tears.

"You're going to be beautiful in this dress. One year's time will fly by, so make amends with Eunseok by then. Even if you don't go into this marriage as lovers, at least go into it as friends. That will make your life easier."

"I don't want to be friends," you grit out.

"Mhm, you want all or nothing. Why don't you ask him, then? He threw the ball in your court when he asked you if this marriage is what you want. Someone who doesn't love you or care about you wouldn't give you the option to run away to save yourself, you know?" you hate how insightful your mother is as she grabs your left hand, "This ring is beautiful, Y/N. He knows your heart like it's his."

"Cause it is his," you choke as the tears begin falling, "And he stamped all over it 8 years ago."

"He was just a young boy back then. He's followed you all over the world to be by your side ever since. He's sacrificed his own life to make your dreams come true. You have no choice but to marry each other, but he's been making choices to give you the life you wanted," she strokes your hair gently, "Can you give the boy a chance?"

Over the years, your parents had apologised to you for putting you in such a situation. They had told you that if you truly, inside your heart, didn't want to get married to Song Eunseok, they would call the whole thing off. The marriage was a way to ensure the merger wouldn't go awry by putting you and Eunseok as collateral if one side ever did try to betray the other. Tying the two of you together in marriage was a way to prevent either families from ruining the other.

You considered putting a stop to things more times than you could count on your fingers, but selfishly, you would imagine yourself on a rocking chair on a porch, hair grey and skin wrinkly and when you would look over to see who would be on the other chair, Eunseok was the only one you could imagine with you.

"But I've treated him so horribly all these years," you hiccup, trying to stop your crying, "There's no way that Eunseok would love someone like me."

"Because you won't let him," she stands up and places the drawing pad back in your lap, "Y/N, your father and I love you very much and all we want is your happiness. We haven't opposed this marriage despite how hard you've tried to push Eunseok away because we know that if you let him, he would make you truly happy. You're the only person stopping that happiness."

You ponder on her words for a while after she leaves, adding little details to your dress. For someone who was acting like this wedding was going to ruin their life, you sure were investing a lot of your free time into it. Maybe Minjeong had gotten into your head; unless you planned to divorce Eunseok (after the 5 year clause, per the contract), you were only going to get married once, so you should at least do it in your style.

Wonbin was right at your engagement party. You'd been planning your wedding since young. You knew exactly which flowers you wanted to adorn the aisle, which flavour of cake you wanted to eat, which song was going to play while you walked down the aisle, and whose eyes you wanted on you on the other side as you did. Eunseok had always been your dream man- he was your first crush, your first love and your first heartbreak all rolled up into one devastatingly handsome package. You imagined him in his crisp suit, laughing through his tears because you just looked so beautiful, and the thought of that takes you out of your fantasy and back into the room that was filled not with tears of happiness, but of silence.

You look down at the ring. The sun is hitting it perfectly, making the diamond shimmer in the beam. You slide it off and inspect the band for the first time, wondering what size he got since you didn't even know your size. Your heart stops when you first notice it. It's so small that if you blinked at that moment, you probably wouldn't have even noticed it and you would've lived the rest of your life not knowing it was there.

You run your nail against the engraving, your breath hitched as you read it.

To the one I'll always choose.

It's always been about choice. This whole time, it's been about your freedom to choose.

You and Eunseok weren't born with the privilege of choosing the one who was going to love you so hard that it would drive you crazy. You were instead born with a silver spoon in your mouth and a signed contract that because your family was going to have a girl first, that girl would be married to the Song's first born when the time came.

There was no question or argument about it. You grew up beside Eunseok knowing you were going to spend the rest of your life together, so you chose to learn everything about him. You chose to learn that he loved playing basketball with his friends and that he became silly and unserious when around them. You chose to learn that he doted on his much younger baby brother and that he would fight anyone and anything that could bring harm to him. You chose to learn that Eunseok had a soft heart that had its very own soft spot reserved just for you- one that grew bigger after your hatred for him did as well.

While you chose to hate Eunseok for rejecting you, he chose to stick by your side anyways. He chose to join you in Oxford, even if most of his friends went to America to study. He chose to live at the block just down the street from yours, so he could walk behind you to lectures and check that you were okay every day without overwhelming you. He chose to sleep on hard floors and wake up with kinks in his neck because he chose to sing you to sleep while you were drunk and then refused to leave to sleep in a nice bed so he could watch over you and protect you in your state. He chose to take on a job in New York for two years instead of joining his father's company straight out of business school so that you had someone to accompany you on your midnight walks through New York City. He chose to give you the choice to leave if marrying him was truly a burden you couldn't bear, because your happiness was the grand reward of the consequences that he would bear in your place.

When you chose to hate him, Eunseok let love grow in the emptiness that you left behind instead. He would choose you a million times over and over again until the day you'd finally see it. Your hatred for the situation stemmed from the fact that you thought your choices were stripped away in being arranged to marry. You wanted Eunseok to love you not because he had to, but because it was his choice to.

You were too blind by your rage to see that Eunseok had been choosing you over and over again not because of the arrangement, but in spite of it. That was the greatest love of them all.

-

On the next sunny day, Eunseok joins you on the bench in the middle of the rose garden. You'd been sketching up ideas on how you want the aisle to look like. You were thinking light flowers along the bottom with candles dispersed to illuminate it. In your dreams, you'd get married at sunset in a glass pavilion that could hold only your closest friends and families. As the sun started dipping, the candles would take over as the source of light and bathe everyone in a soft, golden glow. In your dreams, the light would reflect onto Eunseok's face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and large, round eyes that were peering down into yours.

"What did you call me over for?" Eunseok sits on his hands and looks around. It's spring time and the garden is at its most vibrant and beautiful.

You hold out your hand in front of you, "I found the engraving on the ring."

Eunseok takes a sharp breath in, "Ah you did?"

"Did you not want me to see it?"

"I had just hoped that whenever you did see it, you would believe it," Eunseok whispered, "It's true, by the way."

"I know," your response has Eunseok turning his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash.

"You do?"

"Mhm. You chose to follow me around the world despite me hating you and you having to give up on your dream schools just so you could try to prove yourself to me. You chose to keep giving me gifts on birthdays when we were abroad since my family often couldn't make it. You always choose me. Why?"

"In part to make amends for the mistake I made when I was young pushing away your feelings like that without thought," Eunseok explained, "But for the most part because I care about you and I want to make the best of a bad situation we're in. I know that no one wants to be in an arranged marriage. I just wanted to show you that I could give you the life you wanted. That you could be happy with me."

Your heart aches at his words as you realise how truly misguided your perception of him was. You had thought that he was following you around to torment you and to remind you that you could never be free, but all this time, he was letting you live your dreams and staying by your side to show that he was supporting you.

"I've treated you so badly over the years and you still want to marry me?" you meet his eyes that have been trained on you since the moment he sat down.

Eunseok giggles and reaches up his warm palm to your cold face, "Hm, your words are harmless Y/N. You've shown your affection to me in other ways; I know you love me."

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, "In your dreams, Song."

"Mhm, actually in your dreams," Eunseok teases, "Considering you've been dreaming about marrying me for 10 years."

"And I don't know why. I must be sick in the head for that. Did you hit me in the head when we were young or something?" you retort, trying to move away from him.

Eunseok lets out a full-bodied laugh that sends butterflies through you instead of the burning rage that usually ensued whenever he was having fun in front of you. He stretched his arm around you behind the bench and pulled you closer to him, "Just admit it, Y/N. Everyone knows you've had a fat crush on me since we were teens and it's only ever grown. There's a very, very fine line between love and hate."

"I still hate you," you grumble, "This doesn't mean anything."

Eunseok drops his head down, pushing your head into his shoulder. Your first instinct is to recoil away and grimace, but Eunseok's grip on your shoulder is tight, so you try to relax in his hold.

"You'll always be my girl, Y/N. You just have to accept that."

You hum and watch the bees buzz around the rose garden, "I've always wanted the whole ordeal- the crushing, the pining, the courting, going on dates, having your firsts, moving in together, proposing how you want. I feel like that was taken away from me before I even knew what they were and even if we do those things, how would I know what's real and what's fake? What you're doing because of me and what you're doing because of the arrangement- that kind of stuff."

Eunseok's heartbeat is slow and strong, "The arrangement only brought us to each other. How can I make you believe that everything I do for you is because I want to?"

"How about we start with when you rejected me and left poor little 16 year old me heartbroken?"

Eunseok scoffs, "Y/N, I was stupid, okay? It was a mistake, I was young and I was too blind to see what was in front of me. You were still special to me back then and I have always cared for you, but I didn't know what I wanted back then. I grew up and haven't looked back since."

"And the girls you brought around at university?"

"Because you were demanding that I dated other people," Eunseok rolls his eyes, thinking about your past explosive arguments about relationships, "I just went on dates here and there, but never anything serious. I always let them know that I couldn't commit, but you know there was a line wrapping around Oxford wanting to date me."

You chuckle at that. Everyone was falling over their feet for the chance to get just a second of Song Eunseok's time, the same way he was doing to you. He was incredibly popular and girls would approach you to ask you to set them up, but you would always growl and send them on their way.

"You were only the most eligible bachelor because you're the son of the third richest family in Korea," you sneer, jokingly.

"And I'm handsome, charming, intelligent and kind," Eunseok lists off his traits on his fingers, "But everyone knows you've always had my heart."

"I don't know if I can believe that."

He shrugs simply beside you, "Doesn't matter. I can show you now."

"What?"

"We can date from now on. I'll show you how I feel. Then in one year's time, you'll be gladly getting married to me instead of having to be dragged up the aisle kicking and screaming by your family," he says it so casually that you question if the shocked reaction you're having is the abnormal one.

"Date?" you splutter out, completely bewildered, pulling away from him, "Us two? Now?"

"Why are you saying it like it's crazy? I basically just confessed to you," Eunseok crosses his arms in front of his chest and tilts his head in confusion, "Are you rejecting me? Is this payback?"

You wave your hand in dismissal, "Yah, you're really confusing me here, Eunseok. I don't know what I'm feeling right now."

He laughs again, and he's glad that he can finally laugh with you for the first time in years. He takes your hand between his and squeezes assuringly, "It's okay. We can figure it out together as we go. Just stay by my side, okay?"

You sigh into the breeze. The air was crisping up as the sky began to illuminate in visions of pink and purple. You look over at Eunseok and the reflection of the sun makes his eyes look iridescent. One thing you've always known about Eunseok is that with him, you felt safe, so you nod and squeeze his hand back, "Yeah."

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

The first time you saw Eunseok again after your undergraduate graduation, it was in New York City at the end of summer.

You had spent the entire summer travelling nearly every country in Europe with your friends, while Eunseok was forced to come home and start learning how to actually work in his father's company before he started his role at the New York branch. You were glad to have this summer without him considering the two of you spent your summers together as children and as teens, your friendship groups overlapped so you also had to hang out with him.

There were endless boxes in your apartment since decorating your space was one of your life's great pleasures. The boxes were organised by room and had been shipped out from England at the start of the summer when you moved out. They'd been collecting dust, so all your windows were thrown open in the summer heat to air out the apartment and the dust. Of course you had AC, but there was something about the noise of the city traffic and the hustle and bustle travelling up to your apartment that made you feel like you were truly in the city.

The knock on your door made you groan instantly and you had to suppress the urge of banging your head into the coffee table you were decorating. You took small and slow steps to the front door, but the pattering on the door wasn't letting up.

"Already here to bother me on my first day? It's only been like 3 hours since I got off the plane," you sighed as you came face to face with your dreaded fiancé.

Eunseok rolled his eyes and pushed past your shoulders into your kitchen, "I know you missed me. I brought takeout since you probably haven't eaten and don't have any food yet." Eunseok held up a bag of his favourite Korean food in the city and placed it on your dining table, dishing out the styrofoam boxes.

He arrived in the city a week and a half before you did, moving into the apartment across the hall so he had been able to get himself settled into both his job and his city before you came to rain down terror on him.

"What makes you think I want to eat with you?"

"I bought it, so I'm gonna eat it. Up to you if you wanna starve or not," Eunseok shrugged, already making himself comfy in one of your expensive dining chairs. He took out some plastic cutlery from the bag and began to dig in to the beef bibimbap he had ordered for himself. There was another few boxes of food in the bag, all of which smelling amazing and instantly causing your stomach to grumble.

Sheepishly, you took the seat across from him and scavenged through the food. He had ordered you some tteokbokki and a stew with some rice. Either he knew you too well or it was a lucky guess. For the sake of your heart, you settled on the latter choice.

The two of you ate in silence for a while, not really looking up at each other and just staring passively at your food. Silence was few and far between when it came to you and Eunseok. It was always hushed arguing or full blown insulting between the two of you no matter where you went or how inappropriate it may have seemed to others. You were sure there were rumours that the two of you didn't always get on despite being photographed together so often, but your families' PR teams were experts in mangling all those 'rumours'. 

You broke the silence first, "How's the new job?"

The heir in front of you coughs and looks at you strangely, as if he couldn't believe you would ask him that, "It's... work. Not horrible and met a couple friendly colleagues. Having this job does make me feel so grown up and responsible, though," after the initial shock of you initiating a conversation, Eunseok began blabbering about his new position at his family's company.

"Well then hopefully it makes you more mature," you snide.

Eunseok scoffed, "Trust me, Y/N, when I say that I'm the more mature one out of us. You'll find out what I mean one day."

"If you were mature enough, you'd know to oppose this crazy marriage with me," you turned your head away from him, feeling the anger bubble up again.

"And it's because I'm mature enough that I'm not," he shrugged, "Unlike you, I don't think this marriage will be the worst thing that can happen to me."

"I'm honoured," you retorted, "I don't know why you think that when all I've done is make your life difficult. Why would you think I can't continue for the rest of our lives?"

He smiled coyly at you, pushing a drink that appeared in the bag towards you, "You'll get tired, sweetheart. Then you'll fall in love with me."

You feel sick at how he's all entirely wrong. Despite that, you appreciate how he's always able to diffuse any tension between the two of you even if his words are always cocky and arrogant. z

You don't say anything to him for a long while. When you finished up your food in silence, he packed everything anyway and placed it in the correct bins. Wordlessly, he began to unpack your boxes with you, unwrapping everything bubble wrapped and placing it on the kitchen counters for you to organise. You would have protested this act of service, but he's right- fighting him all the time does get tiring.

In this light from the living room as the sun setting made your apartment glow and burst with light, Eunseok looks radiant. You hope he can't see you admiring him from the next room. It's almost as if you're a normal couple, moving into their first home and starting their new life together. It's a melancholy sight as you ponder the what if's.

He breaks down all of your boxes flat, humming to himself a song that you think you've heard at the end of parties when you'd be sat on someone's bedroom floor just talking or playing cards half-drunk. Eunseok turned his head towards you and you whipped your head away so fast it hurts your neck.

"You still have this?" he held up a mug that instantly flashed you back to 6 years ago. The mug is majority a light pink and wonky in places since you made it yourself from clay. It was a few months process making and painting the mug, but when you were 15 with the biggest crush on him, having a mug brandishing "Y/N + EUNSEOK" on it made you feel giddy inside.

"All my other mugs broke," you lied through your teeth, snatching it from his grip and placing it in a random empty cupboard, "My mother packed it for me when I moved to Oxford."

"Mhm, okay," you could tell he was smirking but you made yourself busy with the plates, "I'm gonna take the boxes down to the recycling. Do you want any more help?"

"I've had enough of you for today," you breathed out. Too much time with him truly drove you crazy, "But thanks."

"Anytime, princess. I'm just across the hall if you need me and I'll get your number whenever you get it set up." he wiped his hands on his jeans and have you that charming smile that made you fall in the first place.

You see him out wordlessly. You don't argue when he turns up the next day demanding for your number in case you ever needed anything from him (or if he wanted to come and bother you). You feign annoyance when one morning he's insisting that he ran out of coffee in his apartment and wanted some of yours. You leave him in your apartment because you were running late to class, but when you get home, you open the cupboard and try not to fall all over again when you see a matching, much lumpier, handmade blue mug that brandished the words "TO FOREVER <3" on it next to yours.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

You're tossing and turning in your seat as Eunseok shakes you gently. He laughs when you groan under your breath as he wakes you up, "Sit up. We're landing soon."

The sleep you got on the flight was long, but you still woke up incredibly tired since you kept getting woken up for meals. You were grateful that you could fly first class with separate seats and beds, otherwise you'd be much more groggy than you already were.

Buckling yourself in the seat next to Eunseok's, you yawn, "Eunseok, what the fuck is an engagement trip?"

"A trip celebrating our engagement, duh," he looks at you like you're stupid, so you shove him as hard as your tired body could muster, "Like a honeymoon but before. Never too many excuses to take a vacation. Plus, we're going to be busy this trip."

You've never taken a vacation with just Eunseok before. Sure, you've lived in three different countries together outside of Korea and gone on a couple of vacations as children and with a large group of friends, but never just the two of you with a purpose.

"I don't understand why our wedding planner couldn't just pick a venue for herself and call it a day. Why must we go all the way to Italy and do it ourselves?" you're up to your neck in work, but you couldn't protest when you found a week blocked off in your calendar by your assistant, telling you it was 'orders from above' AKA your father.

"It was my idea," he confesses with a shrug, "Won't it be nice if we actually like where we're getting married? If we chose it ourselves because we can see ourselves getting married there?"

It feels like your heart is clenching at the insinuations behind his words. He wants to get involved with your wedding planning, like it's a real wedding. You sniff and turn away from him. It is a real wedding, you remind yourself. You were going to get married legally and this wedding was real, no matter the intention behind it. No matter if you loved or hated each other, it was a real wedding.

"Yeah. Everywhere in Italy is nice so at leadt it'll be a good trip," the past couple of months since you've been officially engaged to Eunseok, you've been attempting to be nicer and hold back your retorts. You've made an effort to argue less and he's been trying to get on your good side. You've both been busy with work considering the news of the merger brought a whole new wave of problems, so you've had no time to interrogate his profession to "date" you. Thank gosh, because your heart would not be able to take that.

The plane lands soon enough and before you know it, you're in a private car going to your hotel. You were staying in Milan, but driving around Lake Como and Tuscany to tour the list of potential venues that your wedding planner had come up with. You were definitely going to be exhausted by the end of it.

The drive was relatively silent, just listening to music and looking out of the window, but when you arrive at the hotel, Eunseok opens the car door for you and snakes his arm around your waist as you walk up to the front desk, "Hello. We're checking in to the penthouse suite. For Song?"

The hotel clerk smiles sweetly, handing over your keys swiftly, "All ready for you both, Mr Song. Congratulations on your engagement."

You're spluttering a thank you with flushed cheeks as Eunseok drags you over to the elevator, "You told them?"

"I just wanted the free champagne that I assume will be up there," he grins cheekily and you roll your eyes. As if he couldn't afford it.

You are however delighted to find a small cake beside the bucket of ice cold champagne and you dig into the red velvet goodness as you watch Eunseok open up your suitcases and hang your clothes up in the master bedroom wardrobe meticulously. You're halfway into the cake when he drags his suitcases out of the room.

"Wait, where are you going?" you frown.

Eunseok snickers, "To the other bedroom? Why? Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Oh. I just didn't know there were two rooms." you say sheepishly.

Eunseok stops in his tracks, hand on his suitcase loosening, "So you went into this trip okay with the thought of sleeping with me? If so, I'll stay here with you then."

"No!" you call out, "Just- just shut up and go."

The smirk on his face is smug as he nods and continues his leave, "Alright, sweetheart, but let me know if you get nightmares and want company."

You bear the butter knife at him and he laughs melodically on his way out. You pop the champagne yourself and drown a glass down, hoping you'd be able to make it out the trip unscathed. He's running into the room with a pout after hearing the loud pop of the corkscrew, so you pour the both of you a glass and you clink them together as you chugged them back.

The days pass by similarly. You wake up and have breakfast together before embarking on a sleepy drive to a venue. You have lunch in endless terraces and gardens under the sun, basking in the heat and evaluating the venue you saw that morning. You both ooh and ahh at different venues that all look the same before you find a flaw in it that stops you from making the decision to host one of the most important days of your lives there. Some are too big, some too small, too pretentious, not pretty enough, the flowers aren't the ones you envisioned, the location too secluded or not enough. You always agree on the flaws of the venues and it's the penultimate full day when you make it to the final venue on the list.

"If I don't like this venue then I'm not marrying you," you huff in the car as it pulls up the driveway.

"Who knew wedding venues were so complicated?" Eunseok exhales in frustration, "Should we just get married in Seoul?"

You puff out your lips, "Italy was always my dream, but I was naive to the process."

Eunseok smiles and takes your hand, "I have faith in this one. At least I hope." The commitment he has to giving you your dream wedding despite it all is unwavering.

When you enter the final venue, you think that maybe it was the last on the list for a reason, since you're blown away every step you take through the grounds. The hallways to the main room is ornate and delicate at the same time, with pretty floral paintings wrapping the walls and big windows letting in the golden light. The room where your reception could be held is stunning with murals all over the walls and a dome ceiling that compliments it perfectly. It's neither too big, nor too small and there's little nooks and crannies for guests to nestle themselves in. You could see yourself in the middle, slow dancing with your head on your husband's shoulder.

"This is nice," Eunseok awes, coming up behind you with the grounds manager, "Very pretty."

You nod in agreement and ask to see the gardens, since you always wanted to get married outside in the sun. The manager gushes over the outside while she leads you out and your heart is pounding in anticipation. Eunseok probably guessed how giddy you were, because he joins you by your side and gives you a hopeful look.

"We're here. Most brides start from here and have the aisle straight down to the arch."

She throws open the double doors and you gasp in admiration at the sight in front of you. The stairs going down to the garden seen steep, but grand. You envision that your father could probably help you hobble down to the garden, where it was staged as a wedding venue. There's chairs laid out in rows, decorated in tulle and bows with an aisle adorned in flowers. At the end of the garden, there's an arch with vines wrapped around it and flowers creeping up. From where you were standing, you could see that this garden was actually on a balcony overlooking a lake that seemed to be glowing and sparkling as the slight wind caused some ripples on the surface

"I'll give you two some time to explore?" she proposes, to which Eunseok nods and wraps his hand around your wrist, tugging you down the stairs.

"First impressions?" he's looking around with blown out pupils as the two of you reach the bottom of the stairs and the beginning of the aisle.

"I like this one a lot," you shyly admit, "It's exactly what I imagined."

"I love it as well. Why don't you walk down the aisle and see how you feel. Imagine yourself on the day," he's taking off in front of you, running swiftly to the arch before you could even take a breath and get a word out.

At his antics, you let out a full-belly laugh and straighten out the ivory dress you happened to be wearing. You look down at the slip dress hitting your ankles and think it might be fate you chose to wear this specific dress on this specific day. You look up and find Eunseok suddenly frozen still at the other end, hands intertwined in front of him and his eyes trained solely on you.

When he notices that you meet his eyes, he gives you a gentle smile as he mouths to you, "Come here."

It takes you a few breaths to actually muster up the courage to follow his direction. You think that walking down a straight path shouldn't be such a big deal, but the thought that this could be the very steps you take to marry the same man at the end in less than a year's time strikes your heart.

The aisle is a soft and smooth stone, perfect for walking on in high heels. It's wide enough that a wedding dress wouldn't drag along the sides and knock over the flowers and long enough for anticipation to build as Eunseok gazes down at you from afar.

"Y/N," Eunseok calls over.

You take the first step and your breath catches in your throat. All you can look at is Eunseok now, with his shirt unbuttoned at the first three to expose some chest and his hair falling over his eyes. He keeps fidgeting with his fingers, as if he couldn't stand still and his lips are puckering and stretching as if he had much more to say.

The second step is easier than the first and the third one even more so. By the fifth step, Eunseok is chewing on his bottom lip and you're ridden with anticipation to meet him at the end.

With each step you take down the aisle, you're flashed back to all the crucial moments in your life with Song Eunseok so far.

You were sandbox best friends. You learned to walk together, and then ride bikes with each other. You learned to swim in the same swimming pool that still remained in your garden. You learned to ski and snowboard with each other in the blustery mountains of the alps. You were each other's first heartbreaks when you were teens. You took your first alcoholic drink together with your friends by the Han river, faces flushed red and hearts beating out of your chests at the prospect of getting caught. You got blackout drunk together for the first time during your first week of university. You posed together as you threw your graduation caps up in the air at the end of the three years. You chased each other around New York City, running around in blocks after he snatched your phone from your grasp when you would ignore him. You begrudgingly invited him to ride swan paddle boats with you in every lake and river around the city since he was the only person that would drop everything for you at a moment's notice. You would leave containers of home cooked food outside his doors when you noticed he was getting swamped with work, knowing he had the tendency to either order too much unhealthy takeout or stop eating altogether when busy.

With every step you take to meet Eunseok at the bottom of the aisle, you accept that Eunseok has been with you for every step of your life.

He's an arm's length away when you notice his eyes are glossier than usual. Eunseok refuses to break the stare between the two of you as you arrive in front of him, exactly where you would stand under the arch if you got married at this very space.

"Are you crying?" you whisper, afraid of your own voice.

He chortles and dabs at his eyes, "It's just the wind."

"Mhm," you hum, fighting back the smile threatening to expose your emotions, "What do you think?"

Eunseok takes a bold step towards you and closes the gap between your bodies. He's closer than you've ever had him and you can nearly feel his breath on your skin. It's making you dizzy but all you can do is keep your eyes on him.

"Eunseok," you murmur in a hushed tone.

His head is drifting closer down to yours, forehead nearly touching. If you moved your face even just by a centimetre, your noses would bump and you knew you wouldn't be able to stop yourself.

"Let's get married here," Eunseok nudges his face forwards. You have to stop yourself from pulling back even with the drumming in your chest, "You're going to look so beautiful. You do already."

"I like this place. Our parents would like it here too."

Eunseok's eyes flutter shut as he sighs and shakes his head gently, "No, let's get married here because we want to, not because our parents would like it. Let's get married because we want to."

"Eunseok," his name falls out of your mouth like it's the most sacred word you can say.

His forehead is still pressed against yours, his eyes squeezed tight and his palm comes up to make home on your cheek, "I love you. I always have."

Sincerity drips from his words and you know that this time, it's the real thing. It's the words you'd been dying to hear him say sincerely for a decade. It's the words that underlined every fight and argument you've had as adults. He finally and bravely bares his heart to you for the first time, still considerate as he always had been by giving you the choice to determine what will end up of the two of you.

There's something different about his profession of love after all you'd experienced together. Back then, when you confessed that you liked him, the world would probably say it was just some puppy love- a silly high school crush. Something that would fizzle over and dissolve when you would experience the real hardships of life and what it could throw at you. You think that a late confession carries a profound and heartfelt meaning like no other.

"Seok-"

He cuts you off before you could finish, pulling away from you and causing you to open your eyes, "I don't need an answer yet, Y/N. I just need you to know that I want to be with you. I want to be your boyfriend, your husband, your partner- whatever you want me to be. I want to make you only happy from now on, instead of angry or resentful. I want to be by your side and keep following you around the world. I want everything with you."

You've never felt more sure of anything else in the world when you bounce up on your tiptoes and capture his face between your hands, pressing your lips against his. It feels like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, but at the same time feeling relief as if this was the one thing in the world that could finally relieve you from all the anger and bitterness you had been displaying and trying to internalise for all these years. Deep down, you could never ever hate Song Eunseok, the boy who has had your heart since you were just young.

He's rigid for a split second while he processes your own confession, but he quickly regains enough composure to part his lips and deepen the kiss, moulding your lips to each other's. It's unlike anything he's ever felt before and he finally understood the real pleasure of kissing someone you really love. As he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, Eunseok knows that he could do this for the rest of his life.

"Song Eunseok, I love you too," your eyes are glistening with adoration as you pull away from his kiss, "Let's get married?"

When he finally looks you in the eye at the moment you give yourself back to him, he can't help the tears that finally break free from their barrier. He's laughing as he finally pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your body in desperation of keeping you close to him. You nuzzle deeper into him and he tucks his head into your neck. His body is shaking with the laughter of relief and his heartstrings tug when he feels his shirt dampening at the exact spot where your face laid.

"You're the one I'll always choose to love," he coo's into your ear words that travel straight into your heart, "For the rest of my life, for the rest of yours."

You look down at your hand and breathe deeply as the ring glistens on your finger. The Italian sun makes it shine bright as the symbol of your love. You start thinking of what you want to engrave on the inside of the ring that you want to get him. You start thinking of the dress and suit you'll be wearing at this very spot soon enough. You're dreaming of the house you move into together and of the company you'll spearhead by each other's side. You fantasise over your future kids- the kids you hope will have his eyes and your nose. You yearn for the life you know Eunseok will give you and your heart is finally at peace, knowing it will always be him.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

[moni-logues]

What the cat dragged in

Pairing: Lee Know x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: smut, angst, strangers-to-lovers (kinda); 5+1

Summary: You followed Minho home because you had nowhere else to go. Then you kept following... all the way into his heart, but not his bed.

aka five times you and Minho don't fuck and one time you do.

Content: reader is 16yo in the first section (nothing sexual or romantic happens but there are suggestions of it), couple of references to human/sex trafficking; the gang are useless crime idiots but this is only barely relevant; interrupted foreplay; attempted car sex; unprotected piv sex; fingering; a lot of kissing tbh

Word count: 13.5k

A/N: SO this whole thing actually started HERE in JUNE (jfc, I thought I'd been thinking about this since like, October or something but, no no, a full ten months!!!!). It has drifted from that somewhat but that was its beginning and, honestly, I'm kind of stoked about this fic. I really like how it came out and it's my FIRST MINHO. It's taken me SO long to get around to my bestest evil catdad.

Huge thanks to @violetsiren90 for beta-ing! and also for reading it half-finished when I really needed some encouragment. AND for the title

*~*~*

FIRST 

“Why don’t you fuck off?” 

The voice came from behind you. It was low and cold and threatening. It was directed at Shindong, the man in front of you, whom you were sure was this close to offering to take you home. You whipped around to see who had uttered it. 

Your immediate thought was that he was too short and too slight to be walking up with that level of aggression. Your second thought was interrupted by the spark that shot up your arm when he grabbed your hand. You’d have pulled it back, but his grip was solid and your arm didn’t budge.  

“What the fuck do you want, Minho?” your companion replied, all the charm sliding off his face, replaced with a loathing, arrogant sneer.  

“I want you to fuck off.” 

“She yours? Might want to keep a closer eye on her; she was just about to come home with me.” 

The stranger’s hand squeezed yours, so hard it started to hurt. He offered nothing in response.  

Both men continued to stare at each other. Shindong had inches on Minho – both height and breadth – and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw him hesitating. He flicked his eyes between you and Minho.  

“What if I want to fight you for her?” 

“What if I told you she’s not legal?” 

Shindong hesitated, moved just a fraction backwards, no longer leaning in, looming over the two of you. He rolled his eyes and gave a heartless chuckle. 

“Not worth the fucking bother,” he muttered as he walked away.  

Minho, still a stranger to you, still holding your hand, who hadn’t even looked your way, pulled you sharply by said hand, storming off and taking you with him. You followed him into one of the warehouse’s many dark corners. He kicked out the couple who were two clothing items shy of a citation for public indecency, and only then did he let you go. Only then did he turn his dark, flaming eyes on you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.  

Shindong had been your lifeline. What did this guy think he was playing at? 

Your vehemence took him off-guard, surprise flashing across his face, until his scowl returned, worse than before. You understood now why he made Shindong hesitate. His gaze was fierce, penetrating, his jaw set, his mouth a taut, grim line. You would never show your hand to anyone, but a cold droplet of fear slithered down your spine. You straightened it, rolled your shoulders back, lifted your head. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. 

“Do you know him?” he asked, voice still low, still threatening. 

Not personally. Not until that evening. But people like him came with a reputation that preceded them. A reputation that you were relying upon being based in fact. A reputation that had spread all around your school and beyond, but that you had heard from a source close to the truth. It was close enough that you were able to find him here, in a part of town you’d never been to. It was close enough that you were able to pick Shindong out from this crowd. Close enough that when you approached him and he laughed at you – young, naïve, foolish, all of those things you were sure he thought – you were able to drop his cousin’s name and he suddenly took you seriously. That was what you had been hoping for. A connection was all you needed to keep you covered for a night, at least. Just one would be something. 

And then this guy showed up. 

“I was about to.” 

Minho’s top lip curled, just a fraction, his nose barely wrinkling with the movement, but you got his meaning. Disgust. He could be as disgusted as he liked; that wasn’t your problem. Your problem was that his disgust had led him to chase away your only lead.  

Or was he? Was Shindong your only option? 

You changed tack. Realised that maybe you had another now. Minho, whoever the fuck he was, had approached you as if he knew you and scared off the competition. That must have been it. Despite the way he glowered at you, absolutely no interest or desire lurking behind his dark eyes, you figured you had nothing left to lose.  

You relaxed a little, pouted your lips, played up to the damsel in distress he might have thought you were. 

“But if he’s so awful, I guess I can only thank you,” you said, making your voice soft, your eyes a little wider. You lifted your lips in a tiny, shy smile and then put a hand to them, your thumb and index finger tugging a little on your bottom lip, hoping it made you look small, nervous, sweet.  

He gave you no reaction. He continued to glare, his stance unchanged, unmoving. So you moved. You stepped towards him: shy, little bird steps, until you were so close that he moved backwards. 

“Thanks for looking out for me. Your name’s Minho, right?” 

His eyes tightened minutely. He didn’t reply.  

“I’d like to thank you properly,” you said, sliding your body into his, pressing just one finger against his chest. You fluttered your lashes up at him. 

His face changed immediately. Eyes wide, mouth dropping, and he was stumbling backwards, pressing himself against the wall. 

“What the fuck are you doing? What are you, fifteen?” 

Embarrassment licked your cheeks like flames and your scowl returned. 

“I’m sixteen!” 

“Wow, big age. My mistake. By all means, let’s fuck, Sixteen.” 

His sarcasm was biting but you hadn’t given yourself up yet. 

“Don’t you want to?” you asked, innocently. “You must have sent Shindong away for a reason. If not this, then what?” 

He let out a sigh so aggrieved it was almost a shout. He rolled his eyes.  

“Jesus Christ, where are your parents?” he asked, but it was muttered, almost under his breath and you didn’t know if you were supposed to answer. You did anyway. 

“Dead.” 

His lack of reaction grated. He didn’t flinch. There was no surprise, no guilt on his face. He had robbed you of Shindong and now he had robbed you of your fun: getting a reaction out of people as a poor, orphaned, little Annie was as close as you got these days. Then again, he wasn’t a well-meaning aunt or nosy teacher. He knew what this place was; he knew, or at least knew of, Shindong. Maybe your hand-grenade was, here, little more than a snap. 

“And this is your great life plan? Offering sexual favours to predators?”  

He gestured widely to the room behind you, and you could only assume he did not mean to include himself in that group.  

Actually, it was your plan. Kind of… Insofar as you had any sort of plan at all. You would not be telling him that. You kept your mouth shut tight and jaw clenched, refusing to look down, to be the one to break the eye contact.  

“You know he’s a fucking bad guy,” he said, more softly than he had said anything so far but the hard edge remained.  

“And what are you, my hero?” 

“Absolutely fucking not. I do not want to have anything to do with whatever mess you are making of your life, but I’m not about to let that cunt take off with a child.” 

“I am not a child!” you shouted, right in his face.  

He took it, impassive, unimpressed even.  

“That’s exactly what a child would say.” 

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to smash him in his beautifully sharp jaw, or break that perfect, delicate nose of his. You were just about not stupid enough to try. How did he even know you were young? You knew you didn’t look it; you were always getting told you looked older than you were. How did he know? Why did he care? 

“Go on then,” you said, darkly. “Leave. If I’m not your fucking problem, why don’t you fuck off?” 

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move.  

“Worried I’ll get murdered?”  

You lifted your hands to your open mouth, eyes widened, a mockery of fear.  

His face and tone were flat when he responded.  

“There are things worse than death.” 

Then he pushed past you and out of the door.  

You took one shaky breath and walked after him before you could talk yourself out of it. You decided that, one way or another, this guy owed you and it was time to collect. 

You followed him, not too closely, but not exactly hiding it, for over a mile. You wondered, at one point, if he was trying to lose you, if he was actually heading to his destination or just trying to outlast you. You’d show him. You were a long-distance runner at school; you were extremely confident you could keep up. 

So confident, in fact, so determined were you not to lose him, that you were too slow to notice him slowing, to notice him stopping, to very nearly not stop yourself walking into him.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, not turning to look at you. 

“I’m walking here.” 

“Stop following me.” 

“I’m not following you.” 

He raised his eyes skyward. He stood for a moment and you stood, too, waiting for him to continue – walking or talking, you didn’t know which. He finally turned around and looked at you, everything about him a little softer than before. Not soft, but softer.  

“You can’t follow me,” he told you slowly, emphatically. “I am not looking after you. I am not your fath-“ 

“I don’t have a fucking father.” 

He scoffed. 

“Yeah, that much is very clear, Sixteen.” 

“I’m not sixteen!” 

He frowned. 

“That’s what you told me.” 

“That’s not my fucking name! Stop saying it like I’m a child. How old are you anyway?” 

“Old enough to know better.”  

“What does that mean?” 

“Go home, Sixteen.” 

“I don’t have a home.” 

“Well you can’t have mine.” 

He turned on his heel and continued walking, a little faster this time, increasing his pace to a jog as he crossed the road. You knew he hoped you wouldn’t be able to follow, that the flashing green man would disappear before you could make it, but you’d been underestimated before.  

After another mile or so, you saw him take his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. You couldn’t quite hear what he was saying but you thought it sounded like Japanese. Was he Japanese?  

It hadn’t missed you, the knowledge that you had no knowledge of this man. You understood that you were, as far as you knew, in as much danger following him home as you had been going with Shindong. But you literally had no other options. It was follow this guy somewhere or wander around on the street all night; it was too cold to stay out. You hadn’t thought beyond that when you’d left your house earlier that day. Hadn’t thought much at all, except about getting out.  

Now you were out. Mission accomplished. And you had no idea what to do next.  

You almost missed him ducking into a narrow side street, but you caught the door he rushed through just before it shut. He disappeared from view through another door, off to the left of the dingy, dimly lit corridor you found yourself in. You stalked up to it – it wasn’t even fully closed – but something made you hesitate.  

Suddenly the fear that you had been suppressing all night raised its head. Was this a lion’s den? A serpents’ nest? Was Minho playing some kind of long game, saving you from Shindong so you would trust him, so you would follow him here, so he could…? 

“Are you going to fucking stand out there all night?” you heard a voice call from inside. It had to be Minho’s but you wouldn’t have bet on it.  

You fixed your face, your scowl reappearing, and kicked the door open with excessive force. 

It was just a bar. Just him, sitting on a stool with a beer in his hand, and one other guy, standing opposite, looking at you with his eyebrows raised in the way a parent does when they catch their child doing something naughty. 

“You break that door, I’m going to make you pay for it,” he said, in an accent that you knew wasn’t local.  

And, just like a defiant child, you slammed it shut without breaking eye contact. He turned to Minho. 

“Thanks, man. You had to bring home a fucking streetrat.” 

“I am not a streetrat,” you spat. 

“No?” Minho chimed in. “Then where’s your home?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I really wish you would.” 

You sat down in a booth just off to your left and stared him down.  

“She can’t stay here,” the stranger said to Minho, as if you were no longer there.  

“I didn’t bring her; she just came.” 

He, the newest stranger, looked between you and Minho for several seconds. He was looking at Minho when he spoke again. 

“One night. That’s it. And she’s your responsibility.”  

He heaved a box full of empty glass bottles into his arms and wandered away, through a different door, mumbling something about ‘strays’.  

“Who was that?” you demanded as Minho continued to sip at his beer.  

You realised that you hadn’t actually been introduced to him either. And he hadn’t asked for your name. You wondered if he would now. 

“None of your fucking business,” he answered, finally moving from the stool to walk behind the bar.  

He opened the cash register and took bags from a cubby just below it. He produced a tiny pencil from his pocket and tore off a strip of the receipt roll. He took out the cash and started to count. You watched his lips move silently as he flicked quickly through the notes, pausing to drop a stack onto the bar and write a number down. He picked up the next stack and repeated.  

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, not looking up, not even, apparently, pausing in his counting. “Even if you got your urchin mitts on it, you wouldn’t make it to the door.” 

You believed him, but you weren’t planning some kind of move. You didn’t need his money. You were just watching.  

You watched until all the notes and all the coins were accounted for, until they had been put into bags and those bags into a box and Minho turned to follow his friend. You stood from your seat and went after him.   

There were two doors, you realised. Minho took the left. It led to an office. The other guy must’ve taken the right because the room was empty except for furniture and, in the corner, a safe. Minho dumped the box before it and turned to you. 

“Turn around.” 

“Worried I’ll crack the code?” you asked with your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Just turn around.” 

You did as you were told without a fight because, at that point, there was nowhere else to go. You couldn’t admit defeat and walk out of there; you weren’t sure that Minho wouldn’t make you do just that. It was a knife-edge, being the obnoxious, vile brat that you were. You’d stormed past boundaries before but, well, look where it got you. You were tired and worried enough now to decide you would stop pushing your luck. It had been stretched far enough already. 

There was a second of silence before you heard the beeping of the buttons pressed and the shuffling of bags, the clink of coins, the thunk of a bigger, metallic something against the walls of the safe. He didn’t tell you when he was finished, didn’t say you could turn back around. He just walked past you, out of the office, turning the light off as he went. As soon as you were out of the door, he shut and locked it.  

You followed him back to the bar and he did the same thing: turned off the lights and held a door for you (not politely, not because he was being nice), following you through it and locking this one behind him, too. You walked to the end of the corridor and he gestured you down some wooden stairs that creaked as if they would break under your weight. He turned the corridor light off, too, and locked the door at the top of the steps.  

This was it. You were locked in. There were at least two locks between you and escape. When Minho shoved past you to the left and opened yet another door, your stomach sank a little further. Three locked doors. He didn’t hold this one for you but he didn’t slam it in your face either, so you rolled your shoulders back, put on your game face and walked through.  

You almost regretted it when you saw where it led. It was possibly the worst place you had ever seen. It wasn’t messy, but there was something dirty about the room anyway. Outdoor furniture inside; everything vaguely brown in a way that you didn’t think it had been fresh out of the box; everything tired and worn and sagging; the naked lightbulb dim and humming as it shone; the fridge, scratched and dented and shoved into a corner, also hummed, managing to sound as well as look tired. It was bleak. It was grey. It made you feel like things were crawling on you and you’d only just stepped foot in it.  

You half expected your feet to stick to the floor when you took a few steps forward. They didn’t but the carpet was so old and worn that you had no idea what colour it was originally; in places, you could see the floorboards clearly through the threads. 

Minho pointed to the sofa.  

“There,” was all he said.  

Then he disappeared out of the room. You gingerly sat on the edge, wondering if you should be more concerned about your health or your safety. Maybe you were sheltered here, but you pictured a thousand and one diseases squirming on the cushions. It wasn’t fair to, because you could see that it was cleaned. The room wasn’t filthy; there were no crumbs or water rings on the coffee table; there was no rubbish littering the floor; the sink was empty and a stack of plates and bowls stood beside it, washed if not yet dried. Minho was clearly diligent.  

Minho and whoever else lived here. There were too many doors leading off this room for him to be here alone.  

Your curiosity was stopped in its tracks when he reappeared with a pillow and a towel. He threw the pillow wordlessly at one end of the sofa and then he raised the towel a little. 

“I don’t have any blankets. Don’t get cold.” 

You scoffed a laugh and were grateful that he ignored it. You weren’t indignant; you weren’t being a brat this time. You were dismayed. You couldn’t believe it. A house with no spare blankets. You were going to sleep under a towel. You glanced around you for a final time, tears pricking in your eyes, fingers at your lips, picking nervously. You weren’t going to die here, you told yourself. Probably. You were probably not going to die here and that was all you needed.  

You stood up, turned off the light, tested the door handle (not sure if you wanted it to be locked or unlocked), then returned to the sofa. You took off your shoes, took your bag from your back and hugged it tightly to your chest. You lay in the dark, in a stranger’s horrible house, alone, tired, more vulnerable than you would ever admit. You cried silently, reluctantly grateful for the towel, until you fell asleep.   

SECOND 

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to everyone! Happy birthday to you!” 

You only got one birthday a year. The whole group of you. There wasn’t enough to stretch to everyone getting an individual birthday, an individual cake, a day off. So the middle day of the year, 2nd July, was chosen and you all had a birthday together.  

One cake, one candle each, six people blowing them out. Most unsanitary, but, by now, there wasn’t much you hadn’t shared so a little spit didn’t even register.  

You were too drunk by far, which was stupid really. It wasn’t even your first time drinking legally (because your real birthday wasn’t until later in the year), so there was no reason for you to behave as if you had never had a drink before. You should have learnt a little self-control.  

But it was your birthdays. So you kept having one more and one more and one more. As did everyone else.  

“Nineteen!” Minho called as he fell into the booth next to you.  

“I thought I was Sixteen?” 

He shrugged. 

“You do still act like it.” 

You shoved him, almost hard enough to push him off his seat completely. He shoved you back. 

“Shut up, Minnie.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, plotting death for using the nickname he loathed above all others, and you sent a simpering smile back at him.  

“You’re a little squirt, anyone ever tell you that?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“You, literally all the time, because you are for some reason desperate to sound like the oldest grandpa in the room.” 

He let out a growling sort of cry, dramatic because he’d also had too much to drink. Then he stood. 

“BYE, Sixteen!” 

If someone didn’t know the two of you, it would seem as if nothing had changed in the time since you met: both antagonistic, unlikable, as hard as you could make yourselves, forced together and barely tolerating it.  

Those who did know you, however, knew that things were very different now. Minho had, reluctantly, taken responsibility for you and, when you had grown up just enough to realise what that had meant, you felt all your hard resolve melt.  

They had very little, this ragtag bunch of kids (barely older than you) but they shared everything between them. Never quite enough to go around, money from legitimate enterprises never stretching far enough and having to be supported by money from less than legitimate means. You were a liability. In every sense. The only girl, a stranger, certainly not (at that time) a criminal. But Minho took responsibility and the others let you in.  

When you had learnt to see past your own nose, you saw the myriad ways in which they took care of each other. The silent, invisible way Minho cared for his friends. For you. You hadn’t forgotten the sting of electricity you’d felt when he held your hand way back when. Before you’d even seen him, before you knew his name, before any of this. You felt it all the time now. You were a live wire for him.  

No one in the group was stupid enough to refer to you as siblings or even joke that you acted like them. Your feelings for Minho were your most closely guarded secret but that didn’t mean everyone didn’t know. You were pretty sure even Minho himself knew. Not that he would ever act on it. He pretended not to notice, you thought. You had pushed close to the edge of being kicked out enough times to know that some things were still precarious. To know that he would never risk his weird family by acknowledging there was anything more than friendship between you. If it even was between you. He had given you very little reason to believe your feelings were reciprocated. So you did your best to ignore them.  

They became a fact of life. Like the fact that Minho was the only one Chan trusted to count the cash (not because the others weren’t trustworthy; they just weren’t accurate). Like the fact that Chan had the final say on everything. Like the fact that he would never abuse that authority and act for anything other than the wellbeing of the entire group. It just was.  

And it wasn’t like you were stupid enough to pine. You had some pride. Plenty, in fact.  

You stood from the booth and sauntered to the bar where your sometime-boyfriend, Johnny, was getting another drink.  

“Babe,” you whined, draping yourself over his back, hooking your chin over his shoulder.  

“Babe,” he whined back, copying, mocking.  

“Entertain me, I’m bored.” 

“It’s your party.”  

You pouted and forced him to join you on the makeshift dancefloor. You refused to notice that Minho left it as soon as you joined, his face dropping, looking only at Johnny and never once pleased about it.  

* 

Chan had cut off the booze supply hours ago and the sun was thinking about raising its head above the horizon, which meant that, far from being wasted and happy and giddy and passing out in your bed, your hangover was already crawling in and you were tired and irritable. Johnny had pissed you off sometime before the booze dried up and then pissed off entirely before you’d begun to sober up, so you’d spent the smallest hours of the morning making your bad mood everyone else’s problem.  

Everyone except Minho. Because whilst you were always determined, at these moments, to needle him, to want to get under his skin, to want to scrape it back and spit on it, he was never there. He managed to avoid your venom and, even when he didn’t, seemed immune. He would just slow-blink at you as if he were looking through you and turn away. It boiled your blood and he knew it.  

You stomped downstairs to the same shithole basement you’d walked into two years ago. Everyone else had either left or gone to bed already, you thought. You expected it to be empty. It wasn’t. 

“Fuck sake, Mouse,” you spat, using your usual nickname, his preferred one (… preferred being too strong a term; it was the one he allowed you to use without retaliation). “Why are you sitting on your own like a fucking loser?” 

“You know he treats you like a fucking loser?” 

He turned to lean over the back of the sofa, looking tired under his eyes but energetic within them.  

“Fuck off,” you returned. “As if you give a shit who I date.” 

“Date? That’s what you call it?” He scoffed, deliberately, exaggeratedly, as if you wouldn’t otherwise have recognised his scorn. “He treats you like dirt.” 

“You would know.”  

He was on his feet and in front of you before you could blink.  

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”  

You’d had about enough of it, you decided at that moment. Not enough sleep, too much alcohol, and just enough of this bullshit. You grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled him with force towards you. You took him by the back of the neck and kissed him, hard and like you meant it. Because you did. It only took him a second to push you back, hands firm on your shoulders, holding you away from him. His face had lost his usual mask – the blank, passive, flat-eyed one that he used to stare people out with unnatural stillness – but he was still keeping you out; it was guarded, flashes in his eyes being stamped out with every blink, his jaw held tight and his mouth shut.  

“That’s what I fucking mean, Minho,” you hissed.  

“How dare you?” he hissed back, voice so low in his throat you almost couldn’t hear it. “You have no fucking idea.”  

His blinks weren’t quick enough this time to hide all the anger burning in his eyes.  

“No idea of what? What?!” 

His lip curled and he let you go. He let his guard down around you more than he should have: shrugged you off and turned his back on you. You took both palms and pushed him. He tumbled forward, catching his foot on a side table, pulling it down with him as he hit the floor. Cat-like in his reflexes, he was on his feet before the table had stopped rocking. He charged straight at you and continued until you were pressed up against the door, until he was pressed up against you.  

“You want a kiss?” he asked and every part of you should have been screaming yes, because you did.  

You did want a kiss, but nothing about this was how you wanted it. It was a threat, not an offer. You’d been threatened with worse. You jutted your chin out a little, always standing up, never backing down. 

“You going to give me one?” 

His eyes flicked towards your lips, hovered there a second, like he was really thinking about it. They stayed there a little longer and doubt was picking up speed on its race to your consciousness. You thought he wouldn’t. You thought he would. You still couldn’t predict his behaviour. You thought you had him pinned and then he flipped you. You always thought you had him on the ropes, but you never really did.  

You were impatient, tiring of this, doubt and insecurity and embarrassment swelling up inside you and you opened your mouth to tell him to go away, to fuck off and die, to do something vile to himself. It was at that moment that his eyes met yours again, for a split second that sent a streak of ice through your blood, and then his mouth was on yours.  

You had never once looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even if you had wanted to, even if you had decided before he did it that you would push him off, return his rejection, you couldn’t possibly have done it now. His lips were soft, his hands still tight around your arms. He crowded you further against the door, your bodies pressing together as he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave it to him. Your hands snaked up his chest and into his hair; it was softer than you’d expected, silky. For a moment, you were disarmed by it. Soft. He never let his softness show if he could help it. Only rarely. Only when he felt safe enough to let his guard down did it ever come creeping out from its hiding place. But here it was, sprouting from the top of his head. Here it was, pressed against your lips, brushing your tongue. You felt weak at the knees. 

As far as kisses go, it was the best you’d had. Fire and ice fighting: goosebumps erupting on your skin as it flushed hot, making you shiver. His mouth was warm and wet and sweet and you were desperate for more, knowing that he was kissing you just right and that you weren’t doing the same. You were too eager, too greedy, too needy. This wouldn’t be enough. Couldn’t be enough. Just his lips on yours, his tongue rolling with yours, his hands still pinning your sides. You couldn’t stop here. You had to have him. All.  

You whined when he pulled back, when his grip on you loosened, and you opened your eyes expecting his to be soft and liquid, to be those sweet, round boba eyes he didn’t show enough of.  

They were hard and flat. He moved away from you in one, long step and back was that impassive blankness he loved so much. 

“Happy fucking birthday,” he said. 

He stalked off to his bedroom and shut the door.  

You stayed, glued to the front door, shaking. With anger, probably. With embarrassment, maybe. With something akin to heartbreak, but you would never admit it. The roaring in your ears, the screaming of invective at both yourself and Minho in your head so loud that you didn’t hear the sound of a key in the lock, weren’t aware that someone was trying to get in until they were shoving at the door, pushing you with it. 

“What the fuck?” came a quiet whine from the other side of it as he slowly pushed you away and got the door open. “Why were you trying to keep me out?” 

Jisung’s hamster cheeks were full of kimbap, the other half of the roll still in his hand, and his eyes were wide with that cute, pitiful look he carried off so perfectly. 

You ignored him. You stomped into your bedroom and slammed the door as hard as you could. 

THIRD 

Despite having your own bedroom (graciously offered up by Changbin and very ungraciously accepted by you), privacy in the small basement flat was an issue. Which is why you were huddled in the farthest corner of it, fists stuffed in your mouth, crying as quietly as you could in the dead of night.  

You lived with five men, but you had not yet found someone to date who would take the threat of them seriously. They did make threats, on occasion, when they had to. Because you had not yet found a man who could treat you as anything more than shit but you had, apparently, found the least bothered and most unfazed men in the city. The one before last had barely flinched when all five of them had battered down his door to come for you, when you had finally managed to get a message out that he was keeping you there.  

You never found out what happened to him. You didn’t ask and no one told you.  

This one hadn’t been that bad. That was the problem. You had thought he was nice. You had thought (as you had so many times before) that he might actually be the first to treat you right.  

You were wrong. So, you were crying in the corner of your room. You didn’t always cry. In fact, you didn’t often cry. Rarely, even. It meant that, when you did, the floodgates opened and you found it hard to stop. You found it almost impossible to breathe, desperately snatching air between sobs. Your head was already pounding, your face aching. It was total and complete the way it overtook you. So much so that you didn’t notice the presence of another person until they sat down beside you. 

You gasped, as much as you could amongst your shaking, shallow breaths, and were only slightly comforted that it was him. He said nothing. He pulled you towards him and held you like that until the storm had passed. 

You continued to sit in silence as your tears dried on your face, as your heartrate settled and your breathing became even. He didn’t make a move to let you go and you didn’t make one either. You were tired. You were sad. You were, though you wouldn’t admit it, a little bit heartbroken. This bit of comfort was exactly what you wanted.  

You didn’t want him to say anything. You didn’t want to hear it. That you’d done it again. That you’d never learn. That, somehow, you were gullible and easy to fool despite the fact that you had been hardening yourself against vulnerability of every kind since you were a child. That men just found a way to get beyond your defences—that bad men found a way. The good ones didn’t find you at all.  

“His loss,” was what he said. 

You lifted your head, tears still clinging to your lashes, drying on your cheeks. He had that look on his face that he saved for you: the soft, sweet one he gave you when you’d earnt it or when you needed it. The one that made your insides curdle, that even now made your heart skip a beat, that you wanted to fall into forever, that had sealed your fate so many years ago now. He blinked slowly at you, cat-like as always, and brushed your hair from your face.  

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came. Your voice was trapped in your throat because he was still looking at you like that but his eyes kept flicking down, then back up, then down again at longer and longer intervals until he closed them completely and brought his lips to yours.  

You didn’t have to think twice. Didn’t have to think at all. Your body did the thinking for you. Your hands pushed into his hair and your legs pushed you up so you could slot them down either side of his hips. His hands found your waist and then the soft skin on the other side of your t-shirt. 

This was nothing like the first time. You remembered it all too well: the electricity, the anger, the volcano of feelings you’d tried to suppress rumbling and threatening to erupt, to blow the lid off the equilibrium you’d found. The hunger, the desperation, your own neediness spoiling it all.  

You weren’t desperate anymore, for his approval, for his love, for whatever he would give you. You wanted it all, would lay yourself on the floor and kiss his feet if he asked, with no hesitation, but you always knew he wouldn’t ask. You’d got used to that.  

Except now he was kissing you – he had kissed you – and his hands were squeezing at your waist and it was slow. Controlled. Deliberate. There was nothing accidental about the way his tongue rolled over yours, the way his teeth bit at your bottom lip, the way his hands pulled you lower on his lap, pulled you closer to him until there wasn’t so much as a breath of air between you.  

“Mouse,” you murmured, quietly into his mouth. 

He shook his head minutely, a tiny hum swallowed by you when he pressed your lips together again. No talking. Fine. You didn’t need to talk. If he kept kissing you, kept touching you, you wouldn’t need to utter another word again. But you couldn’t stop the little gasp when he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck, the moan rising in your throat when he ran his tongue over the same spot, hurting then soothing. Like always. 

It made your brain turn fuzzy, static wavering in your mind, as all your conscious thoughts turned to liquid, melting into Minho’s mouth, swallowed down by him, eaten whole.  

Then the front door slammed hard. 

“Guys!” Chan shouted, in a way that he never did.  

You heard him pounding on doors, opening them, starting with Changbin and Hyunjin’s on the right.  

You sprang apart like two north magnets, instinctively repelled by one another, just in time for Chan to burst through the door and scan the room for you, too wired, too stressed to register that it might have been weird for you to be sitting on the floor like you were, certainly not noticing your kiss-bitten lips or heavy breathing or the way Minho’s hair was ruffled like it had just had a fist in it.  

“We’ve got to go,” Chan announced. “Like, right fucking now.” 

FOURTH 

No one wanted to up the ante. No one wanted to start getting involved with the organised crime lot. Your crime was… disorganised. It was local. It was just you doing the things you needed to, skirting around the law to survive. It wasn’t really crime, not if you squinted hard enough. Then the police raided the bar (which was illegal in pretty much every way that mattered) and you had nowhere left to go.  

There was just enough of the trust your parents left you (which you got access to at 21) to secure a new apartment (one that was not underground) and a small buy-in with a group of much larger, older, more experienced criminals. There was very little else you could’ve done at that point. Or so you all told yourselves.  

The apartment was an upgrade in every way but size. It was newer and above-ground which meant it stayed warm and didn’t get damp. It had windows which let the sun in. It had enough room for two sofas so everyone could sit comfortably. It had a gas hob which really only Chan and Minho cared about, but they cared a lot. It had two bathrooms with reliably hot water and good pressure. It did not get power cuts. It did not always smell musty. It was not brown and beige and grey. But it did have fewer rooms to be parcelled out between you all.  

The last one had four rooms that served as bedrooms. This had three. Between six. There had been furious arguments and endless straw-pulling and no one was happy with the results. It took a few weeks but eventually things shook out as they always should have.  

You shared with Minho because he was the only one who was willing. You both had reputations for being scary (in totally opposite ways: you the raging bull to his still, fathomless water); you loved to take your bad moods out on one another; he was the only one you ever willingly let see you when you were sad and small and vulnerable. Besides which, no one else would dare try to take the space at your side from him. So you shared a bedroom: two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, because Minho refused to sleep in a bunk bed and you refused to sleep together in a double. There was little room for anything else.  

You complained about the sleeping arrangements almost daily. You loved the hot water and the sunlight and the not-mouldiness of the apartment, but some days, you couldn’t bear the way you couldn’t get away from Minho.  

You’d thought you had it bad. This was even worse. 

Four days. Four days, so far, staying (squatting) in a vile, empty, dilapidated villa apartment, staring out of a window, waiting for something to happen. Just you and Minho and one room. For four days and counting.  

It was Minho’s turn to watch and he sat at the monitor, diligent, hard-working, as always, whilst you were supposed to be catching up on sleep. Instead, you were lying on what passed for a bed, tossing an apple into the air and catching it, over and over and- 

“You going to stop that?” Minho asked, with his trademark tone: both light and threatening.  

“Nope!” 

“Want me to make you?” 

You flicked your eyes over to him: he was studying the monitor seriously, but you were sure he had been looking at you.  

You hadn’t spoken about that night. Partly because you hadn’t had the time. You’d jumped up from the floor of your bedroom, grabbed as much stuff as you could fit in the first bag you could find and the six of you had legged it, making it out just in time to watch the police cars roll up and trash the place.  

“There was so much fucking money in that safe,” Chan had said, plaintively, staring at the sky. That was when you’d offered up yours.  

You had had to find somewhere to live, and fast. You’d all had to find jobs, something to do, some way to make money that wasn’t connected to the bar. You had been passing like ships in the night, meeting only to argue about shower time and sleeping arrangements. Then Changbin had come home with a suggestion. You’d argued about that, too, but in the end, it was unanimous. Go in with the bigger boys or – well, there was no ‘or’. That was the point. 

So you and Minho were working recon. You’d pulled the short straw in more ways than one. It was the longest you had spent together. Ever. Confined for days in this space. 

On the first day, he refused to talk to you at all.  

On the second, you made everything into an argument because at least you could get a rise out of him.  

On the third, he had seemed to thaw. Something had softened and you talked, like friends, like you used to. You laughed and joked and it wasn’t so bad. 

Now it was the fourth day and that ice had returned. He had frozen over, doubled-down on silence. No sooner had you had warmed up than he was giving you frostbite, chilblains. Whiplash. Those ten words were the first he’d spoken to you all day.  

“No,” you answered. “I don’t want you to make me.”  

You paused, wondering if the words you were considering were a sign that you were going mad, that being cooped up in this space had sent you a little doolally. The unbearable nothingness of your days passing like sludge forcing all those hidden thoughts forward, with nothing to distract you from them. The words were certainly risky, but Minho had shown his hand. He had kissed you. Like he meant it. And you knew he would’ve continued to kiss you had Chan not interrupted. He’d have continued to do a whole lot more than just kiss you. 

And you were bored.  

“I want you to fuck me,” you said plainly, catching the apple in front of your face and turning to look at him.  

He was still studying the monitor. Nothing on his face gave anything away: surprise, disgust, lust, laughter. Nothing. You were used to that. 

“We’re on a job.”  

“Yeah, and it’s boring and nothing is happening and who fucking cares? I would rather have sex.” 

He sighed and rolled his head to look at you. 

“Really, Sixteen? Now is the time you want to bring this up?” 

“Stop calling me Sixteen.” 

“I always call you Sixteen.” 

“You always call me Sixteen when you want to put me in my place or make me feel like a child. I’m not a fucking child anymore.” 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then why won’t you fuck me?” 

He laughed and your blood began to simmer.  

“There’s more that I look for than just ‘is not a child’.” 

“Don’t try to act like you don’t want to.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” 

“Well then, shall we?” 

He smirked and the glint in his eye was new to you.  

“We’re on a job.” 

“Stop saying that!” you cried, stalking the three steps from your side of the room to his.  

You manoeuvred yourself into his lap, blocking the monitor from his view, and took his face in your hands. 

“We’re on a job and nothing is happening and nothing will continue to happen for ages yet, so why don’t we make it a little less fucking boring?” 

You knew he wanted to. Could see his pupils dilate. Watched his eyes flick to your lips and your chest and back up. This might have been all he wanted: sex and nothing more. You didn’t know. Weren’t interested in having that conversation. Were convinced that it didn’t matter either way. If he only wanted sex, you would give it. Give it until it was too late and he was in too deep to come back out. Hadn’t worked before but there was a first time for everything. 

But even that was beside the point. You were desperately bored and bored of being desperate for him and there was one stone that would kill both those birds.  

“Mouse,” you said quietly, keeping your voice low, as you placed a kiss on his jaw, as you spread your knees a little wider, sinking lower into his lap. “Come on.” 

His hands were on your thighs, neither encouraging nor discouraging, just holding tight. He didn’t respond as you continued to press kisses to his face, to his neck, grinding your hips over him slowly. You could feel his pulse beat fast, noticed the way his breathing was getting heavier, his fingers dipping deeper into your skin, until it hurt. Until he stopped pretending he was going to continue to work, stopped pretending that he could resist you.  

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. 

He gripped the hair at the back of your head and pulled you from his neck, tumbling you both to the floor. You didn’t want it to be fast, but you’d take it any way he’d give it. So when his hands pulled at your t-shirt, you let him take it off as you unclasped your bra. He didn’t give you time to fumble with the hem of his top, to discard it for him; he dipped his head straight down, swirling your nipple with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth; he rested his weight on one elbow and his other hand descended. You were grateful you had no buttons, no zips to contend with, just the loose, elasticated band of a pair of leggings that had seen better days. Minho’s fingers slipped beneath it and he circled his fingers around your clit, the fabric of your underwear dulling the sensation only slightly.  

This was moving even faster than you’d expected but you’d been waiting so long already. Blood rushed to the surface of your skin and your breath began to shudder. Underwear now pushed to the side, you gasped when Minho ran a finger through your folds, shivered when he moaned at what he found there. He brought his lips back to yours but you turned away to let his name drop from your open mouth. 

“Mouse...” 

“Shut up,” he said firmly as he sank two fingers into your slick cunt and stole your breath with another kiss.  

You couldn’t talk but you could moan. Could whine. Could whimper as his fingers moved inside you, as he ground his palm against your clit, as he made your thighs twitch and walls spasm. You tried not to lose your mind completely, to stay grounded, to stay present now that this was finally, really, actually happening. You reached your own hands down to Minho’s trousers; he hadn’t got the no-buttons, no-zips memo and your fingers fumbled with both. They shook with adrenalin as you popped the button through the hole and dragged the metal zip down. You pushed them away from you, off his hips, and had one hand in his boxers when the crackle of the walkie-talkie cut through Minho’s moan. 

You both froze.  

“Minho? What’s happening? Chan said they’re on the move?” 

You glanced at each other, for one more frozen second, and then the world lurched into overdrive. Minho clambered to the monitor with his trousers around his ankles and, as soon as he saw the screen, started swearing viciously, tugging at his clothes and throwing your t-shirt back at you.  

“What’s happening?” you asked, breathless for all the wrong reasons now.  

“They’re clearing out,” Minho reported into the walkie-talkie, ignoring you but answering your question anyway. “Two loads have left, a third on its way.” 

“Shit! How did you miss it? What the fuck were you doing?”  

“Nothing! We lost the feed for a minute but it came back quickly and then they were already moving.” 

He shot you a glance, something between panicked plea and angry admonishment. It wasn’t often he was caught on the hop, wasn’t ever. You, however, were used to being on the wrong side of things, so you re-dressed quickly and had already started packing your shit up. No matter how sideways this went, you could take two positives from it. One, you wouldn’t have to stay locked up here with Minho any longer. Two, he definitely, definitely wanted to fuck you. 

FIFTH 

You still hadn’t talked about it. You continued to share a bedroom, sleep there every night, wake there every morning but you had not once discussed the twice now that you had almost had sex. You were waiting for him to bring it up, even though you knew he never would. He wasn’t a coward, not ever, but if there was one word to describe him it was loyal and you knew he would protect your group with his life. And that also meant not pursuing whatever it was that was between you. Because it was a risk. It could jeopardise the stability of what you had established—what Chan had established long before you ever came into the picture.  

But you were digging your heels in this time. You’d already come on too strong. Your pride was being wounded with each day that passed, with each day that he continued to pass you up. You’d crack first. You knew you would. You always did. Minho was unbreakable. You weren’t. But you wanted to pretend, for at least a little while, that you could be. That you could be impenetrable, too.  

* 

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Junho repeated as he slammed into the car, instructing Minho to drive before the door was even shut.  

Minho didn’t need telling twice.  

“Where to?” 

“Safe house,” he gasped, ragged breathing setting your teeth on edge. 

You didn’t ask what had happened. What had gone wrong. That didn’t matter as much as getting out. Getting Junho out. You were disposable, still. You knew that. Even Minho. You were runts; you also still had something to make up for given what happened on your last assignment. So you travelled in silence. Junho in the back, breathing heavily; you didn’t turn around to see if he was ok. You didn’t want to know. You assumed he wasn’t but as long as you could hear him breathing, you knew he was alive.  

Minho was facing forward, eyes scanning the roads ahead, reflexes allowing him to run red lights without accident – in this part of the city, no one would stop a flashy car like this for speeding, for driving recklessly. That was what they all did. His jaw was tense, eyes tight. He looked calm but you could see his little legs kicking under the water. You knew him well enough by now.  

You didn’t keep your eyes on the road. You kept them on him. Felt like someone needed to be watching out for him, too – not that there was anything you could have done to be helpful anyway. There were always two in the getaway car. That was the rule and you didn’t ask why because you didn’t want to know the answer.  

As a teen, you had thought you knew everything. You were old enough now to know not only that you knew nothing but also that you preferred it that way. Need to know basis. For everything. All the time.  

Minho slowed, driving more carefully as the car left the city, winding across hills, negotiating turns that you’d have driven straight over, plummeting you all to a miserable death. He turned the headlights off at the mile marker he’d been told about, one that you’d already forgotten, and crawled, slower still, up to the house, blanketed in darkness, hidden by an overgrown and untended garden.  

Junho grunted. 

“Thanks. Wait until I give the signal then get the fuck out of here. Do not go anywhere you’ve ever met with us. Ditch the car when you can; destroy the plates.” 

He didn’t wait for a response. You watched him stagger away and then waited until the light in the top right room flicked on and off and on and off again.  

Minho put the car in reverse and slowly backed out. At a further mile marker, he turned the lights on. He continued to climb, driving away from the city still, until the car reached the top of the hill. The lights from the city were so bright you almost didn’t need the headlights at all. It didn’t feel a safe place to stop. Too visible.  

Then Minho slowly and quietly backed the car into nook on the hillside. No doubt worn away from years of cars trying to pass each other on the narrow road, it barely contained the car, but it put it in some shadow and no one would hit you.  

He turned the engine off and let his hands fall to his lap. His head tipped back against the headrest and he sighed.  

“You ok?” 

You asked him all the time and he never gave a serious answer because he always was. And if he wasn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it. But you asked all the same.  

He nodded then turned to you. 

“You?” 

You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling the last twenty minutes as the adrenalin began to drain. 

“Kind of feel like I could hurl.” 

He laughed too and nodded again.  

“I feel like I want to sleep for a thousand years but also like I could run a marathon,” you continued.  

“I feel half-dead already but also fucking invincible.” 

He held his hand out and it trembled. You clasped it between yours and held it tight. He smiled; from where you were sitting, it looked like a smirk, but then he turned more fully towards you and it wasn’t. It was sweet. His eyes were gleaming. Your mouth dried.  

“Half-dead, huh?” And you knew you were going to say it. You always knew you would be the one with which it would raise its head. “How about a little dead? A little death, even?” 

“Sixteen…” 

His voice had that warning tone to it but the gleam in his eyes remained and you’d broken the seal now. Were going to push this as far as he’d let you.  

“Mouse…” 

You saw him waver. Absolutely, definitely, were certain that he was considering it. Until a car came over the crest of the hill and its headlights flashed in at you; at the same moment, Minho’s phone buzzed from the cup holder it had been thrown in. You jumped. He jumped. Whatever moment there had been was gone now.  

Minho took his hand from your grasp and checked his phone. Then he put the car in gear.  

“We’ve got to get out of here.” 

* 

You expected it to be quick. Expected it to be simple. It turned out to be neither. You had managed to destroy the plates and were very near clear of the car you’d now abandoned when you, once again, found trouble (‘why did it always have to be you?’ you had asked yourself fleetingly as Minho shoved you towards your own piece of shit car that had been waiting for your getaway; he had not waited for you to be fully seated or your door to be closed before he slammed a foot on the accelerator and squealed off). The two of you were screaming around corners, tearing out of the city in whichever direction provided the easiest escape. With the headlights off and the city lights streaming into the distance, you could barely see the road in front of you, had no idea how Minho was still driving straight. You trusted him with your life and it was just as well, because it was in his hands. His, yours, and potentially everyone else’s, too. 

The summer sun was minutes away from popping its head above the horizon when you were finally able to return home. 

You sat in silence for a few moments. You had moved beyond exhaustion into this kind of frayed, wired alertness. You felt your eyelids dropping even as your heart still hammered. Minho’s hand found yours.  

“Mouse,” you said, letting the rest of it fall away unspoken.  

“Yeah,” he replied but you didn’t know if that was his answer. “Just give me a minute.” 

You were too tired to argue so you let silence fall again. You were almost dropping off, head just beginning to nod, when he tugged on your hand.  

“Come here.”  

You turned. You leant. His other hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer. He kissed you. Electricity crackled and a surge of energy rushed through you. It was happening again. He was kissing you. You couldn’t let this time pass by.  

You scrambled in your chair, forgetting to undo your seatbelt, being pulled back by it and swearing coarsely when your lips broke from his. You clambered over the gearstick and the handbrake and fell with one foot heavily in the footwell as Minho slid his seat all the way back. You didn’t have time to care about the jarring in your knee or the bump on your head as it hit the roof. Could barely feel it. Didn’t matter.  

Well, it didn’t matter until it did. Until there wasn’t really room enough for you to straddle him. Until you were pressing yourself up against the roof so there would be room for him to get his hands to his belt. Until you lost your balance and fell backwards, landing with bump on the steering wheel, which blared out into the dark dawn street.  

“Fucking hell,” Minho muttered. “Get in the back.” 

More willingly than you ever had, you did as you were told. He moved his seat forward again, all the way, and you watched him climb through to you, hands reaching for him. It was no less awkward. Not enough room to lie down. Still not enough height to sit. Not space enough between the back and front to kneel. It was messy and uncoordinated, grabbing for anything, taking what you could get, knocking into the window and falling off the seat, kicking and elbowing each other in a tangle.  

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Minho roared, in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. “No use. Not happening.” 

He sat back and sighed, trousers undone but still around his hips. He pushed his hands through his hair and you tried to settle demurely next to him, smoothing your own hair, zipping up your jeans, swallowing hard as you fought to accept that he was right. It was not happening. Not here. Not now.  

You stared through the car window and were sure you could’ve punched straight through it. You wanted to. It was the window, Minho, or yourself. Couldn’t effectively punch yourself. Knew you wouldn’t dare hit your mouse. Your fingernails pressed sharply into your palm as you squeezed your fists tightly.  

A hand covered yours. Gentle. You looked at Minho and there he was: your secret, soft guy. You unfurled your fingers and he linked them with his own. 

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s just go home.” 

FIRST 

You tramped into the apartment, bringing your bad mood with you. Everyone was sick of it by now – you were sick of it, but you couldn’t shake it.  

Minho was avoiding you. That much was clear. He had been avoiding you since you tried and failed to fuck in the car. You didn’t know why because you didn’t care. You had reached the end of your tether with the universe. Three times now. But still no cigar. You wondered – asked yourself a hundred times a day – what it was going to take to make this happen.  

Frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. You could go out and hook up with whoever you liked. You could get yourself off just fine. But it ran so much deeper than that. If you pulled at the thread, it tugged on your heartstrings, all tangled up in knots. It hurt. It pulled at something so deeply interwoven with your very being; all anyone had to do was follow it to its source and they could destroy you. All anyone had to do was cut it and they’d cut you, too.  

You didn’t like that. Hated it, in fact. Hated that all this tugging and wiggling had opened up a hole and you could feel your vulnerability exposed. You could feel weakness leaking out of you, seeping from your pores, visible to the naked eye, for anyone to see.  

It made you bitter. Made you angry. Made you lash out even when you shouldn’t have. Because you were always on the defensive. Even now. Especially now. 

You knew the others were talking about you. About Minho. About the two of you. Knew it from the awkward silences when you walked in a room and the furtive glances and the group chat that had grown curiously quiet, leaving you to assume that there was a separate one you weren’t a part of.  

You were beginning to lose your patience and you were not starting with a plentiful supply.  

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm your rage. You had woken with it, just like every other day this week, and it would not leave you. You breathed slowly and carefully and tried to think of difficult and boring things.  

You thought only of Minho.  

Then he opened the door. He hesitated – you could feel him standing there, assessing – and then shut it, leaving you alone. As the door clicked, you felt that tug. You felt the knots tighten, so impossibly tight now that the joins weren’t even visible. You jumped up and threw yourself through the door. 

“Stop fucking ignoring me!” 

You hadn’t meant to shout.  

Minho turned and looked at you. His stillness enraged you further. He didn’t say anything. 

“Are you going to fucking say anything?!” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“ANYTHING! You haven’t spoken to me for weeks! You literally walk out of rooms if I’m in them! What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

“You think this is easy?”  

His voice was cold and sharp as steel. His head cocked lightly to the side and his eyes narrowed, peering at you, looking inside you.  

“You think I want it to be like this?-” 

“I don’t know what you fucking want!” 

His nostrils flared. This delighted you. He was annoyed and you loved it. 

“Not once,” you continued, still shouting because you couldn’t rein it in, “have you ever fucking told me. Not once have you ever actually said what you want! That you want me. Do you? Fucking do you? Because I don’t fucking know anymore! Every time we get close, you get further away from me! I’m not a fucking yo-yo, Minho. You can’t play with me-” 

“Play with you? You think I’m playing? What part of this is a game?”  

His voice was rising now, too, his perfectly blank mask slipping. 

“It’s never been a game, Sixteen! Not once in the entire time since we met has it been a game! How are you still not getting it? Junho almost fucking died and if he had, it would have been our fault! We all almost ended up in prison because of the fucking bar. The night we met you almost got yourself trafficked! It’s not a game! You act like life is so fucking simple! It’s not!” 

“IT IS! It can be that fucking simple! Stop overthinking! Stop taking everything so fucking seriously!-” 

“It is serious! That’s what you don’t get!” 

He was close now, had been inching closer and closer, and he was looking down at you, his eyes black as pitch, his jaw tight, his breath struggling through clenched teeth.  

“You don’t get it and you never have.”  

His voice was quiet, back to that steel that sent a chill down your spine.  

“Everywhere you go, I look out for you. Everywhere you are, I am responsible for you. It’s been nine fucking years, Sixteen, and you are everywhere I go.” 

Your vision tunnelled, stomach fell to your feet. You had to look away and hated yourself for it. You never flinched. You never backed down. You were never the first to retreat. Except for him. You couldn’t bear to look in his eyes, to see what loathing and disdain they held for you. Your embarrassment was on your cheeks already and pricking in your eyes.  

Then his nose nudged yours and he took more steps forward. He pushed you slowly against the wall and you cursed yourself for retreating to it. 

“You are in my life and in my bedroom and in my fucking head,” he whispered. “All the time. All the fucking time. And I haven’t been able to do shit about it because you are my job. You are mine to protect. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I would burn this place to the ground for you. I would scorch the earth. I would drain the sea. For you. Don’t you get it? When it comes to you, I’m a fucking liability.”  

You risked it. A glance. Lifted your eyes for less than a second but you had to do it again. Had to stop there, be sure you were really seeing what you thought you were.  

Soft, round, liquid eyes. An openness in his face that he hadn’t let you into before. His mouth was still a grim line, turned down at the corners so slightly, had it been anyone but you, it would have gone unnoticed.  

“Mouse...”  

You tried to whisper but could barely manage that, his name creeping out on a hoarse gasp.  

He moved his face closer to yours, lips almost touching.  

“Don’t you get it?” he repeated.  

You got it. Because everything he said was true for you, too. You’d started out as a liability, for sure, but you had continued to be one because Minho was your north star. Not Chan. Not the group. Not whatever sense of purpose you might have derived from the life you had cobbled together. If he said jump, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You would jump. You’d been following him since day one and, then, it might have been desperation, a lack of options. Now... well, there was still desperation: a desperate need for him, a desperate desire to be wanted by him, kissed by him, touched by him. You had other options. Options you would never take, not as long as he existed. You would stop existing before you ever thought of leaving him.  

You nodded, feeling more like a foolish, vulnerable 16-year-old than you had when you were foolish and vulnerable and 16.  

He sighed, breath sweet with the pudding he could never resist, and you were closing your eyes, tilting your chin up, expecting him to give in.  

He turned away. You watched him, mouth agape in disbelief, as he pushed his hands through his hair.  

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” you screamed, bringing your hands down on his back in something that was half-shove, half-slap.  

He had whipped around before you could lower your arms and you found your wrists caught in his hands.  

“You don’t fucking stop, do you?” he hissed.  

“Why would I stop?! I don’t want to stop, Minho! And nor do you! You can’t say you don’t! Because I KNOW. I KNOW you want it. I know you want me. And I’m fucking throwing myself at you. Take me! TAKE ME!” 

His eyes were hard and dark. His fingers pushed so tightly into your wrists that you could feel your pulse against them. He was breathing heavily, nostrils flaring but lips shut tight, pressed together in a thin line.  

“Take. Me,” you repeated, level and firm, not sure if he would, but sure that, if he didn’t, things would never be the same again.  

You couldn’t do this a fourth time. Couldn’t put yourself in his hands, have him take you, and then... Not. And then stop. And then act as if you didn’t exist. That thread between you, tied up in your heartstrings, was taut, stretched, at its limit. And so were you. 

The pause was painful. Excruciatingly long. Adrenalin coursed through you, making you hot, making you shake, making your heart beat so hard against your ribs you thought they might break. Thought your heart might break. Hadn’t been willing to admit how fragile it was but it felt like venetian glass now. You could already feel the cracks forming, the web extending, the shards- 

He kissed you. Pulled you roughly towards him by your wrists and kissed you. Put his hands on your hips, then slid them under your top, and still kissed you. He was kissing you. It took a few seconds to slip back into your body, to feel it, the soft petal of his lips against yours, the sharp bite of his teeth, the wet warmth of his tongue. You forgot your shattering heart and grabbed his T-shirt, using it to pull him closer, to drag him into your shared bedroom. 

Not that he needed dragging. You stumbled over each other’s feet as you tried to kiss and walk and grope all at once. You tumbled backwards onto his bed and took the brief separation as an opportunity to lose your top, to unclasp your bra. Your hands were in the waistband of your joggers when Minho climbed over you, topless now too, breathless as he mirrored your actions, pushing his trousers and his boxers over his hips. He huffed a frustrated sigh as you giggled, as he stood back up to take them all the way off, to kick them off his ankles and take yours away, too.  

He didn’t give you time for admiration, for appraisal. He lay his body over you and his lips pressed against yours, quickly, firmly, before trailing them across your jaw and down your neck. He was every bit as vicious as you thought he would be, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin, sinking into your soft flesh. You wanted him to mark you, wanted the proof of it to last. You scraped your nails down his back and he hissed when you broke the skin. Hissed but didn’t complain. Hissed and moved his mouth lower, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sinking his teeth into that, too.  

When you tugged on his hair, he pulled off, looked at you, his face an open question. You shook your head. 

“It’s fine,” you panted. “I like it. I just want to pull your hair.” 

He laughed and clamped his teeth over your breast again, harder this time, so you keened and your back arched into him. You twisted his roots in your fist and he moaned, eyes flicking up to yours as he kissed across the valley of your chest.  

“Do that again.” 

“Fuck,” you gasped, tipping your head back, doing as he had asked and tugging hard.  

The ache you felt for him had ballooned inside you, taken up all your hollow spaces. There was your flushed skin and your fluttering heart, your rushing blood and your deep, persistent ache for Minho. Nothing more. Nothing less.  

“Mouse,” you whispered, voice tight with desire. “Touch me, please.”  

You never asked. You didn’t beg. If you liked a guy, you let them do what they wanted with you, and if you didn’t, you took what you wanted. It was always one-sided.  

But this wasn’t. It was Minho. It was the fathomless depth in his eyes as he lay his mouth all over you. It was the slip of his fingers through your soaked folds as he sucked sweet bruises against your neck. It was the sound of a moan caught in his throat when you wrapped your fingers around his hard, leaking length. It was mutual. It was reciprocated.  

It was burning you up, hotter and sweeter than you’d ever felt before. His fingers sinking into your core made you shudder with delight. The twitch in his cock as you brushed your thumb over his head made your mouth water. The sound of his mumbled sweet nothings pressed against your skin, whispered in your ear, licked straight into your mouth, made you dizzy.  

“So soft,” he said. “So wet... Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful... I’ve wanted this for so long... Wanted you...”  

He used your name, your real one, the one he didn’t learn (didn’t ask for) for months after you met. You returned the favour, ‘Minho’ tripping from your lips, until he shook his head. 

“Mouse,” he murmured, mouth still pressed against yours. “‘Mouse’ is yours.”  

“Mouse,” you echoed and he nodded before kissing you so that you could say nothing at all. 

* 

You barely spoke, couldn’t catch your breath enough to form the words, couldn’t engage your faculties to find any to say. Minho spoke, though, more than you had ever heard him speak: praise and exclamation and remembrance and, yes, even admonition, but it was all so sweet, syrupy, dripping from his tongue like honey. You’d never heard him speak like this before, never had him melt in your hands or in your mouth, never felt him as easy and pliable as this.  

It wasn’t just his body. It wasn’t just the perfect smoothness of his warm, soft skin. It wasn’t just the stretch, the fullness, he made inside you, the insistent rhythm of his hips thrusting his cock tightly into your slick, waiting warmth. It wasn’t just his wet, sugary mouth, at your lips, at your jaw, at your clavicle. It wasn’t just all these things he was doing to you, all the things you were doing to him. 

It was his open eyes, round and shining and fluttering closed as your walls clenched around him. It was the tenderness in them, the depth he was letting you see, for more than just seconds at a time. It was the gentle tracing of your face with his fingers, even as he fucked into you, even as his teeth drew blood beneath your skin. It was Minho, the entirety of him. Yours. Finally yours. Finally giving in to you, giving himself to you.  

You got it. You had said you did and you had, but now, beneath him in his bed as he loved you, you actually understood the magnitude of it. His feelings for you. Yours for him. Held back behind a dam for so many years and now, the dam had broken. Now came the deluge that would flood the world, could drown everyone in it.  

To hell with them, you thought. To hell with anyone else. You found what you needed almost a decade ago. He found you. You found each other, somehow, by some miracle.  

When the pleasure swelled up in your core, toes curling, back breaking, you cried out with all the breath you had in your lungs, felt tears sting in your eyes, and the following inhale wobbled and shook. Minho paused, pressed his forehead against yours, kissed you lightly, didn’t have to ask the question out loud.  

You nodded and kissed him again, then again, each time hungrier than the last. You didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to feel anything but this, but him. He moved slower now, though, hips rolling smoothly, lips not leaving yours, even when he spoke, even when he murmured how fucking good you felt, how much better than he’d imagined, how hard he was trying not to come, how he didn’t want this to end.  

You couldn’t take it. Thought you really would cry, thought you would collapse entirely under his weight, under the weight of everything you’d been carrying around, all these feelings: all this love and fear and frustration. He pushed you to the edge again without even trying, your red thread thoroughly tangled, inseparable now, and pulling a greater ecstasy from you than you had ever known.  

He couldn’t hold out either, his final, sharp thrusts filling you with his sticky release. You held him there, as close as he could be. He kissed you, so light it was barely there, his fingers grazing your face as he pushed the hair from your brow. 

“Mouse,” you choked, tears threatening your waterline.  

He kissed you again, that little butterfly kiss; you’d never seen him be this gentle.  

“Sixteen,” he whispered and, for possibly the first time, it didn’t sound like disdain, didn’t come accompanied by a smirk or an eye-roll; it was hushed and secret and just for you.  

As it had always been.  

* 

You lay on his chest, bodies pressed together in the small, single bed, as they would have been even if the bed were bigger.  

“I want some water,” he said, lips against your forehead before he manoeuvred himself out from underneath you. “Want a drink?” 

You nodded and he smiled down at you as he fetched clean underwear and pulled a T-shirt over his head.  

You watched him go, watched him open the door, and then heard the sound of party poppers, whoops, and applause.  

The apartment was empty. Had been empty when you entered your bedroom. In the midst of everything, you had failed to notice the gang return home. They had not failed to notice you and Minho.  

“Fucking finally!”  

“You mean, they finally fucked?” 

Laughter resounded from the living room. Minho turned around, closed the door, and climbed back into bed without a word. 

[doremimosasol]

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆

warnings: suggestive? honestly not really, nothing much tbh

word count: 3,6 k

summary: you being the only good chess player (you thought), could it be that you found a shared interest with Tom Riddle?

@thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge prompt 3

Tom loved wizarding chess, it was the thing that he was best in. Yet he hasn't found anyone yet who was enough of a challenge for him to compete with. He wasn't just good, he was just absolutely phenomenal at chess. He gave up on finding a match for himself, playing against nothingness, preparing moves for god knows whom.

That was until he saw you, you were practicing in the courtyard. Your feet were pulled under your legs, sitting cross-legged while focused on your game. There was a slight frown on your face, lost in concentration to beat the air. There was a way to enchant an opponent, but for the best, those weren't even good enough to win. It was boring not having a partner to play with, but it was the best you've got right now.

He leaned against a pillar close to you and observed your game. You were good, but were you good enough to beat him? He knew it was sort of an advantage, watching you play for a while before he'd ask you to play against him. But no one said Tom was a fair guy, he'd do anything to win. He'd never recover from a loss in wizarding chess, the game he was supposed to be best at. The game that was supposed to be his talent to always win in.

But you seemed good too. You knew great opening moves, you checkmated the fake opponent in 5 moves sometimes. You knew a lot, things he didn't even know others knew about. Moves he thought only he knew about. Even openings he thought he came up with himself. It seemed as if you knew the game through at through, he had never met anyone like you. You were different, fascinating, yet so different than the rest.

It was extremely enchanting to watch you play, to watch you win every single time. You, you were the person he'd been looking for, for months now, for years even.

Wizarding chess didn't start for him when he started attending Hogwarts. He didn't even know it was a thing before. He found a way to enchant the pieces himself back when he lived in the orphanage, the great wizard he was back then already. He crafted stuff he found around the home into pieces to use during his games.

He endlessly played, going again and again. It was his favorite thing to do, besides cursing other students at the orphanage. It wasn't on purpose, his anger sometimes just got the best of him. Before he knew it some of his classmates fell down the stairs. Was it his fault? No, because he didn't know how to control it. Did he enjoy it though? Probably yes.

He watched you sigh as you won another game once again, seemingly bored by the lack of competition. That's when you started talking, his heart almost dropped. "You know, you can also play with me instead of watching me from a distance. I can see you're studying the way I play, don't you think that's a bit unfair?"

He almost looked shocked. You couldn't have possibly seen him standing there? You didn't even look up once to be able to notice him, yet you did. "To answer your question, you aren't subtle." That's when you looked up at him, and that's when he first saw your face clearly.

You were beautiful to him, the only thing that bothered him was the yellow tie you were wearing. A Hufflepuff? That couldn't be possible, right? To him, there was no possibility of intelligence in any other house than Slytherin. Someone needs to tell this man that his house isn't superior. It caught him slightly off guard before he decided to speak up.

"Play with me." He got straight to the point. He saw you as a challenge and he wanted to test you, see if he could beat you. Of course, he could, he was sure of it. Always so goddamn sure of himself.

You laughed at the way he was so insistent. "Fine." You got up and made the board disappear with a flick of your wand. "Tomorrow evening in the great hall." You smiled softly and walked off into the castle.

He was intrigued. He often saw you walking in the hallway, you had a lot of friends. It seemed like people adored you. He always connected having a lot of friends with being unintelligent but now he was rethinking those prejudices. He even was thinking of giving you the first chance to become friends with him. He'd view it as an honor, getting to be friends with him. God, he was so full of himself. He should feel honored himself to be friends with you. Everyone wanted to be friends with you.

The next day, you sat in the great hall, setting up the pieces as you waited for him. The hall was dimly lit by the floating candles hanging over the tables.

When he came in, he noticed you sitting at the Hufflepuff table. It didn't feel right to him to not sit by the Slytherin table but he put his pride aside and decided not to annoy you by asking to switch places. But he was thinking about it the whole evening, hoping no one would walk in on it. Every other Slytherin could care less, they sat at other tables all the time.

He sat down in front of you and you immediately lifted your head to look him in the eyes, a small smile forming when you noticed him. Why were you always smiling? It was so weird to him, you didn't even have a reason to smile. But you never needed one.

"Are you ready for me to beat your ass?" You raised your brows and he scoffed mockingly.

"I bet you've mistaken me with someone else because I never lose." He had such a competitive glint in his eyes, you've never seen anyone this serious about chess.

You chuckled at his confidence. Oh how disappointed he'll be, poor Tom. "We'll see..."

You were white, which allowed you to make the first move. It wasn't always an advantage but you were always white, it had never been different. Good thing Tom always played black. It was like both of you were made to play against each other.

"Pawn to e4." And the game was on.

It took you probably less than 20 minutes to checkmate him. Easy... He was probably too confident, thinking he could easily win. His confidence played into his disadvantage.

The second game, won after 40 minutes. He was already fuming by now. You saw the determination in his eyes, he couldn't lose again. He must win. At least once.

The fourth time, won again. It was a longer game, it took up to an hour. But you did it once again without any flaws. Oh, but he was so mad by now. His knuckles turned white by the way he was clenching his hands into fists.

"Filthy cheater, we go again!"

Could it be that the Tom Riddle was a sore loser?

"What is it? Can't stand that I'm easily winning? When will you give up Tom?" You were so enjoying getting him all worked up, it was quite the sight.

"I'll play again on one condition. The loser grants the winner a wish this time. What do you say? Are you in?" You extended your hand for him to shake, you loved making deals like this. It's because you always won, and that way always were granted a wish.

"Deal."

"You're going to regret this, y/n." You so wished you could wipe that smirk off of his face. You were going to win.

Oh, but how so wrong you were...

After 50 minutes, of a heavy and hard game, you lost for the first time ever in your entire life. It felt awful, especially since now you had to grant him a wish. You didn’t show it though, too prideful to give him this kind of satisfaction.

"Won. Guess you'll grant me my wish." He raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, he analyzed your reactions and was satisfied to see an annoyed look on your face.

"What is your wish? Want me to announce to the whole school that you won, because I'll do just that." You were expecting that to be his wish so you already stood up to do it.

"Sit back down, it's something different."

Something different? What exactly could he want from you to do?

"Go on a date with me. Tomorrow night in the Room of Requirement." He sounded so confident, so determined to take you on that date.

A date?! Why in the world would he want to take you on a date? It almost sounded ridiculous to your ears. You never spoke before now, he didn't even know you. Why in the hell would he ever want to take you on a date?

"A date? Like… you and me?" He must have seen the confusion on your face, it was as obvious as the red color painting your face. You were blushing, unwillingly, but oh you were blushing hard.

"Well, I mean unless you have another definition for a date. Yes, you and me, tomorrow night. You can't say no, we made a deal."

And so you got yourself a date with Tom Riddle, you've never ever been on a date before. It'd be nerve-wracking enough with someone you knew well, but you didn't know Tom all too well. You felt like dying from the stress.

Was it even like a serious real date? You didn't even know what to wear, you lay out almost your whole closet on your bed but weren't satisfied with anything.

You even had to get your best friend to your room to help you out. Eventually, she chose a short black dress for you, it wasn't too short, classy and elegant even.

While you were almost eating your nails, you didn't know Tom was freaking out himself. Unlike you, Tom didn't have anyone to get advice from. It was all by himself, and not being experienced in these kinds of things, he was nervous. You wouldn't expect the calmth himself to be nervous, but he was quite literally freaking out.

He prepared everything since noon, he wanted it to be perfect. But also he started to think if it was too much? Or was it too little? The evening couldn't come soon enough or he'd have walked around the Room of Requirement twenty times.

You've never been to the Room of Requirement before, you've heard of it though. It'd show up when you most needed it but you didn't even feel like you needed anything at the moment. You just hoped it'd miraculously show up as you were walking through the corridors. That's when you heard a strange sound, it made you look up at the wall next to you. A large door appeared, guess this was it.

When you entered the room you were immediately greeted by the smell of freshly made food and a faint smell of roses. It's a smell you've always loved.

"Y/n, you came." He was wearing an all-black suit. God, he looked hot. Why haven't you noticed that yet about him? You were stunned, nailed to the ground. Your eyes on him that way put a smirk on his face, you were too easy.

It was different than you imagined, the way people described the room. It was often described as a large place with piles of stuff and goods but this place was clean not all too big and almost felt like a place to live. It was an open room with a book nook, a bedroom, a kitchen, a fireplace with a large couch, and a dinner table in the middle of it. It seemed to match his personality quite well.

Large iron snakes decorated the walls and the roof was painted with constellations. The room was mostly green, but not an unpleasant kind of green, a warm cozy green. It was pretty and the more you looked around, the better view you got of his personality. It's as if this room was painted to show what he was like.

It was obvious he loved silver. All the decorations were silver: the small snake details, the cutlery, and even the rings he was wearing. That's when you noticed his hands. Even during chess, you didn't pay them much mind but now you did...

His fingers wore several silver rings, some fingers covered by more than one. It was surprisingly attractive in a way, you almost felt wrong for staring at him that way but you couldn't help it.

He decided not to say anything about it but just let it slide. It'd be something he could tease you about later this evening, he just needed to find the right opportunity.

"You look beautiful." His eyes roamed your body like it was a piece of art, a piece of art he wished only he'd be able to admire. It wasn’t a creepy kind of look, you felt pretty under his gaze. He suddenly felt this weird feeling of possessiveness, something weird.

"Thank you, you look handsome yourself." That smile that painted your face again, was something he'd never get enough of. Something he wanted to get to see every day and together with that red blush on your cheeks. He felt powerful to make you feel so flustered. You weren't flustered quite often, however, he was someone who finally succeeded in doing so.

"Sit down, I'll bring the food."

The table was covered in red roses, thorns still attached. It was beautiful honestly, simple but stunning. The cutlery was engraved with roses too and a snake circling it. It was obvious that he was proud of his family history.

During dinner, you both talked about yourselves, explaining how you acquired the talent in chess. It was something your grandfather had taught you. He took care of you quite often while your parents were at work.

"They were great aurors, but not so great parents. I can't blame them honestly, I know they have a duty. I just sometimes wished they spent a bit more time with me. But it's honestly fine, my grandfather was a great man."

He always wished to have that kind of bond with a family member, it's something that always had been absent in his life. A void he so desperately wished to fill.

You motioned to the roses on the table. "They're pretty, but the school grounds don't grow roses... Where did you get them?"

He gives you that mischievous smile. "It's my secret."

It was a nice evening, the food was good and he was so much nicer than you expected. He was like a totally different person than when he was losing in chess.

A week passed and you hadn't heard from him since. You didn't dare to speak to him, scared he might not want to talk to you. Guess this was it, it was a nice evening but probably only a one-time thing. Maybe this is what he did with all the girls, getting a taste of their personality and going on to the next. You didn't view him like that at all but your view on guys wasn't all too great, so what else were you supposed to think?

It was until one night when you entered your dorm, a rose lay in front of your door. The thorns were removed and a small envelope was attached to it. You entered your room and sat down on your bed to open it.

"Meet me at the front gate just before dawn. - TR ps. check the envelope"

Check the envelope? It didn't feel like there was something else in there but decided to check...

A ring.

A silver ring, one of the rings he was wearing last week. It was the one that stood out the most, a green emerald covering the middle. It was a thick ring but it was so magnificent, you were drawn by the beauty of it. It must've cost such a great fortune. Why would he gift you this?

Just when you were about to put the envelope away, something else fell out: a thin silver chain. Did he want you to wear it as a necklace?

You decided to attach it to the thin chain and put it around your neck before getting ready to leave for the front gate. You didn't see the need to get all dressed up like last time, just something to keep yourself warm in this cold weather.

Approaching the large gate, he was already standing there. He was leaning against it, his eyes searching for something... "Come here." He motioned for you to come closer. There was something else in his eyes today, something mysterious but not scary. Just mysterious.

He traced your jaw and moved his fingers down your neck until he felt the cold touch of jewelry. He took it from underneath your shirt and lay it over your sweater. "Don't hide it, wear it with pride."

Without letting you answer he entered the courtyard, expecting you to follow him. "To answer your question..." You didn't even ask one, however, you'd like to know why he gave it to you.

He entered the school grounds, pausing his words before continuing. "I thought you would've liked it more around your neck than around my fingers. But I bet you didn't really mind staring at them, did you?" He caught you.

He looked at you with a smirk, enjoying seeing you flustered once again. "I wanted to show you something, I just needed to find the right day. Tonight seemed perfect."

He stopped for you to catch up with him and once you did, he took your hand in his. "You seem nervous, princess?" The cold of his rings touching your hand caught you off guard before deciding to answer. "Maybe I am."

"You shouldn't be." It was all he said before he stopped in front of a large rock, casting a spell on it before it revealed a large meadow.

"I know you're surprised, but we have to get in fast before it closes again." Once you both stepped inside, you noticed the meadow was covered by a bed of red roses.

This must be the place where he got all the roses... He moved behind you, his chest pressing against your back before he moved his hand around your neck to the front. He slowly moved it up to your chin, making you look up to the sky. "Look up, y/n."

Above you were the same constellations painted on the roof in his Room of Requirement. It was an exact copy of this place here, he made it exactly alike.

His fingers now moved back to your neck, taking the hair in front with him to give him access to your neck. You sensed him moving his lips closer to your ear, slightly touching the shell with his lips. "Do you like it? You're the first person to know."

Your breath caught in your throat once his lips touched your neck, he slowly moved lower. "Mhmm?" That's when he stuck out his tongue slightly to get a taste of your neck. "Answer me, y/n."

"Yes, I do... I do like it."

"Mhmm, good." He slowly started sucking on your neck, biting it every few seconds before turning you around to make you face him. His hand moved to the piece of hair covering your face, moving it behind your ear.

You couldn't help but take a glance at his lips, he was being extremely tempting right now. A sudden urge pulled you closer to him, you wanted to be closer to him. His gaze averted to your lips too, both of you almost touching now but not quite yet.

"Kiss me."

And that's exactly what you did, there was no shame in your actions, you weren't ashamed of how you were truly feeling. It felt right and natural...

He pushed his fingers through your hair and grabbed it softly, earning a soft moan from you as a result. Exactly what he wanted. He wasted no time to push his tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like it were a map. He needed to have tasted every part, twice to remember it.

The kiss became more intense as you both pressed against each other. Your bodies were pressed up against each other so tightly it was as if you were one entity. Your kisses were filled with heat, each kiss made his heart skip a beat. Your lips were so soft and your kisses were so passionate. It was almost as if your lips were made to please each other.

His hand moved away slightly to take his wand and with a flick, all roses grown in the ground immediately got rid of their thorns. Without a warning he picked you up and lay you down with him, his body on top of yours.

He pulled away to admire the sight of you lying on the bed of roses, your hair was spread all over the ground and he almost couldn't contain himself. He moved closer to whisper in your ear once again. "This is quite the sight but I’d much rather enjoy it without clothes..."

[lehguru]

Would you mind making a JJK version of older users insecure about others judging their relationship with a younger partner? 🙏🏽

THINK YOU NEED SOMEONE YOUNGER + JUJUTSU KAISEN

jujutsu kaisen men feeling insecure about having a younger partner ft. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento

info + tw: tbh this theme for one piece was my nightmare, i cant write anything for shanks cuz i feel exactly like that one meme from Akira lol. tw age gap (reader is significantly younger than them, but over 20) so mdni pls — ko-fi

gojo satoru didn't really care about anything others said when it came to your relationship. all that mattered to him was your opinion of the relationship; but, often, he would wonder why you chose to date him.

one day, while you both were chilling in your shared apartment, you noticed gojo looking at you a lot more than normal. he just stared at you, his cheek resting against his palm; his eyes still held the absolute adoration he have for you, but you could sense something was bothering him. putting your phone to the side, you snuggled against him, one of his arms coming to hug your shoulder. "are you okay, satoru? is something bothering you?" he nodded and sighed.

"you are gorgeous, you know that?" you rolled your eyes at his sappy behavior, but he continued. "'m serious! you can be with anyone you want. was just wonderin' why you are with a guy like me, when you could be with, i don't know, someone younger or something." you giggled and shook your head. before he could say anything, you murmured: "i've never met someone 'younger' that was hot and handsome like you. plus, you're rich." he gasped dramatically and you laughed loudly, "i love you, my old man." he smiled and hugged you tightly, his lips pressing a kiss on top of your head.

geto suguru, just like gojo, doesn't care at all about the age gap between you two. even if you two are at somewhat different moments of your life, he is glad to be the one you chose to be next to you through the good and the bad moments. whenever people give you two a glance that last too long or whisper about you, one cold look from him is enough to make them cower away.

one day, the comments ended up getting to you. you knocked on the door of his office and you heard a soft 'come in'. his soft smile dropped as soon as he saw your expression; "is everything okay?" he murmured, motioning for you to come closer. you sat on his lap, your head buried on his neck, and he hugged your waist. with his scent making you feel better, you murmured: "someone called me a gold digger today."

you heard geto click his tongue, his arms tightening around you. "they are simply idiots. pay them no mind, alright?" he pulled away enough to hold your chin and make you look into his purple eyes. "i adore you. i adore to pamper you. that should be enough. ignore them, angel." you pressed a kiss on his soft lips, making him chuckle. his words were always enough to calm you down and you had no idea how he does it, he just do.

nanami kento often thought about your age gap, but it wasn't exactly because of the age itself. he had a plan for his life; he was going to work and save enough money to hit his 50's and move to malaysia. that's it. but... now that you're in the picture, he doesn't know if that could happen.

he didn't want you to lose the best years of your youth with him. or lose those years at a secluded place with only him to spend the rest of your life with. he didn't want you to regret your love for him. "are you okay, kento?" you asked, hugging him from behind and placing a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. he nodded, his thoughts now floating away. "yes, love." he turned off the stove, the breakfast he was preparing for you made the kitchen smell divine.

"why are you up this early?" nanami turned around and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his palm resting on your cheek. "well..." he started to feel your face heat up under his touch. "i was looking at some plane tickets. to malaysia. i know, i know, they are expensive. i just thought it would be good to see where we will live, you know? maybe look at a place near the beach?" and just like that. all his worries melted away. he smiled, a soft and small smile that you adored with all your heart, and murmured. "it sounds good."

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, do not repost, translate or feed it into ai without permission

[cokou]

ahh congrats on 100 followers!! and i didn't know if you wrote child reader but like ive been thinking about this for a hot minute now- child reader who just lost one of their teeth and still believes in the toothfairy puttint the tooth under the pillow at night it could be with anyone :'D

Tooth Fairy 歯の妖精

Multi Character Fic マルチキャラクター小説

event. 100 followers event! Requests all open till 17th of July 2024. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sum. child reader who lost one of their teeth and still believes in the tooth fairy! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. SFW! No warnings tbh. Child Reader is about the age of 7! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. THANK YOU SO MUCH ANONY!! Since you didn't mention any characters at all, i just hope i chose which character you adore in this post! :C If not, im so sorry! Thank you for the request! // Do not translate or transfer my works, this is my only account. Will not be crossposted anywhere. // Masterlist♡

E.Kidd

It was night time again, Kidd was sat on a chair between sets of rooms. He finally finished the weapon he was making up on his workshop, which means he gets to sleep early and good tonight. As he was drifting off to sleep, he heard a faint noise coming from your room.

For a second he heard a loud cry that was replaced by a loud shriek echoing against the thin walls of the room. He ignored the noise, thinking that (Name) was only playing around with their toy and it got stuck onto something. But as farther he ignored it, it was replaced by loud laughter with hints of crying.

He bothered to finally check out what that little chipmunk was doing right now. Standing up in front of your room, he was about to reach the doorknob. His body jolted as you kick the door open with a wide smile.

He looks at you, feeling that something was unusual with your appearance.

"What the hell is unusual with you today? You look different than usual."

"Look! Look! I lost a tooth!" You said excitingly, wiping away your tear stained eyes as you show your palm to him carrying your lost tooth. You grinned widely that your teeth displayed incompleteness in them.

"So that's what's different huh? Why are you so damn happy with losing a tooth?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Because! If I put this under my pillow tonight," You lean over at his ears as he kneels. "The tooth fairy will visit me!" you whisper at him.

A part of him thought to just break whatever you believe in and just say 'they're not real at all'. But how could he? (Name) was the cutest child ever!

"Ah, so that's what this is, it's pretty stupid you know that?"

"No it's not stew-pid! I'm gonna get a penny!" You danced around in happiness as you show off your teeth excitingly.

"Yeah okay sure, whatever. Go to sleep, it's almost past your bedtime." He turns you around, pushing you on the way to bed as he tucks you in.

"Okay— and if you don't like right now, you're not getting that freaking penny from that tooth fairy thing." He pats your head as you nod at him, finally shutting the lights off for you to drift off to sleep.

—

He waits half an hour to make sure you're sleeping, sneaking into your room. He inserts his hands under your pillow to find the stupid tooth that tucked on it. After feeling under pillow for a minute and a half and almost losing his mind, he finally finds it. He replaces the tooth with cents enough to make a whole penny.

Bonus+ He almost fell asleep waiting for the half an hour mark. And he never did this ever again making you think that the tooth fairy didn't like your missing tooths, making you sad.

T. Law

Yes, you woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him your tooth was almost falling off your gums. He told you to shrug it off and go to sleep, saying that it will fall on it's own when it needs to. You couldn't sleep after he sent you back to your room, waiting impatiently in front if the mirror.

Law suspected that you went back to sleep, checking you up on your room, he dound the gleeming of light outside the door. He entered the room and saw you sitting on a small vanity, showing off your teeth in the mirror.

"(Name)-Ya, your teeth won't come off if you stare at it like that.." He held your shoulders, slightly tapping it as he looks at you.

"But i wanna see the tooth fairy.." you look at him frowning.

"Tooth Fairy? Why do you think that?"

"Because, i saw a movie and it had a tooth fairy in it! They were small, and..and they're very cute!"

" Well i assure you if you wait by the morning your tooth will come off." He points your chin up and slightly tickles you, earning a small exhausted giggle from you.

You jump on your bed and tucked yourself sleep as Law turned off the lights and exited your room.

—

You excitedly woke up from the sleep and immediately rushing into the small vanity, your tooth had come off! You rushed into Law's bedroom at hopped on the bed, jumping on it happily.

"Wake up!" You continued jumping on his bed. Law wakes up and rubs the sleepiness of his eyes.

"(Name)-Ya... it's quite too early..." He sits up, grabbing your small legs and setting you down to sit on his matress. He looks at you curiously as you glow with happiness that he'd never seen directly from you.

"Look! Look!" You open your palms and there lies your tooth between. "It came off!" Your face had the widest grin on them that Law swore you looked like a ' >:D'.

"Hmm..why are we happy that you lost your tooth again?"

"TOOTH FAIRY!!" You pounce your whole weight at him and giving him a big, big hug. He reciprocates and congratulated you as the 'tooth fairy' would visit you.

Bonus+ He forgot to insert a coin under your pillow in exchange for your teeth and you ended up crying on his arms and claiming that all the stupid tooth fairy stuff was fake and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty as he hid his laughter.

N. Robin & Nami

"Tooth fairy? Psh, that's stupid. They're not real." He scoffed at your remarks of claiming about the tooth fairy.

"But i saw it in a movie!" You two exchanged words as she claimed that no such things as tooth fairies were real and that they were just fantasies made up by a bunch of idiots, Robin had to step in with the fight and pulling you two back from exchanging words.

"Look Robin-nii..she said tooth fairies aren't real!" You point at Nami who was getting irritated.

"Because they aren't!" Nami was practically stomping her feet into the ground as you two fought.

"Come on now (Name), tooth fairies are indeed real." Robin kneels to look at you on the eyes and smiles at you, making you smile back at her words as well. She slowly licts you up with her flower-flower fruit, careying you within her reach and taking you into her arms. She places you besides her chair as she takes out her book.

"By the way Robin-nii, i lost a tooth today!" You seing your short legs into the chair as rhey did not reach the floor, Robin looks at you, smiling.

"Congratulations (Name), you really are growing fast." She rubs your back, her smile gleeming at you, making you grin widely at her kindness. She indeed notices the missing tooth that you were talking about.

"Do you think the tooth fairy will get my teeth?" You frown at her. "No way! Because they're not at all real!" Nami butts in again and crosses her arm while scoffing.

"No! They're real!" You fight back in response to Nami as she claims that the fairy wasn't real again. Robin chimes between you two, again. Fully assuring you that tooth fairies are indeed real. She whispere at Nami to just play the act to make sure you don't throw tantrums all over again and disturbing anyone.

Robin returns to you and hands you over a penny, congratulating you and telling you that you'll get lots of more when the fairy visits you tonight!

Bonus+ Nami tried convincing Robin that it was a waste to give you 2 pennies in exchange for a tooth, she loudly exclaims that tooth fairies aren't even real and she shouldn't even lie about it and make your hopes up. Unfortunately, Robin disobeys Nami's scolding and places 2 pennies under your pillow.

+ She was suprised to hear you cry to her in the morning saying that the fairy took the toorh but didn't leave any pennies under the pillow as Robin looked at Nami frowning. Robin talked to Nami afterwards.

P. Ace

As soon as you told him that your tooth was loose, he sat you up on a chair, picked up a piece of thread, and tied it around your loose tooth and tied the other end into the door. He convinced you that the tooth fairy was indeed real and you believed that it would give you 50 berries in exchange for your tooth.

So, he calmed you down and held the door. He opens the door, enough for the thread to stretch and closing it hard. You shrieked in pain as the technique didn't work, instead, the thread had broken up into two pieces of strings.

He convinced you that he had another great idea and it would work this time. He tied the thread into a nerf bullet and loaded it into a neef gun,

"3..2..1.." He shoots the nerf gun and nothing happened, you look at him with your mouth open to showcase the loose tooth. Just as you faced him, he grabbed the thread and pulled it off your gums, making you yell and cry at the sudden pain. He brings you into the bathroom and made you wash off the blood off your gums.

"And now the tooth fairy will come exchange you some 50 berries!" He smiled at you and patted your head, you believed him and his stupid antics that if you went to bed at night, that the tooth fairy would come and collect your tooth. You impatiently wait for the night to come, brushing your teeth and had Ace bring you to bed.

"Okay so, sleep now, if you wake up you'll see 50 berries under your pillow!" He pats your forehead and turning off your bedside lamp.

"But what if they don't get my teeth?"

"Nahhh, they will of course. They love teeth! Especially yours you know!" He caresses your cheeks and says goodnight to you as he left your room, leaving you to dridt off to sleep.

Bonus+ you couldn't sleep all night because you were overthinking about the tooth fairy, so when Ace sneaked into your bedroom to replace your tooth, you pretended that you were asleep. The next day you kept it a secret from him and acted giggly and happy.

+ He borrowed the 50 berries from Marco.

©Cokou 2024, all works belongs to me.

[pianocat939]

hearing you out on the yan pavitr

YES PLEASE- ok I'm gonna start out this new thing where I separate things for romantic + platonic so people can scroll to different sections. (I'm such a good business person- /j)

I will copy and paste some of the headcanons because they apply both ways. So don't bother reading both unless if you want to because for the most part they're the same (with some light editing)

Tw: hardly any tbh-, delusional softie, uh- and breaking in

Yandere Pavitr Prabhakar

Type: Delusional + Clingy (This is really fucking obv ngl)

Romantic

Listen- He literally gives off so much delusional that I can't even tell you why he's delusional because it's literally written all over him omg. Now, the thing he is delusional about is you love him back. It's not in a malicious way; he genuinely thinks you love him.

He's not in any sort of way problematic or concerning with his actions/intentions. He'll be all caring and constantly giving you support. He's the type of guy who wakes up at five in the morning to go buy you a bouquet of flowers to greet you with when you get up.

If you try to push him away or express that you don't love him he just believes you're a troubled person and need more support in your life. Which means more affection from him. He is your therapist. He will be whether you like it or not because he is a softie and will continue to be a softie.

The only time I can see him getting the slightest bit aggressive is if he gets jealous. I'm not entirely sure yet because we haven't seen too much of any trauma or negative backstory to him (Uncle Ben's death canon event doesn't fucking count). I think he's about a medium level when it comes to how easily he gets jealous. Even then I don't think he would outwardly hurt anyone unless they've overstepped a boundary of his. He'll give them a slight threat or tie them up in webs for a while.

Now if anyone hurts you? Bro is going crazy- he will do everything to make the person surrender or maybe even die (if they've caused him enough anger) He'll worry so much if you get hurt. I wouldn't say he would overreact, but he definitely worries.

He is physically affectionate 100%. He will sneak in your window at night for snuggles. Imagine yourself standing at your window one night, knowing he'll come. He arrives and is about to slip inside when you frown and tell him no. He is going to give you the most heartbreaking face known to mankind.

He WILL call you embarrassing/cringe affectionate names. You can't convince me he doesn't.

"Jasmine flower! Look at the stuffie I got you!" *proceeds to hold up giant elephant stuffie*

Platonic

He literally gives off so much delusional that I can't even tell you why he's delusional because it's literally written all over him omg. Now, the thing he is delusional about is he thinks you wanna be friends with him. It's not in a malicious way; he genuinely thinks you guys are besties and constantly hang out. (tbh I feel anyone would be friends with him???)

He's not in any sort of way problematic or concerning with his actions/intentions. He'll be all caring and constantly giving you support. He's the type of guy who wakes up at five in the morning to go buy you your favourite drink or line up for a limited edition product.

If you try to push him away or express that you don't wanna be friends with him, he just believes you're a troubled person and need more support in your life. Which means more affection and suggesting hangouts or giving gifts from him. He is your therapist. He will be whether you like it or not, because he is a softie and will continue to be a softie.

The only time I can see him getting the slightest bit aggressive is if he gets jealous. I'm not entirely sure yet because we haven't seen too much of any trauma or negative backstory to him (Uncle Ben's death canon event doesn't fucking count). I think he's about a medium level when it comes to how easily he gets jealous. Even then I don't think he would outwardly hurt anyone unless they've overstepped a boundary of his. He'll give them a slight threat or tie them up in webs for a while.

Now if anyone hurts you? Bro is going crazy- he will do everything to make the person surrender or maybe even die (if they've caused him enough anger) He'll worry so much if you get hurt. I wouldn't say he would overreact, but he definitely worries.

He is a clinger 100%. He will sneak in your window at night for a hug and to talk about random things (he giggles a lot). Imagine yourself standing at your window one night, knowing he'll come. He arrives and is about to slip inside when you frown and tell him no. He is going to give you the most heartbreaking face known to mankind.

He WILL call you embarrassing/cringe affectionate names. You can't convince me he doesn't. Like Pookie Bear or just cringe names to call your best friend platonically cuz it's funny.

"My rat! Look! I have- WEBS!" *proceeds to shoot webs like it's a discovery even though he's known for six months*

——————————————————

That's all I got for now-

I still don't like Gwen.

- Celina

[kurooo-is-here]

Hear me out. Drayton and Kieran with a mute s/o?

(Tbh I feel like Drayton would think they’re just shy for the first couple of interactions until someone tells him though lol)

Okay, I'm not super knowledgable about deaf or mute folks. But here's my best shot at this ask, if I am incorrect about anything please let me know!

My interpretation of this is that reader is deaf and communicates through sign language, and they cannot speak at all.

Drayton and Kieran with a mute/deaf Reader

(Ignore the snom gif I couldn't think of anything specific to use for this lmao)

Drayton:

Yeah, he's totally clueless at first. Doesn't get why you're doing odd hand motions instead of talking, but he figures everyone has their quirks. It really bothers you that he won't acknowledge it, so you ask Lacey to tell him for you.

When Drayton hears it from Lacey, he feels really bad and is immediately apologetic. He rushes over to you and attempts to apologize, then realizes he doesn't understand sign language at all, so he stumbles on his words a lot.

Lacey facepalms watching all of this go down, so she reluctantly teaches Drayton some basic sign language so he can get his apology across to you. He's delighted to finally be able to talk to you properly-- he has a crush on you, after all.

The rest of the Elite Four soon complains that Drayton studies sign language better than he studies for any of his classes, but he is absolutely determined to make things right with you. Lacey says she's never seen him work that hard!

When he finally confesses to you, he does it right. He makes sure he corrects himself if he messes up a sign, accidentally blurts out a few words while signing-- but you can tell he really means it. It warms your heart to see him trying so hard for you, despite his initial ignorance on the subject.

Drayton notices you get bullied a lot because you're some regular student hanging out with the big leagues (the BBA Elite Four). He IMMEDIATELY shuts down anyone who has the balls to talk shit in front of you knowing you can't hear them. That kind of vile behavior will never be tolerated on his watch.

He texts you a lot. He still talks to you through sign when he sees you in person, but since he's usually busy doing League Club work (or just pretending to be busy), he texts you when he has a moment of free time. At one point you changed his contact name on your phone to "The Drayster", which made his entire WEEK. He would NOT shut up about it.

Don't let this man figure out swears and silly insults in sign language, he's gonna use them all the time now. One time Crispin asked what Drayton was laughing about and he just signed "bullshit" in response which immediately had you on the floor in tears of laughter while Crispin looked SO confused.

Kieran:

Luckily he's more perceptive and understanding than Drayton, so he picks up on your disability right away. Turns out he already knew a bit of sign language from teaching himself too.

When you ask him how he knew sign language already, he just shyly responds that he wanted to be prepared for the event that he needed to communicate with Ogerpon through it for some reason.

He teaches himself a LOT more sign language after meeting you. He really wants to go the extra mile for his new friend and possible crush so he studies and does his research diligently.

Kieran already understands if you're socially awkward, because he's full of anxiety himself. He totally gets it if you need to rely on him to be your translator at any point.

He really loves you and has no problems with your disability, even if he has to try a little harder for you. And after a while, communicating with you becomes easier, which makes you really happy!

After the events of Indigo Disk, he becomes much more protective of you. He wants to become stronger so he can protect you from anyone who tries to bully you or hurt you. His Hydrapple is gonna have a word or two with whichever idiot tries to disrespect your name in his presence.

Whenever he greets you, he tries not to catch you off guard from behind or something, since you can't exactly hear him coming. He really tries to respect your boundaries too, so if you feel uncomfortable with anything he does, he understands.

Slightly unrelated, but Kieran definitely flips people off a lot. He tries to be less pissed when he's around you, but on his own? He's saying "fuck you" to a LOT of people.

One time he tried explaining to a guy about your disability, and the guy had the nerve to do the 👉👌 sign at you as some kind of sick joke... the BBA Elite Four found that guy beaten into a bloody pulp on the ground later. Kieran was taking NO prisoners that day.

[luneariaa]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

DEEPLY INHALES

Young nanami giving words of affirmation please please please

hiii OMG this took me quite a bit to decide on how and what to do tbh,, but anyway, you and young nanamin will be in a relationship here!! (o´▽`o) 💛💛💛

he might appear as ooc here omg but anyway hoping you enjoy this dear anon!! (ᵔ◡ᵔ) 💕💕‼ also, mentions of reader having insecurities etc. totally not projecting-

idk what i wrote either :")

tagging @jadeee <33 || dividers by @/cafekitsune ! 🌻

In all honesty, you never really knew the feeling of being deeply loved by someone. You never consider yourself as worthy and deserving of such a special treatment.

That changes when you meet Kento Nanami, of course. It started when you got transferred to Jujutsu High to try improving yourself both academically and wanting to become a jujutsu sorcerer yourself; even when your mother was against it at first, but eventually supporting your decisions.

You don't know how, but it has gotten you two in a very special relationship as right now too.

Nanami surely may appear as a man of a few words, yet he still makes a clear effort for you. He would always, and always, try his best to be there for you. It's one of his traits that you adored so much.

But despite everything, the insecurities and doubt still existed within you; not really knowing on how to possibly get rid of such feelings. You couldn't help yourself, which causes your mind to sometimes make you anxious, and rethinking the same thought over and over again.

Today is just one of those days, and you don't have the courage to confide your problems to him-- afraid of burdening him with your mere thoughts. So, you decided to just try to ease your mind by settling yourself on the couch after turning the TV on, since it's the weekends after all.

And of course, while your eyes are on the TV, you aren't focusing a word from it at all.

Though, not too long after, the sounds of feet approaching can be heard, yet you didn't even spare any glance at the source of sound because you fully know on who it is, taking a seat next to you on the available space of the couch. One of his hands reached for your shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze.

He doesn't even need to ask much judging by your facial expressions alone. He knows; he knows that something is bothering you. The slight slump of your shoulders has given it more away too.

"Did anything happen?"

Nanami tries to ask in a very delicate manner, yet understanding if you're not ready to tell him about it. The concern is evident at this point, and it made you feel guilty in a way.

"No, nothing happened," you shake your head with your gaze lowering. "It's just one of those days-- or just me, I guess."

You genuinely didn't know on how to talk to him regarding matters as such. But the thought of potentially ignoring him and pretending that you're alright makes it pretty worse than it actually is.

But of course, it wasn't enough to convince him, clearly knowing that there's something that you're hiding on. Upon noticing on how you didn't even look at him, Nanami gently uses his fingers; tipping your chin up so that you're facing him now.

"Are you sure?" It might seem a simple question; meant to be asked by anyone when one doesn't believe the other, but this one has a hint of genuine care and concern lacing his voice. He doesn't believe you.

Those three words are enough to make you completely go silent for a solid few minutes, before finally giving in, knowing that he's not going to give up on the matter.

"I mean it. It's just-- my thoughts, they're quite a mess right now, and I don't even know what to actually say.."

"Was it because of the exam?"

"Well, that's a part of it." You chuckled lightly, but your inner turmoil hasn't even subsided yet. "It's kinda ridiculous though.."

"I don't care if it seems ridiculous or not," Nanami still maintains his voice in a soft way, never intending to raise his voice or even using any harsh words. "If anything, I would be glad to listen to any of your problems."

Even if it's a minor thing from the past or so, he would always lend you an ear whenever you needed to talk to him.

You gradually released your breath that you didn't realize you've been holding on, adjusting your posture a bit before finally deciding to answer him.

"You know, sometimes.. I can't help but to wonder; am I a good lover to you? I know that both of us are still young, but.."

You begin to fiddle your fingers out of nervousness that's slowly building up within you.

"I'm scared if I ever mess things up."

The blonde-haired male ponders over your confession for a bit, before he moves himself closer to you-- taking ahold of your shoulders, and made you look at him so you two are now face to face properly.

He tells you understandingly and calmly, "A good lover isn't perfect."

"Just so you know; we all have our own imperfections, even I do. I have flaws, yet you accepted as who I am, and as I do to you. You never once judged me, and I forever will be grateful for your existence."

"No one is perfect, after all. It's simply impossible to meet someone with such qualities. It would be highly unrealistic, and I hope you do realize that."

By this point, your eyes shifted upwards to meet his own, yet you couldn't find any traces of irritation or even lies as he tells you those words. It feels pure and genuine, clearly coming straight from what lies within his heart alone.

When he acknowledges the look you gave him, a small, yet content smile is present; partly as a sign of reassurance, that he only saves it for you. His hands didn't even leave your form either, determined on making you believe on each of his words. He doesn't want you to doubt him, because everything he says is the mere truth, not just something that you wanted to hear.

"You are already a great partner for me, so don't ever doubt yourself anymore." No matter how many times, he would gladly repeat those words for you. Because you mean a lot to him.

Who would've thought that someone like Nanami to ever speak out such sweet words to anyone; to you? An absolute sweetheart, you were rendered speechless for a while there after he finished speaking, affecting your whole being in the best ways possible.

And it almost made you feel foolish to ever have shown that you doubt yourself for it, when all he feels is genuine love and care for you.

Once the realization really hits you, your cheeks is slowly becoming more pinkish, finally able to absorb his words to your heart and mind; taking your time to understand it deeply in the process. He's really that one guy; one who simply doesn't leave you over something that could be deemed as ridiculous.

"You truly mean it..?"

"With every fibre of my being, I do." You didn't even realize that your eyes have gotten teary, feeling a little emotional over this whole situation. He knows that you two could make it through this relationship, with proper care and effort from one another.

It's not something he would easily admit to someone, which makes it even more special to you. One of his hands now moved up towards your cheek, and the other around your waist as he tenderly brushes away the tears that managed to escape from you.

"You mean a lot to me, even if I didn't show it that often."

You didn't even realize that you may or may not have been bottling up your emotions over your silent thoughts, which makes it more evident when he pulls you into a warm embrace; all while whispering some comforting words to you.

"Hey, it's alright, okay? It's alright, I got you." Is one of what he said while rubbing circles on your back-- the embrace position still stays.

"I know and I'm aware that I might not appear as the most openly affectionate person-- barely saying the words, 'I love you', or anything along the lines to you at times.."

"But remember my words, alright? I do care about you, so much than I did about myself. I love you too much, you're everything to me. Please don't ever forget that."

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

[chantiying]

You have a new message, would you accept it?

How to choose? Take a deep breath, close your eyes, think about that/those person/people you have something inconclusive with (if you can't think about anyone it's ok, dw) then choose the image that calls to you better

1 2 3

Before to start, sorry for any mistakes or grammar error. English is not my first language

Remember tarot is not set on stone and you can change your path whenever you want. This is for entertainment purposes

This reading is general so if it doesn't resonate with you just let it go

Option 1

I know you're still upset about the way all of this happened. I know you don't understand why I had to go away. You think I let you alone and I didn't really care about it. I know you think I was selfish all I did was look out for my own good. I know you keep blaming me for the things I did to our family. I know that, even if I say to you my reasons they are still just excuses to your ears. I needed to walk away, I was tired. It was the best, it was fair. I had to understand who am I, I had to mature but it doesn't matter anymore, does it?

I'll be back, any moment. I know that hearing that scars you a lot, I know it bothers you "go back?" "For what?" "To destroy all the the life I built in your absence?" Yeah, I break your heart, I was the person you trusted the most , I broke our little world, I broke us, and you are still afraid of trusting in me again, but could you give me another chance? Take your time to respond my petition. I promise I'll understand if you don't want to see me again, but I'm serious about that I want to make things work for us this time.

For some of you, this could be a male figure in your family.

Two more messages for you.

Take a rest, honey. You don't have to be the one who is always fixing everything. The solution for the pain you're feeling right now is not overexerting yourself. Don't worry, things gonna be ok.

This could be from someone who passed away.

The last message could be an ex lover

Something that ended because of people talking in your back, hidden secrets that came to light. Tbh, I feel that this person don't have any interest in fix anything. Maybe they are happy that all of that happened and the way it all ended.

Additional information.

I feel like in this pile there's a lot of young energy. Maybe that person was too young or the separation occurred when both of you where young or you were young when all of this happened.

I feel that for some of you the root of all your failed relationships is because of the message of the first person

Maybe you've been suffering from sore throat or neck pain and I feel that it could be because you don't know have to express your emotions. It's ok to cry and scream, if you feel like crying, just do it, everything will be alright, ok?

Option 2

I feel like this person is upset or mad. Probably the relationship ended because of an argument. One of you was not in their best moment (maybe one of you passed or is passing through depression or anxiety)

I had to go, it was for the better. This, the thing we had it had neither head nor foot. I do accept we had a lot of good memories, you were my sun, but it doesn't mean we were meant to be. Do you know what? Sometimes, when I think about us, the first memories that came to my mind are those where I felt tied to you. We were going to nowhere. We had different paths, different dreams, different goals. I actually think we share the blame in this one, and, I still blame you for the kind of love you gave to me. It was too suffocating. It was like when you water a flower, you know what I mean? You were drowning me. I needed to make a decision, the better for me, and I don't regret doing it

This could be a past friendship

This is another message it could be from a female figure.

Don't be silly. You need to be less immature and spoiled. Will you realize at some point that you are being your own worst enemy? I know you're thinking about me like a killjoy or like i'm bitter, but my only wish is for you to open your eyes and put your feet on the ground. Do you remember when you were happy only with what you had? Do you remember when you played with all your friends and relatives? Do you remember all the scenarios you imagined and all of those were easy to resolve just with laughs and superpowers? I want you to be that little kid again. I want to hear your laugh until your belly hurts. I want you to be more kind with yourself and with the others. I want you to let go whatever its making you feel bad. I want you to start dancing by your own, my love.

Some of you have a nickname inspired on nature "sun" "bunny" "peach" "twinkle" or you have a name related to flowers or stars.

I feel like some of you either are emotionally unstable or feel a little too much.

Maybe you are fan of Taylor Swift and like the rain

Option 3

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for being the villain of your story. I feel so sorry for stealing your confidence. I'm so sorry because I know I'm the reason of your nightmares/insomnia. I'm sorry you don't feel good enough and all of that is my fault. It's horrible to be the person who hurt the one who most loved me. You were my wish came true. You were the madness I needed to keep me sane, it doesn't make sense, does it? I could have done better, I know. I'd have done better to give you all the things you deserve. I guess it's too late to own up to my mistakes. Now I've lost you

I don't want you to forgive me (maybe I do want to) I want to tell you that I love the person you are now. All of that is because of YOU. I just destroyed you. You had to pass through a lot. Sometimes I wish I could talk to you. Would you give me an opportunity? All the fights, all the arguments, all the screaming and crying. I'm so sorry, I'm really really sorry. I know I took you away from me. If it's worth it, I also wake up at night thinking I could have done better

I love you, I always have

I don't want to wreck your plans. I don't want to turn your world upside down. Am I being greedy for saying that I miss you? I know I'm the king of victimized myself, I'm aware of that. I'll try to change for better, even if it doesn't matter anymore. I have what I deserve and I hope you get what you deserve for loving someone who didn't know how to love you in return

This could be an ex lover but it could be a person who took "care" of you when you were a child too

Let your inner child to heal. Play with them, enjoy and do the things you want to do but you don't do for fear of being judged

I have a plan for you! What if you choose some animated movies, cartoons you liked when you were a child and enjoy your evening watching them?

You're so brave and strong, I admire you, keep going

I feel like you have a good taste on music

This is my first reading, hope you all like it

Alic (Chanty) 🪽

[morgan-lowell]

Karasuno in a Fitting Room

Hi. I work in a fitting room. I hate it. Don’t work in a fitting room. But lemme tell you how I think Karasuno would act in a fitting room. For sillies and funnies.

Daichi

A very polite boy!

Who has no idea what he is doing!

Someone please help him

Oh wait that’s my job…

He constantly calls for help

“Do you have this in a bigger size? What other colors do you have? What's the return policy on these? Does another store have it?”

Like bro please chill out with the questions other people need help 😭😭

He’s a model customer tho

Brings out the clothes, says please and thank you, and makes very nice conversation

He would be a regular that I’d make friends with

Sugawara

Oikawa called him Mr. Refreshing and hE WAS SO RIGHT

What is it about him that makes him such a good customer?

Is it his pretty face? Is it his easygoing smile? His politeness? Or is it something innate? Why do I feel like everything will be all right with him around?

Idk what it is but he’s making my day 🤷‍♀️

He’s the type to show his outfit and ask “How does this look on me?”

Quick story, a customer once asked me what I thought of the purple pants he was planning to buy and I described them as "swanky"

I think he was intimidated by that because his response was "wow, I have never heard that word before" 😂😂 and he left the pants

Sugawara would not be intimidated by me calling his outfit swanky

Also lowkey does my job if I have to walk away or turn my back

“Oh yeah, just go right in! You can set what you don’t want on the counter.”

Suga please it’s my job you don’t have to do this

Asahi

“Hello, welcome in!” “Oh, hello!”

Very apologetic customer

“I’m sorry to disturb you but could you help me with this?”

Omg yes of course I’ll help you don’t apologize for needing help that’s what I’m here for

Actually listens when I ask him to bring his clothes out when he’s done

Lemme know if anyone is ever bothering you hun cuz I can call security to have them kicked out

Apologizes when he brings his clothes out 😭

“I’m so sorry to add more to your workload…”

Tbh you don’t have to apologize when you bring clothes back…

“…I can just put these back where I found them?”

On second thought, you’re an angel and I’ll love you forever Asahi

I wish all customers like Asahi a very pleasant evening and a pat on the head

Nishinoya

s i g h

I love you Noya, I really do

But I know for a fact that he’d be a MENACE in the fitting rooms

He’s just so loud?? For no reason????

Bro what are you yelling in the fitting room for??? There’s only a mirror and a bench in there???????

He’s like that random kid in the school hallway that screams for no reason

He doesn’t sound like he’s in distress tho?? so I don’t call security yet

Also, he sometimes shops in the kids section I KNOW HE DOES HAHAHA

No shame Noya, I shop in the kids section too

The adults section doesn't have pikachu hoodies

I bet he grabbed one too

Tbh he’d be funny enough where I can excuse his loudness

He brings his clothes out (none of it folded and no hangers) and says:

“Sorry about that, my friend sent me a pic of a dog he saw and I got excited.”

Understandable king, have a nice day

I tell my coworkers about the weird customer who was screaming about a dog and we all agree he was very relatable

Tanaka

“Hi, welcome in!” “Heya! Thanks!”

This guy looks intimidating. He probably won't bring his clothes out

He comes out dressed in nice jeans and a dark polo shirt

"Can I ask for your opinion? I'm going on a date later today and I wanna dress nicely but I don't know what I'm doing."

Oh...

Yeah of course, I'll help you out. Is it more formal or casual?

Actually a really chill and cool dude!

So respectful too

He asks for opinions on each outfit

"I need a woman's opinion. What do girls like best on a man?"

Uhh, personally I’m a huge fan of poet shirts and thigh highs but we don’t sell those

"Are you sure this looks good?" "Yes! The color really suits you."

Brings his rejected outfits to me and says:

"Thanks for all your help. I feel like a new man with these clothes!"

Man, you are so very welcome! I hope the date goes well!

Ennoshita

He is power walking for some reason??

“Hi, welcome in!” “Hellothankyou.”

Why is he talking so fast? Are you okay dude??

Leaves and tries on multiple things

Bro does not know his size so he’s gotta try everything

The more clothes he brings in, the deeper I feel my stomach sink

Until…

“Uh, I’ll just take these back where I found them. I need to get another size anyway.”

omgomgomgomg

Wait you dropped this king 👑

I don’t even care if they’re on the right hanger or not

This must be an angel sent to provide me relief from the other bozos in this store

He leaves too quickly for me to tell him to have a nice day

Kinoshita

Karasuno has very polite boys who were raised right so I have complete faith in them

Although I do draw the line of kindness somewhere

Take Kinoshita for example

He does everything right: greets me back, says thank you, brings his clothes out, and he even has a good smile

It goes downhill once he returns his clothes

Cuz he’s trying to be helpful by folding the clothes at my counter but…

He’s not doing it right 😬😬

K-Kinoshita please, I appreciate what you’re doing but you’re doing it wrong and I’m just gonna have to redo it and it’s a little embarrassing to watch please just stop

“Um, thank you, have a good one!”

My smile says I’m dying inside

Narita

“Hello, welcome in!” *nods as a greeting*

Quiet and respectful. I like him already

He’s not gonna try on a lot, just what he needs

In and out in no time

“Thank you, have a good one!”

I wish more people were like Narita

Kageyama

Ummmm he’s okay, comes off a little rude

Just waltzes right in without greeting

“Hi, welcome in!” “…”

Ok buddy

He's just very focused lol

He's a quick changer, love that about him

Oof wait I can see him competing with Hinata to see who changes faster

UGH THATD BE THE WORST

They would leave a huge mess and make so much noise

I might call security on them lol

They’re the teenagers in Target everyone warns you about

Anyway, back to Kageyama

He’s a polite lad so he brings the clothes out but they’re either on the wrong hanger or just bunched up in his hands

I’ll take it. Great effort Kageyama! 👍

Hinata

✨THE PERFECT CUSTOMER✨

he’s so nice and friendly, I would love for Hinata to visit my fitting room

“Hi, welcome in!” “Hello! Thank you!”

He’d make easy conversation, workers love him instantly

Such a nice smile!!!

And so polite!!!!!!

Truly an anomaly in this store

He’s really quick with changing too, he wastes no time

My carrot top son, I love him so much

He probably knows his exact size and everything

Also shops in the kids section LOL

Unproblematic, friendly, AND HE BRINGS THE CLOTHES OUT WHEN HES DONE

“I’m sorry. I tried to hang them myself but I had no idea how.”

Baby it is okay, your effort is appreciated please know that I love you

I only tell the customers I like to have a nice day and Hinata would get one every time

“Thank you! Have a nice day!” “Thank you, you too!”

Tsukishima

I feel like Tsukishima is self-aware enough to realize his personality would not survive working retail lol

One customer would be rude and he’d clap back instantly and get fired cuz they’d complain about him

So he’s unproblematic when he’s at a store

Asshole to everyone but customer service workers

Treat others how you want to be treated kinda guy

Probably hates trying on clothes cuz he never finds anything that fits

At least he’s respectful

“Thank you, have a nice day!” “Thank you.”

Yamaguchi

“Hello, welcome in!” “Oh, um, thank you.”

Nice and good boi!

Also doesn’t find anything in his size but he’ll ask

I’d actually do my job and help him look LOL

He probably tries to go outside his comfort zone but he’s having a hard time

“Are you sure this looks okay?” “Of course! But how do you feel in it?”

I tend to do that a lot with customers like Yams

Wear what you feel good in!

That just a lil tip for yall 😘

He brings out all the clothes but they’re backwards lol

“Thank you. I hope you like your outfit!” “Thank you, you too!”

Oops uhhhh, I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that

Kiyoko

“Hi, welcome in!” “Hello.”

A…a natural beauty…

I can’t look at her…it’s too much….

Queen slays with every outfit she tries on

She keeps admiring the skirts and shorts but she never tries them on??

Wonder why

“Did you need help finding that skirt in another size?” “Oh… No. Thank you though.”

Despite absolutely nailing every outfit and catching the attention of just about every other patron in the store, she returns all the clothes.

“I’m sorry. Nothing seemed to suit me. Thank you for all your help.”

Wh…what???

Girl everything suited you. Whaddaya mean!?!?

I know you wanted to try that skirt on! It would look so good!!

But hey, idk her story, I just work in the fitting room

“You’re welcome. Please have a nice day!”

I wonder if she’ll every come back for that skirt…

Yachi

Another very apologetic customer

No one needs to apologize this much guys 😭

“I’m so sorry for making a mess!”

You haven’t made any kind of mess! Please calm down!

She’s also pretty quick with changing

She comes out after with all the clothes…folded and hung perfectly??? What is this witchcraft????

I bet she’s worked retail before

She holds up two different shirts and says “Um, can I ask for your opinion on these two? Which do you prefer?”

She’s very clearly a little wound up so maybe some light conversation will loosen her

“I like the one on the right…” it’s not the truth but it leads to a conversation and she starts to relax more

“Thank you so much. You’ve been very helpful!” “It’s no trouble at all. Enjoy the rest of your day!” “Thank you! You do as well!”

I think I just made a new friend :)

[sjmgirlie]

“I see so much potential for Lucien and Elain”

Where?

There has not been a single scene in 2 novels and 1 novella since we found out they were mates that alludes to any potential at all?

They haven’t even had one conversation where Feyre isn’t there carrying it? He lives on the other side of Prythian? Can't stand to be around her? She wants to leave the room each time he's there? Specifically sits away from him? Like where is the potential other than some sort of imagery (which I'll get to)? It ain't there.

“I can’t imagine a single conversation happening between Elain and Azriel”

Really?

They had one the first day they met. Talking about flying.

Not to mention on Solstice they stayed up to talk to each other when everyone else went to bed.

How do we know they didn’t talk when they were in the garden together?

“Azriel just stifles Elain. She’s just a damsel in distress”

You sure?

He literally gave her the knife he had literally never let anyone touch in 500 years to protect herself? Cassian didn’t want Nesta finding the troves either? Are we trying to say that a man who wants to protect a women is suddenly.. unattractive? Like idk about you, but I would love for a bat boy to save me lol. Or tell me not to do something for my safety. But okay.

“It’s just lust”

Let’s not even go there because a male willing to participate in a blood duel and renouncing his own religion is not just trying to have sex

“Lucien is the son of Helion and Elain needs sun!”

Ya?

Well Lucien has never had sun imagery. It’s fire from his Autumn Court heritage and in Hybern he released himself with SPELLS. Feyre was actually the person to cast out a bright light to break the wards, and we find out later that it’s a gift from the Dawn court. Lucien tells us this. Lucien has fire magic and is a spell cleaver, not the sun. ELAIN is the sun. Day court does not equal sun for Lucien. Sorry.

“Elain will never accept Azriel’s profession”

Oh?

Pretty sure she’s already accepted everyone in the Night Court. They all have jobs that are borderline sus. And considering the countless instances where we see Elain is actually very observant, I’m sure she knows what he does, yet she still leans into his touch. Not to mention Mr. fashion police Cassian also tells us that Elain is not a loyal dog. That she saw everything Nesta did and understood. Doesn't seem like she's not accepting to me.

"Azriel just wants a mate!!"

Seriously?

If the male wants a mate why would he bother spending time with a female he knows has one? Why wouldn't he be sailing around Prythian looking for her? Because she sure as shit isn't in the Night Court. And let's be honest, I don't think he will even be getting a mate if it's not Elain through some sort of different bond. Because there is no one in canon right now that could be his mate, and we only have 2 more novels and 1 novella left. And his book is next. Apparently we can all agree on that, but can't accept Elain is also getting the next book, aka their book together. And no, Gwyn is not his mate, because it would have already snapped into place. We had an 800 page book where they were in the vicinity of each other through all the training monologues (so maybe more 400 pages) and it didn't happen? Rhys knew before they left under the mountain. Literally happened at the end of the book. Cassian knew the first day he met Nesta. Lucien knew the second Elain took her first breath lol... it's not happening.

"Elain should be with Lucien and they would be High Lord and Lady of Day Court!!"

Ew?

You want to kill off Helion??? I want the novella to be about him and the Lady of Autumn tbh (even though it's likely Mor). Like? No, I need some sort of scene with Helion in each remaining book. I need more of him, biblically and spiritually. Also, have we forgotten “You can not resent my decision to lead a small quiet life..” ??? Elain said this in ACOSF to Nesta, like, do you think this girl wants to be High Lady all of a sudden? No. She doesn't.

"Elain needs to give Lucien a chance!!"

Why?

I swear everyone who says this has never been in that "Oh, well he's just such a nice guy!! Give him a chance" type of situation. Like why should I? WHY SHOULD SHE? He literally was an accomplice in her human life being stripped away from her. Should they end up being friends? Yes. Together romantically? No. If she doesn't want to give him a chance, which she clearly doesn't, then she doesn't need to. Stop diminishing choice in character arcs. Her whole arc, with Azriel and Lucien, is centred around choice in the first place.

"Azriel's shadows danced for Gwyn, so they are endgame"

Huh?

Don't get me wrong, the shadows are a part of Azriel, but I don't think they literally determine his life for him. Actually, I know this 100%. His shadows are under his command. Also, they danced for her breath, not Gwyn. Which is weird. Not to mention his shadows alert him in times of trouble and to gain information. Is it not weird they didn't alert him that she was there? Like that's not being wing-shadowy, that's screaming something sus is going on. (And no, I'm not anti-gwyn or even saying she's evil. Is she a lightsinger? Probably. The evidence is there. Does it mean she's bad? No.)

"Azriel's shadows hide from Elain, so they can't be together"

Lol?

Again, are Azriel's shadows the ones that command him? Or does he command them? And his shadows have disappeared for half of the IC. They disappear when there is no threat. They disappear when he doesn't want them there. Pretty sure Azriel's whole character doesn't just revolve around shadows. Sure, they are a huge part of his identity so far, but do we truly think that he wants to be reduced to them? Doubt it. He's probably had a very hard time coming to terms with the fact people have always looked at him differently because of it. I wouldn't be surprised if him becoming a Shadowsinger (since they came to him later in life in the dungeon) was a result of unfathomable trauma. Azriel does not only equal shadows only. We just don't know him yet.

"The BC sunk Eriel"

Truly?

You mean the bonus chapter where Azriel was about to get on his knees for a taste? The bonus chapter where Elain was giving him offer and permission? The bonus chapter where Rhys was the reason they DIDN'T actually kiss? The bonus chapter where Rhys became their obstacle and lifted the stakes not only on a personal level (with Elain thinking she was rejected, with Az and Rhys having a wedge between them) and politically (the potential downfall with god knows how many courts since Lucien is a drifter and the human lands)? Like we need the stakes!!!! This is what makes it worthwhile to read?? Forbidden romance? That should be enough intrigue. Plus anyone who genuinely thinks an author would write a male character willing to drop to his knees for a female (we've seen this with both Rhys and Cassian btw) only to have him move on in the next book is just idk. It's not possible. It would be so UNROMANTIC for them not to end up together. Like I would never forget Azriel wanted Elain's coochie so bad only to end up with someone else??? Ya, that's not romantic.

"Elain and Tamlin would be perfect mates"

Throws Up

So Elain is going to go to the only court where there is no gardening because the HL magic keeps everything in eternal bloom, only to shack up with her sister's ex who that same sister almost married and her mates ex best friend? Make it make sense. You're truly showing your hatred for stereotypical feminine qualities my friend. Tamlin needs some time to lick his wombs and maybe learn how to cook. He needs to stop isolating himself. And again, Elain is not his mate. Also, let's just add Elain is not ever leaving the Night Court. The series is about the Archeron sisters, and her sister is the literal High Lady of NC, not to mention her other sister is mated to the Illyrian General. Like be for real right now.

The End. 🌹🗡❤️🦇

[russellsppttemplates]

You need some down time (Pierre Gasly)

You thought you had been able to adjust your routine to Pierre's calendar, but your body showed otherwise

Note: english is not my first language. This can also work as an alert for you (and for me too tbh) to take care of yourself and listen to your body. You should work on your dreams but also rest whenever you need ✨️ also, I feel like I can finally write about remote work without having flashbacks from my dissertation

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's excessive tiredness (mentions some symptoms and taking pills for headaches)

"Then we are meeting Esteban there, we'll have to present a talk to the group of sponsors and then we have dinner", Pierre explained.

"And you're sure I can get there on time and not bother? I don't want to make a big entrance where everyone looks at me", you chuckled, "no, it's fine. They're waiting for you already, so you won't be a stranger", he smiled, "I'll just send you the ticket so you have it on your phone", your boyfriend added, hearing you fumble with a plastic medicine wrapper, "is everything alright?", he asked looking up from his phone to see you taking what looked like a paracetamol, "just a little headache, probably have been staring too long at the computer", you reasoned back, drinking some water from your bottle, "is that the bottle you filled this morning? If it is, you're not drinking much water either, and that's not good for you, mon ange", Pierre said pulling you gently so you could lay your head on his chest, "you know I've always been terrible at drinking water".

Like Pierre told you, the guy at the front of the event scanned your ticket, immediately seeing on the computer where he should be escorting you, already seeing a few familiar faces as you made your way to the high tables, seeing your boyfriend and his new teammate along with some of the members of the Alpine PR Team, "Hi everyone! So sorry I was late. The meeting went long and then the traffic here from the hotel was not easy either", you noted, standing next to Pierre, "you look lovely, Y/N, I'm glad you could join us at last", Esteban complimented.

"Thanks, Yuki!", you said, and to anyone else, they thought it was automatic, "sorry, Esteban", you apologised, laughing when the French driver laughed too.

The dinner turned out to be a nice and calm setting, contrasting with the excitement and buzz of the previous event, "do you want some dessert to share? I'm fancying something sweet but I don't think I can eat all of it", you mentioned to Pierre, looking around the menu and deciding on what you wanted to order.

Leaving the restaurant, you latched yourself to Pierre's arm, supporting yourself on him as you walked to the car he had driven there, "are you busy tomorrow?", he asked, "yes, the usual. But I think I'm going to clock in later, I think, a meeting has been pushed", you mumbled, yelping when you felt yourself stumble in your heels even though you know how to walk in them just fine, "nearly fell there, are you good?", your boyfriend asked, "it seems, yes. But I'm good".

.

The ring of your phone brought your attention from your laptop to the smaller device, seeing Pierre's mother contact appear for a video call.

"Hi, Pascale, how are you?", you asked, saving the changes you made to the document on your laptop before paying her you full attention, "I'm great, chérie. How have you been doing? I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time!", she nudged, "no, it's fine. Perks of working remotely, I don't need to worry about my boss breathing down my neck since I just need to meet the day's goals", you joked, looking at your planner, "and I'm nearly done for the day", you smiled.

Without your control, your hands trembled a little and you were unable to grasp your phone properly, leaving it to fall on the carpeted floor, "Y/N, is everything okay?", you heard Pascale say, "sorry, Pascale, my phone just slipped from my hands", you explained as you grabbed it, checking for any scratches and seeing none, "butter fingers, hm?", she giggled, bringing a small smile to your face, "more like sweaty fingers, I guess".

When Pierre arrived back from his event, he found you just the moment you shut the lid of your laptop, "Only finishing now, amour?", he asked, kissing the top of your head, "yes. Your mother also called me so I had a good break between my tasks", you noted, getting up and grabbing the remote control for the AC to turn it off since the room had cooled off enough, "now, what do we have for tonight?", you asked, "for a change, I don't have anything. Do you want to go explore the city or just sit here?", he wondered, "can we stay in, please? My head hurts a little, probably from being at the laptop all day", you mumbled, "room service and dim lighting it is then".

.

Finally, you were going home. It had been an intense couple of weeks and you were oozing forwards to spend some time with Pierre and his family without a tight schedule filled with events.

Arriving at the airport, Pierre was quick to get everything ready and you were waiting in line with the time perspective you had expected, greeting the crew and making your way inside the aircraft.

"Here, my love, you can hold my hand", you nudged, knowing that Pierre wasn't the biggest fan of flying, feeing him squeeze your palm.

"Hi, I'm so sorry to inform, but the flight will leave with a delay. The estimate is around forty five minutes", one of the flight attendants apologised, carrying on to inform the rest of the passengers.

"For Goodness sake", you mumbled, groaning slightly ad you felt Pierre squeeze your hand again, "I'll just text my dad that we'll arrive later", he mentioned, grabbing his phone and doing so. "Sorry, I know it's not the end of the world", you mumbled, letting your head rest on his shoulder and closing your eyes for a bit, "it's okay, hopefully soon they'll have some informations", Pierre offered, holding your hand in his and kissing the side of your head.

When you finally landed, you grabbed your bags and walked to the hall where you'd be meeting Jean, "I've never been so happy so see your father, I swear", you mumbled, walking up to the older Gasly man and allowing him to greet you and carry your bags to the car.

Walking up to the bedroom you'd be staying in, you managed to take your pyjamas out along with your toiletries bag, changing out of your clothes, washing your face and brushing your teeth before you met Pierre in bed, "I've been dreaming of this bed for the entire day", you groaned as you finally felt the fresh sheets on your legs, looking forward to cuddle Pierre for the night, "sleep tight, handsome, I love you", you offered, "Good night, mon ange, I love you too", he whispered before kissing your forehead one last time for the night.

Despite his usual routine and his sleep routine working like a clock, Pierre managed to sleep for a little bit longer than usual, opening his eyes to find you curled up on yourself and still facing him, making him brush some hairs away from your eyes and caress your cheek, admiring your features. Your skin was a little more faded than usual, and the circles under your eyes were darker, but hopefully this holiday would help you restore your energies. When you didn't wake up from his touches, he thought it was best to leave you to rest, getting up and tucking you further in, putting on a t-shirt and heading dowstairs to meet his family.

"Bonjour, dear, did you sleep well?", his mother greeted him, kissing his cheek as he poured himself a glass of water, "bonjour, yes, I did, and it seems Y/N is sleeping quite well, too. She's still in deep sleep", he noted, seeing his father arrive in the room.

"Bonjour everyone, I have fresh pastries and bread!", Jean announced, setting the paper bags on the table, "I have Y/N's favourites too, they were nearly running out but I managed to grab a few", he said, looking around for you, "she's still asleep. Although I'm not sure dreamland wins over these croissants", Pierre said, taking one straight from the bag and biting into it.

By now, Pierre started to get worried. Everytime he went upstairs to check on you, you were still sound asleep and not a sign that you'd wake up soon. "Is she coming down? I can warm up some of the croissants", Jean commented when his son came back, "thank you, but no need. She's still sleeping", Pierre murmured, sitting in the sofa next to his mother, "she must've been exhausted", she reasoned, "every time I called either of you, you were either about to fly somewhere or needing to be at some event, I even interrupted her a few times while she was working and you were off somewhere", she reasoned, "it wasn't easy on her, that's for sure".

The words resonated on Pierre's mind. It had been a couple of busy weeks, even he felt it. Travelling around so he could engage with the new team he was part of was as incredible as it was tiring, and having you there was the safe haven he needed whenever he felt a little lost. But had you been taking care of yourself for all of that time too? Was he the person you turned to when you needed to feel safe too?

About an hour and a half later, you woke up, cursing yourself as soon as you looked at the clock and scrambled out of bed so make yourself look presentable. Deciding that, for now, leggings and an oversized shirt would have to do, you made your way downstairs to greet everyone, "Good morning! I'm so sorry I overslept, I swear I didn't do it on purpose!", you apologised, seeing Pierre make his way to you so he could hug you a kiss your cheek, "hey, is everything alright?", he asked, holding your hand in his and pulling you to sit by the table, seeing his parents get started on what you figured was already lunch, "yes, I'm good. Let me help with that, please, Pascale. It's the least-", you attempted before being shushed by her.

"No need for that, chérie. But we do want to talk about how you are", she said softly, "you had us worried for a bit, I kept telling Pierre to check if you had a fever or something like that", she tried, knowing that you had already noticed where she was going.

Sighing, you placed your hands on top of the table fiddling wirh your fingers, "honestly? I feel a little rested, but not fully rested", you admitted, "it's been a lot these past couple of weeks. Work has been non stop, I have been covering some of my colleagues' vacation days, I feel like I'll need a few days to unwind even. The first thing I thought about when I woke up was that I was late for a meeting such is the habit to be in a squeeze of time", you gulped, "it has been a struggle, and I'm just grateful to finally have some down and off time", you finished, squeezing Pascale's hand that found yours on the cold surface.

"I know you don't need me to tell you this, but you need to take care of yourself, Y/N! You can't go around the day and sleep so little, we saw how busy you were!", she scolded still softly, meaning no harm and rather wanting to help you and make sure you took care of yourself and your well-being. "These days you're here, you're catching up on your sleep, eating good food, having some down time and taking care of yourself, I won't allow anything else under my roof!", Jean jokingly threatened, pointing his finger at you before smiling.

Pierre was looking like you expected him to. "Hey, no guilty frown, please!", you tapped your boyfriend's forehead, hoping to soften his expression, "you had your own things to worry about, and besides, it's also my doing because I didn't want to say anything", you admitted. "But still! I saw you were getting up earlier so you could meet me later, saw that you'd have quick lunches and how you felt more tired. I thought it was all jet lag and being busy, but it was more than that", he reasoned, tracing shapes on your hands, "it's all behind us now, okay?", you reassured, nuzzling your face in his neck when he pulled you into his embrace.

"Now, how about you two go enjoy some croissants outside? Despite the cold, it is a lovely sunny day outside. Just make sure you're warm enough, okay? I don't want anyone sick in this house!", Pascale announced, placing the food tray in the oven.

[ohbo-ohno]

Oh and another thought on Johnny training his puppy-

You know how dogs have that one person they latch onto and get protective over if something happens to them or someone threatens them?

Simon is obviously Johnny's person and while Johnny knows Simon can take care of himself, he still can't help that protectiveness in him.

So maybe one day their little puppy tries to snap at Simon. Or maybe she even manages to hit him during a punishment.

And Simon, in his daze at their little puppy's audacity to even do that, doesn't get a chance to react because good boy Johnny immediately reacts to snarl at her. He stands protectively in front of Simon, baring his teeth at her and growling that no one lays a finger on his person, not even his beloved puppy.

So with a quick glance back at Simon to see if he's okay (obviously he is) and asking him if he can punish the pup instead, Simon let's Johnny take care of their naughty little puppy, showing her that if she wants to act like a big bad dog, then she can play with one too.

By the end of the lesson, Johnny gets endless praises for being a good boy and the naughty puppy spends the night in the kennel, whimpering at how sore and achy she feels.

- 🥍

i don't even know what to DO with this one. it's like you've sent me solid gold and asked me for an opinion. bitch it's solid gold!!!!

imagining that simon is hauling you her off for a punishment and she gets a lucky hit on his nose, something that takes him completely by surprise and has him flinching back instinctively. it doesn't actually hurt that bad but a full-strength punch to the nose will have anyone at least a little disorientated

and johnny just loses his fucking mind. no one gets to hurt ghost. that's not how this works. ghost is strong and incredibly capable of taking care of himself but when he isn't, johnny protects him. he's not allowed to get hurt - do you have any idea how fucked johnny would be without ghost??? no, it's not an option to let ghost get hurt

so it's mostly an instinctual thing that has him pinning you to the floor by your throat. he's the only one who really knows what's going on, you haven't even really realized you managed to hit ghost, and ghost is blinking spots out of his vision

you've never seen johnny so animalistic, seen him so angry. he's probably past the point of words, you hardly even realize why he's angry when he's got you in a grip so tight you can hardly breathe

he'd hardly remember to ask for permission to punish you - doesn't even really ask tbh. he'd tear his eyes from yours to look up at ghost, and ghost would give him a nod and say smth like "go ahead, johnny. teach her her place again."

anyways he fucks you very rough with like no prep :/ horribly uncomfortable and painful for you, but your screams don't stop him. he'd bite nearly through your skin along your neck and back, leave you mottled with painful bruises. your knees and elbows would be bruised, a layer of skin scraped off from how much they rub against the floors when he thrusts.

he'd fuck your ass too. barely give you any stretch, just jacks himself to full hardness, slips you maybe two fingers?, and uses the lube from your cunt to fuck you. takes him longer to come the second time, and he doesn't get you off at all :/

makes you crawl to the bedroom & crate on your own. johnny is right there on all fours beside you, pushing and biting you whenever you stop crawling, keeps shoving you where you need to be. he's mean about it, snarling and growling right in your face, leaving bites down your arms and legs

simon locks you in your cage, doesn't even bother looking at you as he goes to give his puppy a reward. leaves you there all night, listening to how nice he is to johnny, how good johnny gets to feel after behaving so well

(they'll give her a nice warm bath in the morning to ease her muscles a bit)

[phoenixyfriend]

I'm having thoughts about the Jedi and romance and UGH

Listen to me

Listen

(This is a shitpost, please do not reblog to argue with me, it's not for that. This is me, an a-spec individual with a lot of feelings on how society affects the things we view as important, venting in stream of consciousness.)

"Missing out on love" isn't something that matters as much when your society isn't amatonormative

"But they aren't allowed to get married" what if they don't want to?

"But they aren't allowed to romance" what if they don't want to?

When your culture is one that emphasizes compassion for all, and the most important bond is that of child and teacher... Don't you think that people might just not think of marriage as something worth striving for?

And from @jebiknights:

Honestly the only reason it bothers Anakin is bc he already met Padmé when he became a Jedi tbh i bet it wouldn't even bother him as much if he hadn't met her and already had visions of marrying her In general though yeah lol, that's one of the things i kind of miss about legends, is they didn't always deal with the attachment/romance/marriage thing well but you consistently had obi wan exes even before satine where they were like yeah we love each other and always will but we have no need or desire to get married or continue this

When the world around you doesn't emphasize marriage and romance and all that, then wouldn't you view cultures that do as a tad odd? Not weird in a bad way, just different.

I just keep thinking about the real world and how so much of the obsession with marriage and so on is a sociocultural thing. You don't want a big white dress because it's a bit white dress: you want it because it is the symbol that your culture has been pushing on you since you were two. Girls are taught to fantasize about weddings and marriage and to like A Certain Look for it, sometimes to such a degree that they can spend decades in denial about things like their sexualities.

And we're unlearning that as a society, people are being more critical of the institution and how they engage with it, are starting to question what it is that our media teaches us, asking 'why is marriage the most important thing in a girl's life, or in anyone's life' and generally moving towards a world where marriage exists but is not treated as a universal life goal

But the Jedi are just. Already doing that. They are already Not Teaching their children 'you should want this.'

And when you aren't pressured into wanting something like marriage... why would you be offended that your community says "you can have that Legal And Religious Status, but not with us. We'll still be your friends, but we as a community are not compatible with that legal and religious status barring a handful of specific and necessary exemptions."

Just

Marriage is not an inherent human/sapient want

Companionship is! We are biologically wired to be social creatures! We are biologically wired to, on the average, want sex, as well! That's how a species continues!

But marriage? A signed sheet of paper? That's not... inherent.

Fidelity and monamory? Sure, maybe. Plenty of species mate for life. But... humans have been proving that's a choice for most of history.

Other species are other things but anyway

Even if we remove marriage, specifically, and go to discuss attachment as being fidelity and exclusivity and devotion to another...

IDK how to talk about this without just going "devoting your life to a single person for companionship, romance, and sex is not only not necessary, but actually kind of mentally draining and a bad way to support yourself, we all need support systems and if you value one person's friendship or companionship more than others, that's not inherently a bad thing, but if you define yourself around each other or start doing shit like Covering Up Major Crimes That Hurt Real Innocent People (or committing said crimes) then. Uh. That's a problem."