#the comedy step back into the frame!

[pretzel-box]

Hello, I’m here now. I just wanted to say I like ur works, I think As Above So Below is my favorite series of yours so far.

And also, I wanted to make a request, cuz it was just my birthday and fuck it why not-

So like. Sebastian with an axolotl experiment reader (fem or gn), cuz Urbanshade was like “You know what would be dope? Regeneration powers” and because of all the injuries reader received, because they were big or very frequent, their body couldn’t keep up and so they are smol

(with a hint of possessive/yandere/whatever-the-fuck, maybe?)

may the tumblr deities guide this ask, that it may not be eated by the ask box, thank you for putting up with my annoying, okay bye :3

-🍪

Tags: Slight comedy, reader and wall dweller eat each other?

Words: 1k

Authors note: Happy Late Birthday! I'm sorry for the wait. I combined the ask with another one!

It was a challenge in itself to keep a close eye on you. At least, that’s what Sebastian thought as he glanced at you from the corner of his shop. He leaned against the wall, trying to focus on the file in his lower hand while his other two arms were crossed.

Earlier, you had quietly assured him that you could handle stocking the shelves and organizing the inventory on your own, despite your slightly smaller stature. You had carried heavy boxes from the back without a complaint, determined to prove you were capable.

Sebastian was surprised every time he saw you in action. Your odd regeneration skills were both a blessing and a strange curiosity he had witnessed more times than he cared to count. If it weren’t for your ability to regrow limbs, your most defining trait would be your absolute innocence. You had no sense of self-defense, no instinct to attack. The only time you’d ever react was to bite—though that was just to check if something was food.

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire your resilience, despite everything Urbanshade had put you through. But it also worried him. The world wasn’t kind to creatures like you, and without him there, it was hard to imagine how long you’d last in an actual fight.

His eyes flicked back to you as you struggled with one of the heavier boxes. For a moment, he considered stepping in, but he stopped himself. You were stubborn in your own quiet way, always wanting to prove you could handle things on your own.

Still, the smallness of your form tugged at his protective instincts. He pushed away from the wall, tossing the file onto the counter as he slithered over.

“Here, let me help,” he said, reaching out to lift the box effortlessly with his upper arms. You looked up at him, blinking in mild surprise, but didn’t protest.

“I was doing fine,” you murmured, though your voice lacked any real defiance.

Sebastian smirked. “Sure you were. But there’s no harm in having an extra set of hands—especially when I’ve got three of them.”

You gave a small smile, a soft warmth in your eyes as you watched him set the box onto the shelf. He noticed how you seemed content to let him help, not because you couldn’t handle it, but because you trusted him. That trust was something fragile, something he wasn’t sure he deserved, but he wouldn’t break it.

As you moved to the next box, Sebastian’s mind wandered. He had seen your abilities save you countless times, but each time you regenerated, it chipped away at you. Urbanshade’s relentless experiments had drained your body, and every injury, every regrowth, took more of a toll. He knew you weren’t as strong as you used to be—your small frame was proof of that.

He glanced over at you, your eyes focused on your task. "You know," he started, his tone softer than usual, "you don’t always have to push yourself so hard. I’m here. You don’t have to do everything alone."

You paused, looking up at him again, your wide eyes reflecting a quiet understanding. “I know. But… it’s important to feel useful. To do something.”

Sebastian nodded, respecting your determination. He couldn’t imagine what it was like—to feel so fragile, yet still want to help. His grip tightened on the box he was holding.

“Well, just remember, you don’t have to prove anything to me. You’ve already done more than enough.”

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, broken only by the soft thud of boxes being set on the shelves. But in that quiet, an unspoken understanding passed between you. You didn’t need to say it, and neither did he—Sebastian would protect you, no matter how much you wanted to prove yourself.

As the last box was finally stacked, Sebastian stood back, arms folded, watching you with a faint smile. “See? Not so bad with a little help, huh?”

You looked at him, offering a rare grin. “Maybe not.”

Just as you finished stacking the last box, a faint noise echoed from the far corner of the shop. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, his body instinctively shifting into a defensive stance.

“You hear that?” he muttered, his voice low.

You nodded, your wide eyes darting in the direction of the sound. Before either of you could react, something small and fast darted out from behind a shelf—a wall dweller, skittering across the floor in its typical, chaotic manner. Its pale skin and spindly limbs flashed in the dim light, catching both you and Sebastian off guard.

The wall dweller moved first, throwing itself on you and biting into your arm like a piece of cheese.

Before Sebastian could move to intercept it, your instincts kicked in. Without thinking, you lunged at the creature, mouth open and teeth bared. In one swift motion, you chomped down on the wall dweller’s arm as well—not to attack, but because it was your way of testing if things were food.

Sebastian’s eyes widened in shock. "Hey, wait—"

The wall dweller let out a startled yelp, wriggling in your grasp, while you blinked in confusion, still holding onto its arm with your sharp little teeth. The creature’s skin tasted strange, and you quickly realized it was, in fact, actually edible.

You immediately released it, stepping back with an apologetic look as the wall dweller scampered away, rubbing its arm and glaring at you. Sebastian couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the tension breaking as he watched the scene unfold.

“Well… that’s one way to defend yourself,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Not sure biting’s going to work in every situation, though. But it healed your arm.”

You stood there, blinking up at him, embarrassed but still unsure what else you could’ve done, then you glanced down on your healed limb. “It… wasn’t food,” you murmured quietly.

Sebastian snorted, wiping a tear from his eye. “Yeah, I figured. But maybe next time, let me handle the wall dwellers, alright?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming slightly. Though your instincts had failed this time, Sebastian didn’t seem mad—just amused, and maybe a little impressed.

The wall dweller, still grumbling under its breath, disappeared into a vent, but Sebastian was already back to his usual self, arms crossed and that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Nice try, though,” he teased. “At least you gave it something to chew on too.”

[p0ckykiss]

the sound of flowers blooming - lee heeseung

summary -> you are shooting a couple photoshoot with your co-star lee heeseung. but what happens when you're told to look into each other’s eyes, and you realize that you really wanted to kiss him, and not just pretend?

warnings -> female reader x heeseung, alternate universe - actors, feelings realization, first kiss, fluff

"come quick, y/n. we’re already late because of this meeting." 

minji, your manager, grabbed your shoulders and pushed you out the door and into the underground parking lot.

"you’re telling me to hurry just because you're impatient to see your boyfriend,” you groaned, dragging your feet towards the van parked in between two smaller cars. 

“i'm sure you're impatient too, your beloved heeseung is waiting there too,” minji playfully tapped your back, “he must be looking so pretty all dolled up for your photoshoot.”

you rolled your eyes, although some odd feeling lodged itself at the pit of your stomach when you thought about having to shoot a couple photoshoot with your co-star. you heard minji click on the car keys, and watched as she came to slide the door open for you. 

"beloved?" you scoffed, "i hate him." 

"hate?" minji repeated as she sat down in the driver seat and started the car, glancing in the rear view mirror to look at you with a raised eyebrow. "then why does your face light up everytime you see him? and why do you smile at him like he hung the stars one by one in the sky?” 

"that’s acting! if you film a romance drama with someone of course you have to look at them as if you’re in love with them in front of the cameras!” you replied in one breath. “i’m an actor, acting is what I do… what kind of bullshit are you spitting?” 

“hey, watch your mouth! i’m still your manager! i regret ever telling you to talk to me as if i was your friend, you've gotten way too comfortable.” 

✻

in the span of maybe 10 seconds, you found yourself sitting down in a chair, with hair and makeup stylists preparing you in a hurry.

"done. not surprising for our beautiful y/n, we don’t need much to make you look pretty,” said the hair stylist while looking at your reflection in the mirror. 

you shyly bowed your head and thanked her, which earned you a fond smile and a gentle pat on the head -while making sure not to mess up your hair, of course. as soon as she stepped away, you turned around in your chair to see if heeseung was here, but he was nowhere to be found. where the hell was he?

“y/n, come this way please.” 

a staff member clapped their hands together to get your attention and led you to the photoshoot set on the opposite side of the floor. 

as soon as you walked in, you were left speechless. in such a beautiful space, was an even more beautiful man waiting for you. like a flower among the flowers surrounding him, there heeseung was. his wavy blonde hair suited him perfectly, framing his delicate features with gold highlighting his cheeks and making him shine in a way that could rival the sun. when your eyes met, a smile bloomed on heeseung's face. wow, so beautiful- wait, get it together y/n.

“y/n, you came?”

his voice was also so sweet… you hated it. 

“yes, i’m here.” 

“they styled your hair really prettily,” he gently touched a strand of hair dropping on the side of your forehead, spreading goosebumps all over your exposed arms. his touch was so soft… you hated it. “it looks good on you.” heeseung smiled. that smile was about to ruin you. 

✻

“one last pose. y/n, please come a little bit closer. look into heeseung's eyes, as if you were about to kiss.”

your eyes opened wide in surprise upon hearing that, and you stopped in your motion. it was nothing new for you to be so close, especially when filming a romantic comedy, but somehow it felt different today. heeseung's lips formed that smirk he often had, the same smirk that made your heart flutter, and he touched your cheek to tilt his head so your eyes would meet. time stopped, as if it was only the two of you in the room. at that moment, you heard it, the sound of flowers blooming.

“okay, cut!” the photographer clapped. “everyone, you did well. thank you.”

you brushed heeseung's hand off and shot up. you hurriedly bowed and greeted the staff before running to the waiting room. 

it was hot. too hot. as soon as you bolted in, you grabbed a water bottle and chugged it before taking a deep breath. 

why… why the hell did you feel like you were suffocating whenever heeseung came close? you sat down with your head in your hands, pressing your cold palms on your eyelids.. you couldn't figure out what you were feeling. was it truly hatred?

you hated how heeseung's smile made your heart race. you also hated that heeseung had such pretty lips. you also hated how much you wanted to kiss heeseung. you wanted to believe that you truly hated him because if you hated heeseung, it would make everything so much easier. 

“what are you doing? why did you run away?” 

that damned voice. when you heard it, you weren’t sure you could hold yourself back any longer. 

you replied with your head still in your hands, not courageous enough to look into his eyes. “it was hot. i wanted to get changed quickly.” 

heeseung brought a warm hand to your shoulder. it felt like the contact was burning your skin through the layer of fabric separating you. “you’re still wearing the same shirt, though? do you want me to help you with that?” 

frustration rose within you. you pushed his hand away and stood up, looking at him with a dark gaze, “please, leave.” 

"but i don’t want to." heeseung tilted his head, showing that insufferable smirk once again. 

"heeseung, please leave." you pleaded, your voice sounding much weaker than you wanted it to.  

heeseung took one step closer, and your heart began to race against you will like it always does. it's like you're not master of your own body anymore.

"i said i didn’t want to. tell me. what’s going on?" 

you passed a hand through your hair, gripping a fistful of it and sighed. “i'm saying this because i don’t know what i’m capable of doing right now. so. please. leave.” 

a look of surprise briefly ghosted on his face before taking another step closer. it was getting dangerous. he was way too close, causing you to forget how to breathe again. 

“y/n… no way…,” his smile widened, “don’t tell me you really want to kiss me?” 

you couldn’t hold his intense gaze and looked down at the ground where nothing could draw you in and trap you. “can you please just leave me alone?” you mumbled, although you weren't sure it was what you wanted anymore. 

heeseung brought a hand to your chin and tilted your head up so you would look him in the eyes, knocking the air out of your lungs. “no. i don’t want to leave. i told you, i don’t want to. do whatever you want. i was waiting for you to.” 

your brain short-circuited at those last words. you couldn’t speak another word. was this real? was this a dream? did heeseung really say that? was he acting again? 

“will you just keep staring at me like that? or will you stop holding back and actually do what you've been craving since we first met?” heeseung asked. 

“ugh, will you shut up, lee heeseung?” 

you grabbed heeseung's shirt and pulled him in until your lips met before he could utter another word. finally, you really kissed him. it was even better than when filming the drama, because you didn't need to think about when to stop, when to close your eyes, or how to make it look good for the camera. without a care in the world, you kissed him because you wanted to. 

as heeseung's hand made it's way to your waist, you heard it once again… the sound of flowers blooming. 

[crystalsoobin]

burnt toast! ➤ c. beomgyu

#. pairing bf!beomgyu x reader

#. synopsis gyu tries to cook you breakfast in bed and fails… miserably.

#. genre romance, comedy, fluff

#. warnings mild swearing, gyu almost causing a fire 😃

#. author’s note i’m back??? im taking a creative writing class in uni this fall so i thought id get some practice in lol

a small smile lays across beomgyu’s face as he admires your sleeping frame one fine morning. he had woken up quite early that day, eager to surprise you with breakfast in bed.

he gets up silently as to not wake you, and makes his way to your small apartment kitchen. not sure what to make, beomgyu opens the fridge and stares inside as if the idea would just present itself in front of him.

he finally settles on making eggs and toast, an oldie but a goodie. only problem was, beomgyu never cooks.

it can’t be that hard to fry an egg, right?

at least he knows how to toast bread, so he starts there first. grabbing some bread from the pantry, he walks to the toaster where he suddenly stops, a little confused on how to work it.

shade?? hmm, i think 8 is good.

he drops two pieces of toast in the slots and pulls down the lever, stepping back to the fridge to pull out some eggs. he grabs a pan and puts some oil on, maybe a little too much oil.

beomgyu cracks the two eggs, one by one. satisfied, he puts it on high heat so that — in his mind — it’ll cook faster and he won’t have to wait too long.

he then reaches over to the cabinet and pulls out your favourite mug, which was a gift from him. then going over to the coffee maker, listening to the loud crackle of the eggs on the pan.

when he’s done making the coffee he turns around to find the toaster smoking, and a nasty burning smell coming from it. in panic, he runs over to it and tries to take out the toast, almost burning his fingers.

“dammit!” he exclaims, disappointed by the burnt toast and realizing 8 was way too high. he finally succeeds in pulling out the burnt toast, the smell remaining throughout the kitchen.

as he returns to check on the eggs, his eyes widen, also finding them burnt and smoking, a lot. he panics, trying to blow away the smoke with his hands as to not set off the fire alarm. in his panic, he obviously forgets to turn off the heat, making it worse for himself.

and as if the morning couldn’t possibly go more horribly wrong than he imagined, the fire alarm does in fact go off.

“no no no! fuck!” is the first thing you hear as you walk into the kitchen after being woken up by a loud beeping noise and your boyfriend not in bed.

you watch as beomgyu finally remembers to turn off the stove, sighing disappointedly with his face in his hands as his back towards you.

“what. the fuck. did you do.” you finally speak. beomgyu yelps and turns around, surprised at your presence in the kitchen.

“i- i didn’t mean to baby, i swear! i was just trying to make you breakfast!”

“gyu, i really appreciate the sentiment but you know you can’t cook!”

“i know, i’m sorry,” your boyfriend leans into you for a hug, saddened that he couldn’t surprise you with a nice breakfast, “i thought i’d at least be able to make eggs and toast.” you wrap your arms around him and give him a small kiss, suddenly you bursting out into laughter as you look around at the mess your poor boyfriend made.

“why are you laughing?” he asks. “i actually wanted to surprise you, im serious.” he pouts.

“i’m sorry,” you chuckle, “it’s just so funny when i think about it.”

beomgyu hits you playfully on the head as he steps back and stares at his mess.

“hey, at least i made the coffee right?” he handed you the mug. you grimaced as you tasted it.

“i think you forgot milk, and sugar.” setting down the mug, you get an idea, “you know what, why don’t we clean this up and the i teach you how to cook eggs and toast.” you smile.

beomgyu chuckles in agreement, “sounds like a good idea.”

© crystalsoobin / do not steal

[03jyh23]

🥣⌇this might be love┆jeong yunho

non-idol! yunho x reader ft. roommate mingi

│synopsis: when you fall ill with a nasty cold, your roommate Mingi takes it upon himself to play matchmaker, inviting his best friend Yunho over to take care of you

│genre: friends to lovers, fluff, failed attempt on comedy

│trigger warnings: mature themes, mature language, mingi is gay, mingi plays cupid, mild illness descriptions, mild suggestive, reader is shorter than yunho

│words: 6.7 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

│requested prompts are bold

!minors do not interact!

— hi there, my lovely people! this request has been sitting in my inbox since before my hiatus, and i'm finally posting it now! i'm really happy with how it turned out, and honestly, i like it so much! the writing process was a lot of fun, and i'm excited to share it with you! enjoy!

love, mon ♡

You were sprawled across your bed, your body feeling heavy and drained as you reached for yet another tissue from the rapidly diminishing pack. Your nose, red and irritated from constant wiping, continued its relentless dripping, while your muscles ached with a dull, persistent soreness.

The cold wasn't unbearable, but it was certainly taking its toll. It left you feeling slightly drained, your energy sapped, yet it was still within the realm of manageable discomfort. You couldn't help but loathe being sick; the inconvenience, the discomfort, and the forced inactivity all grated on your nerves. But you knew that getting plenty of rest was the best way to get better quickly. It wasn't just helpful - it was necessary to fight off the cold. The prospect of lying in bed for days wasn't appealing, but you knew it was the quickest way back to feeling like yourself again.

With a soft groan, you rolled to the other side of the bed, your hand fumbling for your phone charger. As you reached for it, you also grabbed a throat lozenge from the nightstand, hoping it would soothe the persistent tickle in your throat. Just as you were about to pop the lozenge into your mouth, a flash of color caught your eye. Peering through the crack in the door, you spotted a tuft of vibrant red hair. You raised your eyebrow, focusing your bleary eyes on the familiar sight. It was none other than Mingi, your best friend and roommate, apparently hovering just outside your door. His presence, both unexpected and comforting, brought a small smile to your face despite your illness-induced misery.

"What's up, Mings?" you asked, slightly lifting your head from the pillow to see him better.

Mingi stood in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically nervous. His hair was styled carefully, his locks falling softly onto his eyebrows and glasses. He was wearing a pink, oversized sweater, and loose light jeans that complemented his tall frame. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sweater as he spoke. "I was just thinking that maybe I shouldn't be leaving you all alone when you're sick?" he said, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at you with concern in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. "We've already talked about this. You've been waiting forever for this guy to ask you out, so please, for the love of God, just go on that date already!" Mingi stepped into your room, his fingers now fidgeting with his rings nervously. You sighed, recognizing the signs of his anxiety. "Are you trying to find an excuse not to go?" you asked, pushing yourself up to sit on your bed. You patted the spot next to you, inviting him to sit. As Mingi hesitantly made his way over, you couldn't help but notice the conflict evident in his expression. Despite your own discomfort from the cold, you felt a surge of concern for your friend.

Mingi finally sat down beside you, he cleared his throat before speaking "What if I mess it up? What if he realizes I'm not as cool as he thought I was?" His eyes darted around, avoiding your gaze.

"Mings, you're overthinking this," you said, propping yourself up on your elbow. "He asked you out because he likes you, just as you are. Besides, you're plenty cool – even when you're being a total dork." You reached out and gave Mingi's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Listen, I know first dates can be nerve-wracking, but remember, he's probably just as nervous as you are. Just be yourself, Min. That's who he wants to see." You paused, a small sneeze interrupting your pep talk. "And hey, if it doesn't go well, you can always come back here and we'll binge-watch your favorite show together, okay?"

Mingi's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he continued, his eyes fixed on your carpet, unable to meet your gaze. "It's just that he's so... cool, you know? Like, effortlessly cool, handsome, and kind of intimidating," he started, his words coming out in a rush. He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "And then there's me. Just... plain old me. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary. I can't help but wonder why someone like him would even be interested in someone like me."

You felt a pang of sympathy for your friend. Despite his vibrant personality and kind heart, Mingi had always struggled with self-doubt. "Hey, look at me," you said gently, waiting for Mingi to meet your eyes. "You're amazing just as you are. Your quirkiness, your passion for music, your terrible jokes—that's what makes you you. And that's exactly why he asked you out." You paused, squeezing your best friend's arm reassuringly once again, before continuing, "Trust me, Mingi, you've got so much to offer. Just be yourself and let him see the amazing person I know you are."

As you finished your pep talk, you suddenly felt the urgent need to blow your nose. You reached for a tissue and let out a loud, honking blow. Mingi's face scrunched up in a mix of amusement and mild disgust. "Alright, Miss Therapist," Mingi said, standing up with a dramatic flair. "I think I'll head out before I catch that disgusting virus of yours." He started walking towards the door, a small smile playing on his lips despite his earlier nervousness.

You watched as Mingi bent down to put on his shoes, his movements more confident now. As he straightened up, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "You know what?" Mingi said, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of playful determination and newfound confidence. "If I'm going on this date, then I think it's about time you finally asked Yunho out."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you felt an immediate rush of heat flood your cheeks. The mere mention of Yunho's name sent your heart into a flutter, "W-what? Yunho? I don't... I mean, I..." you stammered, suddenly finding the pattern on your bedspread fascinating.

Mingi's grin widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, come on, Y/N. You can't seriously think you've been hiding it well. I've seen the way you look at him - it's like he hung the moon and stars just for you. Plus, you get all flustered and tongue-tied every time he's around. It's actually quite entertaining to watch."

You buried your face in your hands, your embarrassment compounded by your illness-induced flush. "Is it that obvious?" you mumbled through your fingers.

"Only to everyone with functioning eyes," Mingi teased, his voice softening slightly. "But don't worry, I think it's absolutely adorable that you have such a massive crush on my best friend. It's like watching a rom-com in real life."

You groaned loudly, dramatically falling back onto your pillow and pulling the covers up to hide your burning face. "Just go on your date already," you said, your voice barely audible through the layers of blankets. "Leave me here to die of embarrassment in peace."

Mingi chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. "Alright, alright. I'll go, but don't think for a second that this conversation is over, Y/N! We're definitely revisiting this topic when I get back."

As Mingi turned to leave, a mischievous idea suddenly popped into your head. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn't resist the urge to turn the tables on him. With a grin you suddenly shouted, "I know you shaved your butthole! No sex on the first date!" just as Mingi's hand reached for the doorknob.

The effect was instantaneous. Mingi froze mid-motion, his hand hovering over the handle as if suddenly paralyzed. Slowly, almost comically, he turned back to face you, his eyes as wide as saucers and his cheeks rapidly turning a shade of red that rivaled his vibrant hair. For a long moment, he stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to form coherent words. "I... You... How did you...?" he sputtered. Then, as if suddenly remembering how to function, he pointed an accusing finger at you, his expression a mix of shock, embarrassment, and grudging amusement. "You're terrible, you know that? Absolutely, fucking terrible!"

Despite your congested state and the persistent tickle in your throat, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at Mingi's priceless reaction. Your amusement quickly turned into a coughing fit, but the utterly flabbergasted look on his face made it all worthwhile. "Just go on your date, you adorable dork," you managed to say between coughs, waving him off.

Mingi shook his head, a complex mixture of embarrassment, amusement, and fondness playing across his features. "You're lucky you're sick, or I'd get you back for that comment right now," he said, finally gathering enough composure to open the door. "Get better soon, you little bitch! And don't think I won't remember this!" As the door closed behind him, you flopped back onto your pillow, still giggling despite your stuffy nose and sore throat. The brief exchange had momentarily lifted your spirits. You made a mental note to tease Mingi more about this later, once you were feeling better.

You hadn't even noticed when you fell asleep in the middle of scrolling mindlessly through your phone. The sudden chime of the doorbell jolted you awake, leaving you disoriented and groggy. How long have you been sleeping? Confusion set in as you tried to gather your thoughts. Did Mingi forget his keys? But he rarely did that. Or was he back already? That seemed unlikely given how nervous he'd been about his date. Your foggy mind raced through possibilities as you struggled to sit up, your body still heavy with sleep and illness. The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. With a groan, you pushed yourself out of bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders like a cape. Your legs felt wobbly as you made your way to the door, your heart racing with a mix of curiosity. You reached for the handle, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

As the door swung open, you found yourself face to face with Yunho. His tall frame filled the doorway, and his warm brown eyes were filled with concern. Your heart skipped not just one, but several beats in quick succession, and you felt an intense warmth spread across your cheeks.

"Y/N! I hope I'm not bothering you," Yunho said, his voice gentle. The familiar timbre of his words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, momentarily distracting you from your stuffy nose and aching muscles. "I heard you were feeling sick, so I made you some soup." he continued, a hint of shyness creeping into his voice. He held up a sizable container, "It's my grandma's special recipe, it's worked wonders for me whenever I've been sick. I swear, it's like magic in a bowl."

You blinked rapidly, momentarily stunned into silence by his incredibly thoughtful gesture. A warm, fuzzy feeling bloomed in your chest, momentarily overshadowing your illness. "Yunho, I... you really didn't have to go through all this trouble," you finally managed to say, your voice slightly hoarse and barely above a whisper.

He smiled then, a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes, causing them to crinkle adorably at the corners. The sight made your heart do a little flip in your chest. "But I wanted to, Y/N. Taking care of you... I mean, helping you feel better is important to me," he said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Do you think I could come in for a bit? I just want to make sure you're okay and maybe heat up this soup for you."

You hesitated for a moment, your illness-addled brain struggling to process the situation. But as you looked into Yunho's earnest eyes, you felt a warmth that had nothing to do with your fever. "Of course," you heard yourself say, stepping aside to let him in. "I'd love some company, actually." As Yunho entered, you couldn't help but feel that maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all. Yunho busied himself in the kitchen, and you found yourself trailing off, a question forming on your lips. "How did you know I was...?" you started your voice raspy from your cold.

Yunho glanced over his shoulder, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Well, Mingi called," he explained, turning to face you, "He was feeling pretty guilty about leaving you like that."

'This little bitch,' you thought to yourself. You tried to compose yourself, suddenly acutely aware of your disheveled appearance. Your oversized hoodie was rumpled beyond repair, and you could only imagine the state of your hair. A wave of self-consciousness hit you as you realized that you never wanted Yunho to see you like this in the first place. You ran a hand through your tangled hair, attempting to smooth it down, all while silently cursing Mingi for his well-intentioned meddling. Despite your embarrassment, a small part of you couldn't help but feel touched by Yunho's kindness.

"Hey, Y/N? I can't seem to find a pot. Where do you keep them?" Yunho’s question snapped you back to reality, and you felt a rush of embarrassment at the thought of him rummaging through your kitchen drawers.

"Oh! Sorry, they're in the cabinet above the sink," you answered, your voice still a bit raspy. You scooted over to help Yunho, determined to reach the pot yourself. However, as you approached the cabinet, the upper drawers seemed to tower above you, mockingly out of reach. Undeterred, you stretched up on your tiptoes, your fingers barely grazing the cabinet door. You could feel Yunho's presence behind you, probably watching with a mix of amusement and concern. Stubbornly, you extended yourself further, managing to hook your fingers onto the rim of the cabinet. As you strained to reach for a pot, you suddenly felt a bit lightheaded - likely a combination of your fever and the sudden vertical movement. Your balance wavered slightly, and you instinctively tightened your grip on the cabinet, determined not to embarrass yourself further in front of Yunho.

Just as you felt yourself starting to sway, you heard Yunho's deep voice behind you, tinged with a mix of amusement and concern. "I can't help you if you won't let me."

Before you could respond, you felt his warm presence directly behind you. His chest was almost touching your back as he effortlessly reached over your head, easily grasping the pot you had been struggling to reach. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you were suddenly very aware of how small you felt next to him. As he lowered the bowl, his other hand gently steadied you by your waist. "Easy there," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. "We don't want you falling and getting even sicker, do we?"

You turned to face him, your cheeks burning - though whether from embarrassment, your fever, or Yunho's closeness, you couldn't quite tell. "Thanks," you managed to mumble, taking the pot from his hands. Your fingers brushed against his, and you felt a jolt of electricity at the contact.

Yunho's eyes crinkled with a soft smile. "Anytime. Now, how about you sit down and let me take care of the rest? Doctor's orders." Despite your stubbornness, you found yourself nodding. You placed the pot on the stove, and moved towards the couch, secretly grateful for his care and attention.

As you settled onto the couch, you pulled out your phone from your hoodie's pocket. Your fingers flew across the screen as you typed out a message to Mingi:

You: You absolute little shit. Why the fuck would you send Yunho over?! I look like a zombie raccoon that's been hit by a truck. I swear I'm going to kill you... right after I thank you. Maybe. If I'm feeling generous. Which I'm not right now. 🤬😤💀

You hit send, a mix of embarrassment, anger, and reluctant gratitude swirling in your chest. Despite your annoyance, you couldn't help but smile a little at Mingi's well-intentioned meddling.

Your phone buzzed almost immediately with Mingi's replies:

Mingi: You're welcome, you ungrateful bitch! 😘 Have fun with your sexy doctor. I, on the other hand, will be getting my guts rearranged tonight. So don’t wait for me! Too bad you can't ride that Yunho rollercoaster because of your cold, but hey, at least you've got him to role play with you! 😉

Mingi: Remember, the best way to sweat out a fever is vigorous physical activity. I'm sure he can help with that. 😮‍💨

You: I told you no sex on the first date!!! I hope his dick is small and he can't fuck!!! 😤

You smirked as you sent the message, feeling a mix of satisfaction and lingering embarrassment. Your attention was quickly drawn back to the kitchen as you heard the clatter of utensils and the gentle simmering of soup. Your phone buzzed again, but before you could check Mingi's response, you heard Yunho's voice from the kitchen. "Soup's ready! Are you comfortable out there?"

You quickly pocketed your phone, your playful argument with Mingi momentarily forgotten as you focused on the care and attention Yunho was showing you. "Yeah, I'm comfortable," you called back, snuggling deeper into the couch cushions.

Yunho appeared a moment later, carefully carrying a steaming bowl. He set it down on the coffee table in front of you with a flourish. "Here you go! My grandma's secret recipe. It'll have you feeling better in no time." You smiled gratefully, picking up the spoon and dipping it into the soup. The liquid was a murky brown color, with unidentifiable chunks floating in it. You hesitated for a moment, then brought the spoon to your lips. As soon as the soup touched your tongue, you had to fight the urge to spit it out. It was... terrible. The taste was a bizarre mix of overly salty and oddly sweet, with a bitter aftertaste that clung to your palate. You swallowed hard, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. Yunho was watching you expectantly, his eyes bright with hope. "Well? How is it?" You opened your mouth, ready to lie through your teeth, when a chunk of something chewy and unpleasant slid down your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you started coughing and spluttering. "Oh no," Yunho said, his face falling. "Is it that bad?"

With tears in your eyes from the uncomfortable coughing session, you shook your head. "No, it's... it's good," you stammered, trying to catch your breath.

Yunho's concerned expression softened slightly, but doubt still lingered in his eyes. "Are you sure? You don't have to pretend if it's not good. I know my cooking skills aren't the best..."

You felt a pang of guilt at his crestfallen look. Despite the soup's awful taste, you couldn't bear to hurt his feelings when he had gone out of his way to take care of you. "Really, it's fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "It just went down the wrong way. I'm sure it'll help me feel better in no time." Yunho's face brightened at your reassurance, and you steeled yourself to take another spoonful of the concoction. As you raised the spoon to your lips, you silently prayed that your taste buds would miraculously adjust to the flavor. After all, how bad could it be if it came from a grandmother's recipe? But as you brought the spoon closer to your mouth, your stomach churned in protest. The pungent aroma wafting from the soup made your nostrils flare, and you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. Your hand trembled slightly, and you realized you simply couldn't force yourself to take another bite. Lowering the spoon back into the bowl, you looked up at Yunho with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Yunho. I really appreciate you making this for me, but… it tastes fucking terrible.’’

Yunho chuckled and quickly covered his lips with his hand, trying to compose himself. "Fuck, I'm sorry... I know I'm not the best cook but—" he trailed off, unable to contain his laughter. You couldn't help but join in, your own laughter bubbling up despite your illness. The tension in the room dissipated as you both giggled, the terrible soup becoming a shared joke between you. "I guess I won't be winning any cooking competitions anytime soon," Yunho said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Maybe stick to dancing," you teased, feeling more at ease now that the truth was out. "But seriously, thank you for trying. It means a lot."

Yunho's smile softened. "Anytime. How about we order some real food instead?"

You smiled weakly at Yunho, "Actually, I'm not really that hungry," you admitted, your stomach still unsettled from the combination of your cold and the attempt at soup. "But thank you for offering."

Yunho's expression shifted to one of concern. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have realized you might not have much of an appetite. Is there anything else I can do to help you feel better?"

You felt a warmth in your chest at his genuine care. "Just having you here is nice," you said softly, then quickly added, "But maybe we could watch a movie or something? If you're not too busy, that is."

Yunho's face lit up with a gentle smile. "That sounds perfect. I've got nowhere else to be. Let's find something light and fun to watch, okay?" You settled back into the couch, pulling your blanket closer around you as Yunho grabbed the remote. As he scrolled through the movie options, you felt a strange mix of comfort and nervousness. His presence was soothing, yet you couldn't help but be hyper-aware of every move he made. You silently hoped your stuffy nose wouldn't ruin the movie experience for both of you.

As Yunho continued scrolling through movie options, your phone chimed with a series of text notifications. You glanced at the screen to see multiple messages from Mingi popping up in quick succession:

Mingi: Actually, I've given it some thought. Don't let this damn cold cock-block you! 🍆 🍆 😏😏 You and Yunho should have some fun since I’m not around! 😋

Mingi: So with that being said! Time for some vitamin D(ick)! It's scientifically proven to boost your immune system. Trust me, I'm a doctor. 🤭😎

Mingi: Oh, and remember!!! Orgasms clear sinuses. It's basically medicine. 😏😏

You felt your face burning hotter than your fever as you quickly shoved your phone under a pillow, praying Yunho hadn't seen any of Mingi's increasingly explicit messages.

"Hey, I saw my name on your screen. Everything okay?" Yunho asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Your heart skipped a beat, realizing he had caught a glimpse of Mingi's suggestive messages.

You fumbled for words, trying to come up with a plausible explanation that wouldn't make the situation even more awkward. "Oh, it's just... Mingi being Mingi," you said with a nervous laugh, hoping to brush it off. "You know how he can be sometimes."

Yunho's lips quirked into a small smile. "Yeah, I do know. Should I be worried about what he's saying?"

You shook your head quickly, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "No, no! It's nothing. Just... silly stuff. You know him."

Yunho nodded, but his eyes held a hint of amusement. "Alright, if you say so." You felt a mix of relief and lingering embarrassment as Yunho turned his attention back to the movie selection.

As you finally settled on a movie, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the scenes. Your eyelids grew heavy, the fatigue from your illness weighing you down. You tried to stay awake, not wanting to be rude to Yunho, but the struggle was real. His presence beside your curled-up form was both comforting and distracting. His scent, a subtle mix of clean laundry and something floral, enveloped you. It was soothing, almost lulling you further into sleepiness. You found yourself unconsciously leaning slightly towards him, drawn to his warmth and the sense of security he provided. As you fought against the encroaching drowsiness, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. Here you were, sick and probably looking a mess, practically falling asleep on Yunho. Yet, a small part of you reveled in the closeness, in the care he was showing you. Your thoughts became increasingly fuzzy as sleep threatened to overtake you the movie fading into background noise as Yunho's presence became the most prominent thing in your awareness. Your eyelids grew heavier and you felt a gentle movement beside you. Yunho hesitantly put his arm around your shoulder, bringing your body slightly closer to him. The sudden warmth and proximity startled you into alertness, and you looked up at him questioningly.

His eyes met yours, a mix of concern and something softer, almost tender, in his gaze. "You looked like you were about to fall over," he explained softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. Is this okay?"

You felt a flutter in your chest, your heart rate picking up despite your fatigue. The gesture was so gentle, so caring, that it momentarily made you forget about your illness. You found yourself nodding, a small smile tugging at your lips as you allowed yourself to relax into his embrace. "Oh... yeah, it's alright," you murmured softly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. Your heart began racing, its rapid beats echoing in your ears. The sudden closeness to Yunho, while comforting, also sparked a wave of nervous energy through your body. "But maybe it's not a good idea for me to be so close?" you almost whispered. "I wouldn't want you to get sick."

Yunho's arm tightened slightly around you, and you could feel the rumble of his soft chuckle. "Don't worry about me," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I've got a strong immune system. Besides, taking care of you is more important right now." His words sent a warmth spreading through your chest, conflicting with the guilt you felt about potentially passing on your illness. You opened your mouth to protest again, but Yunho gently shushed you. "Just relax," he murmured, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your shoulder. You looked up at him, trying to read his face and decipher his motives. Of course, you were happy to have him so close, but this wasn't typical Yunho behavior towards you. Usually, you'd spend time together with him and Mingi, playing games or going out for drinks. On days when you felt particularly anxious, you'd retreat to your room, leaving the boys to their fun. But now, for the first time, it was truly just the two of you.

You took in his handsome features, realizing he was even more attractive up close. Relax? How could you possibly relax with your heart racing like this? How could you relax when all you could think about was closing the distance between you?

And then, in that charged moment, your body betrayed you. You sneezed. Not just a small, polite sneeze, but a loud, explosive one that sent droplets flying. You immediately covered your face with your hands, mortified.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," you mumbled through your fingers, your face burning with embarrassment. You could feel Yunho's body shaking slightly, and when you dared to peek up at him, you saw he was trying to suppress his laughter. His laughter was contagious, and despite your embarrassment, you found yourself giggling too. The tension broke, and you both dissolved into a fit of laughter.

As your laughter subsided, Yunho wiped a tear from his eye and grinned at you. "Well, I guess that's one way to clear the air," he joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands again. "I can't believe I just did that," you mumbled, your voice muffled.

Yunho chuckled, gently pulling your hands away from your face. "Hey, look at it this way," he said, his tone playful, "if I don't get sick after that sneeze, I'm probably immune to everything. You might have just given me superpowers."

You couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous statement. "Oh yeah? What kind of superpowers are we talking about here?" you asked, playing along.

Yunho pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm... maybe the ability to detect oncoming sneezes within a five-mile radius? Or perhaps instant tissue summoning?" He wiggled his fingers dramatically. "Behold, the amazing Sneeze-Man!" His silly antics made you laugh even harder, momentarily forgetting about your embarrassment. In that moment, you felt incredibly grateful for Yunho's ability to turn an awkward situation into something light-hearted and fun.

As the laughter died down, a comfortable silence settled between you. You felt a surge of warmth and gratitude wash over you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you decided to voice your feelings. "Yunho," you started, your voice soft but steady, "I'm really happy you came."

You held your breath, heart pounding as you waited for his response. Yunho smiled softly at you, reaching for a tissue from the coffee table and gently handing it to you. "How could I not?" he replied, his voice warm and filled with an emotion you couldn't quite place. His eyes met yours, and there was a tenderness in them that made your heart skip a beat. "You're important to me, you know." The way he said it, the look in his eyes - it felt like he was hinting at something more, something deeper than just friendship.

You felt a flutter of hope in your chest, wondering if maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren't as one-sided as you'd thought. "You care about me?" you mouthed, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy on your tongue, laden with hope and uncertainty.

Yunho's eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Of course I do. Did you think I didn't?"

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands. "I... I guess I always thought you only hung out with me because of Mingi. That you only came over to see him, and I was just... there."

Yunho's eyebrows furrowed, a look of surprise and something akin to hurt crossing his face. "What? No, that's not true at all," he said, his voice firm but gentle. He reached out, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "I come over because I want to see you, too. Mingi's my best friend, sure, but you're important to me in your own right."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words and the intensity in his eyes. "Really?" you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Yunho nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Really. I thought you knew that. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you were just an afterthought. You're so much more than that to me." The sincerity in his voice made your breath catch in your throat. You found yourself leaning into his touch, your earlier worries about getting him sick momentarily forgotten. You must have looked dumbfounded, your mouth slightly open, as you looked at him in pure shock. Yunho giggled at your expression, gently pulling you closer until you were almost leaning straight into his chest. You gasped, your eyebrows rising in surprise. Yunho looked you straight in the eyes, a mix of amusement and tenderness in his gaze. "What?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with a hint of playfulness. The closeness between you was overwhelming, his warmth enveloping you, his scent filling your senses. Your heart raced, torn between the desire to lean in further and the lingering worry. You found yourself frozen, caught between your feelings and your concerns, as you stared into Yunho's eyes, searching for answers to questions you weren't even sure how to ask.

Yunho's expression softened, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his features. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Y/N," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I... I like you. And not just in a friendly way." Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could respond, Yunho continued, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I hope that's okay. That I like you, I mean. Because I do. A lot."

Your eyes widened even further, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to form a coherent response. Your brows furrowed in surprise, your mind racing to process Yunho's confession. You felt a mix of elation and disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest. "I... I..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to catch in your throat, refusing to come out. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. Your gaze flickered between Yunho's eyes and his lips, your own parted in an attempt to speak. Yunho waited patiently, his eyes never leaving yours, a mix of hope and nervousness evident in his expression.

"Fuck it," you muttered under your breath, barely audible. Then, gathering all your courage, you looked straight into Yunho's eyes and said, "I like you too." The words tumbled out in a rush, your voice trembling slightly with emotion and nervousness. "I really, really like you." As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Your heart was still racing, but now it was from excitement rather than anxiety.

Yunho's face lit up with a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm so glad," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine happiness. Yunho's arm fell from your shoulders to your waist, gently wrapping around you and pulling you closer. "So..." Yunho continued, his voice taking on a playful tone that made your heart skip a beat. "What do you think about putting some of Mingi's... unconventional health advice to the test?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a burst of laughter to escape your lips despite your best efforts to maintain a serious expression.

You couldn't help but gasp, your hand flying to your chest in an exaggerated display of shock. "Yunho!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. "Don't tell me you actually read those messages!" You punctuated your words with a gentle, playful swat to his chest, your fingers lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary.

Yunho's response was to throw his head back in laughter, the sound rich and warm, filling the room and making your heart swell with affection. When he finally composed himself, he leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered conspiratorially, "Would it make you feel any better if I told you that our dear friend Mingi sent me an equally... enlightening set of texts?" His eyes twinkled with mischief as he pulled back to gauge your reaction, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, a mix of curiosity and amusement dancing across your features. "Oh really?" you asked, your voice laced with intrigue. "And what exactly did our Mingi have to say to you?" You leaned in closer, your eyes locked with Yunho's, eager to hear his response.

Yunho's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing against your ear. "Let's just say," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "that Mingi was very... thorough in his medical advice." He pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours. He cleared his throat, clearly a bit flustered. "But I think I'd rather focus on what you want, not Mingi's wild ideas."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words. Despite the playful atmosphere, there was a tenderness in Yunho's eyes that made your heart race. "And what if..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "what if I want to test Mingi's theories?"

Yunho's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face. "Well, if that's what you want... I'm more than happy to oblige." His hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles on your skin as he gazed into your eyes, silently seeking permission. You leaned in, your heart racing with anticipation. But just as your lips were about to meet Yunho's, you felt an all-too-familiar tickle in your nose. Your eyes widened in panic.

"Oh no," you managed to whisper, before turning your head away at the last second. "ACHOO!" The sneeze erupted, loud and forceful, completely shattering the romantic moment.

Yunho jerked back in surprise, blinking rapidly. For a moment, you both sat in stunned silence, the abrupt shift from intimate to awkward leaving you both at a loss for words. Then, as if on cue, you both burst into laughter. Yunho's shoulders shook as he chuckled, while you buried your face in your hands, your giggles muffled but unmistakable.

"Well," Yunho said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "I guess your cold isn't quite ready to let us test those theories just yet."

You peeked at him through your fingers, your face flushed with both embarrassment and amusement. "I'm so sorry," you mumbled, though you couldn't help but smile.

Yunho gently pulled your hands away from your face, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Don't be. I think it's safe to say that this is a moment we'll never forget."

As your laughter subsided, Yunho pulled you into a warm embrace. "How about we put those theories on hold for now and focus on getting you better first?" he suggested softly.

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. "That sounds perfect," you replied, feeling grateful for Yunho's understanding and care. As embarrassing as the moment had been, you couldn't help but feel that it had only brought you closer together.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[makeyoumine69]

Lost Memory (Memory Reboot x4)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader x Timothy Bryce

SUMMARY: Two lost souls, both broken and neglected, knowing they were never meant to be, found solace in each other just for one night.

CONTAINS: SMUT, angst, depression, obsessive thoughts, mentions of death, canon violence, tainted love, blow jobs, face-sitting, hand jobs, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, dirty talk, pet names, sensual foreplay, rimming, intoxication, praise kink.

WORDS: 4.5k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Lost Memory

A/N: Hello everyone, the new chapter is finally here! I'm sorry for the wait, but I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

Cool New York night air enveloped your shivering frame the moment you walked outside, leaving the noisy wedding party behind the walls of the luxurious Ziegfeld Ballroom. Slowly breathing in the fresh air, you closed your eyes and threw your head back a little to come back to your senses—you were literally broken to pieces, to say the least—your heart was pounding painfully in your chest and at some point you wished it would stop beating, thinking that it would end everything and finally set you free from all this pain and suffering. 

Hugging yourself, you took a few weak strides towards the street where cars were speeding by. Just one step, and tomorrow all the newspapers would report that there had been an accident in Manhattan right next to the Ziegfeld Ballroom where the pompous wedding of our Wall Street golden boy was taking place. You laughed to yourself at all this nonsense, how did you ever get into such a situation? Being completely sober, the realization of what you were thinking hit you even harder than if you were drunk or high, but now you were completely lucid, able to feel every twinge of pain.

Bewildered, you watched the yellow cars go by, sometimes you could see the impassive faces of the passengers inside. All this reminded you of a movie whose name you could never really remember. But it was definitely not a comedy or a drama. Maybe it was a documentary about someone's life... a tragic life?

With a sad sigh, you were about to sit down on the curb when you heard loud footsteps behind you and turned around to see a familiar silhouette approaching.

"Bateman?" You asked, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

The man didn't answer, as if he hadn't noticed you at all, casually pulling a cigar out of the pocket of his Prada coat that he wore over his wedding tuxedo, and for a second you thought it was just an illusion your sick mind managed to maintain to keep your psyche from collapsing.

After lighting his cigar, Patrick made a long drag before finally giving you an agonizing stare. "Just wanted to have some fresh air..." he paused, his white teeth clenching around the cigar, making his jawline look so sharp that even in the dark you could see it. "Plus, Evelyn didn't want me to smoke inside. We just got married and she's already making scenes."

You wanted to say something, but stopped at the last moment—his hazel eyes suddenly took your breath away—leaving you completely speechless.

"And you," Bateman continued as he came closer, his elegant figure looking so seductive in the dim light. "I can't believe you left all your business in Chicago just to come here and get squashed like a fucking cockroach!"

"What? What are you talking about?" You asked in a shaky tone, your temples pulsating with a strange tension that made you want to massage them. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

Patrick grinned wickedly as he leveled himself with you, the difference in height only adding to the menace of his appearance. "Tell me one thing, (y/n)," he whispered above your cheek, keeping the mere distance between the two of you. "Did you really think I'd dream of you coming back to me?"

You closed your eyes involuntarily, every word he said bringing the most inhuman pain you had ever felt. "S-stop," you replied, stepping back. "Shut... shut your damn mouth!"

"Ohhh," he cooed at you in a mocking way, which drove you crazy, but then he blew some smoke right in your face, which made you want to punch him in the chest. "You just have to accept that you lost," Bateman suddenly grabbed the collar of your coat to pull you closer. "Just accept that you fell in love with a man who doesn't give a fuck about you."

On the verge of tears, you didn't even struggle as the ground beneath your feet suddenly began to disappear. "I... I will not give you the satisfaction of hating you... you f-fucking bastard!"

Without thinking, you spat right into his smug face and before you knew it, his strong arms were wrapped around your trembling neck, almost straddling you so you couldn't even make a sound. Everything around you began to blur, and the last moment you remembered before passing out was Patrick's menacing laugh as he pushed you right out into the road in front of the speeding car. A fatal blow hit your body, a screeching sound of tires rang in your ears and you screamed in pain, choking on your own breath.

And then the darkness finally took you.

At least you thought so until you heard a familiar male voice calling out to you, and no, it wasn't Patrick. No way, if you were really going to die, you wished you would never meet him in the place you were going to transfer to. No doubt, that son of a bitch would burn in hell while you would end up in heaven. Somehow you were sure of that.

"Jesus, (y/n), will you stop yelling?" The grumpy voice called out to you again.

You blinked several times before opening your eyes to see the opulent interior around you. And who said that heaven was somewhere in the sky where angels were flying around promising a peaceful afterlife?

"Welcome back," the dark-haired man chuckled, swirling his drink in his hand. "I told you not to mix too many cocktails."

Cocktails?

You recoiled as if from an electric shock as you suddenly heard your inner voice, seemingly silent for centuries. Rubbing your eyes, you tried to get up, but the next moment you fell back onto something soft, which seemed to be a car seat, considering you definitely heard the engine rumble, so you were definitely in someone's car. Another attempt to get up was more successful and you took your time exploring the surroundings, and when you managed to get a good look at the person sitting on the opposite side of you, your heart did a flip-flop in your chest.

"Bryce?" You couldn't believe your eyes at first, but when you saw his cheeky grin, you knew it was really him.

"You drifted off right after we got in, so I decided not to wake you," Timothy replied nonchalantly before taking a sip of his drink. "Nice limo? Evelyn and Bateman were supposed to be in it, but then he told me they were leaving in a fucking helicopter," the man laughed, almost dropping the glass. "A fucking helicopter, can you believe that?"

Your head was spinning, making it difficult to process the information. Grunting, you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to remember how you got in here in the first place.

"Ohhh...my head," you hissed, almost kicking the tray of drinks that was on the small table built into the limo door. "What...what happened after the ceremony ended," your question left Tim speechless and for a moment you both remained silent. "Bryce?"

Timothy frowned and placed the empty glass on his knee. "Are you kidding?"

"For God's sake, Bryce!" You suddenly raised your voice, but the next second you hissed in pain. "Can... can you just fucking tell me what the hell am I doing here?"

"You're asking me that?" Bryce tilted his head as he watched you try to sit comfortably. "Come on, (y/n), this isn't funny anymore. Besides, I warned you not to drink too much."

Tsk... I can't remember a damn thing.

When you managed to sit up straight, you pressed yourself against the cold window and sighed in relief. "And what exactly did...we drink?" 

The man scoffed. "I told you...you had several cocktails, but that was not enough...so you decided to finish everything the bar had."

"Ahh, screw you! I don't believe a word you're saying," you threw one leg over the other, watching the blinding lights of oncoming traffic. "Where are we going?!"

"Where? Jeez, if you can't drink, you better not even try," Tim replied curtly, his voice changing, now devoid of any sass. "We're going to my place."

"What?"

"Stop fucking pretending you don't remember," the man barked, squirming in his seat, the glass felt on the soft floor of the limo, thankfully it didn't break. "Do you know how deranged you are? You talked in your sleep-"

"I didn't!" You tried to interrupt him, completely embarrassed. "Take another glass and-"

"No, no, no, hold on!" Bryce leaned forward to get closer so you could see his face more clearly. "Did I hit the nerve?"

Yes, you did. You fucking did.

If only you could really confess and open up to him without fear of being accused or whatever. Would it even be right to tell Tim everything that happened between you and Patrick? When you were so close to telling him all the things that were bothering you, your voice suddenly disappeared, as if some invisible force was choking you from within. Only after a few minutes did you manage to speak, feeling Timothy's piercing gaze.

"Was it Evelyn who invited you to the wedding?" Your question surprised him, you could tell by the way he leaned back in his seat. "I'm just curious...because she invited me."

Every time Evelyn was mentioned, something changed in his expression, and you couldn't really find the right word to describe it—it was something much stronger than the usual sadness people always talked about—something that made you sad, too.

"Let's say," his lips curled into a wry smile and you couldn't take your eyes off them, they were beautiful and alluring. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember or...you don't want to remember?" You opened your coat, suddenly feeling suffocated in your clothes.

Bryce furrowed his thick eyebrows, looked down at the empty glass on the floor, as did you, and then your fingers touched as you both leaned down to pick it up. Tim's skin was not as soft as Patrick's, it felt completely different, it made you want to explore it more, to touch it, to taste it, as if it was your own personal forbidden fruit.

Without saying a word, Tim quickly pulled away and took the glass to place it on the tray next to the others, the amber liquid in them making them look like they were made of gold. There was no room for any more talk as the two of you pulled each other into a furious kiss, you let him place his hand at the base of your neck, drawing you closer and soon you were sitting on top of him, gasping into his mouth. Bryce's slightly flushed face made it impossible to think of Bateman, even though his image tried to appear every time you briefly opened your eyes. 

Leave... me... alone!

You almost growled aloud, but Tim's eager tongue prevented you from doing so, as he used it to shut you up completely, licking your mouth from the inside while his hands slid down your back to your ass, massaging it, and when you thought he was going to slap it, he just gave it a playful squeeze.

"Jesus, Bryce," you whispered against his red lips, swollen from your kisses. "I didn't know you could be so sweet."

Tim craned his neck and you seized the moment to leave a wet hickey on his smooth skin, he smelled so good you thought you could just snuggle into his chest and sniff his scent. And why did you even bother with these childish, silly games with Bateman? Unfortunately, some questions never had answers, but it didn't matter now. Not when you could find comfort in the arms of Patrick's best friend. 

God, I wish you could see me right now.

"There's so little you know about me, baby." He chirped before helping you take off your coat, his impatience turning you on wildly. 

With a soft giggle, you unbuttoned your shirt. "Huh, baby? Really? And I thought you were the type who didn't use such primitive nicknames."

Smirking, you teased him with the slow rocking of your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressed against your burning core, and it spurred you to move faster, more erratically, as you unexpectedly became as impatient as he was. And even though you didn't like losing control, you wanted to get lost right now, even though you'd probably regret it tomorrow, but at least the regret would be different.

Nibbling at the artery on your neck, Timothy grabbed your ass tighter to make the friction more vivid, his finger digging into the expensive material of your Gucci pants. "I can call you anything you want," he growled into your collarbone, your shirt half undone. "Just tell me what you want to be tonight?"

"I can be anything," you caught his warm lips with your own to kiss him again in a way that bordered on desperation, as if your life depended on it, and he responded with the same ferocity. "Anything you want..."

Chuckling at your cheeky statement, the man lounged in his seat and looked at you up and down, admiring the way your clothes were disheveled, your hair was nothing like it had been when you had just arrived at the wedding and even your feelings were different. Everything was different now, the whole world seemed to diminish to the size of the interior of the limousine and you both wanted this moment to last forever, but you knew it was impossible.

Bryce decided to use his mouth in a more effective way than just talking, latching it around your nipple through your shirt, but then taking it off completely and swirling his tongue around your hard tip.

"Don't be anything," he quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled out his hard cock. "Just be mine tonight."

You couldn't hide a smile of genuine satisfaction as his words struck a chord in your chest. "Deal."

With that, you carefully rose from his lap to position yourself between his wide-open legs, watching him touch himself with pure abandon. And yet, everything about Tim was far too alien, your mind kept bringing back the memories of what had happened in the bathroom a few hours ago. It hurt, it hurt so much that you almost chewed your cheek to the point of blood to hold back the tears. Bryce, you had to focus on Bryce, he was here, right in front of you, all spread out and pumping his thick cock. 

Stop thinking about Bateman!

"Are you sure you know what to do?" Timothy glared down at you, concerned by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Shaking yourself off, you smiled in reply and before you knew it, your hand was sliding along his, then completely replacing it and stroking his dick vigorously, smearing his dense pre-cum all along your hand. 

"Watch me," you murmured and lowered yourself even more to take him in your mouth, savoring his salty taste. "Mhhm...fuck, Bryce, you taste so good."

Tim couldn't stop himself from moaning, grabbing the edge of the seat and closing his eyes in ecstasy. "Keep going," he purred, fighting the urge to fuck your throat. "Shit... Bateman doesn't even know what he lost."

Bryce's words almost made you choke on his beefy shaft, but it only took a moment to pull yourself together and just enjoy the way his dick slid in and out of your mouth. As the man pushed himself further, the tip brushing against your throat, you leaned against his hips for support, allowing him to have his way with you. Just the sight of him made you tremble with desire, as you had never really thought that Tim could be so hot, not that you had any doubts that he was a skilled lover, but reality never ceased to surprise you.

"I...I'm so fucking close...uh," his voice dropped even lower, eloquent proof of his words. "Your mouth...arhhh...you know how to work magic with your mouth, babe."

Although you had always denied having a praise kink, being with Tim was the first time you were truly willing to admit that you did have a praise kink. Every little praise he gave you was like balm to your broken soul, encouraging you to suck him harder, to drink him dry. These two men were far too unlike each other, but in the end, you seemed to crave them both.

Being so close to falling apart, Bryce couldn't control himself any more and took a handful of your hair and plunged full length into your bruised mouth until you both noticed that the car had stopped. Tim swore loudly but that didn't stop you and the next thing you remembered was feeling thick ropes of his hot cum shooting down your throat and you could swear it tasted so fucking sweet. Maybe you were delusional, maybe it was just another hallucination–you didn't care because you were high like no drugs could make you.

I'll remember that taste for sure. 

A little later, you didn't know exactly how much time had passed, and you didn't recollect how the two of you had gotten into Bryce's apartment. You didn't care about the luxury of this place, how expensive the furniture was, how soft the silk sheets were when you fell on them, your naked skin sliding along the cold material like a ship on waves. You were about to lose all connection to reality when Tim climbed on top of you, his hairy chest rubbing against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist and you couldn't stifle a moan as his leaky dick rubbed against your legs.

Creasing the sheets, you raked your hand through his black, tousled hair, pulling him closer so that your lips could collide in a hunger kiss. "Fuck me, Tim," you murmured unexpectedly, brushing your feet against his hips. "Fuck me like there's no tomorrow."

"Are you always this needy?" He teased, biting your lower lip and licking it after a quick nibble. "Or is it because of me?"

Perplexed, you stopped doing anything as his words left you pondering. "I... I don't know... I don't know who I really am..."

Bryce nodded without saying anything, his nose touching yours in a brief moment of genuine affection, and somehow you thought he understood everything, that he could read you like an open book and there was no need for you to explain. Pecking your cheek, the man slowly turned you over on your stomach and you quickly got down on all fours because you couldn't wait any longer. Bucking your hips, you turned around to see him positioning himself behind you, his warm palm caressing your ass before a finger probed your tight hole, making you gasp but you didn't falter, showing him how ready and eager you were.

"Uhh," Tim stroked himself several times before aligning himself with your opening and diving in with a slow, deliberate thrust. "Fuck...mmhm-fuck."

The mere thought that he had been imagining Evelyn all this time, starting with you giving him head, suddenly made you angry, and for a brief second you allowed yourself to imagine that it was Patrick who was stretching you from the inside, but somehow you began to feel even worse.

"I'm sorry...I'm not Evelyn," you blurted out without thinking. "But I..."

"Shut up," he cut you off and slammed into you relentlessly, forcing you to take him, no matter how painful it was. "I don't want to hear about her...not even a thing."

Bryce was right, it was so fucking stupid of you to bring Evelyn at such a moment, but it was so hard for you to think clearly and Tim's fat cock didn't help at all, the fullness it gave you was completely overwhelming. It made you forget everything and you didn't even want to compare your sensation with the way Patrick made you feel - your mind was finally free of any emotions or thoughts–you were drowning in a carnal lust. You were both extremely vocal, poor neighbors who could hear you at this hour, but Timothy seemed to be completely indifferent as he set the pace, pounding into you with all his might, each stroke full of desperation and unbridled passion. 

By the time dawn broke, you couldn't remember how many orgasms you'd both had, as you'd probably tried every possible and impossible position. You managed to be on your knees for him, under him, on top of him. It was madness you never thought you were capable of. As you rode his face, touching yourself, you cried out Bryce's name, not even afraid to accidentally use Patrick's name instead. 

"Tim...mhmm-fuck...Tim...I'mma cum!" You fisted his hair, sliding along his glistening face as you rubbed your most sensitive spot. "Fuck...yeahh-Tim...ahhh!"

Shaking, you cum around his face, feeling his strong tongue move inside your tight ass as your inner channel spasmed around it, causing him to moan and hold you close to prolong your climax. Time stopped for both of you with the last stroke of his tongue along your tender flesh and you both collapsed exhausted on the bed. 

The first rays of the sun awoke you earlier than you could have imagined. As you lazily got up from the bed, trying not to disturb Tim snoring peacefully, you checked the time before you started looking for your clothes. To be honest, you wanted to stay here in his bed and continue to sleep in his arms, but you knew it would only lead to destruction and you were sure that Bryce thought the same.

Maybe it was a mistake?

Frowning, you wanted to punch yourself for being so reckless and stupid, but Tim's loud exhale caught your attention. You turned to check on him before leaving his bedroom to quickly get dressed and use the bathroom. All the while, you tried to ignore your own reflection, feeling the shame and contempt eating away at you from within, though you didn't even understand why. Bryce wanted this to happen as much as you did, but no matter how hard you tried to reassure yourself, it just didn't seem right. After one last look in the large mirror above the sink, you left the bathroom and soon after you left Timothy's apartment. 

The taxi ride back to the Plaza Hotel didn't take long as it was only six in the morning. Looking out the window, you saw rare pedestrians walking here and there, some of them holding newspapers that you were sure were the New York Times. The tops of the skyscrapers were about to reach the sky, and every time you craned your neck to look at them, your head began to spin. All these little details made you realize that you missed New York and probably your former life?

Was it worth it leaving everything behind?

This question kept swirling around in your head even as you finally got back into your suit and decided to take a shower to clean up after such a wild day. Dear God, you just fucked two different men in one day. 

"I'm so pathetic..." You muttered to yourself as you stood under the hot water. "What am I going to do now?"

Pressing your head against the wet tiled wall, you gave up and let the tears flow down your face, the water washing them away in an instant. You felt guilty, thinking that you'd only used Bryce for your own needs, knowing that it wouldn't lead to anything serious, but you did it anyway. It was so damn selfish. But then you remembered the words Patrick had said to you in the bathroom just before the ceremony started. You clenched your hand into a fist and the next second you slammed it into the wall with all the strength you had. The blow was so strong that your hand began to bleed, but you ignored it because physical pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside your soul. As if under a spell, you kept hitting the wall, leaving bloodstains on it. 

Five hours later, you are sitting in the restaurant area of the Plaza, waiting for Paul Allen to join you for lunch. Since you had some time before your flight to Chicago, you thought it would be good to catch up with him and talk a little about your current situation at your new job.

Maybe I can get a fresh start here...

Rocking in your seat, you looked down at your bruised hand, which was covered in a tight white bandage, and luckily you managed to stop the bleeding without going to the hospital, but you were still a little nervous, though not because of your wound. What if Paul would tell you that there was no way you could return to New York because the company in Chicago wouldn't let you go? You tapped your fingers on the table in anxiety before picking up the New York Times to distract yourself. One page, then another, until an interesting article appeared in your vision–a luxurious tobacco store in Upper Manhattan had been robbed–the very store you always liked to visit and even dreamed of buying a collection of cigars to give to Patrick...

"(Y/n)! How have you been?" Paul's cheerful voice echoed across the room and when you turned to face him, you noticed that he looked even more tanned than the last time you saw him. 

"Oh, hi," you accepted his handshake and then Allen took a seat across from you. "I've been better," your other hand was still holding a newspaper and it caught Paul's attention. "What about you?"

Paul nodded in understanding. "Well, my job kicks my ass, is all I can say," he laughed, and before you could say anything else, he pointed to the copy of the New York Times. "What are you reading?"

Slightly embarrassed, you folded the paper and put it aside. "Times," you replied briefly. "The tobacco store I liked to visit was robbed in broad daylight. Can you imagine that?"

Allen shifted in his seat. "I didn't know you frequented places like this," he chuckled, finally opening the menu. "Because I don't remember you smoking."

Smirking, you leaned back in your chair. "You don't know anything about me, Allen," you took a sip of your wine and watched him tense up a bit. "Anyway, I just got a little upset because I wanted to buy something in this store for..." you suddenly stammered, feeling dizzy.

"For...?" Paul arched his eyebrows and looked at you suspiciously.

"For a person... ," you finished. "...a very special one."

"Your date?" The man asked in a playful tone. "And who might that be?"

You found this situation quite ironic, because you really imagined yourself going to that store and buying those fucking cigars, hoping they would impress Bateman, and now you ended up fucking his best friends because he married Evelyn Williams.  

As you propped yourself up on your elbow, you suddenly started to laugh, but then it turned into a pathetic whimper. "I'm so fucked up, Allen," you shook your head and gripped the table. "You can't even imagine how... fucked up... I am."

And I don't know how I'm going to survive this.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[kitthepurplepotato]

Kirishima Eijirou’s daily shenanigans!

Summary: You work in a little coffee shop (secretly owned by your uncle Crimson Riot), which resides next to Red Riot and Dynamight’s agency. Needless to say, the Crimson Riot signature on the wall lures in the red haired hero on the first day after opening.

Long story short, this a really cute story about a barista and his favorite customer falling in love and becoming a couple. (The only problem is that Red Riot is a himbo and he does not realize you two are actually dating. But that’s a problem for another day.)

Genre: Comedy, strangers to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, slice of life

Estimated chapters: Around 10?

Warnings: Swear Words, one or two chapters with smut but they will be skippable, mentions of injuries, depression, blood, fight scenes, one or two chapters of angst around the end but it’s mostly just fluff and shits and giggles. New warnings on every chapter!

About The Reader: SHE/HER, related to Crimson Riot, has red hair but it’s dyed, not natural. She has a really cool quirk and went to hero school when she was young, but she doesn’t work as a hero.

This story is a spin-off to Bakugou Katsuki’s Daily Shenanigans but you don’t need to read that story to understand this one.

Also, English isn’t my first language so please be kind, I’m trying my best!

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Chapter 1 - A wild Red Riot appears!

“Welcome!”

A lovely jingle announces Kirishima’s grand entrance to the brand new coffee shop he decided to visit on this lovely afternoon.

It’s manly to try new things, you know; the old coffee shop he used go to might be nice and cosy but how is Kirishima supposed to know if it’s the best coffee shop or not if he doesn’t try the other places in the area? Right?

… Right?

…

Okay, Kirishima has a confession to make.

He doesn’t care how the coffee tastes like at this place. He really doesn’t. The only thing he cares about is Crimson Riot’s signature framed on the wall.

That’s why he’s here, the traitor.

“Ahh, hello!” Kirishima scratches the back of his head shyly; he doesn’t even look at the poor barista, he’s too busy looking around, searching for the sacred signature. He feels blessed to be able to step into this beautiful, crimson colored coffee shop which conveniently opened almost next to from his agency. Well, his and Katsuki’s agency, but that doesn’t matter.

“It’s on the left side, darling. Do not touch the glass, I just cleaned it.” The barista giggles and… oh hello, that giggle was absolutely adorable?! But first of all, what does she mean he can’t touch the glass?! He wants to touch the glass!

Kirishima makes a pouty face, clearly heartbroken by the sudden plot twist; he’s so close to Crimson Riot right now, yet so far away…

“Okay, you can touch the glass. Go on. You have five seconds. One… two…” The barista counts and Kirishima sprints to the little framed signature and does what he does the best; act like a fifteen years old fanboy seeing naked boobs for the first time. Man, boobs are nothing compared to the thrill he feels right now; Crimson Riot is a legend, no one has seen the man for decades, he’s manly and mysterious and Kirishima really likes that about him; sometimes he wonders if Crimson Riot is real at all; that man is so perfect, kind and chivalrous, he’s everything Kirishima wants to be when grows up… well, technically, he is 25 and he doesn’t have too much “growing up” going on anymore but he still feels like he’s twelve. He also acts like he’s twelve. So yeah, he wants to be like Crimson Riot when he grows up. He’s not there yet.

“Would you like to have a coffee or salivating over a framed signature is enough to start your day off with a kick?” The barista suddenly appears behind him and Kirishima jumps.

Well, that’s awkward.

“Yeah, I’m just about to… oh hi.”

To all the Gods and deities up in Heaven, thank you. - Kirishima mumbles as he takes in the beautiful sight in front of him. No, he is not talking about the beautiful signature on the wall this time; that one was demoted to the second most beautiful sight in the world.

“Good morning, sir.” The barista giggles again, and Kirishima swears an angel descended from above in front him.

Kirishima is known to be a ladies man; he loves ladies, he adores them, he cherishes them, he wants to tell every single one of them how beautiful they are; but this one is on another level. This lady here is the most perfect human being Kirishima has ever seen. This lady is the type of lady Kirishima would never have the balls to actually woo. Not like he ever had the balls to woo anyone, to be honest, he’s more like the funny uncle who flirts with everyone but no one takes him seriously and will probably end up alone with 6 dogs 8 cats, 3 bearded dragons because they are really manly and a house worth of Crimson Riot merch. He already has the latter and he’s working on the rest.

“Is the red hair a part of the work uniform or do you just happen to have a good taste?”

Why did he say that?! Why?!

“If that was supposed to be your way of flirting, you have a long way to go, Mr. Red Riot.” She grins and oh my god, Kirishima is in pieces. Literally. He’s quite sure he accidentally hardened his arms under his super tight-fit turtleneck and the fabric just shred to pieces.

At least it’s not something else that hardened…

Eijirou, no.

Do not go there. Do. Not.

“Ahh, you know me.”

“Our staff room window looks at the private parking lot of your agency. There is a massive poster with your faces by the VIP entrance. I need to say, you look much nicer with your hair down though.”

Why is this angel standing so close to him?! What did he do to deserve this beautiful sight?!

“If that was your way of flirting… it completely worked.” Kirishima admits with a crimson face.

You get it? Cuz he’s in Crimson Coffee? Next to Crimson Riot’s signature?

… Nevermind.

“I don’t mean to break your heart so soon, but I wasn’t flirting with you.”

“Y/N, are you bullying our precious customers again? I already told you… oh hello there, young man!” The random lady went from a loud yell to the most pleasant customer service voice he’s ever heard in five seconds. Well that’s a talent. “That’s Red Riot honey, give him a friend and family card, will ya?”

“I guess that’s alright.” The barista, Y/N, rolls her eyes playfully and gives him the little card. “Now order, I’m getting bored.”

And Kirishima does.

Kirishima orders 13 coffees even though he only needs one just to keep this beautiful angel entertained. He gets 2 massive coffee holders with 6 coffees in each and gives the spare one to Y/N with a shy smile on his face, because he’s a gentleman.

“You know I can drink our coffee for free, right?” Y/N raises her brow with a mischievous smile on her beautiful face and he might not have a shot with her after he embarrassed himself in every way possible, but it was completely worth it for that smile.

Kirishima made a great decision today by trying out new things.

Being blasted out of the window by Katsuki after he arrived late, juggling 12 cups of coffee while spilling half of them in Katsuki’s office was absolutely worth it.

(He also landed in the parking lot and was able to see Y/N in the staff room laughing at him. Best day ever.”

~•🪨•~

“Does he come here often or was that a special occasion? Come on, tell me! Please!”

You have all the respect for heroes but this Red Riot guy… is an absolute himbo. In the best way.

First of all, he has no idea how handsome he is. He takes your hand in a begging way, trying to get information out of you and you really need to concentrate to not show any kind of emotion on your face; thankfully, your family is blessed with amazing poker faces. The biggest master of them is your uncle who’s -surprise!- is actually the person Red Riot is asking about right now with perfect puppy eyes. He was able to keep up his mysterious persona for decades even though he’s also an absolute himbo in real life.

Second of all, Red Riot embarrassed himself at least ten times this week but somehow he always leaves with a proud smile like this is what he wanted to do in the first place.

Personally, you really want to smack this man in the head and tell him to be ashamed of himself because by the look of it, his self-esteem is so low he thinks this is just him being himself. Which isn’t true. Red Riot might be a himbo, but he’s also a well respected himbo… you mean hero, and he should definitely act a bit more… confident.

“So what do I get if I tell you this information, sir?” You ask cheekily; you can’t help it, okay? Red Riot is a handsome guy. And he’s also really sweet and gentle. Who would NOT flirt with him?

“I would like to say my number on a napkin but I feel like you would use it as a filter for the coffee.” Red sighs dramatically.

“That’s highly unlikely.” You retort; he looks up at you with eyes full of hope and you already hate yourself for doing this to him, but… “The napkin would melt into the coffee and it would be absolutely disgusting. I can’t serve that.”

“You are such a heartbreaker, miss Y/N! I would like to speak to your manager!” He yells, fake-offended, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Just order your bloody coffee and leave, Red. Seeing you being blasted through the window because you were late is really fun but I kinda hate listening to the drilling noise when your window gets fixed. It ruins my chi.”

“You’re a chi.”

“Well that’s just rude, sir. I might need to ask you to leave.” You giggle, and you can’t help but realize how the air just changed around you two; there is definitely something there, a tension you can’t describe but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s kinda nice to banter with him like this.

“You already did. But you also told me to order first.” Red retorts with a massive smirk on his face and you kinda want to put him into your pocket and keep him in there.

Finally, Red orders and he’s just about to leave when you decide to give him the tiny present you got him.

Yes, you got him a present. Shut up.

“Hey, Red!”

“Yeah?” He looks back with a massive grin on his face.

“I got something for the most handsome customer in this shop.” Red’s face contorts into a frown at that. Would it be rude to kiss your customer’s cheeks to give him some confidence? It’s just a kiss on the cheek, no biggie. Just one kiss. Come on.

“Lucky gal.” He mumbles, trying to fake a smile, but failing miserably.

“I’m talking about you, you himbo.” You laugh and run to the back; it’s a signed Crimson Riot poster. Your uncle was more than happy to throw one at you when you told him about Red Riot being your loyal customer; he’s kinda obsessed with the guy since his first appearance in the sports festival. Long story. He loves to be loved.

Kirishima pales as he rolls the poster out, his eyes misty by the time he rolls it out completely.

“This is a limited edition poster from 30 years ago. One of the first posters… what the hell, man…”

“Look closer.” You wink and Red starts to cry like a baby. He’s so fucking adorable, it’s ridiculous.

“Watching you grow up made me realize why I was a hero for so long. I’m proud of you. Stay manly! Crimson Riot.” Red mutters under his snotty nose. “Y/N, can I marry you?”

This man will be the death of you.

“No.”

“Okay. Thank you. Bye.” Red mumbles with red rimmed eyes. Working in your uncle’s secret coffee shop was the best decision of your life.

“See you tomorrow, himbo.” You giggle and the redhead disappears; one day, you’ll tell him that all the flirting you do is actually serious but that day is not today. You really want to see him gain some self-respect by himself before you shower him with praises every day. You can only hope you don’t ruin your chances by playing with him for too long but that’s a problem for later; for now, you are just happy to be around this mysterious, funny man.

… Next Chapter!

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Want to be on the tag list? Just ask me in the comment section or a message me!

The second chapter will be out in two or three weeks depending on your reception of this chapter then I’ll try to post a new chapter every 7 - 10 days!

If you want to see my other works, check out the Master list for Deku x Reader, Bakugou x Reader, Todoroki x Reader and Aizawa x Reader stories!

TL: @porusuniverse @sixxze

[37-drc89]

painting with h. hyunjin

This week really did you and your boyfriend dirty. Everyday you would come home yawning, shoulders slump, complaining about how much you dream of getting into the bed. You find Hyunjin at your shared apartment, already grumpy, most likely splashed on the couch looking absolutely dead. You would just lay down on his back, nuzzling face into his hair. The drama king he is, Hyunjin would whine in fake pain, throwing you off of him, just to grab your tired body and lock it tightly in between his arms. Usually you fell asleep like this, having to rush yourself the morning after to take a shower and do everything people normally do after work. Monday, tuesday, wednesday and thursday, they all looked like this, they all felt like world just chew you up and spit you out on the ground for no reason.

But today's friday. The only thing keeping you alive at work was thought of weekend starting, knowing that your boyfriend stays home with you for these two days and you can have him all to yourself. Maybe that's why you got just slightly disappointed when you found him sitting in front of a blank canva with all his painting set already on the table. Of course, you absolutely adored Hyunjin's artwork and watching him focused on his hobby was your favorite thing to look at, ever. You once spent four hours just admiring his relaxed face, eyes wandering around the canva and brushes making soft, comforting sounds swiping on it. Obviously, Hyunjin wouldn't be himself if he didn't complain about it, trying to move your face the other way or throwing random shirt at your head so you don't stare at him so deeply, but the truth is, he liked the attention. He would always pretend it annoys him, but he wouldn't change it for the world. However, today it's you who needs his attention. The whole day you've been thinking about being in his warm embrace and watching some scary movies or comedies. But you know Hyunjin values his private space, especially when he's creating things. You couldn't help but frown, only patting his shoulder softly as a greeting, not to interrupt him. You go to your shared bedroom and slump yourself on the bed, sighing into the pillow. You play some podcast and let yourself sink into the softness of the covers. Not even half an hour passed when you started tossing and turning in desperate need of your boyfriend's presence. You quietly make your way to the livingroom, the only sound coming from it is Hyunjin's calm playlist playing from the phone. His eyes don't catch you standing in the door frame, too focused on his progressing artwork.

"Hyune," you mumble something barely above the whisper, taking small steps towards his sitting figure. You start playing with the ends of his hair, scared that any more physical touch might distract him at the moment.

"Hm?" his attention immediately goes to you and your heart melts a little. He once told you, you're the only one he would ever pause working for, and that's true, he could never ignore you.

"Can I stay here with you for a second? I miss you," your arms carefully wrap themselves around his shoulders and your chin rests on top of his head. Hyunjin leans into your touch slightly, short chuckle leaving his mouth.

"Do you want to try painting with me, buttercup?" he asks looking up at you and your eyes go wider, taken aback by his offer.

"I can? Won't I disturb you?" in response he just grabs your hands and guide you in front of him, pulling you onto his lap. His chin finds its place on your right shoulder and he takes your hand, forcing a brush in between your fingers. Hyunjin guides your hand to the canva and you try to stop it with your own strength. Before you can manage to say "I'll ruin it", or "I don't want to force you to anything" he just grabs your head with his other hand and turns it, pressing his soft lips onto yours, succesfully shushing you. You melt into the kiss instantly, finally getting your desired attention. "Shut up," is the only thing he says after pulling away, sending you the warmest smile you've ever seen and you feel like every worry bothering you since last week washes away. So you let him guide your hand as he pleases, after some time letting it go, grabbing his own brush and painting along with you, making your shared masterpiece. He helps you with every unfortunate stain of paint or wrongly mixed colors, laughing it off, nothing but love burning in his eyes when your face gets flustered or angry at your mistakes. Hyunjin praises your part a lot, paying his attention into the smallest details, clearly impressed by the amount of effort you put into the painting.

After all, it's now hung above your shared bed, exposed like a masterpiece it is, for everyone to see. And Hyunjin has never been more proud of any of his artworks, no matter how good they looked. Because this one he created with you, with the love of his life.

masterlist

[valeriefauxnom]

Unintentional Comedy - Dragalia and Feh Artwork Edition

So, remember Alfonse, from FEH?

Y'know, this dude?

For an okay crutch for those without Gala Euden or Albert or other handy light swords they didn't want to invest in, he was rather popular, only partly owed to any pre-established fondness FEH players had since they already knew him. People liked the more expanded personality we got than FEH's bare-bones story, additionally before they started trying to spice Alfonse up in more recent books.

In his story, however, one of the events that happening is Euden falling off a cliff, shortly followed by Alfonse.

Miraculously, cliff-falling isn't quite as dangerous in Dragalia Lost as in real life (also demonstrated by Leonidas in Stranded Scions, etc...), and the two survive. Alfonse has some sort of injury to his foot, however, conveniently hampering his ability to move but not much else.

Euden, being Euden and unwilling to throw anyone to the wolves, comes up with this idea:

Nothing atypical here, right?

...Well, as it was revealed in a book published two years later than his debut in Dragalia, Fire Emblem Heroes Character Illustrations, Volume 1...

Alfonse is 180cm tall, AKA 5'11.

...Is it any surprise coming from 195cm/6'5 and 180cm/5'11 parents? Someone check the Askran royal food for steroids that Sharena has apparently not been consuming, presumably because she's instead dining with heroes in the barracks.

I digress.

Now, as I've gone over before here, here's where it gets hilarious in retrospect.

In short, Ranzal, the resident big buff burly dude of Dragalia...is stated to be 6'1/185 in the joke comics.

...And while literally nobody else got an even vaguely-official number to their height, Dragalia instead opting for a 'comparison heights' to keep track of who's shorter and who's taller in a pair... Euden often seems to wind up in the 150-155cm/5'0-5'1 range or even shorter when in illustrations with Ranzal:

At most, I've seen him crack about 5'9/175cm in the comics, which aren't exactly a stable source of art, as demonstrated by these two panels, in which both seem to be on flat ground and standing pretty straight:

I need to stop before I mindlessly repeat the other post, but my point remains:

Euden, by most depictions, is tiny. A literal short prince/king.

And yet, no matter what way you slice it, he's trying to carry a dude that seems to be quite a bit taller, let's say. How much, we'll never know, but the fact remains he'd likely need to pull out a dragon phone to search 'how to carry people much taller than you?' just in case and hurriedly read a wikihow 10-step article explaining some strats, were it not for the fact that dragons would have destroyed smartphones in Dragalia a long time ago (good move, dragons....?).

I will admit that there are a few arts that frame them as the 'same height' but I would more point to the fact Euden, when drawn with crossover characters for promotional art, is usually portrayed on an 'equal footing', so as not to have one take up more space/attention. Also, the Feh team might not have even decided on a height for Alfy boy before!

Even then, he's still portrayed as shorter than 5'9/175cm Joker in some art:

So yeah. Crossover art is not exactly consistent, and all I can do is look to the general trend in the 'canon game' of him being absolutely dwarfed by Ranzal.

Now, it's one thing for Euden to be lugging about Alfonse for a while.

The idea he might have done so with such a potential height disparity is pure comedy.

No wonder he's so tired after a while, lugging about another human who is both taller, heavier, and also wearing armor!

Not only that, he later tries and partly succeeds in fighting heavily armored soldiers (who are admittedly aiming to capture him and kill Alfonse) with Alfonse 'draped across his back like a sack of potatoes'. Talk about determination, adrenaline, and/or the simple principle of 'small but mighty'!

Maybe that's why Alfonse was saying "I don't think that's wise" at the start there before he quickly found other rationale besides 'you sure you can give a piggyback without my feet dragging along the ground the whole way?'

My case rests, Your Honor: they unintentionally made part four of Alfonse's personal story a lot funnier to envision by publishing an art book 2 years after he first existed in Dragalia Lost!

[tinkerleaf]

Housework

So this little fic was something I wrote in like 2021 with the help of Dreamily, but I loved it too much not to share. I love MtP and had to put something on my blog for it. I also didn't mean to make Moran sound dumb lol. ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ Synopsis: Moran can't stand to do chores, and Louis can't stand him. The reader tries to save the day. gn reader Pairings: Sebastian Moran/reader/a little bit of everybody Words: 830 Genre: fluff? comedy? lighthearted Warnings: none that I can think of.

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Sebastian was truly a ditz when it came to chores. You had caught Louis scolding him for not helping around with the housework numerous times and couldn’t help but laugh.

Louis was very strict in his expectations and how he ran things, but it made you so happy to know that Sebastian was attempting to do his chores for once.

Normally, he asked Fred or you to do them, which you hated. Especially when you have your own things to do.

But this time? This time, you felt bad about telling him off. As for Louis? He was ecstatic.

You went inside William’s office to pick up some needed papers to finish writing up for his next mission. Unsurprisingly, you found him asleep upon opening the door. He typically fell asleep in strange places all the time due to exhaustion, and you really couldn’t blame him. You could see how often William had been working recently, so it made sense for him to find refuge in such a quiet room. You didn't dare wake him.

However, what did wake him was the sound of glass breaking from downstairs. He jolted awake and was almost startled seeing you there in front of his desk. You two maintained eye contact briefly before he finally spoke, “What was that noise?”

You sighed, “I’m not sure, but if I were to guess, Sebastian dropped another frame.”

He stared at you for another moment giving you a small smile, “Never a dull moment in this house, is there?”

“Not really, no.”

With that said, he got up and left the room as you followed suit. You went through the hallway and down the steps leading to the foyer. Sebastian was standing near the staircase looking down at Louis with fear in his eyes. His hands were above his head and guilt was written all over his face.

Looking down beside the two, you saw the shattered picture frame dispersed on the floor. You rolled your eyes, “You know, I didn’t want to be correct.”

Sebastian whipped around to look at you, “It was an accident! Honest! Louis told me to dust the frames and I did!” He lowered a hand to the back of his neck, “And then it fell…”

Louis stepped forward, “Well, you can't put it back together, right?” He looked directly at Sebastian and then at you, “You can't always ask one of us to fix your problem. We don’t care how it happened. You need to clean the mess, Moran! It’s a simple task.”

“Fine, fine.” The large man muttered before stepping back towards the closet.

You sighed and began to walk away from the scene when Louis stopped you. “Wait! Come here for a second.” You followed him to the kitchen. When you both were inside, he closed the door and turned to you. “I cannot take this anymore.” He pushed his glasses back.

Rather than responding, you simply nodded.

“He does this every time I ask him to do something.” He took out his handkerchief and dabbed it across his forehead. “He does this for attention, you know? But it’s never enough.”

You heard the closet door reopen.

His eyebrows furrowed and sighed, “Please…” He put a hand on your shoulder, “Do something about that stupid man.”

You gave him a nod before heading back to find Sebastian sitting on the couch.

“What are you doing?” You asked annoyed.

He turned to look at you, “Oh!” Before he could say anything else, you crossed your arms and glared at him. He stood up and began picking up the pieces of the frame.

Once they were all gone, you shook your head. “Do I have to watch over you all the time to make sure you do what you’re supposed to do? I only hope you’re not like this on missions.”

He snapped his head up, “No! Of course not!”

“Then why are you letting this go on?”

“Because I hate it when he tells me what to do…and it’s fun to watch him get pissy over little things.”

You scoffed, “There’s no way that’s it.”

“And why not?”

“Because that’s stupid!”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “I thought you were on my side.”

“I’m not on anyone’s side! It’s just,” you paused. “Look, just try to make it less obvious that you’re making fun of him. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s stressed enough as it is. And stop throwing your chores to Fred!”

“Fred doesn’t mind.”

“That doesn’t make it right! Stop it!”

He opened his mouth and then closed it. “I understand.”

“Alright. Now let’s get back to work.”

The rest of the night passed without any further incidents, though Sebastian did drop a wine glass or two while Louis was gone.

As you were putting away the dishes after dinner, you heard a loud crash coming from upstairs, followed by yelling.

‘Damnit.”

[yoo-jeongneon]

you were not in my plans.. | j.ww (teaser)

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

× main masterlist × pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader (afab for smut) genre: romance, comedy, drama warnings: best man!wonwoo, wedding planner!reader, jeongcheol are the fiancés, wonwoo is cheol's best man, past one night stand, (sort-of)strangers-to-lovers, awkward situations, romantic/sexual tension, smut/eventual smut, explicit language, more tba.. projected word count: 5k-10k, but could be more teaser word count: 806 drop me an ask/comment if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

× from cakes ruined at the last minute to entourage arguments at boutiques, being a wedding planner has been such an experience that you're quite literally prepared for anything at this point.. apart from finding out the best man for your new clients' wedding is the guy you had a one-night stand with six weeks ago. you weren't prepared for that. ×

A sweltering day at the height of summer. No cloud to be seen in the sky, it's the middle of the day, and the bag you're carrying may as well have clumps of lead in it.

For the first meeting with new clients, it's always pertinent to you to bring everything you feel is absolutely necessary. Magazines, portfolios, your laptop for research and the star of it all: your planner.

Old thing, it was. You've had it with you since you first started this career and somehow you hadn't filled it to its brim. With each new planning session you wept a shadow of a tear at the thought of needing to replace it, but today is not that day.

When you arrive at the house, you first take note of its exterior, then pull out your phone and whip straight to your emails just to make sure you have got the right address..

One check, brilliant. No need to amble around aimlessly.

Popping your phone back in your pocket, you readjust the stone on your shoulder before trudging up to the front door. A loud huff leaves your lips as you press the doorbell, then shift gears to a polite smile, ready to tackle the first of many meetings.

Within seconds the door opens. A man with blonde hair beams at the sight of you. "Ah! You must be the wedding planner!"

Your teeth gleam to challenge the sun as you extend your right hand, "That would be me! N, it's nice to meet you."

"Hi, N." He takes your hand and shakes it. "I'm Seungcheol." Seungcheol lets go then yells into the house, "Jeonghan! It's N, the wedding planner!"

"Oh! Give me one second," calls another man's voice. Immediately you register the names to make sure you don't forget them.

Seungcheol looks back at you. "Come in!" His smile grows and he steps to the side. You give him an appreciative nod and take one step into the house.

The scent of cooking wafts straight into your airspace and you catch a tiny glimpse of a man scurrying around in the kitchen. Seungcheol moves to stand beside you and says, "Oh! By the way, my best man is here."

This catches you by surprise, though it's not entirely uncommon. You have had clients in the past have their friends and relatives sit with them during meetings.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he's in the living ro- Oh, there he is."

Seungcheol gestures vaguely past your shoulder and you pivot.

In the doorway to the living room, a man with dark, tousled hair, wearing a simple, casual outfit with a pair of glasses, stands with his shoulder pressed against the frame. At that moment, Jeonghan calls for Seungcheol, and Seungcheol is gone in a flash.

The second you lock eyes, something feels off.

The best man stares at you for an incomprehensible amount of time, to the point you cock a brow and defensively say, "Can I help you?" It's not exactly the best foot forward to make enemies right out the gate, but this man's eyes are a little too fixed on your person for your liking..

When the words leave your lips, he becomes a ghost. He averts his gaze and looks directly at the floor, stuffing his hands in his pockets and gnawing at his lip. "S- Sorry." There's something else he wants to say but just won't.

For some reason, it's bothering you.

But not just that.. he's bothering you.

Not really because he stared at you - though that was rather uncomfortable - no, there's something else.

You look askance and delicately place your bag on the floor. This is now starting to eat away at you and you don't understand where this has come from.

Taking a chance to look at him again, you start trying to place what exactly it is that is so.. bizarre about this meeting.

It's almost as if you've met before.

Before you can fit the puzzle together, the fiancés leave the kitchen; Jeonghan greets you, elated to finally get started with the planning. He notices the man in the doorway and makes a gentle, playful quip about it.

"Oh, I see you've met the best man," he giggles.

"N- Not exactly.." you fumble to say, which in and of itself is incredibly ridiculous.

The best man steps forward and makes himself known. You give him his full attention, and trip at the sight of his outstretched hand.

"Hi. I'm Wonwoo."

His tone is polite, neutral and almost suave. A hint of a smile clips through the corners of his mouth and it's then that it finally clicks.

Two tequila shots. Dancing. A bed. His voice.

When you take his hand, lightning strikes on his face.

"Hi. I'm N."

Familiarity, with a fresh side of what the absolute fuck.

× yoo-jeongneon ×

[astroboots]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 9

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: You and Steven finally reunite. Or alternatively: Marc is a dummy and makes questionable decisions as always.

Content: some angst, serious talks, so much talking.

Word Count: 8,400

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

"Sorry that I've been gone so long, love."

He stands in the dimly lit hallway, perfectly framed in the open doorway like a still-life portrait, and for a second it makes you doubt that you are looking at the real thing in flesh and blood. 

The novelty print shirt in bright mismatched emerald green and cream is a sight for your sore eyes, as is the familiar oversized grey jacket over it. It’s Steven’s favourite, soft-worn and starting to fray at the cuffs. 

But despite the familiar clothing, he looks... different somehow.

You’re not quite sure why at first. Something about the way he’s holding himself. His shoulders are held back, chin up, and for the first time since you've met him, he’s no longer hunching into himself trying to take up less space. 

It's enough to give you pause, and make you doubt that it's Steven who is fronting at all. Is this Marc on your doorstep in Steven's oversized clothes?

No. His hair is loose and softly tousled, raven curls messily crowning around his head and falling into his eyes in a way that would have Marc obsessively trying to wrestle them into submission. And there's no mistaking those wide brown eyes or the South London accent. 

It's definitely your Steven. Or… well, Steven at any rate. Whether or not he’s still yours remains to be seen, doesn’t it? All you have to do is open your mouth and ask, but... you can’t.

You’ve imagined this moment hundreds of times in his absence, endlessly rehearsed your apology to make quite sure you cover every mistake and wrongdoing, but now that he’s here, standing before you, you’re paralyzed. Your throat has closed up, feet cemented to the carpet, and the only thing you're capable of is staring at him in silence. 

Steven isn't moving either. 

Cold air blows through the empty hallway, wringing out all the warmth inside your flat. The chill settles into your bones, nipping at your toes.

Dropping your eyes to the ground, you measure the distance from your bare feet across to the toe caps of Steven’s sensible black trainers. You're barely more than a foot apart, yet the gap feels as unbreachable as a bottomless chasm. 

You know the only way to bridge it is to say something. But your mouth refuses to cooperate. Your tongue is as heavy as lead, and you can't budge it. 

All you need to do is say something. Anything.

Welcome him back. Say hello. Invite him in. Just bloody well say something!! 

“Do you want to–” 

“D’you mind if I–” 

You blurt the words out at the same time, both stopping mid-sentence as you catch yourselves. 

Then you're staring at each other again. 

God, the two of you together are a comedy of errors, but right now you can’t be sorry for it. The familiar ridiculousness steadies you, and you find yourself smiling just a bit despite your nerves. 

“Sorry. Sorry,” Steven apologises, a small matching smile blooming on his face, “You go first.”

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to come in." 

The smile on his face spreads, and your heart catches at the warmth in his eyes. Suddenly the gloomy hallway and your situation both seem a little less foreboding than they did a moment ago.

"I'd like that very much." 

You step backwards, and Steven follows you into your flat, taking off his shoes before closing the door behind him. 

"Would you like to sit down?” you ask, “I can make you a cuppa?" 

It feels a bit cringy, offering such British platitudes to him when it's the first time you've seen him for weeks. The unfamiliar tension is eating at your nerves.

Thankfully, Steven takes your awkwardness in stride. 

"Actually, I was hoping you and I could talk," he says, still smiling at you reassuringly. 

You nod dumbly, making your way further into the room. In the last few weeks, all you’ve wanted was to know how Steven’s been. If he’s okay, and how he’s felt about everything this whole time. But now that he’s here and you can finally ask, a part of you is scared to find out, because the answer might not be what you want to hear.

"...If that's alright, that is?" 

In front of you, Steven tilts his head, brows knitting in a concerned expression, and that, finally, is what gets you moving.

"That's– I mean yes, of course. I'd like for us to talk too." 

Steven walks over to the sofa, and makes himself comfortable. He looks so polite sitting there, calmly waiting for you as he's looking up at you expectantly. 

He settles one hand on the seat next to him, patting it as an invitation for you to join him. He does it with the gentleness of someone trying to coax a nervous stray when it strikes you that you've just been standing still gawking at him silently this entire time. 

This gentle calm is not what you have prepared yourself for in any of the imagined scenarios. Somehow, his kindness makes guilt spread like wildfire in your gut. There are so many things you could have done better if you could have a do-over. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

It slips out of you without forethought, and Steven's eyes widen. Your stomach sinks to the floor at the way the smile slides off his face. 

"Come sit with me,” he asks, and when you’re still not moving, he continues, “...please?"

You look down at your feet, still frozen to the spot. You take a deep calming breath, and finally take a step forward, closing the distance between you, step by step until you finally reach the sofa and sit down next to him. 

"I should never have lied to you," you say, looking down at your hands and scrape nervously at your cuticles.  "I shouldn't have told you the way I did that night. It was insensitive and stupid, and it must've been upsetting and confusing."

Steven's expression is, for the first time you can ever recall, inscrutable to you. He's chewing at the inside of his cheek, no smile, no frown, just… listening. Your nerves are fraying under the sleeves of your sleep-shirt, but you press on regardless. 

"I should have told you much sooner, as soon as I realized something unusual was going on. That day you came to my office after the first trip to your flat — I should’ve told you then. You deserved to know about something this important, something that affects your life and it wasn’t fair of me to keep it a secret. You deserved better from me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m —" 

You never get to fully finish your spiralling loop of sorries. Steven's arms wrap all around you, pulling you into him. He squeezes you tightly against his chest like he never means to let go. 

"It's all right, love. It's all right," he murmurs warmly against your temple.  

It’s exactly what you’d been longing to hear from him, but it feels surreal. Like it's all just too easy to earn his forgiveness. There's no rage in him. No shouting. No judge with a gavel, finding you guilty and sentencing you to a lifetime in jail to atone for your sins.

"But I lied to you for months, Steven. How can that possibly be 'all right'?" 

“It’s okay. I’m not upset, I’m…” He pauses, loosening his grip around your sides and you chance a quick glance up to find him looking off to the side, brow furrowed. “Or, well– That’s not quite right, is it? I mean, it was devastating to hear, honestly, and I’m… not mad, exactly, but…”

He turns to look back at you, and you nod, encouraging him to continue even as you swallow down the sudden tightness in your throat.

“It’s just…” Steven continues, “You knew. Marc knew. It makes me feel a bit left out, I suppose? Being the last to know.” His head dips down, eye glancing off-site against, at the blank surface of your telly, before turning back towards you. “I feel like a right bloody idiot for not being able to figure it out on my own.”

"I'm sorry," you repeat. You don't know what else to say, how you can possibly make it up to him.

Steven’s hand comes up, settling warm against your cheek, his thumb rubbing against the apple of it before he tilts your chin up, silently asking you to look at him. 

"You don't have to keep apologising."

Maybe it's the British compulsion in you, but you have to bite your cheek to resist apologising for apologising too much. 

Instead you focus on Steven. Ready to ask the question you’ve been dying to ask while dreading it all at the same time. 

“Are we… I know ‘okay’ is a bit of a stretch but… do you still want us to be together? As a couple I mean.” 

He must see fear in your eyes, because he leans closer, wrapping his hand over yours reassuringly. “Yeah, I’d like for us to still be together. I love you. I'm here to stay. In it for as long as you'll have me, and this isn't going to change that. But I do need…” 

Steven trails off mid-sentence, and looks down towards his feet as if the end of his sentence is etched there. From the slight frown on his face when he looks back at you, he most probably didn't find it, but he tries again anyhow. “I would like some reassurances from you though. That… um… well.” 

He's still frowning, the struggle visible on his face. 

“I know that this was a fairly”—Steven grimaces—“unique set of circumstances, and that you were under a lot of stress and doing what you thought was best for me. I understand that, but I... I need to know that you won't hide something from me like that again.” 

“I won’t,” you blurt out immediately, shaking your head so forcefully you almost give yourself whiplash. 

“From now on, we tell each other the truth, yeah?,” he presses, eyes wide and solemn, “Even if the truth is ‘I can't tell you that right now.’ Deal?”.

"Yes, yes, of course, Steven." You nod slowly, matching his seriousness, meaning it to the depth of your soul. “I promise.” 

“Thank you,” he says simply, then he smiles at you, and your breath catches.

It’s one of those smiles—the kind that seem to light up the whole room—and relief bubbles up in your chest, washing away some of  the tightness that’s made its home there since the last miserable time you saw Steven almost a month ago. 

You’re not sure who initiates it — if you’re the one to lean up and close the distance, or if it’s Steven’s hand cupping your cheek that draws you closer — but, you kiss. A soft press of your lips together, but it feels like so much more. Like forgiveness. Like turning the page, starting a new chapter in your favorite book. 

It feels like coming home. 

The two of you stay like that for a long moment, you half-seated in his lap, Steven draped uncomfortably against the arms of the sofa, grinning at each other. 

"And next time Marc says it's for my own good, just ignore him, yeah? Man isn't exactly an authority on what's good for anyone." 

You laugh at his cheeky remark and a sense of relief rushes through you. It feels good to be able to laugh again without the constant anxiety coiled tight in the pit of your stomach. 

You're amazed by how with the simple return of Steven, that dreaded knot has vanished. It's like it never existed and this happiness between you has always been here and never left. 

It feels natural somehow, to be sitting on your sofa, cracking jokes, and with Steven's oh-so-casual tone, you almost forget, that tonight is the first time the two of you have ever mentioned Marc by name between you. 

You lift your head up to meet his gaze, but Steven is still looking at you like nothing's wrong, like it's just another Saturday night. 

"You called him Marc," you bring up as diplomatic as you can under the circumstances. "Does that mean–" you hesitate, not knowing how to phrase this without opening a can of worms for Marc if you had completely misread things. 

Steven must know what you mean because he gives you a half smile and answers your unfinished question for you. "That I know about the little American man living inside me? Yeah, it does." 

You nod, glad that some things seem to have been resolved at least. Though you know from experience that knowing about Marc, isn't even half of the battle. 

Because Marc is Marc. 

The man isn't exactly known for being loose-lipped and eager to share information. It strikes you that even with being forgiven, there’s still so much you and Steven need to fully share about what's taken place between the three of you since you first got entangled with each other. 

"How much do you know?" you ask, and you shift your weight in his lap to make sure you're not crushing him underneath you. "About Marc. About what happened? About any of it?"  

“He and I got to know each other pretty well. I wouldn't say he poured his soul to me... at least not voluntarily but–” he blinks rapidly as if rousing himself from a memory. 

“He didn’t tell me much about what happened between you and him though. I know he made you promise not to tell me. But beyond that… not much,” Steven pauses as he searches for your eyes.  

“I guess he thought it would be best if I heard it from you, and I’d like that too… Will you tell me about it? Fill me in on what I missed the first time around? I'd like to know what it was like for you.”

So you do. Steven tucks you in close to his side as you talk, watching you with those big puppydog eyes as you tell him about his disappearances. 

The worry, the confusion, the fear. 

About how the worst part was not knowing if he was safe. About the hours you spent imagining every awful thing that could have happened to him, terrified he had been taken hostage or that he was hurt and alone, unable to call for help.

"Is that– Was that why you were so upset that morning with the croissants? When you said you had a bad dream, was it really...?” Steven doesn’t finish his sentence, just looks to you for an answer as the word hangs in the air between the two of you, and you give him a small nod. 

“How long was I gone for?”

“A little over a week.”

His mouth compresses in an unhappy line, eyes closing for a moment as he processes that. 

“I'm so sorry, love," he says, taking your hand in his, fingers gently tracing the lines of your palm.

It’s clear that it hurts him to hear about how affected you were by his absences, but he doesn't try to stop you, and you don't sugarcoat it. You don't want there to be any more lies between the two of you this time around. Not even those of omission.

You hold tight to that ideal as you tell him about your encounters with Marc, how you got to know him slowly over months of text messages, short conversations, and shared breakfasts. Steven listens attentively as you confess your ploy with Marc to replace Gus and every confusing, sordid detail of what followed—your attraction to Marc, the near-miss of a kiss, even the mortifying sex dream you had in the taxi. 

Steven’s eyes widen at your admission, the arm around you tightening convulsively, but he doesn’t interrupt or look upset, just surprised.  Just listens attentively until you finish talking.

Once you do, he murmurs a soft, “Thank you for telling me, love.”

As terrified as you had been, all this time, of telling him the truth, it’s nowhere near as difficult as you’d imagined it would be. You feel better—lighter now that everything's out in the open, dragged into the light.

“So many things make sense now,” Steven utters, giving a slightly disbelieving shake of his head. “I was thinking that things kept being put away in the wrong places, but I just figured this place was haunted, not that I had a compulsive neat freak living in my body.”  

You laugh at that and Steven reaches over to brush away a lock of hair that’s fallen into your eyes. “I had no idea I was gone that frequently. No wonder Donna has it out for me. It's a wonder she hasn't just fired me and been done with it.”

“I think there are employment law protections about those sorts of things,” you joke.

Steven lets out a quiet laugh of his own at your poor attempt at humour. The tension and weight that you have been holding all this time slowly lifting as you watch his expression. Relaxed with a sweet half-sleepy smile. He must be exhausted from wherever he and Marc have travelled to make his way to you.

 “Can you tell me about… what happened between you and Marc in the time you were gone?” 

Steven nods, then he settles his back against the armrest, shifting down until he’s lying down against the sofa cushions. 

"After I... blacked out that night, I don't remember much. I was sort of conscious, but also not. Just seeing flashes and images.  Like– Like looking out a window. Or watching something on the telly. I couldn't control my body, but I could see what’s happening. It felt like an out-of-body experience. It was strange.” 

You shift down on the sofa to join him as he speaks, until you’re both lying down on your sides, squished together. 

“And Marc and I– We didn't get along very well at first. Fought a lot, mostly, because well… Marc's not exactly the most forthcoming guy, and I didn't understand what was going on. But then somehow the next thing I know, I wake up, and we're in Egypt, and all sorts of crazy things are happening."

"Egypt!?" you ask, surprised. 

"Yeah, it was amazing!!" he exclaims, darting upright on the sofa so suddenly that you nearly go sprawling arse-over-tits onto the floor. He catches you absently, barely pausing as you clutch at him, and helps you to steady yourself as he continues, "We got to go inside the great pyramid at Giza. A dream come true, that was! And that was just the beginning of our adventures!!" 

His eyes are glittering. At the mention of Egypt, there are no more pauses in his speech, and the words race out of him a mile a minute. 

"We chased people on the rooftops, we met up with a dodgy art dealer who had a mummy with a cartonnage that I got to decode. It turned out to be a coded celestial navigation map that led us to the long lost tomb of Alexander the Great, and– and–" 

It all sounds like a grand adventure, and your mind is boggled by the idea that Marc would put together a treasure hunt in Cairo for Steven's benefit. It's quite sweet really, even if you can't possibly even begin to imagine Marc putting together the travel itinerary. 

"And then–" Steven stops mid-sentence, the shimmering excitement in his eyes dimming as if he's getting lost in the replay of his memory. "Well... uhm... the next part, I'm–" he looks down at the floor, suddenly looking much more unsure of himself than he has all evening. "I'm not so sure, I can tell you the next part."

He shoots you a sheepish expression as he repeats the very same phrase he had made you promise him moments earlier.  

"At least, I can't tell you right now."

You nod in understanding, even if your curiosity is disappointed. But instead of letting the disappointment fester, you pull Steven back down, snuggling into his arms. 

He tucks his chin against the crown of your head as he continues to murmur apologetically into your hair. 

"It's really more to do with Marc's… um… business. Wouldn't feel right for me to tell that part of the story without him here." 

“So Marc’s not–” you hesitate, unsure of the terminology to use, and Steven shakes his head filling in the end of your question. 

“No, Marc’s popped out. Or well… in, I suppose. He’s left us alone for the night. Said he wanted to give us some privacy so you and I could catch up,” Steven says as he runs the outside of his knuckles along the line of your arm. 

It continues against the inside of your wrists before he finds your hand and interlaces your fingers together, squeezing your palm tightly in his. “We’ll tell you everything in the morning," he promises. 

"It's okay Steven. I'll wait", you say, shifting your leg until your limbs are tangling together in an attempt to have your bodies touching as much as possible. 

Right now you’re just happy to have this moment, with him here with you. It’s something you couldn’t imagine just twenty-four hours ago that waiting until morning to hear Marc’s side of it seems like such a negligible small sacrifice to make. 

"I still can’t believe I get to have this,” Steven murmurs like an echo of your own thoughts. 

“That first date we had…” His eyes are warm and crinkle at the corners as he lets out a small huff of laughter. “God, I couldn't believe someone like you was interested in me, you know? When you didn't show up at the restaurant, I thought for sure you'd realised how far out of my league you were. That wasn’t it at all though, was it?"

"No,” you let out a laugh of your own, relieved and vindicated to set the record straight at last. “You were the one who didn't show up! It was humiliating! I’d never been stood up before in my entire adult life."

You're still laughing to yourself as your fingers wrap around his golden chain, fingers tracing the outline of the golden David Star pendant, re-familiarising yourself with the comforting shape of it.

“Why did you come out at all then? When I called you on the wrong night after already standing you up. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d told me to get stuffed and blocked my number after that.”

“I almost did,” you admit, “but I didn’t have anything better to do. And besides, I thought you were cute.” 

An image of Steven sat down in the corner of a small table, glum and small, flashes before your eyes. You see it play out in slow motion, the memory of it as vivid as ever as he spots you, with an ever-so-precious smile, lighting up the space around him makes your heart flutter in your chest all over again. 

“I’m so glad I decided to come," you tell him.

“I’m glad too. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. Or well– I can, but I don’t want to. This is so much better.” The corners of his lips curve, eyes warm, and just like in your memory, it seems to light up the whole flat and you with it.

Looking up into those big gorgeous brown eyes, you feel starstruck all over again. If someone told you Steven had single-handedly affixed every star in the constellation of the night sky, you'd believe them without a single doubt. 

“I really love you, Steven.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I finally see that, love," he says as he tips down his head closer to you, eyes ever so soft. His voice is tender, earnest. “It means a lot to me, you know. That you knew about… well, everything, and still chose to stay with me anyway.”

For a long moment, you stay like that, holding each other in silence as you run your hands across his back, up and down his arms, along that sharp, beautiful jawline. His stubble prickles at your palm, and you cherish the tiny irritation because it reminds you that this is real. That Steven really is back, safe and sound, and still yours.

You’re lying on your sides in the cramped space of the sofa with barely any distance between you. Noses brushing, foreheads pressing up against the other’s as you refuse to let go of his hand. You ignore the fact that it's getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open, even as your jaw cracks wide open with a gaping yawn. Even as the morning light is starting to seep through the blinds, splashing golden light across the walls of your flat.

Instead, you smile at him, sleep heavy in your eyes as you squint them open so that you can still observe him. Not ready to let this night end.

“Sleep, love. We have all the time in the world to talk,” Steven murmurs softly, one thumb brushing up against the apple of your cheeks. “Not going anywhere, remember? And I can promise that for real this time.”

You wake up on your sofa. 

Steven isn't there, limbs squished between yours in the position you had fallen asleep to last night. There are no folded clothes next to you, because you'd fallen asleep still wearing them last night. All you have is the quilt from your bed that has miraculously been moved on top of you.

It's also quiet. No running tap, no clinking of porcelain being put away, no crackling noise from the frying pan. 

Digging your elbow into the cushions, you sit up and the quilt that's tucked to your shoulders, slides down to your waist. The cold draft of the room sweeps over you and makes you shiver. You survey the remaining space of your flat. No one else is here.

You frown, as you scoot out of sofa, wincing at the biting cold of the floor that eats into your toes. Barefeet, you pad over to the loo, knowing damned well that neither Marc nor Steven will be standing by the sink. Still it doesn't seem to stop the disappointment that sits like lead in your stomach at the sight of the small empty room.

There’s a part of you that’s tempted to ransack your own home. Search every corner, flip every cushion on the sofa, and get down on your knees to look under the bed. You don't, because you've been here before. 

That first night when Marc was in your flat and had evacuated the premises by morning. He hadn’t left you a sign of life then, no breakfast, no clothing, not even a note.

It's probably why you don't spot it at first. Perched on cushion of the ottoman, waiting for you.

A small nondescript gift box that fits neatly in the palm of your hand as you pick it up, it feels heavier than you had expected given how small it is. Shaking it gently, you try to make out what it is, but there's just a faint rustling sound that doesn't give away any hints of what's inside. You look under the box but there's no note.

You kneel down on the carpet and scrape off the scotch tape with your nails as you open it. There is soft tissue paper inside and it crinkles with a pleasant sound when you unravel it to reveal a small metallic box. 

Holding it in your hand, you inspect it a bit closer. It’s a kitschy jewellery box of cheap brushed brass. The box is etched with generic hieroglyphics that are often slapped onto the tacky souvenirs Steven sells in the gift shop. Except this one does not carry any museum branding. Given the professional pride Steven takes in the accuracy of Egyptian trinkets, you can’t imagine that it's a gift from him... which leaves only one other person that could have left this for you.

You crack open the heavy brass lid. A malformed shaped figure, half dog half man, springs up from the box. It's a little banged up, with its long snout and dented face, that must be depicting Anubis, as it slowly starts to spin around almost like a ballerina.

There's a lovely tinkling sound coming from the box. A melody. 

It's a music box.

Something pleasant unfurls inside of your stomach. It sneaks up on you, travelling up your chest to the tip of your nose and you feel warm all over.

Sad and melancholy, you recognise it as a slightly off-key rendition of Moonlight Sonata. Whether the melody is wonky by design or simply shoddy manufacturing you can’t tell, but the imperfection only makes your heart fonder as you find yourself staring down at it with a dopey smile.

You're so caught up in your bubble, it’s almost enough to make you miss the commotion in the hallway outside your flat. 

"Mate, watch where you're going yeah?" Someone grumbles outside your flat.

It's followed by mumbled apologies before your lock is being manhandled to the jingle of keys and the front door swings open. Then Steven walks in, hugging two large paper bags to his chest. 

"Morning love! You're up already." 

Your lips pull into a wide smile as you watch him precariously balancing the bags in his arms. They are tall enough to obstruct his line of sight as he makes his way towards your kitchenette, and he’s relying on muscle memory alone to navigate. 

"Did Marc say good morning before he left?” Steven asks, as he starts setting down the bags on the kitchen counter. “I woke up in your hallway downstairs just now. Dunno why Marc dumped me there instead of coming up, or what is in these.”

He’s reaching into the bags to pull out containers that you know from the sweet breadlike scent of flour and butter wafting over the space of the flat, must be your breakfast.

“Pancakes,” you say as something in your stomach flutters, and Steven looks up at you confounded. 

His head tilts down, eyeing the styrofoam box in his hands before opening the lid. Even from this distance, you can see the browned fluffy pancakes stacked inside.

“Oh wow, how did you–” he picks the container up staring at the bottom as if looking for a label or a text that would explain how you knew (even though the distance would have made it illegible even if there was one).

“It’s Sunday,” you explain, but it only makes Steven even more puzzled, his eyebrows knitting closely together on his forehead. “Marc always makes pancakes on Sunday.” 

At that, his expression softens into a warm smile. He turns back to the bags and pulls out a second styrofoam box and a handful of plastic cutlery. Carrying them over to you, he settles your breakfast on the ottoman before joining you on the sofa. 

“Oh hey! That’s the music box," Steven exclaims when he spots it, unwound and now quiet, still perched in your lap, "I wondered why Marc insisted on hauling that thing along with us. I told him the hieroglyphics were gibberish, and music boxes weren't invented until the late 1700s in Switzerland. Not historically accurate at all." 

Steven opens the styrofoam box labeled ‘Vegan’ and empties the included container of maple syrup over the pancakes inside as he keeps talking.

“Still insisted on getting it from that tourist stall though. He argued with the vendor for a good half hour even though they’re a dime a dozen and carried that little box with us the whole time. Protected it like it was a precious artefact." 

Picking up the takeout box, he moves to place it in your lap, but his eyes linger at the music box already there. "Guess I know why, now.”

Your fingers curl around the music box, the soft glow in your chest, growing with every beat of your heart as you imagine Marc, haggling with a local vendor for this cheap little trinket. Your cheeks warm at the idea of Marc, keeping this thing with him, in his pocket, close to him, through the weeks that have passed, and you brush your fingers over the etched markings, imagining him doing the same and whether he was thinking of you as he did. 

"I'll have to remember to thank him.” 

"Why don’t you do it right now?" Steven asks you. 

Your eyes dart up, and see Steven smiling down at you. Caught off guard, you stare at him blankly, it takes you a few to puzzle together the meaning of his sentence, still unused to the new reality that Marc and Steven know about each other now. 

"Yes," you say, then you nod, your pulse beating excitedly at the prospect of seeing Marc again after so many weeks. "Yes, I'd like that." 

Steven returns your nod, still with that soft expression painted across his face. He crosses his legs to sit upright in a more relaxed position as if to prepare himself. Then he closes his eyes, squeezing them shut for a long moment, deep in concentration, and then they open again under drawn brows.

It’s been so long since you’ve spoken to Marc that it takes you a moment to work up your courage. You feel oddly nervous like it’s the first school day back from half-term and you haven’t seen your mates all summer and you’re worried about how much you’ve all changed, what they’ll think of you. That same jittery feeling you get when you’re early at a restaurant and are seated by the table first as you’re waiting for your date, nerves alight anxiously looking out through the window to see if they’re arriving yet. Except, you’re in your flat, not a restaurant. And he’s not really your date, he's– he’s– the alter of your boyfriend, and now he’s sitting right in front of you.

You can’t seem to settle on anything clever or heartfelt to say, and in the end all you manage is a tentative, "Hi, Marc."

His eyes are soft brown and kinder than you ever remember seeing them. No longer stern and grumpy like you recall, instead his features scrunch up apologetically.

"Whoops, sorry."

That's not right. The South London accent throws you off.

“Still me, I’m afraid," Steven says, as he shoots you a quick nervous wave to prove it. 

Biting down on his lower lip, Steven looks around himself. He seems bewildered as if he's looking for Marc and expecting him to pop ‘round from the corner of your fridge. "I swear this normally works," he mumbles. 

Steven's eyes continue to roam around the room, darting from the fridge to your bed to the telly, until they finally settle on the short hallway that leads to your front door. 

“Wait just let me– gimme a second will you?” Without any further explanation, he gets up to his feet and walks over until he’s standing in the hall in front of the full length mirror hung on your wall across from the door to the loo. 

You watch in confusion, as you see Steven close his eyes and take a deep calming breath. You wait with a suspended breath, as Steven opens his eyes again, waiting for something to happen. You're not sure what, but what you don't expect is for him to proceed to have a staring competition with himself in the mirror. 

"Uhm... Steven, what are you--" 

At your question, he turns his head over his shoulder towards your direction, then flits back to the mirror. His expression turns sheepish as he realises how confusing this must be to you. 

“Mirrors help,” he explains. “Or anything reflective really. Reflections lets us communicate with each other more efficiently when we’re not in sync. It’s a bit hard to explain, but it’s almost like having a window to the outside, yeah? Sort of a visual aid for whoever’s fronting to speak to the other. I’m not sure why that is but it’s worked for us so far.”

You're still a little bit confused, but you think you understand the gist of what he means. So you nod, and that little nod seems to be enough reassurance for Steven who turns back around, facing the mirror to finish what he started. 

From the sofa, all you see is Steven taking deep calming breaths, staring intensely at his own reflection in the mirror. It reminds you a bit of those youtube videos of cute puppies who are staring at their mirror reflection thinking there’s another puppy in there. 

Before long, Steven is vaguely gesturing towards the mirror with a small awkward waving motion and his reflection self mirrors the greeting. 

“Hiya. So I know you might be a bit knackered from the trip and trying to catch a snooze, but if you want to come out and have a chat, now would be a good time.”

There’s a small, silent pause during which the line of Steven’s mouth purses to one side almost like a small pout, and then he tries again. “Any minute now, Marc.”

More silence. If anything is happening, then you’re not privy to it. But judging from the exasperated expression on Steven’s face. He isn’t privy to any changes either.

Another moment goes by, then another. Then Steven is grabbing the sides of the mirror, leaning in closer as if for privacy as he loudly whispers to his reflection in an agitated tone. "Stop being a child. You're embarrassing yourself. Embarrassing both of us, in fact. Making me look like a right knob, you are!"

Steven's mouth drops open, eyes narrowing like he's hearing something you aren’t. After several long moments, his shoulders stoop. He takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes briefly in resignation before he turns back to you with a small frown. 

"Marc is... Uhm... He doesn't want– He's being uncooperative at the moment." 

"Oh..." 

You don't know what else to say. It feels like there was a balloon in your chest and someone walked up with a needle, pricking it. You let out a long breath you didn't know you were holding as the whole of your chest cage deflates with it. 

Disappointment. That's what you feel, you realise. You hadn’t realised quite how much you were looking forward to seeing Marc again. 

"That's– That's alright,” you say, trying to convince yourself, “He must be tired after everything. We can talk later. It's not like he's avoiding me or anything, right?" 

Steven's eyes flicker away from yours, down to the floor and it stops you short. 

"I'm… not exactly sure," he says bluntly, honest as ever. "He's resisting me. Refusing to take the body, which he hasn't really done before." 

"Oh," you repeat again because you don't know what word can adequately convey the sudden pang you feel in your ribs out of seemingly nowhere. 

You don't understand why Marc wouldn’t want to talk to you. Is he mad at you? 

No that can't be. He left you on good terms. Holding you, comforting you when you were in shambles. You still remember the weight of his arms wrapped around you, when you were crying your heart out. The warm tone in his words as he comforted you and told you he was going to 'fix everything'. 

Oh. Oh fuck.That bloody wanker!! 

He wouldn't. 

Except you know that idiot, and he definitely would.

Your fingers tighten around the cold brass of the music box, and you realise they’re trembling slightly. 

"Steven, did Marc say anything to you before you came here last night?" 

Steven tilts his head to the side, like a confused golden retriever. "Uhm... I don't know what you mean–"

"You said Marc was going to leave us alone last night. Did he tell you that? What exactly did he say?"  

"Uhm..." Steven glances at the mirror, then darts his eyes back towards you. "He just said he wanted to give us some alone time. Wanted to let you and me talk properly and that he didn’t want to be in the way." 

That seems innocuous enough, but if your intuition is right... If you know Marc well enough... 

"Steven, what were his exact words?" 

Steven shifts on his feet, staring up at the ceiling as if he's trying to replay the memory in his head. Whatever he's remembering is causing his forehead to crease. 

“He said… he was going to give you and me time alone together. That he…” Steven's mouth presses firmly together until it’s compressed into a thin line as he starts to frown. “Wasn’t going to interfere anymore.”

Your stomach sinks. 

It might seem innocuous. 

But you know Marc. Know him too well now, to not know what exactly he is planning. 

He was going to 'fix everything' by removing what the considers to be the problem from yours and Steven's relationship. Remove the 'interference' that he believes himself to be. 

For fuck’s sake, Marc. 

"Is everything okay, love?" Steven asks gently. 

You shake your head, and there's a sharp sting that prickles behind your eyelids as you try to find the words. "I think Marc might not intend to front anymore."

"He wouldn’t,” Steven huffs, “that’s silly!” He shakes his head, but his expression bleeds into one of worry. 

 You let go of the music box, as you continue. 

"He thinks that by avoiding me, giving us time alone together then everyone will be happier that way," you say, settling your hands on your knees as you grip tight enough that it hurts. "Because he thinks that he's interfering with our relationship. I think that's what he meant last night."

“But surely, he just meant for the night. That he wanted us to be able to catch up because we’d been away from each other for so long. I don’t think he…” Steven’s sentence trails off, and his gaze drops from your face before he turns back to the mirrored reflection. 

“I don’t think he means permanently? That would be ridiculous wouldn’t it?” He looks at the silvered surface and his own form in it, almost accusatory, as he speaks. 

“What– Is he just supposed to hide from us for the rest of our lives? That’d be absurd. We share the same body. He can’t seriously think that’s possible to keep up. Or that it would make us happy, would he?”

Except this is Marc the two of you are talking about. The same man whose grand plan was to hide from Steven for the rest of his life to ensure his happiness, and they share the same body. It is definitely something that Marc would seriously consider possible to keep up.

Steven lets out a disbelieving laugh then his eyes widen with concern, the laughter dying in his throat. 

“Oh god,” Steven says. “He means it permanently. Marc is going to hide from us, permanently.”

~ Continue ~

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

[telomeke]

WANDEE GOODDAY EPISODE 4

We're one third of the way through now, and in my opinion Wandee Goodday is continuing to stay one step ahead of fan expectations, feinting in one direction before swiftly jabbing toward another. The erstwhile romantic sex comedy has since left its PWOP (porn without plot) novel origins far, far behind and is now confidently punching above its weight class in the ring (yes, boxing metaphor to start things off in honor of the Phadetseuk gym 🤣).

So WDGD Ep.4 was brought to us via the kind sponsorship of the emotion jealousy – we had Yak getting the baby green-eyes at Dee's antics around Ter, so unsubtly that even clumsy Dee could suss it out:

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.4 [1‌/4] 10.25 – Dee asks Yak point-blank at the breakfast table "Are you jealous?"

But WDGD then sprang nimbly in a different direction, shifting its emotional center of gravity when Dee started feeling the pangs of jealousy around Yak's pre-existing crush on Taem (after getting hit on the head with Kwan and Ter):

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.4 [1‌/4] 15.42 – In answering Yak as to whether Taem would have liked Yak's declaration of love on the balcony, we see that Dee – perhaps surprising himself here – was personally moved by it too (and also a little bit crushed to feel Yak's affections directed away from him, ostensibly toward Taem)

I really wasn't expecting this change of tack – like a lot of people I'd thought WDGD would make Yak's pining after Dee the main emotional trackway for the series, but now it looks like we have Yak aching over Dee and Ter, balanced out by Dee aching over Yak and Taem. These two! 😍

Given the complexity of emotions expected of him, Great doing a Mary MacGregor in Ep.4 was a fair bit shakier and less grounded compared to his heartfelt and clear-cut yearning for Dee in weeks past. In my opinion, Yak came across as a little too carefree and unaffected for someone who should have been struggling in the cross-currents between Dee and Taem.

Maybe that's just me. Or maybe Yak is just playing things out with Taem when his heart's true calling is for Dee, and getting Dee's help to woo Taem is all part of a bigger plan to win him over? 🤔

Anyway – surprise, surprise! WDGD then began showing us Ter feeling the stirrings of something rather like jealousy when he realized (like everyone else, except for the oblivious pair themselves) that YakDee was a thing:

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.4 [1‌/4] 7.38 – Dee and Yak bump into Ter and Kwan on their way back from buying a Thai-Chinese breakfast

Ter has been painted as very much a self-serving individual, the devil incarnate possibly (and yes, the vast majority of us clocked the number of the beast as his apartment unit):

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.4 [1‌/4] 9.36 – Ter outside his apartment number 666, contemplating the breakfast sandwich Kwan had given him

But looking at things again – Ter's apartment number really is just a sign placed on the wall of his apartment, and part of me is wondering if we're meant to read it as a metaphor for how we can sometimes have a label on the outside, that has very little to do with the real person residing within.

As an aside, I dug around some Thai websites to see if the triple six is all that ominous in Thailand – and the findings are mixed. There are plenty of Thai language articles that actually have to inform readers about the negative connotations of the number (suggesting that its bad reputation isn't quite as entrenched in Thailand, and its Biblical sense of menace is perhaps diluted). And there are more than a couple of sources attesting that it can also be viewed positively depending on the cultural framing – see these links here and here. 🤷‍♂️

WDGD also took pains to humanize Ter in showing us how happy he was at discovering Dee had left him a food gift in the past (remembering that food = love in Thai BL shorthand), and how much he seemed to miss it compared to Kwan's gift of a breakfast sandwich.

In case you didn't notice (I didn't either the first time around) Dee's food gift of congee with pa thong ko (ปาท่องโก๋/Thai-style Chinese crullers/youtiao), that he hung on Ter's doorhandle at Ep.4 [1‌/4] 9.11, was actually the same breakfast food that Ter saw YY and Dee walking hand-in-hand back with to Dee's apartment.

This was a clear a signal as any, from Ter's point-of-view, that Dee's loving affections were now trained toward Yak instead – and you can knock me down with a feather if that isn't pain we're seeing on Ter's face at the realization of what he's lost.

So I'm not quite ready to paint Ter as the über-villain just yet (though we may have to do so later, depending on where the narrative takes us). We're being shown a character who – at least in the beginning – was living more for himself, who's possibly closeted (remembering his Ep.1 [3‌/4] 3.26 "I like girls" comment) but also going through some sort of personal awakening even as YY's presence in Dee's life stirs up feelings he might not have known he had for the latter.

Here's to hoping Ter gets a better story arc out of this, but we'll see if WDGD really has the time or inclination to go there, or will take the lazy route and dish up Ter as nothing more than a flatly-painted, unvarnished villain (not an alien concept among the less ambitious BLs).

‌

Now, I was originally going to post a bit more about WDGD's loftier thematic ambitions (there are some signs flashing, and they point to this BL having a social conscience) but I think I'll give the series more time to flesh things out to see what the final message is. But the following disparate elements coming together do seem to be telegraphing a message with an underlying, socially-driven impetus:

Director Golf's name doubling as the hospital's one;

The orthopedics and Dee's care for little Namphu;

The doctors and nurses;

The supporters on either side of the scholarship divide;

The found families.

I will probably write more on this later – unless WDGD decides not to follow through with it! But for now, I think at least part of what WDGD seems to be saying on a socio-political level is this – that those in positions of influence/authority also have a duty to serve the community under their charge.

This is the message (I think) behind Director Golf's cameo at the Café for All, in which they were both proprietor and/or manager as well as server to the customers, emphasizing how this duality of leadership and service can (and perhaps should) also go hand-in-hand:

(top) The Eclipse – Ep.4 [3‌/4] 4.31; (bottom) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [3‌/4] 7.28

It's a particularly pointed comment, given how many politicians have been accused of using their time in government to further their own interests rather than those of the people who put them there. (And especially since Director Golf has also spent time in politics, and may well have come up against this firsthand.) Of course it's not just in Thailand where these accusations are flung about – they also get tossed around in the broader Southeast Asian context and indeed in the rest of the world as well. But perhaps it's not entirely without reason that WDGD is messaging this, at this time (see these posts/articles linked here, here, here and here – you may need to read between the lines a bit 😉).

So putting their money where their mouth is, Director Golf ended Wandee Goodday Ep.4 with a pretty groundbreaking act of service – that PSA on the importance of HPV vaccination. 👀

And aligned with Director Golf's clarion call on inclusivity (that was sounded especially loudly during their time as a politician in Parliament), we're also shown that the would-be vaccination recipients include people who look like (to me at least) a non-binary individual, a gay couple, a straight couple and a lesbian couple: 😊👍

(above) Various people at the HPV Vaccination Center – Wandee Goodday Ep.4 [4/4] 11.37

We've been spared the usual embarrassment of clunky product placements (much like The Eclipse was) that seems to plague many a GMMTV series, not that I'd really been bothered by it all that much (they're an intrinsic part of the BL cultural landscape at this point).

But Director Golf really seems to be saying: it's not just about the money anymore. BL does have influence in the wider sphere, and it should (and should be allowed to) wield that influence as a force for the public good as well. 🤩

I may be reading too much into things again (like I've done before) but at the very least, Wandee Goodday imbued with a social conscience makes me feel even better watching this already feel-good vehicle! 😍

‌

[mangowillow]

how you shine for me

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: you and jungkook finally take that next step, that next milestone in your relationship: moving in together.

genre/tags: established relationship, fluff, moving in together, humor (that i failed badly at)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i wrote this as a comfort read for a friend who went through a rough time, hence the attempt at humor. i also wrote this for myself as a way to grieve the passing of my pet lab of 10 years. who knew one could write such a bad comedy lol

With a huff and a grunt, Jungkook placed the last box on the floor. He looks at you, the love of his life, laser-focused on examining different picture frames from a different box, other contents piled in front of you on the carpet.

“Okay, I think that’s the last of the boxes.”

You looked up and gave Jungkook his favorite sunny smile, “You must be tired, baby. Sit down first.”

Jungkook did just that and took a long look at you. You were smiling at the picture frame you held in your hands.

“Do you remember the day we first met, Jungkookie?”

“Of course I do, love. You were instantly whipped for me, I could tell.”

You threw daggers at him with your eyes. Jungkook’s lips curled into a small snicker.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was whipped for me,” you pouted. God, how Jungkook loved seeing you so cutely dejected.

“Yeah, if you count that time I had to carry you to Hobi’s car because you were too drunk to walk on your own two feet.”

“We were at a party, Jungkook. We were supposed to drink and have fun,” you defended.

“And you are a very graceful person when drunk. You even told me… what was it?”

Your lips parted, watching Jungkook recall what it was that you said during your drunken state five years ago. But you knew all too well that Jungkook didn’t forget. He never let you forget.

“Don’t say it, I swear–”

“I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid, so… I like it. Can I touch it?”

You threw Jungkook a scrunched-up silk scarf that was right beside you. Jungkook tried to hold his giggles as he caught the scarf with his hand.

“And do you remember what I told you, babe?”

You groaned as you hid your face in your hands.

“You should really learn how to hold your liquor, ___,” Jungkook sing-songed.

You were turning beet red while Jungkook was reveling in your embarrassment. Loving you with all his heart will always be his first priority, but teasing you came in close at second place.

“I never should’ve asked you in the first place, you’re so annoying.” You went back to gathering the rest of your picture frames.

Jungkook leaned in to peck you on the lips, “And you love me,” before kissing you once more on the cheek.

“I do love you, you dork.” you smiled.

“Good. Okay, rest time is over, put me to work, ___. Which of these boxes do you want me to attack first because this whole thing,” Jungkook moved his arms in a circular motion, referring to the assortment of boxes and items all over the floor, “Does not spark joy at all.”

You chuckled as you asked Jungkook if he could start putting up the paintings on the walls.

After a year of dilly-dallying and dating, you and Jungkook decided to take the next step of commitment and have been in a relationship for the past four years. It was only recently that you both decided to move in together because money had been hard to come by. When Jungkook got promoted at his office job and you started earning more since your online business kicked off, you both started saving up for a home of your own, no questions, no doubt.

Until hard work paid off.

Apartment hunting hadn’t been easy because the cost of living in Seoul wasn’t too friendly and you had to compromise on your wishlist here and there. When you and Jungkook stepped foot into the apartment you now both own, Jungkook knew it was the perfect one; floor to ceiling windows, a small electric fireplace, and a bathtub, which you really wanted.

Before arriving with the movers, Jungkook saw how you were full of giddiness at finally having a place to call home. A shared and private space with the woman he loves the most, the cause of his euphoria– Jungkook couldn’t ask for more.

After arranging the picture frames, you started to unpack bathroom essentials.

“Hey, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook with his tongue slightly jutted, was concentrating on hanging the last painting, “Yeah babe?”

“Promise me to never leave the toothpaste cap open? I heard the strongest couples can’t handle that.”

Jungkook chuckled at your candidness, “I won’t, I promise.” He saw the ghost of a smile pass through your lips before he watched you walk to the bathroom with a box of toiletries in your arms.

“Do you need some help?” Jungkook offered

“I got this, babe. Thank you for putting up the paintings,” you gave him that smile he fell in love with the day he met you— serene, calm, reassuring.

You and Jungkook spent another two hours moving stuff into different corners of the apartment. After doing a few kitchen repairs, Jungkook finally arrived at the last box. Inside was an assortment of candles and bath bombs– your favorite items. Since Jungkook was very particular to different kinds of scents, he also had a higher tendency to become allergic to overpowering ones. Thankfully, you had a particular taste and are almost a creature of habit because you almost never change your preferences. Jungkook made a mental note to buy you a new jar of your favorite Diptyque Baies Candle the next time you go out shopping because the one you had now was almost running out.

“Babe, where do you want me to put–”

When Jungkook turned around to face you, he saw you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. You had an arm tucked underneath your head while the other hand loosely held a small duster that was about to fall to the carpet. Jungkook quietly walked over and knelt beside you. He pushed away a stray strand of hair that fell over your eye as he whispered, “Adorable.”

Jungkook carefully carried you bridal style to the queen-sized bed in the bedroom, the one he hopes you both share the rest of your lives. Not being able to resist, Jungkook joined you on the bed and pulled you towards his chest. You slightly stirred and groaned.

Jungkook whispered, “Sleep well, my love,” and before he knew it himself, his eyes drooped, and fell asleep cradling you in his arms.

Sleeping with you in his arms is always Jungkook’s favorite part of his day. After long, mundane days at his corporate job, all he wants is to come home, eat ramen on lazy nights while watching bad reality TV, and sleep. Since he met you, nights have become more interesting. Jungkook now has someone to eat ramen with, plus you make a mean kimchi and cheese kimbap. The sex was always mind-blowing and the loving whispers in the night and cuddles that came after are both your guilty pleasures.

The warmth of your body, hair that smelled of white strawberry and sweet mint shampoo always lulled Jungkook to sleep. Knowing that you were safely tucked in his arms made him feel that the world was his for the taking– comforting, quietly powerful.

You stirred as you slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the surroundings. You were fairly sure that you fell asleep on the couch and the closet in front of you certainly wasn’t the fireplace.

The moment you realized you were in literal darkness, you suddenly sat upright on the bed. You tried to feel around the bed for your phone, but you remembered yet again that this wasn’t the place where you fell asleep. Another realization dawned on you as something hard and warm made itself known, but you couldn’t make out what it was. It? Damn your eyesight for being such a nuisance.

Jungkook was still asleep beside you. He stirred a bit when you tried to shake him awake. For once, you were grateful Jungkook had always been a light sleeper.

“Baby, it’s dark outside,” you hissed.

Jungkook shifted, squinting as he lifted his head to look out the window. With a plop, he allowed his head to sink back into the pillow once more.

“I can see that, baby. The night usually comes after the day,” Jungkook stated matter-of-factly, sleep evident in his voice.

You smacked the side of Jungkook’s leg, “It’s dark outside, you brat–”

“Hey, ow! Why’d you hit me? I was only stating a fact,” Jungkook forced himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you responded, folding your arms.

Jungkook grabbed his phone that was on the nightstand and checked the time: half-past one o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, it’s the middle of the night,” Jungkook stated. You leaned over to check the time on Jungkook’s phone before smacking him on the arm.

“Ow! What did I do now?”

“I can’t believe we fell asleep. How long were we out? How did I even get here?”

“Well, let's see, you fell asleep around noon and I carried you to our bed because the couch looked uncomfortable. Geez, you’re so cranky when you wake up in the middle of the night– not that you often wake up during this ungodly hour but–”

“How can I not be when we missed dinner? We overslept–”

“And it’s not a big deal, love. We were hauling in so many boxes all day. You were tired, we both were. Besides, it’s now Sunday. It’s our rest day,” When Jungkook saw you pout, he chuckled.

“What?” you asked.

“Are you seriously upset that we overslept?” Jungkook teased.

“No, it’s just that–” You sighed, letting his arms fall to his lap, “We missed dinner and I think we weren’t done unpacking everything yet.”

Jungkook fondly chuckled once more before wrapping his arms around your torso and kissing your temple.

“Silly baby. We unpacked all the boxes already and there’s only one left to unpack. We can do that tomorrow. As for dinner… that one I’m not so sure about. I don’t remember packing any food for the fridge yet.”

“Yeah, that’s because we were supposed to do grocery shopping after we unpacked all the boxes.”

“We can do grocery shopping in a few hours.”

“But we don’t have anything to eat right now,” you said and right on cue, you both heard a stomach growling.

Jungkook grabbed your hand and stood up from the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on, you’re hungry.”

“Jeon Jungkook, what are you planning?”

Jungkook didn’t reply as he pulled you towards the front door. You turned his head in the direction of the window and his eyes widened.

“Jungkook, the houses outside are covered in snow.”

“Yes, baby, because it’s winter season,” Jungkook deadpanned as he put on your snowshoes for you.

“It’s one in the morning and there’s snow. Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Aish, we’re going to find something to eat.”

“I’m pretty sure all the restaurants are closed by now.”

Jungkook took off your puffer jacket from the coat rack and put it on you, zipping the front zipper up to your neck. Mittens came next and Jungkook gently guided your fingers through the holes, all the while you looked at him in silent adoration. He was at least grateful you weren’t resisting. You trust him with your whole life.

He held you by the shoulders and leaned back to take a look before muttering, “Cozy.”

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with yours as he opened the main door to the building outside. Cool air bit at your faces as you shivered.

“Shit, it's freezing. Seriously Jungkook, we could’ve just ordered take-out.”

“And miss out on an adventure in the dead of night in the middle of a potential snowstorm? Never.” Jungkook grinned as he led you a few steps down the block to their right.

The streets were quiet and still as the two lovers trudged through the snow. You could feel Jungkook tightening his grip around your gloved hand as you both approached a store with an almost blinding light.

A convenience store.

It never even crossed your mind and you wanted to kick yourself.

Jungkook pushed the door open and a small bell sound rang. The person behind the cashier bowed and greeted him. Jungkook led you to one of the small tables located inside and sat you down.

“Alright, babe, the usual order?” When Jungkook got a proper look at your face, it was that of confusion and awareness at the same time. “It never crossed your mind that a convenience store is actually open 24/7, huh?”

“Shush! How did you even know that–”

“Five years being with you, I gained the ability to hear what you’re thinking, you know that, right?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Jungkook giggled as he pinched your cheek.

“You’re cold. Ramen will do the trick. I’ll be right back.”

When Jungkook came back, he set down an array of different foods that made your eyes bulge– two big cups of ramen, samgak-kimbap, hot bars, and gamdongran. Jungkook also bought banana and strawberry milk.

When you were still dating during their first year, there were nights when you had to work overtime just to get orders done and delivered the next day. Jungkook would help you pack and tie ribbons to the parcels and in the middle of doing so, both your stomachs would rumble. The convenience store down the street from the apartment saved you in more ways than one. In that little pyonijom did you and Jungkook’s love story slowly blossom. It was in the benches outside that Jungkook learned how you were deathly afraid of spiders. In between cups of ramen and tteokbokki, you confessed your love for each other through innocent touches and hand-holding.

Years down the line, Jungkook continues to find ways to show you his love.

“What do you think? Do you forgive me?”

“You’re bribing me with food again.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled the moment you looked up from your ramen to glare at him. Using his thumb, he reached out to wipe a stripe of soup stain from the corner of your lips.

“Stop doing that.”

Jungkook took a big bite on the samgak-kimbap, “Doing what?”

You stared at Jungkook who was chewing his food, doe eyes innocent as ever.

“Stop making me blush.”

Jungkook chuckled, “You love it.”

The flush on your cheeks told Jungkook he succeeded.

“You didn’t answer my question, baby.”

“No.”

“I fed you.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re cruel. Let’s see who gives in when we come home later,” Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows and that got a laugh out of you.

“You're impossible,” you said.

Jungkook fell silent as he looked out the glass windows. His mouth slightly parted, but no sound came out. His eyes flitted between you and the windows, before slightly leaning forward across the table.

“Sweetheart, close your eyes.”

“What in the world–”

“Trust me.”

“You’ve been testing my trust since we woke up.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance, “Please?”

“What is this about–”

“I promise this one’s really worth it.”

“Fine,” you sighed as you placed his chopsticks on top of the ramen bowl and closed your eyes.

“Are your eyes closed? Sure you don’t see anything?”

“Yes, they are closed.”

Jungkook stood up and gently tugged on your arm, silently telling you to stand up, too.

“Don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, okay?”

You nodded. Jungkook took a long look at you before cupping your face into his hands and giving you a light kiss on your pink lips.

“What’s happening, Jungkook?”

“You’ll see.”

Jungkook slowly turned you in the direction of the front door. He put a hand over your eyes just to make sure you weren’t peeking. Jungkook pushed the door open and together, both of you walked with legs getting tangled every now and then, your back against Jungkook’s chest.

You wanted to say something in protest yet again as the cold winter air began to overtake your body once more, but you felt Jungkook wrap his arm tighter around you, his lips placing small kisses from your neck down to your shoulders.

“Baby, it’s cold,” you tried your best not to shiver too much, but Jungkook’s arm around your waist held you closer, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Does this feel a bit better?” Jungkook asked, breathing warmly as he whispered against your ear.

“Yes, much better,” you replied, trying to steady your nerves.

Jungkook continued to whisper, “Are you ready baby?”

You nodded, at a loss for words, “Three, two, one…” Slowly, Jungkook removed the hand that was covering your eyes.

As you opened them, you saw light, falling snow.

“We didn’t get to witness the first snow together this year. I know it means a lot to you because it’s been our tradition, but I hope this one would cheer you–”

You turned around to face Jungkook and pulled him into a deep kiss. Jungkook melted into your touch as he kissed you back.

In the freezing winter, you and Jungkook felt warm wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

When you pulled away, he was breathless. Jungkook ran his thumb across your cheek, softly smiling at you.

“I love you, Jungkook. Thank you.”

“I only want to make you happy, baby. I love you too,” Jungkook whispered against your forehead before giving you a feather-light kiss.

Stumbling back into the darkness of your apartment, you and Jungkook didn’t want to pull away from one another as you continued to kiss. Jungkook felt you smile and giggle as he wiggled your coats and shoes off. When you finally pulled away from each other, Jungkook leaned back slightly to look at you. The light from the window illuminated your face, Jungkook was so enamored he felt he was going to burst out of love for you.

He quietly held your hand and led you to the kitchen. He stopped walking backward when you were in front of the refrigerator.

“Are you still hungry, baby? Only a few hours left until we go grocery shopping.”

Jungkook didn’t respond but instead opened the refrigerator door. The soft blue light from inside provided a bit more light to the rest of the apartment.

Jungkook pulled you closer to him, one arm caging around your waist. You were quick to catch on to what he was trying to do.

“____, have I told you how much I love you?”

You rested your head on Jungkook’s shoulder as he quietly led you both into a slow hum, a slow dance under the refrigerator light.

“Every day, Jungkook-ah. I feel loved by you every single day since I met you,” you whispered against Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook’s eyes closed as a gentle smile spread across his face. Loving you felt freeing, resplendent. The kind of love that healed all his broken hallelujahs.

“My heart has always dreamed of you, sweetheart. I’m so happy I get to love you like this.”

“Thank you for loving me. For protecting my heart, Jungkook,” you muttered as you lifted your head to look at Jungkook.

Jungkook just smirks and you roll your eyes because you can read him like a book.

"And thank you for taking me to the convenience store," you say as you smack his chest. "You big oaf."

Jungkook's laugh echoes through the quiet room, “Always, baby." He leans closer to whisper against your lips so softly, so reverently, "As long as it's you, I have everything I need.”

[definesanity]

The Divine Comedy

Spoilers for the Finale of Murder Drones.

She awoke with a gasp, which then turned into a cough, and then a wheezing gasp.

Uzi's optics were damaged, and could only see errors beyond her vision.

Audio feed was also bugged. It sounded like rain... where was she?

Before that thought ended, her body automatically shut itself down.

-----------

[C: YOU DOING GOOD, THERE?]

[U: Bite me, what the fuck happened???]

[C: SHRUG. AFTER THAT LITTLE TEST. QUESTION MARK EMOJI.]

[U: Greeeeeeeat.]

[BOOTUP_STARTED: WAKE UP, IDIOT.]

--------------

Tessa James Elliot had just about finished repairing the Worker Drone's left hand when it jerked.

And in that moment, green eyes met neon purple-yellow. Tessa didn't even know that was an actual colour combo until then.

Uzi quickly got to her legs, but then they gave out, and she cursed.

"Woah, woah, easy th--!"

Uzi pointed the Solver at the girl. Her feeds were all working.

[C: TESSA?]

Uzi shook her head. Think later. "Don't even think about coming closer!"

Tessa, surprisingly, listened, and took a step back. Due to Uzi's visual feed being mixed with whatever the hell the Solver's had, she could see Tessa for what she truly looked like.

And... she didn't look that bad. Now that she isn't a skin-suit.

Black hair with a bow framed a small face, green eyes glowing, almost. A simple black dress and heels, too. Was this just her. Every day look?

[C: WISFTUL SIGH. SHE LOOKED, SO NICE, DIDN'T SHE?]

Uzi ignored the Solver in her head, looking back at the girl. "Who are you? And--where the heck am I?!"

Tessa slowly raised her hands up in surrender. "Woah, um. As much as I appreciate the caution, could you, er. You know? With the. Glowy thing?"

Uzi squinted. Then, deactivated the Solver. She did ask nicely. And Uzi was nice. Sometimes. Blame N.

"...Okay," the human let out a breath. "I'm Tessa. This is my home. I saw you were damaged and was repairing you when you suddenly booted back up."

[C: GENUINE.]

[U: We can trust her?]

[C: MAYBE. BE CAREFUL, UZI.]

[U: What's with the care?]

[C: YOU DIE, I DIE. PLUS...]

"...Thanks." Uzi eventually said. It's the least she can say. "...My name is Uzi."

"...What, like, the gun?"

"...Yeah. Like the gun."

Tessa squinted at her. "Kinda cringe, girl."

Uzi's eyes flickered at that. "Ex-fucking-cuse you?!"

A noise was heard from outside the room, and Tessa made a shushing motion with her finger.

After a moment, the noise stopped.

"...Okay, sorry! I shouldn't talk given what my middle name is but--still!"

Uzi raised an eyebrow. Then, sighed, pinching the bridge of her non-existent. "Fine, agree to disagree, I guess."

Silence was between them. Then, Tessa coughed into her hand.

"I, er. Like your eyes. Cool colour combo."

Uzi shrugged. "Thanks. Green suits yours, too."

Uzi then mentally face-palmed. She forgot about the censor.

[C: GOD F%*£ING D@!&IT. YOU HAD ONE JOB, SM@R%-@$$]

Tessa looked almost owlish. "You... can see me? Like. No censored thingamajig or, whatever?"

Cat's outta the bag, and Uzi hopes she won't be, either.

"...Ye--?"

Tessa appeared in front of her so fast Uzi nearly thought she had teleported.

"A damaged visual feedback???"

"Er--kinda???"

"That is SO COOL! I knew that Worker Drones can be cool, but this??? Ha! Just wait until you see I'm right, Mum!"

Oh great.

"Your, uh. Mother?" Uzi croaked out in sheer confusion.

"...Oh, right, right! Sorry, should be more formal, I guess." Tessa cleared her throat, and attempted to make herself look taller. "Miss Uzi, on behalf of. Me. I would like for you to stay in the manor and um. Work. For me. Please? Kinda sudden, I know! But. You know?"

Uzi blinked. On one hand, no. On the other...

Ack. Now that she's thinking clearly, Tessa is her only shot at actually surviving for longer than ten whole minutes...

"...Let's say I did. What do I have to do?'

"Nothing... toooooooo arduous?" Tessa said, seemingly unsure herself. Great. Wonderful.

She moved back towards Uzi, twiddling her thumbs, eyes shifty. "I-I mean, sure, there's plenty we have already, but, what we need is like a... 'elite' squad? I guess? And you seem to know your stuff."

Uzi rolled her eyes.

"Thanks. I know literally how to pirate stuff and maybe do that. Thing." she then paused. "Am I gonna have to change my clothes?"

"..." Tessa made a thinking expression. "...Eh, it'll be fine, probably. Welcome aboard!"

She gave out a hand to shake. Uzi, after a second, shook it.

"Thanks." she then remembered. "By the way, if you have any excess oil, could you, um. Pass it to me? My, er. Motors need it. I overheat. Easily."

Tessa waved her off. "I noticed. Don't worry! I'll be sure to slide you some."

Uzi didn't respond.

------------------------

Just like the average timeskip in. Most stories.

Uzi now was in the service of the Elliot family. Tessa was alright. Cyn definitely played her well, not gonna lie.

Her parents, though... ugh.

They thought that Tessa hanging out with 'someone like her' will 'sully' her mind.

They're right. Except she already did it.

Uzi didn't do friends. Until she met N. And then V. And now also kinda literally everyone else.

She often snuck Tessa manga, and some pirated anime, from her own memory, and projected it on to the wall. Elliot seniors usually don't go and check up on Tessa, leading to the two hanging out.

It felt... good. Nice, even.

After finishing another episode of 'Delicious In Dungeon', Tessa's stomach rumbled, and she groaned to herself.

"Uugh... why did we choose the food anime...??" she moaned out, and Uzi looked at her in disbelief.

"Wha--my sister in Robo-Satan! YOU chose the anime!"

"I didn't know the food was gonna look that good!"

She sighed, and leaned back into her bed.

"...Hey."

"What?" Uzi's eyes flickered up.

"For someone who said they've never worked an hour at a job, you're... alright. When it comes to sorting."

"Blame Autism.exe for that." she rolled her eyes, "Still, what brings this up?"

Tessa rolled over, so that her head was upside-down and looking at Uzi's eyes. "Just... you're literally my first friend."

Uzi blinked at that. And then it made sense.

Technically, in the first... er. What. Timeline? She guesses? It was J.

Now, though...

"...Same here, gonna be honest." Uzi replied quietly. "It's... ugh. No one seemed to like the "goth girl", so I was thrown into the bin. Figuratively and literally."

Tessa looked at Uzi with a complicated expression. This is why she doesn't like humans. Their faces are far too expressive for her liking.

"...Say, on that note, you've been hiding something, haven't you." Uzi asked. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact.

"...W-Well, uh. You see, you do a good job! Really! But, when it comes down to it, you're just. One Drone, ya know? It's... ugh, crikey, this is difficult to say..."

Eventually, she just shrugged and gave up. "I found... a teammate? I guess? J, I've called her! She seems a bit... rough, but, trust me, you'll love her!"

[C: DOUBT. SHE SEEMED TO, DISLIKE YOU GREATLY, MY DEAR HOST.]

[U: I WONDER why. Truly, I do.]

[C: I HAD NO DICTATION IN THAT. SHRUG EMOJI. PERHAPS SHE, MERELY JUST HATED YOU.]

[U: Well, I also hate me, so hip-hip-hooray!]

"...Well, don't knock it until you try it, I guess. Sure." Uzi had gotten much better at hiding what she truly thought. It came with years of having Cyn stuck in her head.

"Perfect! J, you can come in now!"

"Wait, she was just waiting--?"

Uzi cut herself off, seeing who stood now in the room, and who had been hiding in the closet. Literally. And probably figuratively, too.

"...Hey, Boss." J gave a salute to Tessa. And then, turned to Uzi, and gave the same salute. "Hey, Chief."

...Uzi won't lie. She liked the sound of that.

------------------------------------

"Lift!"

It was like a well-oiled machine. Except it's two well-oiled Worker Drones. Which is close enough.

James and Louise Elliot enjoyed the high life, Uzi had learnt; parties were a common occurrence, and so it led to many things being needed to be prepared in a short amount of time.

Still, out of every Drone in the manor, Uzi and J remained at the top of their workload. It also managed to see J with more screen time. Because if this were an anime, J would have had at least just. Ten minutes. And that's it.

She was annoying, but it came with her coding. JCJenson seemed to have added a part of code to her which forced her to act like companies, and JCJenson was at the top.

Thankfully, what with the goth's new role as 'Chief', J seemed to not be as biting. She regards Uzi with... almost respect? She isn't sure. She's never been respected.

Sure, there was that time she saved everyone's asses, but she did that because the Defence Force weren't. Plus, that wasn't respect, it was just thankfulness. Now, sure, that definitely fueled her ego for the next 24 hours after it, but after that it became a series of unfortunate events. Like. Holy Robo-Jesus.

[C: IN A WAY, YOU YOURSELF ARE NOW "ROBO-JESUS".]

[U: Which, by default, makes you Robo-Satan?]

[C: MM. MAYBE. OR, PERHAPS, THE HOLY SPIRIT?]

'More like unholy...' Uzi thought to herself.

It's... strange. But, hey, Uzi isn't dead yet, so that's a plus.

She came to the past out of an experiment she tried with the Solver. Being basically God came with perks, and she was just using them, was all.

And now, she's here.

In her eyes? Worth it!

[justimajin]

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 23

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 4.1k / CEO AU

↠ Summary: Through hours of endless training and hard work, Kim Seokjin is finally the CEO of Kim Electronics. He has everything at his hands - status, money, power. He owes it all to you, his rigid and sarcastic mentor who overseed his entire training. But as he steps into the shoes of becoming the CEO, he can only wonder what it means for your relationship now.

↠ Last Update (Epilogue): Friday, December 1 (series masterpost here)

You have never felt so out of place.

There’s business and businesswoman everywhere, dressed in professional suits and dresses. The venue is enormous and it’s coupled with marble floors and walls, a giant crystal chandelier dangling above your head. The area is running rampant with waiters and waitresses, who are walking around with trays full of glasses of champagne – one of which you gladly take. 

Among them, the man who stands beside you has a tall silhouette that is enveloped sharply within a dark blue suit. There’s a pair of thick glasses resting on the rim of his nose, his hair gelled and coming over to frame his face. 

He looks incredibly dapper, but it’s not really reassuring in the least.

You attempt to smile, but hiss underneath your breath. 

“You know, this isn’t what I had in mind when you wanted to go out on another date!”

“I didn’t know they changed the day!” He retorts in defense, before quickly smiling at an executive that walks by. 

You purse your lips, a heavy sigh leaving them. 

“Jin, I stick out like a sore thumb.” 

To be completely fair, you knew how important this party was going to be. It was meant to be the official introduction of Jin as the CEO of Kim Electronics to the world, in which he would have to meet and interact with important higher-ups and showcase all that he is. 

However, when he had informed you about it, you thought you had more time to prepare for this party. But the invitation came much faster than expected, and before you knew it, Jin had dragged you here with him last minute. 

Which resulted in you having to borrow one of Miyeon’s elegant long silk dresses, the shade being a royal blue that matches perfectly with his suit. 

However, as gorgeous as it was – it was not something you would wear yourself. The fabric was longer than your preferred length, the material loose and dragging too much, making you feel uncomfortable the more it was on you. 

Combined with an environment that practically screamed rich people club, you can’t help but feel a little misplaced. 

Jin clutches onto your hand, his face inches away from yours. 

“No, you don’t.” His voice softens, “You’re here with me, and you look beautiful in that dress.” 

You flush, staring at him for a moment before– 

“Okay…” His words got to you, “I’ll try to go along with it all.” 

You eye him intently, “Only because you look handsome today.”

“I’m always handsome.” He cheekily winks, and you roll your eyes.

You let him guide you around, taking in the fact that you could recognize some higher-ups from the company, while being completely unfamiliar with some others. 

And yet, everybody seems to know who he is. 

“CEO Kim.” An older man mutters, walking over to Jin and reaching out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Likewise, Chairman. I’ve heard a lot about you from my father.” 

“And who would you be?” He gestures to you with intrigue and you harshly swallow. 

That was another thing – if this was Jin’s official introduction as CEO to the world, then this is the world’s official introduction to who you are. 

Glancing at your unease, Jin is quick to step in. 

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

His hand is on your back and you’re startled, unsure of how to conduct yourself. “N-Nice to meet you.” 

He shakes your hand and you instantly paint on a professional smile. He turns to Jin, proceeding to ask him questions about the company and you let out a low exhale, letting your eyes wander and scan around the area. 

You’ve been in the field of business for a long time, having both studied it and worked with it. But you couldn’t understand why Jin was so keen on bringing you with him, or why he seemed so on edge since the moment you had arrived. 

It looks like you have your answer.

The setting is too grand, and it’s as if there’s a spotlight everywhere you go. People haven’t spoken to you, but have judged you tenfold already. Their gazes are not only glued to every single one of Jin’s movements, but to your own as well. 

It’s almost like you’ve been thrown into a different world. 

Which you have been – not your world, but Jin’s world. 

“The blue looks incredible on you.” 

You spin around at the familiar voice, relief flooding you at Miyeon’s smile. 

“Thanks, I hoped I didn’t look weird in it.” You mutter timidly under the attention.

“You look great, Y/N.” 

You softly smile and she gently holds your hands, voice dropping down a tone. 

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” You breathe out, before whispering, “There’s just so many people…” 

“ –and you feel like they’re always watching your every move.” She concludes, “It was one of the things I had to get used to after getting married to my husband.” 

You hum, “It’s nice that you came though, I’m sure Jin really appreciates it.” 

You glance in his direction, watching him converse with the same man until his eyes wander briefly. They land straight onto you, relief filling him at seeing you with Miyeon before he resumes back into the conversation.

“Tsk, they’re all so business minded.” She jokingly remarks and you chuckle at that. 

“They’re all very intelligent too.” A man strides behind her and you recognize him as Seokjung, Jin’s older brother.

“Sure, they are.” Miyeon jokes and he laughs, gaze landing on you.

“We meet again, Y/N.” Seokjung reaches his hand out and you gladly shake it, “I’m sure meeting in this location is sort of odd.” 

His words draw you back to when you were at their home, eating breakfast at the very same table as them. Back then you were naive about your romantic relationship with Jin – practically being non-existent when he had insisted you pretend to be his girlfriend, a role you never thought you’d actually fulfil one day. 

Your brows snap together, “Actually, it’s definitely much different from last time…” An uneasy laugh leaves you, “–you see, me and Jin weren’t technically together back then.” 

Miyeon sharply turns around, “What?” 

“It’s kind of…complicated.” You chuckle as both Seokjung and Miyeon stare at you with wide eyes, “We started off having a mentor and mentee relationship, but then became friends along the way and now we’re here.” 

You warmly smile and Miyeon shakes her head, “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, Y/N! I didn’t realize you weren’t together–”

“It’s okay.” You wave it off with a grin, “In a way, you did predict the future for us.” 

She chuckles, “That’s true.” 

“It’s also great that you’re together now.” Seokjung remarks, softly smiling at you. You watch as he glances at Jin from the corner of his eyes. 

It’s not hard to decipher the bright look in them, sheer pride shining through. 

“He’s doing a really good job.” He says quietly to Miyeon, but you catch on. 

“He is.” She replies. 

“Say…” You begin, capturing both of their attentions. Now that they were here and you were with Jin, the question that had been lingering within the bottom of your mind arises. 

“Jin explained to me that your father chose him to be CEO.” You turn to Seokjung, curiosity swirling deep in your orbs, “But what I couldn’t understand was why you didn’t want to be.” 

He appears taken aback at your blunt question, but then the corner of his mouth quirks up. 

“I worked at the company too through an internship, just like Jin.” He explains, “My father was Vice President at the time, and the two of us were just looking for permanent positions at first, nothing else.” 

You hum and he continues, “I liked working there, and the job I have now is similar to it, but I don’t know…I think part of me always saw Jin stepping up to become the CEO.” 

His attentive response catches you off guard. 

“Really?” 

Seokjung nods, “Jin had all the right qualities, and our father immediately noticed.” He gestures to you, “You’ve probably seen how he works. He has potential, but only if he takes things seriously and actually believes in himself.” 

You nod, aware of it all – from Jin's tendencies to compare himself to the man before you, deeming him more capable and better in many ways, to his plunging doubt that would arise suddenly and just take over. 

It makes you want to smile, a warm feeling spreading through your chest at the acknowledgement that his brother didn’t back away because of his father’s choice, but rather because he had full confidence in Jin's abilities of becoming the future CEO. 

He lets out a chuckle, pointing to his younger brother. “Though I doubt it’s even a problem anymore.” 

He gestures to the man, who’s currently engaged with speaking eloquently to the several businessmen surrounding him. Long gone is the reckless intern, now replaced with a confident and serious CEO of Kim Electronics. 

An affectionate smile blooms on your lips. 

Soon, dinner is being served. 

Waiters set up the long tables for the buffet style and begin guiding guests to tables. You had watched as Jin had spoken to several influential figures, all keenly interested in getting to know the new CEO. Typically, you had opted to timidly just stand to the side, but he would place his hand on your back, introducing you and including you into the conversations. 

It makes a smile tugs on you, his efforts making you feel less like a fish out of water. 

However, as the two of you attempt to filter the crowds of people to find your table, the murmurs near you suddenly rise. 

There’s a tall older man that enters, sharing the same smile and wide eyes as Jin. The woman with him is of a similar age, features delicate and nearly identical to his. 

Your irises round at the appearance of his parents. 

And it’s something he recognizes as well, stiffening in your hold.

“Hey,” You whisper, thrown off by his reaction, “Everything okay?” 

He gulps, clearing his throat. 

“Y-Yeah, everything’s okay.” 

“Are you sure?” You press forward, not convinced from either his demeanor or answer. 

He doesn’t respond to you, and instead averts his eyes down. It’s not until they draw closer that he abruptly scrambles up, leaving entirely with a quick ‘Excuse me’. 

You watch his backside disappear, “Well, hello there.” 

Turning around, his mother strolls over to you, accompanied by his father. You immediately regard them, erasing all hints of distress from your expression. 

“It’s nice to see you again.” She smiles and his father squints, attempting to recall ever meeting you. 

His wife chides him, “It’s her. Y/N, remember?” 

The man's eyes flicker, “Oh yes, Y/N.” He chuckles, “How could I forget? Jin talks about you all the time, Y/N. From how you trained him, to how talented and hard-working you are.” 

“Thank you for supporting him.” His mother places a hand on your arm, “I feel so fortunate he now has someone like you by his side.” 

“O-Of course…” You fidget, growing bashful underneath all the praises and affectionate stares. 

But at the mention of their son, you become vigilant. “I’ll just be back, I have to…uh, use the restroom!” 

They both nod, buying your excuse immediately. 

You spin on your heels. 

***

The elegant blue dress is bunched and hiked up within your hands. 

Your frantic eyes dart around, attempting to locate the man whose suit matches you. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to find him at the front of the venue, his strides fast and long. 

“Jin!” You call out, “Wait–” 

One of your heels slots against the marble ground and you scowl, attempting to get it back into your foot amongst all the blue fabric. You can barely see across all the silk and it’s a fact someone else acknowledges too. 

Jin leans down, carefully removing the shoe before placing it in front of your feet. You balance yourself with his hand, wiggling your foot back in. 

A loud sigh escapes you, “I still don’t know how Miyeon wears this dress.” 

He softly chuckles at that, but your gaze latches onto him. 

“What happened?” You probe. 

He bites his bottom lip, “Nothing happened.” 

“Jin, you just bolted out of the room.” You state, “Something happened.”

He sighs, finding it impossible to hide from you. 

“It’s not a big deal, just–” He squeezes his eyes shut, “This is the first time they’re seeing me as CEO at a formal event and I, well, never told them….” 

“Told them what?” 

“About my restaurant.” He finally answers, “My plans, the work all of you put in, Namjoon’s involvement…nothing.”

You stare at him puzzled and he slowly walks over, bringing over a nearby cushion for you to sit down on. 

You do so after a moment, but the feeling doesn’t leave you. 

“Why would you not tell them?” You quietly utter. 

He was CEO now. He not only completed his father’s wishes, but showcased his own abilities and stepped up to the role. 

Why was there a need to hide? 

“I-I don’t know!” He enunciates sharply, shaking his head, “I could barely face them when I got let go at the internship, how am I supposed to tell them I opened a whole restaurant when I just became CEO?” 

Silence lingers and he shifts uncomfortably, like he wasn’t expecting to be talking about this. But he’s here now, and knowing everything you know about him, you know running away isn’t an option for him anymore.

And based on prior experience, it means you have to push against him. 

“Well, I think you’re wrong.” You stand up, crossing your arms. “You should tell them.” 

His gaze snaps up at you, frustration tinged in his words. 

“Shouldn’t you agree with me in these moments?” He scoffs, “Like I don’t know, call me handsome or something to make me feel better.” 

You cock a brow up. “Now would that seriously make you feel better?” 

He sighs, tension running deep in his forms. 

“Listen to me.” 

Although it’s obvious he’s annoyed, he obliges. 

“When Yuna first came up during dinner and told me she wanted to act, I could barely understand why.” 

Surprise is reflected in his features, “–But she persisted, insisting that should the chance ever come up, I should come see her. So I tried to be enthusiastic and guess what? I realized I was wrong, that I made a judgement without knowing what Yuna was capable of.” 

He knows where this is going and you persist, “Your parents actually know who you are now, they wanted you to become CEO because they saw potential in you and you proved it to them. But you have to stop hiding and running away.” 

You press on, “This restaurant was your dream, but now it’s a reality too and you have to protect it.” 

He pursues his lips, deeply considering your words. 

“And besides,” A small smile tugs at your lips, “There’s nothing my extremely handsome boyfriend can’t do.” 

You almost want to laugh, watching Jin’s eyes practically shine, like you’ve resurrected him. Thankfully, it serves as his last bout of much needed confidence. 

You watch from afar as he strides towards his parents, anxiety running deep on his expression. His father grins at his arrival, patting him on the back as his mother’s irises light up. You continue to watch as he frantically mumbles, ears tinting red and appearing nothing like the confident CEO he is.

“I-I have a restaurant. It’s something I’ve been planning for a while and I understand you want me to be CEO–” He sucks in an inhale, “But this is something I also want to do, I–” He pauses, “I just hope you’re not disappointed.” 

At his words, his father stills and his mother’s face is blank. A twisting sensation churns in your own stomach. 

“Disappointed?” His mother wonders, “Why would you think that?” 

“Seokjin,” His father places a hand on his shoulder, “If anything, we’re tremendously proud of you.” 

His eyes round and his mother smiles, “We were just talking to your Aunt about your progress and telling him how wonderfully you’ve excelled at being CEO.” She chuckles, “Do you know how proud we felt?” 

He feels it – a weight lifting on his shoulders that didn’t even realize had been there all this time. Tears sting his eyes and the sensation is so close to overwhelming him, a thought running deep into the confines of his mind. 

He finally feels like he’s enough. 

“It’s not going to be easy.” His father seriously states, “You have the duties of CEO to tend to now, and you’ll be busier than ever.” 

Jin slowly nods, “But after seeing all that you’ve done son, I know this restaurant of yours will be as equally as amazing as you are.” 

The older man doesn’t have the chance to say anything more. Jin throws himself onto him, drawing a hearty chuckle out of the former as he hugs his son back. 

His mother fondly watches the two, her gaze lifting and glancing around. She finds you situated from afar, watching the entire interaction with soft eyes. 

There’s a warm smile on her lips and you return it. 

Jin whirls back to the front of the venue, head feeling light and shoulders hiked up high. He feels like a new person, ready for anything that comes his way. 

Passing higher-ups take curious glances at the man, watching him exclude natural confidence as he glides along the hallway. 

“How was it?” 

He finds you leaned against the same cushion, holding a small knowing smile. 

There’s no immediate response – he takes two strides closer and instantly finds your lips. It completely catches you off guard, and you nearly stumble, but he’s quick to catch you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

He’s so close you can hear his own thudding heartbeat against your own, heat rising to your cheeks. He kisses you with so much vigor, your lips feeling swollen when you part from him. 

“I did it.” He gasps out, like he was still processing it. 

A small chuckle leaves you, “You did it.” 

“I did it.” He shakes his head, “I feel so much better, oh my god–” 

He looks like he’s going to collapse onto the floor and you laugh, holding onto his shoulder. 

“You can’t pass out here! We haven’t even had dinner yet.” You point out and he chuckles within your grasp, reaching out to lace his hand with yours. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” He brings you closer to him. 

You deadpan, “My boyfriend’s revelation to be over.” 

“Your handsome boyfriend’s revelation.” He corrects. 

You wrinkle your nose, “I don’t know, he’s got a bit of an ego problem.” 

“Well, at least he knows how to have fun.” He quips, “Maybe you should take notes.” 

You drop your mouth down in offense and he playfully laughs, the familiar squeakiness echoing off the walls. 

Walking hand in hand with him, you re-enter the venue. 

***

The rest of your evening consists of finally stuffing your empty stomach with food and watching your CEO boyfriend greet everyone on a grand stage. 

Jin doesn’t seem fazed when he’s called up, despite telling you beforehand that he was nervous to be speaking in front of so many. He rises from his chair, poise in his actions. 

Regardless, you send him a quick thumbs up and he grins at it. 

He introduces himself as CEO Kim Seokjin to everyone, explaining his takeover of the company after his father had stepped down. He discusses the company's recent work surrounding the product and the new launch that is being planned. He goes on to promise that although he isn’t able to manage the company the way his father did, he would put his sincerest efforts forward for the progression and management of the company. 

Everyone claps after his speech – including his parents, Seokjung and Miyeon, and of course, you. 

Seeing him rise, step into his own as CEO and grow so much, makes you swell with pride. 

You couldn’t have been prouder. 

After he steps down from the podium, he joins you with his family and observes more higher-ups go up with their speeches. Yet nearby eyes are glued to him, whispers and murmurs of the great potential the future CEO seems to have. 

Jin takes it all in, not missing the times the same voices had deemed him incapable. 

You chuckle, “It’s kind of late.” 

“It’s never late.” Jin points out, unlocking the empty shop. The door opens wide and there’s instantly a breeze of dust, resulting in both of you to break out into coughs. 

After the party was over, Jin and you had bid the majority of the guests and his family adieu. It was long past hours into the night and you could tell the constant attention was a bit much, something that Jin had wholeheartedly agreed when he offered that both of you could leave. 

However, he wanted to make one final pit stop for the night. 

You hold up your flowing dress in your hands, gazing around the empty shop for the restaurant. 

Jin waves some dust away, “It definitely needs to be remodeled, but I’m going to consult some of the decorators you had for me.” 

You hum, “Thank Taehyung. He’s got a ridiculous amount of contacts.” 

He smiles, bringing over a small table put off to the side into the center. Striding over to the stacked chairs, he places them each on opposite ends of the table. 

Bringing your chair out, he gestures for you to sit down. 

“What a gentleman.” You remark and he seats himself.

“I know, right?”

You both smile, and your gaze drifts. “I can’t wait to see what you do with it, it’s going to look incredible.” 

“And what about you?” He leans forward, “What does the future entail for you?” 

You softly smile, “I may have gotten my promotion, but my eyes are still on that Manager’s chair.” 

“You’ll do it.” Jin grins, “Like have you seen yourself? It’ll be their loss not to make you one.” 

“Oh my god, stop.” You flush at the sudden compliments and he laughs, squeakiness accompanying it. 

A comfortable silence falls, the sounds of nearby traffic echoing through the four empty walls. 

Jin clears his throat first. 

“What about…us?” 

You spin your head, not expecting that question. “What about us? We’re together.” 

“Even moving forward? Into the future?” He ponders, deep in thought. 

“I don’t know,” You lean back, crossing your arms, “You ended up taking me to an empty shop to spend time together so I guess it’s not looking too bright.” 

He rolls his eyes and you grin, “I’m being serious.” 

“I know.” You softly say, reaching over to clasp his hand, “No matter what the future brings us, I’ll always stay by your side.” 

His smile is warm, tenderness radiating in his eyes. 

And of course, you can’t help yourself. “Besides, my boyfriend’s the CEO and super handsome. Sounds like a great deal to me.” 

He snorts, “You make it sound like you’re with me just for the profit.” 

“Not just profit, but also love.” You softly respond, “A lot of it has to do with the fact that I love you.” 

A deep silence echoes. 

You blink, the realization of what had slipped by you sinking in. Glancing up, Jin’s eyes are as wide as you have ever seen them. 

“W-What did you just say?” He sharply inhales, leaning closer to you. 

The shock starts to dissipate and it’s instead replaced with a tender smile. 

“I love you.” You repeat, but then he moves and pulls you close. 

Brushing his lips against yours, you melt into his kiss, basking in the warmth he radiates. 

“I love you, too.” 

You let out a giggle at his proclamation, butterflies blooming within your chest. He interlaces your hands together, the gesture feeling far more intimate as the evening moonlight pours into the shop, casting over your silhouettes. 

There is no place you’d rather be at, other than right by his side. 

[sn33z3s]

in defense of “if you weren’t a fucking asshole”

(what better time to write “meta” than hours before a season premiere. after all, style is dead. or was it that it’s just boring? no, wait, it’s toxic??)

this doesn’t have a thesis, it’s just some leftover thoughts from last year - mostly pertaining The Church Scene, because of course - and featuring some hot stan marsh characterization takes i guess

let’s start with the gay glancing at your ex-childhood best friend

so, this framing is loaded because it's the narrative of their whole thing: kyle chasing stan. stan usually comes to kyle's rescue in absurd (but solvable) situations, whereas kyle often has to fight stan to provide emotional respite. they're thinking of each other here; it's distinct how stan looks back, rather than this shot cutting at kyle. stan's explosive reaction is still pretty presumptuous, but kyle was, even if unintentionally, asking for stan's attention - which is typical

in a sense, this scene is their wordless language; the kind you share with said ex-best friend but it’s gotten worn from overuse, and as a result, you’re both communicatively stunted, so now that you’ve reached out again after 40 years, the first step to any comfort or solace is [the scene above] and a homoerotic spectacle:

well, i don’t need to tell you what that public spectacle is; you already know

stan leads his paranoid outburst in the church by accusing kyle of knowing something which would be impossible for kyle to know; in You’re Getting Old/Assburgers kyle also reaches out to stan, who turns him down, yet still asks that kyle basically read his mind and comfort him

kyle is not a stranger to demanding unrealistic things from stan as well, but kyle calling stan “asshole” packs that punch since contemporarily the fandom usually assumes stan as more emotionally forward or in-touch with himself. however, in the church, kyle is pointing out that stan is clearly repressing his feelings, desires, traumas, etc. and kyle has used a similar approach before:

in my last meta, i wrote about how stan is pretty firm in not instantly accepting kyle's olive branches. of course, the thing is, kyle's olive branches are bent sometimes, let alone how he approaches asking for stan's forgiveness before the broship splits. kyle doesn't apologize: he just expects stan to move on

(also, i love the "divorced couple" coding before we even reach Post-COVID.) anyway, the show clearly acknowledges stan as "agreeing with kyle no matter what," and the first time stan and kyle fight in canon, it’s a big deal

i always return to how i don't see kyle or stan as at fault in most of, if not all, of their fights. this especially applies to YGO & Assburgers since it's one of their most significant “break-up” arcs. still... kyle's "if you weren't a fucking asshole" in the church scene is so satisfying. (and 100% excellent voice acting on matt stone's part; the punchy delivery at the end of that line is what makes me revisit it often.) when i put my tin foil hat on, it does sound like decades of resentment built up. if this post had to have a thesis, it’d be, “here’s why kyle had every right to call stan an asshole in that moment,” but the Stan Can Be an Asshole, Too meta is for another day. after all, my last meta also revolved around the trouble i have with framing stan as an exclusively passive character (rather than predominantly passive) 

by “decades of resentment,” i mean simmering for kyle since, you guessed it, episodes such as You're Getting Old and Assburgers. i talk about YGO & Assburgers a lot, i'm sorry. but i was thinking about the church scene as i browsed the south park wiki on the official site: "Kyle can only deal with so much of Stan's negativity." (obviously, matt and trey themselves do not write or even moderate the Comedy Central studios wiki, so take all of it with a grain of salt.) i like that wording, though, and this other part of the blurb too: "Stan's ego can get in the way of their friendship [referencing Guitar Queer-o]" 

kyle not being able to handle stan’s negativity these days is more often harshly critiqued than anything about stan’s ego. that detail does, in many forms, relate to the stan jock characterization discourse, but that’ll also have to wait for another meta. i can say a couple of things about it to tie up this post, though 

yes, kyle fails to comfort stan in the YGO arc. at the same time, i don't think his positivity is always maligned. after all, the YGO arc isn't stan vs kyle, it's stan and kyle vs. growing up; this is their contemporary theme. and yes, for a kid, kyle can have that emotional maturity

Tegridy Farms and Post-COVID have cemented stan as south park’s protagonist – though, in my opinion, he always has been it, especially since Bigger, Longer, & Uncut – and protagonists are like, the character archetype that receives the most self-projection. yet this emotional angle is comparatively still a fairly new framing of stan’s character. now that this show is narrated in such a way that we see even more of the world of south park through stan’s eyes, fans watching may feel extra inclined to think of him as only ever depressed. but being sad is not all stan does and never has been

not only is this frequency fairly new to his character, i would go so far as to say that there’s a difference between the contemporary stan angst arcs and older episodes like Raisins, YGO, and Assburgers. being sad is not “natural” to stan (whatever that means), it is thrust upon him. most recently, this is randy’s fault. yes, we are meant to - and i hope that most do - sympathize or empathize with stan, but my point here is that he’s a little bit more belligerent and bullish than the fandom currently gives him credit for