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yunhohattyu · 1 day ago

Text

★Mine ★

pairing: professor!yunho x student fem!reader

genre: age fap/ agnst/ forbidden love/ dark/soft romane SUMMARY: Professor Jeong never thought that he would be in love with his student and would admit it..

★ Author's notes: This story was lying around in my draft and that's why I wanted to release it, are they just cuties and lovers here? Read with love! I don't know if there will be a second part…Ask for it and I'll do it :)

The second semester started unexpectedly cold, even though winter was already coming to an end. The university corridors were filled with the rustle of winter coats and lively conversations of students. As usual, you went to couples, glancing at the schedule on your phone. "Modern media and their impact on society" is a new subject that has been added to the program. You almost didn't pay attention to the title, thinking that it would be another boring course with a dry theory. There were a lot of pre-instructors and professors, and you're with your best friend, Wooyoung, as always. You became friends with him from the very first day of school, he had a lot of friends, but he sat with you in class.

"a new semester has started, are you trying to study?" - you said to your friend, carefully arranging the books on the table. "I've always taught, and I've actually asked myself this question," and then you clicked. A tall, handsome man with coiffed hair, wearing a black suit and a turtleneck enters the classroom, it was Teacher Jung Yunho. "so I think you know me… And I'm going to teach the subject of Modern Media and their impact on society, I think we'll get along well, right?- He says, smiling playfully. Wooyoung speaks to you almost in a whisper, leaning towards you. "Have you heard the rumors that almost everyone is drooling over him, have you seen how many girls come to his office?" You look at him with big eyes, slowly turn to him and say, "into him? Into him? Well, he's really attractive, but if necessary, I'll make him mine."

But he clucks and says, -"It's not going to be that easy, he's a teacher y/n, and I think she probably has a girlfriend. "

Teacher Jeong was wearing a black suit and a white shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, and he was certainly tall. Teacher Jeong sits down and starts getting to know all the students, asking everyone for names and making compliments. Then it's the turn of that girl named "Sol" who you don't like, and you just hate her. "What's your name?"Teacher Jeong asks with his trademark smile , "Sol!" -she shouts, smiling at him, well, you knew she was crazy about him too.

-"you have a beautiful name, it's cute." -He smiled at her, complimenting her, and she quickly replied.: "Thank you Teacher Jeong! You're so cute! You're very handsome, I really like you!" -she smiles at him, and you think you're going to be sick, and you slowly turn to Wooyoung, exchanging glances.

then you don't notice how the queue is coming up to you. -"Ah.. What about you?" -he asks, raising an eyebrow and smiling. but you were sure that he had clearly heard your name at the university. -"y/n" - you say your name, smiling at him falsely -"Oh, that's a beautiful name for you." You can see his eyes moving over you, looking you up and down. -"What's your name?"- He looks at Wooyoung -"Wooyoung"

"I've heard about you… - he says, raising his hand to his chin- "you're the guy who danced there, and I saw you getting caught doing interesting things…"

Well, he wasn't a good and obedient boy. -"Yes, that's right. And if you need help getting a girl's attention, I'm here to give you some advice" -he makes everyone laugh with this answer. -"Oh, yes, of course!" -he says, to the teacher. Then you hear the bell ring, and all the sounds of discontent begin to be heard.

"Okay, it was nice to meet everyone! have a nice day!" -he smiles at everyone, but then you catch his gaze in yourself. his gaze lingers on you for a long time.

From that moment on, every activity turned into a mixture of anticipation and mild tension. Yunho was professional, but sometimes you caught his gaze, which seemed a little longer than usual. You tried to ignore it, telling yourself that it was just a figment of your imagination. But the more time passed, the more the feeling grew that something was subtly changing between you.

You went up to the second floor early in the morning. and you greeted all the teachers with such a bright smile, and walking next to Teacher Jeong's office, you see that the door is ajar, and you see 3 teachers sitting there laughing while drinking a cup of coffee, you come in knocking and leaning on the door saying

-"good morning teachers! Are all my favorite teachers here? - raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. You see them drinking coffee and eating chocolate chip cookies. and Yunho sees you in a short skirt that makes your thighs completely bare, and today you're wearing a milky-white sweater that shows your collarbones, you've got your hair in a bun today

-"Oh, are you having breakfast? Bon appetit, Professor Choi and Park, and Professor Song and Jeong!"- you smile at them, Professor Choi replies,

"it won't change your grades," - he smiles playfully.

"respond to kindness with kind words, at least!" -you say, pouting.

Then Professor Jeong says to you,

-"Take a cookie, it's very tasty. You like chocolate, right?" -He tells you. -"Oh, if you're offering, then I don't mind," -you say, smiling,when you approach his table, he can smell your perfume, it smells so nice, the smell of It looks like a grenade explosion with feminine warm floral notes of jasmine, freesia and rose, from which Yunho enjoys the fragrance and he's trying to control himself. and you take one cookie, saying thank you. and the other three say, -"thank you for visiting us," -and Yunho also looks at you and says, -"thank you, too, have a nice day," -and you smile as you head for the door and turn abruptly,

-"and yet… don't expect Teacher Jeong's presentation from me today, I didn't have time to finish it," -to which he smiles and shakes his head

When you come out of his office, you're happy. Yunho takes a sip of his drink and sees all three of them looking at him,

-"What? Why are you looking at me?" -Yunho looks at them in surprise, to which Professor Park says,

-"How do you know that she likes chocolate chip cookies?" -he asks, raising an eyebrow, and the others nod.

-"I just saw her eating chocolate, and I thought, what does she like, why?" -"it was just interesting…" -to which the teacher can add, "we'll find out, we'll find out.." -and they start laughing

-----

Teacher Jeong stands at the blackboard and says:

-"bring your presentations, everyone!" -he looks at you, raising one eyebrow. Everyone brings their work to his desk and even wooyoung. -"Sol, was there a girl who didn't study, and now she's making a presentation?" -says Wooyoung.

-"those who have not passed their presentations and are not ready for the lesson, I will give them a low score and, if necessary, I will expel them from the lesson," -he says, but you knew that he would not do it. But he kicked the guy out of the class...

there are days when you catch his gaze on you many times, which looks at you for a longer time than necessary, and this is wrong for a teacher.

You're standing in the hallway and looking at the stairs, there's not even a cockroach in the hallway, but Professor Choi kicked you out of class because you weren't ready for class. You're standing in the hallway like a stray puppy, wishing you'd taken your phone out of your bag.you walk back and forth, looking out the window, and open it, and breathe in the fresh air, and bend over to look down from the window, and Yunho comes up the stairs and sees you bending over, and your skirt is riding up higher and higher. he sighed heavily, and you turn around and see Teacher Jeong coming up the stairs.

He pulls himself together and says,

-"Oh, y/n hi, why are you standing here?" -he's heading your way.

-"Professor Choi kicked me out of class," -you tell him with a frown, looking down.

-"Have you been naughty?" -He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy.

"i..I just wasn't ready for his lesson! And this Choi, he kicked me out into the hallway," -you roll your eyes. He nodded,

-"if you want, you can sit in my office," -he says carefully.

-"I don't mind!"

You've been sitting for 10 minutes in silence, looking at him filling out the paperwork, you notice that he looks much more attractive now, in his glasses, he was wearing a milky white suit and trousers, with a white turtleneck. you see his cheeks turn pink, and he looks up at you and says,

-"Are you going to look at me for a long time?" -Opening your mouth slightly, you want to answer, but the answer doesn't come to your mind.

-"me…I was just watching.." -To which he shakes his head.he's focused on his paperwork, but one question that's always plagued you is coming out of your mouth,

-" Mr. Jeong.. Do you have a girlfriend?" -to which he laughs softly and says,

"why are you asking?"

"just answer,"

"no, I don't have a girlfriend." -he smiles softly, leaning back in his chair.

-"Ah… What about you?"

"I don't either. I'm not dating anyone right now." And he looks at you intently, and you shake your head.

-"Then… It's strange that such questions come to your mind," -his voice sounded soft but a little wary, as if he was considering every word. He picks up the pen again, but he still doesn't put it down on the paper. His gaze returns to yours,

after the school bell, you leave his office, and he falls back on the back of his chair, sighing heavily and taking off his glasses, and rubbing his eyes, he says "what am I doing" - he tries to get you out of his head, but he can't, your look, your words, he thinks about it, but he doesn't owe him I need to fill out my paperwork now, not think about you.

-----

In the evening, at his office, Yunho rubbed his temples tiredly, looking at the mountain of documents that needed to be filled out. Thoughts were spinning in my head: students, lectures, and regular plans. But all this time, the image of your eyes did not leave him. He tried to concentrate, but it was getting harder by the moment

*the phone rings*

he picks up the phone despite the screen and presses answer "hello" "are you in the office?"- says Professor Song

The knock on his office door was light but steady. Yunho looked up from the monitor, saw you in the doorway, and smiled warmly.

—Oh, hello,— he said, putting down his pen. "How are you?"

— I'm fine, thanks. How are you? — you smiled politely, as you did every time you came here. It has already become a kind of tradition.

"I'm working on the materials for the next lecture," he replied with a light sigh, leaning back in his chair.

You exchanged a few words, but you quickly realized that it was better to leave so as not to distract him. However, when you left the office, you noticed that two female students came to see him a few minutes later. They were giggling loudly, whispering something between them.

The next day, you decided to show him your presentation, but you see that he is in a hurry somewhere and says, "Ah.. sorry, I have to go quickly, I don't have time right now.." "I needed help with presentations… can you give me your number?" _and he writes his number in yours The phone is on, and he talks and leaves quickly.

But in the evening, when you were sitting in your bedroom and racking your brain with your presentation and wondering if you should call Teacher Jeong yourself? But at the same moment, the phone rang and "Teacher Jeong" appeared on the screen

You answered quickly and heard his deep voice…a slightly drunken voice?

"I… you… damn, I can't do this... But I want you to know…" - his words blended together, and you realized that he was clearly drunk, but his voice was getting softer. "You're important to me. I… I thought I could hide it, but… I can't. I'm in love with you. Believe me, I was afraid to admit it… but now… I… I can't keep it to myself."

You were left in complete shock. Those words were so unexpected, and you didn't know what to say. All you wanted to do was figure out what was going on. You were sitting with your phone in your hands, feeling your mouth go dry.

—Teacher Chong… are you… are you sure it's… not from alcohol?" You managed to say, hoping he wasn't joking after all.

He sighed heavily, and you could hear the music in the bar die down.

— I do not know what will happen tomorrow, but now I am telling you the truth. I couldn't say it to your face, but… here. I… you're everything to me, you know? I need you so much… I need you so much right now.

You felt your heart start beating faster. His confession was unexpected, but at some point you realized that his words were not completely alien to you either.

You froze for a moment, trying to process everything you heard. His confession was throbbing in your head, but something inside you didn't want to believe that it was all serious. Then she took a slow breath and dialed the number.

"Yunho, I won't take your words seriously," - you said, feeling something tremble inside. Your voice sounded restrained. - "I think you're just drunk."…

There was a pause on the line. You heard him whisper something to his friends, and his voice suddenly became serious.

"I'm not drunk," he replied softly.- "I just finally decided to tell you how I feel. It's really important to me that you know that."

You were silent for a moment, still thinking about what you had heard. Yunho's voice was warm, but at the same time a little vulnerable...

"Maybe this really isn't the right time." -You continued with restraint. "But you'd better say it sober."

He was silent for a second, and you suddenly felt like his confession still left something in you.

"I get it. I don't know what came over me - His voice became soft, with a hint of sadness. —But know that it's all true.

You were silent again, still tormented by doubts. Thoughts of possible consequences and the fact that he is your teacher popped up in my head.

"Yunho…" - you started, but he cut you off.

"Just… think about it when I'm sober. And now…" - He hesitated, and I could hear him breathing heavily. -"Just know that I meant it.

You nodded back at yourself, even though he couldn't see it.

—Okay, Teacher Jeong,— you replied softly. "I'll be waiting for you to sober up. While.

And you hung up, feeling like this conversation would be playing in your head for a long time.

did he just confess his feelings??!!

nooo, he was just drunk… God, what am I supposed to think!

It's worse than I got two for the semester.

That night, you approached Jongho in the hallway and, deciding not to pretend that nothing had happened, you started telling him about what happened with Yunho the day before. Jongho sat with his mouth open, with an indescribable expression on his face, barely able to contain his surprise and bewilderment.

"It's… it's just…" he was in shock, trying to figure out how such a thing could happen. — Do you even realize that this is your teaching, and he's for you… How is that even?! Did you say something back to him?

You briefly explained what you said to him so that you wouldn't take his words seriously because of his condition, but you still couldn't forget that night and the confession.

"HE WAS DRUNK! That's how we'll keep thinking, or I'll fall into the abyss myself."

The next morning, when you were walking down the hallway, you saw Yunho and Professor Park talking. Quickly gathering yourself, you decided to come over.

— Hello, teachers! Good morning," you said with a slight nervous excitement, but trying to sound confident.

They both answered confidently with a smile.:

— Good morning! Professor Park said, and Yunho tilted his head slightly, his gaze was soft and a little thoughtful, as if he wanted to say something but was holding back.

You quickly walked past him, feeling his gaze on you, which continued to remain somewhere in the shadow of your thoughts. He probably doesn't remember yesterday, or he does..

When you and Jongho came to the classroom, he said with a mysterious expression on his face:

—Listen, let's talk," he said, and you went to the corner, but at that moment the door opened and Yunho entered the classroom.

— The schedule has changed! It's my lesson now, everyone sit down! His voice was confident and his gaze was quick. He walked into the classroom easily, as usual, but there was something different about his behavior today that made everyone in the class freeze.

You felt the tension in the classroom increase as Yunho began to prepare for class. Quickly adapting to the unexpected change of plans, the girls in the class began flirting with him, throwing glances at him and trying to get his attention. Yunho, of course, did not react to this, maintaining his professionalism, but you noticed how he could not ignore these signs of attention.

You sat down at your desk, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and anxiety, and noticed how Jongho was holding back laughter, watching what was happening. Yunho started the lesson by calmly explaining the material, but his gaze lingered on you a couple of times, as if trying to catch your attention.

A hot, nervous silence hung in the air as soon as he started asking questions. You noticed how everyone's attention was focused on him. He continued to teach, but every now and then he looked at you, and even despite his outward calmness, you could feel the tension between you growing by the moment.

The whole atmosphere of the lesson was intense and full of hidden meaning. You tried not to give in to this excitement and focus on the material, but thoughts of what happened would not let you rest.

When class ended, you left the classroom, but you immediately noticed Sol walking towards Yunho. She was obviously intent on getting his attention, and her gestures were unnecessarily obvious: she touched his arm as if trying to create intimacy. You felt something tighten inside you, and although you couldn't explain exactly why, her behavior hurt you. Perhaps it was jealousy or a misunderstanding of what was really going on. Why are you reacting like that?

You hesitated a little, standing at the door, trying to cope with this unusual feeling. But, gathering all your strength, you took a step forward and, taking a deep breath, approached Yunho.

"Can we talk?" "your voice was quiet, but firm.

Yunho turned to you with a surprised smile. He didn't seem to be fully aware of what had happened yesterday, as if his memory had been partially erased from that day, leaving only a general sense of recent communication.

"Of course,— he said, still smiling, although you noticed that his gaze was a little softer than usual. He nodded and led you away from the rest of the students.

You stopped, and silence fell between you. You felt like your mind was still struggling with the emotions that arose after talking to Sol. Yunho was looking at you, his expression was calmly interested, but you knew that everything that happened yesterday hadn't been resolved yet.

"What do you want to talk about?" His voice was soft, but not too insistent.

You hesitated a bit, feeling like you needed to find the words.

then you try to say everything he said yesterday, but you say, "can we go to your office, I want to tell you one thing…" - he nods, we go to his office.,

You walked in silence, only the sound of your footsteps echoed down the corridor. When you reached his office, Yunho opened the door, went in first, and turned around to look at you.

—Come in,— he said, slightly opening the door wider, inviting you in.

You slowly entered, feeling the tension building up in your chest. He closed the door and you were left alone. You sat on the chair in front of his desk, trying to collect your thoughts. Yunho was standing in front of you, his gaze was serious, but there was uncertainty in it, as if he didn't know what to expect from your words.

You sighed and started talking, trying not to get lost.:

—Yesterday… I sent you a presentation, then you called me and said you didn't want to keep it all inside yourself… and…" you hesitated, trying to find the right words. "You said you fell in love with me, then you said you needed me so much that you needed me right now."…

You stopped for a moment, watching his reaction. His face didn't change, but there was something in his eyes that was hard to understand.

"I just wanted to."..Yes, yes, you were drunk, I didn't do anything like that," you said quickly, raising your hands in surrender

—I understand that this may be a problem," he replied softly, his voice remaining calm, but there was sincerity in it. — And I realize that our communication can create certain difficulties. But I don't want this to come between us.

He paused for a moment, his gaze never leaving you.

— If I lose my job because of this, then that's how it should be. But I don't regret how I feel. I'm willing to take risks if that's what I need. When I started teaching you, you seemed like this to me…because I couldn't help but look at you. Of course, you may think that I'm a pervert or some kind of bastard, but…I really didn't remember that you were my student and that I was here to teach, not to arrange an attitude. But I probably said everything yesterday, though for sure…I don't remember what I said.."

So he was really drunk yesterday

You stared at him, feeling the tension building inside you. His words were confident, but you knew that the consequences of all this could be much more complicated than just feelings.

You sighed nervously, feeling uncertainty creep into your chest. His thoughts were confused… what if he just wanted to have fun and that was it? No. He's not one of those people, and it's clear that he was sincere. You knew that the solution you were proposing would not be easy either, but you gathered your strength and said:

— So… Do you want to date me? But we will do it secretly. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me.… You don't mind? Then I'll be all yours, I promise. If that's what you want, of course.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked at him, waiting for his answer. You were afraid that maybe he would think that you were over complicating things, but your words were sincere—you didn't want to cause him trouble.

Yunho was silent for a long time, his gaze was focused, and he seemed to be trying to figure out what you really meant. Then, coming closer, he leaned forward a little and said:

"I don't want you to feel guilty, and I'm willing to keep this between us if that's what you want." We can be careful, and I will make sure that we don't break any rules. And I want you to trust me.

He sighed, as if deciding something in himself, and added:

— But I can't promise that I will hide my feelings. I can't pretend that I don't feel anything. So if you're ready for that, then I'm ready too.

You looked at him, feeling a lump of anxiety tighten in your chest. Your voice was trembling, but you still decided to ask the question that was spinning in your head.:

"You won't regret it?"

Yunho was silent for a bit again, his eyes met yours, and there was something hard in them that made your heart stop for a moment. He stepped a little closer and answered quietly but confidently:

— I don't think I'll regret it. I understand that this may be difficult, but I know that this decision is mine. I want to be with you, and if it leads to problems, I'll be ready to solve them. You're important to me, and I don't want to miss the chance.

You felt a warm feeling in your chest, despite the complexity of the situation. It was a resolute and sincere response that somehow relieved some of your anxiety.

You playfully rolled your eyes, feeling the inner tension ease a little, and slightly frowning, pouted, asking a question.:

"You're like that… So do you want me to be your girlfriend or not?

Yunho smiled slightly when he saw your funny reaction, and there was a sparkle in his eyes. He came closer, his gaze became softer, but still full of determination.

—Of course I want to," he said, laughing a little. "You've been grabbing my attention for a long time." And if you're ready, I'll be glad if you're my girlfriend. My. My Everything.

He came even closer, and there was a slight playfulness in his voice, as if he had also decided to take this step, although he was a little constrained by the whole situation.

"But only if that's what you want, too," he added with a wink.

You pouted, feeling your excitement turn into mild jealousy, and grabbed the back of his head tightly with both hands, looking at him with a flirtatious expression on your face.:

— Of course I want to! But if you walk around and talk to other girls, I'll resent you. Especially if it's Salt! I don't want to miss this chance either.

Yunho laughed softly, seeing your seriousness and a little flirtatious jealousy. He gently placed his hands on yours, which were firmly holding the back of his head, and slightly reached forward.

—I promise I'll be all yours,— he said, his voice soft but firm. — Sol can flirt all he wants, but I'm right next to you, and that's important. You don't have to worry.

He touched his forehead to yours, making it clear that he was serious.

"Should I always call you Teacher Chong?" Or something else?

Yunho thought for a moment, his gaze became soft, and the corners of his lips lifted in a slight smile.

"If you want, you can call me Yunho," he said, touching your arm lightly. —But if it's more convenient for you, you can stay with Teacher Chong." I don't mind-and I whispered in your ear-but I like both because it sounds so hot and coming from your mouth.."

You gently tilted his head, gripping the back of his head tightly with your hands. Slowly, you moved closer to his face, and your lips touched his in a gentle kiss. At first, you felt his body tense slightly, and he didn't immediately respond, his eyes were wide open, clearly surprised. It made your heart beat faster, but you didn't stop.

You clung to him more tightly, continuing to kiss him, gradually more passionately, conveying all your feelings in this kiss. His tension began to ease, and after a moment you felt him responding, his hands gently touching your back. He pulled back to breathe, and at that moment you quickly, almost instinctively, pulled him back to you, gripping the back of his head tightly. You kissed him again, this time even more passionately, feeling like every second you spent with him was important.

The kiss became deeper and deeper, your lips moved with thirst and warmth, and his reactions became more and more open, as if he couldn't stop. Everything that was around was disappearing, leaving only you and him, and this moment that seemed to have been created just for the two of you.

You felt his body tense as you licked his lips, a little invitingly, and at that moment you were barely breathing, waiting for his reaction. He froze, his eyes filled with something deep, and then, without words, he moved even closer, as if he couldn't resist anymore.

He quickly grabbed your head with one hand, holding it tight, and with the other hand pulled you closer, squeezing your waist. His kiss was insistent, hot, and you could feel his hands taking full control, but that was exactly what you wanted—for him to show determination and respond to your feelings.

You could feel his breathing becoming ragged, and your lips were still in unison with his. At that moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, and you couldn't think of anything else but him, how he was pulling you more and more into his world, leaving all the doubts and questions behind.

You pulled away from him, pushing him lightly in the chest, feeling the air return to your lungs. You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath, but at the same time you couldn't help but notice how he was standing in front of you, with a worried expression on his face. You noticed how his chest was heaving with heavy breathing, and this only increased your feeling that something much deeper was emerging between you than just a moment of passion.

Do you want the second part? I'll write the second part….I'll think about it!

English is not my native language, so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry! And I didn't read it last time, so I don't know. Look at this photo and imagine Teacher Chong as he will be when...

okay bye! ^-^

<33!!!!

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #yunho smut #ateez reactions #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho imagines #jeong yunho #yunho ateez #ateez x reader

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kandlewick · 3 days ago

Note

I, for one, would love to hear about the janitor au ships you have in mind

I am a chronic multishipper so please lay them all on me

my biggest ship plans for this au are with kalim, leona, and malleus.

kalim and the janitor is precious to me bc I love their relationship in the au where the janitor helps pick up and teach kalim about how to actually experience life and responsibilities. the janitor brings out the best in kalim and helps him grow and supports him! and kalim offers a positivity that the janitor needs. janitor would definitely lower their guard around him and actually vent to him about their feelings and worries. they both learn to support each other very well and just aaaa!!!! the possibilities.

Leona and the janitor is also a good ship. they're both very comfortable with each other and leona, having not overblotted and got to win the spelldrive tournament, is honestly probably better off then in canon. his lack of drive and general gloominess is lessened in the au (still there but not as bad, easier to deal). he respects the janitor and also probably appreciates how tesponsible and mellow potentially older yuu is. leona is also a lowkey mother hen and I could see the two warming up to each other via gifts bc leonas love language is definitely giving time and gifts nobody can change my mind on this. janitor would also appreciate having someone else that knows how it feels to wrangle a bunch of younger students around, someone who is actually self reliant and mature.

NOW MALLEUS, oh God malleus. this relationship is potentially the... most convoluted and potentially unhealthy of the group. they both have a deep attachment to the other and even if the relationship stays purely platonic, they both aren't their best together. especially early on i can imagine them both indulging the other in some pretty harmful over reliance and having attachment issues if not dealt with. NOT TO SAY THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND FRIENDSHIP IS BAD it's just there's a lot going on between the two of them. theirs a lot of positive things about them!!! they both care for each other very much and I can imagine they'd bend over backwards for the other. they have a very selfish love but its genuine and sweet when its not potentially overblot worthy.

now for best friends, definitely rook. rook is enough of a pain in the ass that he would stick to the janitor early on and his personality is a good balance for the janitor. also I like the idea of the janitor being partially """""socially adopted"""""" by vil. the pomefiore has a sewing machine for goodness sake, of course the janitor is going to use it as much as possible! lol

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #janitor au

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hanistry · 3 days ago

Text

THE MANOR IN WHICH | ENHYPEN.

genre | action, fluff, angst / friendship au, magic au

synopsis | if one wants to test whether a person still has the power of a god, maybe the best thing to do is just ask, not try to turn them into one.

word count | 6368

warning | fighting & violence, injuries (breaking of limbs) / mentions of blood, drugs, death, domestic violence, child abandonment / predetermined reader trait: red eyes

world | one

You remember the first time Minho injected a shot of fentanyl into your eye.

More than the abrupt pain, which was not at all unmemorable either, there were gashes of blood you left on the side of his arms. He had to pin you down under the circumstances that the medical team did not provide any method of sedation. Only a syringe, a glass bottle of fentanyl, and another empirical hypothesis on human drugs and their effectiveness in quelling your Enlightenment.

Enlightenment—Minho coined the term when he began teaching you how to control your ability. It was the third and the final stage of your descension to Godhood, with the first two being Transformation and Possession, respectively. But, more than a stage in your power, Enlightenment is a sentient concept that battled for the ownership of your body. It is a punishment given to you by the God of All. It is the very thing you need to avoid descending toward.

Minho, along with his colleagues, had spent years finding ways to keep your from descending. It was no big deal. Everyone was taught to hone their powers during their teenage years. Almost all the high schools in the country have implemented additional training courses once a week to prevent disasters caused by those unfamiliar with their ability.

Some private schools even went out of their way to renovate their sports courts to better accommodate their students, to insert training classes into the mandated curriculum, and to hire a diverse group of professionals that fit the even more diverse student body.

But, regardless, you understood the distinction between yourself and other children.

Their power was given by the Gods. Your power was to become a God.

The fentanyl comes in when some part of Enlightenment slips past your control. The first time it happened, it had been sudden but not unrecognizable. One of your eyes had been clouded with blood, like having your sight draped with a red veil. You could only see Minho stumbling toward you with the syringe in his hand. You understood what must happen, and while you fought Enlightenment, the Enlightenment fought him.

It was similar to getting a vaccination, except the needle wiggled and scratched to be in your skin, and you feared for your life.

But the pain was gone moments after Enlightenment returned dormant, and Minho’s arms were never rid of those ugly scars.

You also remembered the first time your bones twisted at the beginning phase of Godhood.

Minho had died months prior from murder, leaving you with scattered pieces to remember him by. But, just between you and the higher power, nothing brought out memories of him more than how ill-equipped you were to pull yourself back from Enlightenment’s takeover.

Red pupils were blown over your irises, and you recalled being unable to see anything. In retrospect, it made sense. You were supposed to lose access to yourself. Once Enlightenment was fully reached, the body would belong to it, and you did not deserve to see through its eyes.

You later deduced that you had entered the beginning phase of the descension when your body would transform to be more fitting of a god’s image—the twisting of bones, perhaps to make your limbs malleable.

The bottle of fentanyl on the motel’s bedside table fell and shattered when you crawled to it with your arms and reached up blindly. You wouldn’t have been able to hold it with your fingers anyway, and you had doubted your ability to work through the intricacy of a syringe when you were too busy withering in pain from your broken legs.

You were desperate and almost embarrassed by it, but the helplessness taught you one thing that night, a new thing, which was that impending pain was worse than actual pain.

If someone were to kill you, you would rather it happen immediately than hours later. The knowledge and the wait for death would always outshine the deed.

Knowing your arms were about to be twisted into an irregular shape scared you more than feeling as if it was about to happen. In the end, accompanied by the cracks of your ankles and painstaking wails, you dipped a finger into the fentanyl on the floor and pierced it through your eyeball with your nails, slathering the drug across the back of your eye.

You left the motel the next morning and never returned.

Those have remained the most traumatic moments of your life for years. You have grown to be cautious of your body’s changes to prevent another incident of being surrounded by Enlightenment. Those around you have always diligently pointed out when one of your eyes turns red.

Putting a needle through your eye has become less grand and intimidating with each passing occasion. Nothing much could surpass what happened to you back then.

All except one thing—

“Hi, I’m so sorry, but we’re closed.”

—customer service in the fast food industry.

It was mainly an exaggeration, but sometimes you thought you really meant it when you’d rather go through the beginning phase of Godhood than explain to a customer why you would not be making them a sandwich fifteen minutes past the store’s closing hour.

The boy stalked in anyway, leaving the door to slam close behind him. You knew he heard you because his legs paused briefly when you spoke as if his conscience wanted to listen.

You rubbed your hands under the counter to hide your annoyance. You should have locked the door after flipping the open sign around. This wasn’t the first time people made it apparent that they were illiterate.

You figured if someone with a physically enhancing power wanted to punch their way through, they would have done it regardless of the lock.

However, that was merely an excuse to be careless. When you finally chase this customer away, you planned to text your manager about getting a metal bolted door.

Biting back a humorous smirk from the idea, you quietly cleared your throat and looked up to observe the boy in mutual silence as he stopped before the cash register. His hands were buried in his jacket pocket, but you didn’t believe he was hiding anything besides his hands.

His hair has shades of blond that were irregularly placed enough to feel deliberate. He was tall, a head taller than you at minimum, but skinny like a twig, which made him less threatening. Either way, he was bothersome for barging in when you were closed and ready to head home.

“Are there any wheat bread left?”

“We’re closed.”

Niki raised a brow. He heard you the first time. If only that was a good enough reason to deter him from having to stand in front of the cash register like an idiot. Unfortunately, he has to fulfill the task given to him, or else it’s no more free housing for his sorry ass!

The best he could do was to make everything quick—trailing his eyes down to your chest, he inwardly sighed at seeing the necklace shown to him before entering the restaurant. He hasn’t gotten the full scope of the mission, as he knows what he has to do but does not know why he has to do it.

Heeseung gave him two tasks. First, take the necklace. Second, bring out your power.

Shifting his weight, he shrugged dismissively and tried to continue the conversation. “So what? You can’t answer a simple question?”

“I am not serving right now. I am off the clock,” you said.

“You told me,” he retorted, his eyes widening softly. “But I didn’t ask you to make me anything. I asked if there was any wheat bread left.”

Turning your head away so you could roll your eyes, you returned your attention to him and smiled. “Why would you need to know that?”

“That’s none of your business, is it?”

In your mind, you have reached over the cash register and grabbed his tiny head with your ginormous hand, shaking the attitude out of him and some respect into him as fires circled you like halos circled an angel.

Over the years of working customer service jobs in various settings, you’ve gotten fairly decent at crafting your imaginary torture scenes, where there was little torture and a lot of complaining. But this boy was mind-boggling more than usual because, despite his tall stature, he looked boyish enough to be a student. At least you haven’t met a well-adjusted adult who would color their hair recklessly.

What did that mean? This boy was out here disrespecting his elders in broad daylight.

“Please leave, or I’ll be forced to call the authorities,” you said.

Niki watched your corporate-trained smile, but he grimaced because you even thought about calling the authorities in today’s day and age.

Unique powers have grown so prevalent that there was only a fifty-fifty percent chance that a patrolling officer would meet someone whose power was scored lower than or equal to theirs. Even the usage of old-fashioned weapons, such as a gun, wasn’t foul-proof anymore, given that there were people out there who were basically a walking operating room. The law enforcement was a joke.

But—a thought passed his mind—you could be doing him a favor by letting the police handle him. Even though he has no knowledge of the intricacies of your power, he suspected he wouldn’t want to face off with someone like you. One accidental beam shot down from Heaven, and he would be a standing stick of scorched meat.

Biting back a shudder, Niki pursed his lips in distaste at the recognition that his family had potentially sent him out on a suicide mission.

Was all of this really worth free housing? Getting a job could not be too hard! He looked at your determined face, his gaze floating down to your ridiculously green outfit and the oiled screen of the cash register. He held back a shudder again.

Free housing was worth everything.

“Fine, I’ll leave,” he muttered. “I need something from you, though.”

You raised a brow. “It better not be a sandwich, kid.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, after waiting a beat for your guard to lower even more, he pulled a hand from his warmed pocket and shot it outward, reaching for your necklace.

You have seen this exact movement before. Besides teaching you how to control your power, Minho also taught you how to fight.

Since you would only be using your power a fraction at a time to avoid being consumed by it, you would always be put at a disadvantage to your opponents, who would be able to use all of theirs. Minho told you that learning how to work around a match was necessary, but you knew the real reason he needed to teach you was so you could later be used in jobs the militia group involves itself with.

You never minded it. He practically raised you all. He didn’t have a lot, but he made space for you in his shabby, ugly apartment and gave you allowances to spend.

At some point, he had attempted to make meals to provide you with a proper diet, but he wasn’t the kind of man who should step foot in the kitchen, so there was always a trashcan full of takeout boxes. You thought he tried to clean up after himself more when you started living with him, but the house was always a black hole of trash and dirty laundry.

It was no wonder he never brought any woman home, or maybe he kept your presence in mind.

He tried to give you the kind of life a normal kid would have outside of all the testing and training, and you never thought he didn’t care about you.

Like you remembered, Minho’s ugly scars never disappeared, and he never blamed you for anything. He patted your head after giving you medicine and went to the bathroom to clean himself up alone.

After he died, you took one of his jackets and the silver cross necklace he always wore. You sold the jacket at a pawn shop, but you always kept the necklace with you. The necklace Niki was aiming for.

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue when you grabbed his wrist before his slender fingers could touch the necklace. He was told you were trained to fight. By a veteran, no less. He just wished you had forgotten all about it after so many years.

Pulling his other hand out for another attempt, his arm retreated just as you were about to grab hold of it. You slipped past him, and he took your bafflement as an opportunity to reach for the necklace. He looped his fingers around the cross and yanked it off your neck, causing you to slightly lurch forward. Your chest hit the cash register, but you didn’t allow yourself a second to process the inconvenient pain.

Hoisting yourself with both hands on the counter, you planned to jump atop it and tackle him, but Niki quickly caught onto your plan. Before you could jump, he focused his attention on one of your elbows and, within a second, twisted it with his head. The bone exuded a cracking noise that pierced his uncomfortable ears—he never did get used to the consequence of using his ability.

You lost your balance and fell off the edge of the register counter, your face slamming against the surface on the way down. He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but not a second later, your functional arm shot up to use the counter as leverage to pull yourself from the ground. You emerged, panting with a nosebleed and, if Niki has to describe it, batshit crazy eyes.

But not red eyes.

“Give me the necklace back!” you rasped out as you crawled onto the counter slowly.

He took a few steps backward, trying to debate to what extent he was willing to continue with the mission for his safety, but his train of thought was cut short once your feet hit the ground. You ran toward him at full speed, one hand held up to grab the necklace in his hand. He cursed audibly and raised his arm to keep the accessory out of your reach.

You pushed him backward in return, deciding to get him to loosen his grip instead of prying the necklace off his hand. Niki stumbled and hit his back against the glass window.

You huffed in acknowledgment; you were right. He was as frail as a twig.

Regaining his composure, he blocked a blow you punched toward his face and held onto your fist. His gaze hardened as if asking you to be the one to give it up, but you ignored his face to focus on his hand.

Your thoughtful expression made him frown. You seemed surprised he had the strength to shake your arm. After a momentary struggle, you decided it wasn’t worth the effort to keep at it, so you abruptly pulled back and went with your leg.

Niki let out a choked groan, feeling a mouthful of saliva kicked out of him as his steps stuttered in response to your feet colliding with his side. His lanky torso was bent to keep his head lower to the ground in case of sudden dizziness, and so you wouldn’t see his twitching eye because your kick reminded him of a long-repressed memory.

He’s been beaten half to death before. He knew how a middle-aged man’s fist felt. You must be stronger than an average person; he could figure out that much simply from your history. The only issue at hand was whether you were under the effects of adrenaline or if you were normally strong enough to kill a man with a single hit.

There have been people with strength-type powers who committed manslaughter before, and he suspected a select group of people with top-percentile powers could kill someone with one punch if they wanted to. You could be part of that group. You haven’t killed him, but he didn’t want to risk finding out if you could.

“I’ll ask again,” you huffed out lowly, your broken arm swaying from your body movement. He was still catching his breath, and you decided tonight wasn’t the night you sent an ambiguous teenager flying. “Give me my necklace back.”

Niki licked his lower lip and straightened his back. He met eyes with you.

Still no red eyes. He was beginning to think maybe they were fed the wrong intel.

Holding onto his side, he panted with deep inhales and quick exhales. It was mercy. Choosing to negotiate when he was occupied was a sign of mercy. You were sparing him, and it was annoying. Not even his father showed him this much restraint, and all he did to this father was grow up kind.

That was it. That was what you reminded him of. His heart was beating out of his chest, the sound ringing heavily in his ears. He could feel the sweat roll down the side of his face, even though he hadn’t moved around nearly as much as he was used to. It was all psychological. He hasn’t felt like this since he stomped to his father’s workplace with the vengeful intention to kill him years ago.

Shifting his gaze to the corner of the floor, he corrected himself with a few slow blinks.

No, it wasn’t that. He hasn’t been this scared since he found his mother lying lifeless on the living room floor after a one-week school field trip.

He slowly looked back at you—he knew your mother passed away too, and the man who took care of you after you were orphaned was killed. He felt for you. He really did. Your desperation was understandable.

If someone tried to steal his mother’s remnants, he would do everything to retrieve them, too. He hated that he had to fight with you, but this was the best scenario to bring out your power, which he was tasked to do.

“It isn’t worth anything,” you said. “It’s just a rusty necklace. It’s not real silver. You won’t get any good money out of it.”

It was stupid to tell him that. Sitting on the counter was a cash register stuffed with money, and if he could see the small necklace hanging around your neck, he must have noticed the register, too. He would have aimed for that instead of your necklace if he wanted money.

“Please. The necklace means everything to me,” you pleaded. “You can take something else. I won’t say a word, I promise.”

Heat traveled to your neck, souring your nerves upon the embarrassment of not receiving a reply after begging. The necklace never wavered from his grip, and he never spoke to you. Pursing your lips, you huffed out a quick breath that bordered as a whimper, and then you readied yourself to advance toward him.

The boy stared at you in silence, his hair tousled and a hand pressed abasing the side of his body. You did a number on him with that kick. It was intentional, but you didn’t want to seriously injure him. He deciphered that. He knew you wouldn’t hurt him when you switched to using your mouth instead of continuing with your feet. Unfortunately, he has to go so far despite every bit of restraint you’ve shown him.

Niki swallowed the knot in his throat as you ran towards him. He looked down at your legs and—crack! You dropped to the ground with a silent scream that got muffled when your face hit the floor.

Tears gathered in your eyes and rolled down as you arched your neck to look at your dysfunctional legs. Your bones fractured, and the pain came from near your knees. You knew that. You could feel it. It must be the boy. He was the one who broke your arm.

How embarrassing! You didn’t want to lay so helplessly before him. But your legs! Your bones! It has to be his doing because it was either him, or Enlightenment was at work.

The feeling was familiar. Flashes of yourself struggling on the motel room floor passed through your eyes, when your legs bent in inhumane ways and the pieces of shattered glass cut the side of your hands.

This was Enlightenment. It’s here.

You could only sob, your eyes darting around to look for a nightstand and a glass bottle of fentanyl, then you tried to remind yourself you were at a restaurant, and the motel was an experience years passed.

Enlightenment must have slipped through your mind because you got too worked up over Minho’s necklace being stolen. This was your fault. You succumbed to the pain of your broken limbs and subconsciously wished, for even a second, that Enlightenment would come forth and heal you.

This was your fault. How dare you wish for a healthy body, you insolent brat! You want the glory of being a God and not the pain of it. You were treacherous and devious and deserve only the worst part of Godhood.

You sniffed away the snot rolling down your nose. Oh, wait, your legs were broken—you widened your eyes at the realization and shifted them to your legs.

Broken, unmoving—oh no, oh no, oh no! What should you do now?

You should crawl to your bag in the back of the kitchen or try to grab the phone on the counter. You needed to call someone, anyone. Your arms still work, correct? Moving one of them, you furrowed your brows in question. You remembered you could move both of your arms back in the motel, and you were alone and destroyed your eye to keep yourself human.

You were at the motel, correct? No. You were not. This wasn’t the motel. Stop thinking about that.

You felt a momentary relief, but you were unable to exhale. You couldn’t really breathe. You only now realized that. You couldn’t hear much of anything either. The air has traveled from your nose to your ears, filling them. It must be the pain—your legs were broken. Stop forgetting that. Your legs were broken. They’re broken. They’re broken. They’re broken.

You hiccuped tearfully at the knowledge that you forgot the very state you were in. You were slowly spiraling into madness. Or descending to Godhood. You have already begun forgetting yourself. Enlightenment slipped past and has already started taking over.

It wasn’t the boy who did this. What boy? You were transforming. Everything Minho taught you has gone to waste—you miss him. You miss Minho. He always wore that necklace.

You remembered hearing him pray to the cross before his death, begging God to show you mercy, that he was willing to take two places in Hell in return for a normal life for you. That was your fault, too. You let that happen. You let this happen. The boy didn’t do this to you.

Niki watched you squirm on the floor as if battling with yourself. He wasn’t sure what he could do past this point, as he had no real intention of taking the necklace from you. Attempting to step away from your fallen body, he felt a sudden grip around his ankles and glared downward.

You held onto his feet with one hand and screamed at him to return the necklace. He gasped in surprise and immediately pulled his feet out of your grasp, pushing himself to the restaurant's glass doors.

Your persistence was admirable, but beyond that, it was disgusting. A body with only one functioning limb grabbing onto him was a nightmarish story to tell.

“Wait! Wait, no, please! I need help!” you wept, hyperventilated, assuming he was planning to leave you all alone. “Don’t leave me here–I’m sorry I kicked you! Please, don’t leave me like–“ you lost your voice in a sharp inhale–“don’t leave me to turn like this, please! I’m scared! I’m scared! Please, help me!”

Niki’s hands trembled as he slowly backed away from you. The door opened before his back could hit it.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Heeseung’s tone was somewhat accusatory, but Niki thought he could be imagining things. Turning around, Heeseung gestured for the quiet boy standing by him. “They’re panicking. Put them to sleep. We are going back to the manor.”

Sunghoon nodded and brushed past Heeseung and Niki to head inside the restaurant. He stepped over your body, the corner of his mouth twitching against his effort to suppress a heavy grimace at the state Niki accidentally left you in.

Crouching down next to your face, he chose to put a hand under your head and his other over it. He did not respond to your flinch but noticed how you gradually calmed down at his touch. He pursed his lips and gave you a small smile when the corner of your eyes turned to look at him.

You blinked slowly in awareness of his presence before averting your gaze. His hand was big and gentle, and you felt his touch acknowledge your exhaustion. It took seconds for your eyes to close and your head to slump into his warm palm.

Sunghoon habitually swiped a thumb over the dry river on your cheek before he released the hand on top of your head to snap his fingers near your ear. Once he confirmed that you were asleep, he carefully reached under your knees and around your back to hoist you into his arms.

Heeseung pushed open the door so that Sunghoon could walk past. He didn’t leave any comment, only flashing Niki a pointed look that was in itself a question enough. Niki frowned, huffing air into his cheeks and blowing them out in disgraceful bursts while Heeseung watched Sunghoon open the door to the backseat. He hummed in agreement when he saw that Sunghoon opted to keep you steady in his arms instead of laying you down.

Heeseung returned to Niki after the car door closed. “Why did you do that to them?”

“You didn’t see how scary they were,” Niki retorted, pulling up the corner of his clothes to reveal a developing bruise on the side of his abdomen. He winced at the darkened skin and pulled his clothes down to cover it.

“Ugh–they are strong, too. I expected it, but I really didn’t think they’d have the power without being fully–“ he rolled his eyes skyward to think–“God-like?”

Heeseung stared at the boy before looking down at the spot where you were previously been lying. Judging by Sunghoon's monotonous expression, and the fact that your pupils were dilated normally, you never allowed your power through.

From start to finish, after having your necklace stolen and your limbs broken, you've kept it under control. Either you have insane determination or lost your power through the years, leaving bits and pieces behind. It wouldn't make you qualified enough to join The Manor, but it would have also made all of your suffering tonight in vain.

Or, even worse, he messed up and you weren’t even the person he was looking for.

Heeseung heaved a sigh. Everything was already in vain. You never ended up showing him what he needed to see. “Go back to the car. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

Niki clicked his tongue and grimaced at Heeseung’s annoyance. He really believed he could have died under your hands, and this was the reaction he received—a judgemental look and a dissatisfied sigh. He’d tell Sunghoon and Heeseung to go to hell if he could.

"Hey, you gave me an end goal, and I worked toward it," he said. "If you hate it so much, do it yourself next time."

“You overdid it,” Heeseung scolded as he pulled his foldable cane out of his pants pocket. He snapped it straight and hit the side of Niki’s leg with it. “You also didn’t find out what we asked you to find out, so don’t give me an attitude and get back to the car. We’re going home.”

“Screw you,” Niki muttered, running a hand through his hair.

On his way out of the restaurant, he shoved his hand toward Heeseung's chest. Heeseung glared at the younger boy, his hands flying up to catch the poorly transferred object to his palms. When he looked down, he saw a silver cross necklace.

You woke up in a bedroom that wasn’t yours.

The sheets stacked on top of you were so heavy they may be designed to force you into slumber, which you’ve just woken up from an amazing one. You could not remember the last time you felt you’d slept for an appropriate amount of time, given you worked several jobs to support yourself.

When you turned to the side, the pillow beneath your head a feathery weight that deepened according to your movements, you saw the light seeping through the edge of the tall curtains.

Hastily sitting up, you slathered your hands down your body to feel for your work uniform and sighed when you realized you were still wearing it. Your arms and legs were moving normally, too. Whoever brought you here last night helped you immensely—the boy who touched your head.

You have a somewhat blurry vision of his face, and you thought you didn’t get to see him for too long before you suddenly opened your eyes in this room. But you remembered you thought he was pretty.

Reaching a hand up to your neck, you touched your naked skin and gently bit down on your lower lip. Your necklace was still gone. That boy with poorly dyed hair must have taken it, or perhaps you could bet on the man who saved you to have retrieved your necklace, too.

Furrowing your brows, your back slowly arched in despair, and you buried your face in your hands. The odds of getting the necklace back were slim; you’ve used up all your luck when someone even walked in and saved you.

You roughened your face by rubbing it, attempting to match your movement with the frustration you felt. There was much you’ve got to do, such as explaining to your manager about what happened and, obviously, concocting a plan to get the necklace back. However, first, you believe you’ve overstayed your welcome, so you should thank the man for his hospitality and take your leave.

The room's floor was carpeted, and out in the hallway, it was waxed. But that wasn’t the point.

You were greeted with a seemingly never-ending hallway once you opened the door. Widened eyes darted from top to bottom, left to right, and then you peeked out of the doorframe to find that you were stranded in nowhere inside what you assumed to be a mansion. Silence filled the cold air, but the place was well-kept and well-lit enough to not appear eerie.

Multiple closed doors were bolted to the wall you came out of, and you wondered if they served purposes other than being a hallway of guest rooms.

A curse left your lips as you walked onto the cold wooden tiles with your bare feet, your face twitching with baffled annoyance rather than amazement. It didn’t make sense that this was the kind of house you woke up to.

How could the man who saved you be wealthy—irregularly wealthy, judging but the size of this building! What was he doing at a sandwich restaurant that pushes out meal deals for poor people quicker than a dog could respond to a doorbell?

“Where do I even go?” you muttered to yourself, your feet tipping left and right as you debated which side of the hallway looked more promising. After a moment’s thought, you stopped to gather yourself.

Your priority was to find the man who saved you, but you've been met with an obstacle: his house maze. What a first-world problem to have, indeed. You could run around the place and pray that you bump into him or anyone at some point. The house was so quiet you thought you could be the only person there.

However, you ran the risk of going further into the maze instead of finding a way out, which would waste both you and the man's time, as he would have no idea where you were unless he installed cameras everywhere, which would then make this house eerie.

You shook your head to get rid of your thoughts, which you supposed were the actual time-wasters. Collecting your composure again, you put your feet together and closed your eyes, letting your head dip slightly into a bow. You pressed a palm to your chest to help yourself concentrate.

“I receive the blessing that I will find what I am currently searching for,” you mumbled.

You were met with a bud outside the window when you opened your eyes. It was yellow, supposedly a daffodil, except it was the size of a utility pole.

“Okay,” you nodded, admitting that you live in a world where such things are normal, “anyway.”

The daffodil bloomed open when you spun on your heels to walk away. The boy curled up inside extended his limbs to sit comfortably on the petal. When he noticed you in the hallway, he opened his mouth to let out a hoarse yell and leaned forward.

The sudden weight dip made the flower tip dramatically closer to the window, and before he could react, he slammed against the glass, making you jump.

You resisted the urge to respond to the noise, being very in tune with the fact that you did not want to understand why a flower was knocking on the window as if it had hands. The man released his knuckles from the window and gasped in disbelief when he saw half of the grimace on your face as you moved along, ignoring him.

"Wait, don't leave!" he hollered through the window. "My name is Jake! I am here to check on you!"

You swallowed a gulp of saliva and spared him a glance. His palms were pressed against the glass, and his lower lip jutted into a helpless pout. You noticed he was missing both of his fourth fingers, the knot of skin that sealed over the wound an uneven match.

Anyway, he wasn't the man who helped you yesterday. Although, you supposed he could help you find who you were looking for.

Upon receiving your attention, Jake’s shoulders rose giddily. He pressed his forehead against the glass with a grin once you neared, looking down at you from the flower he threatened to slip off. “Hello, good morning.”

When you shook your head to indicate that you couldn’t hear his mutters through the window, he pulled back with a brief gasp and pointed downwards. You followed the direction of his finger, your eyes traveling to the window frame where you saw the lock. Disregarding your dubious interest in why he decided to appear in a giant flower, you approached it and fumbled with the lock, clicking it open.

Jake dropped from the petal gingerly, the tip of his feet landing on the slim stool. The flower behind him shrunk then, leaving your sight. With immaculate balance, he maintained himself on the stool as he pressed his fingers against the bottom rail and slid the window upward to jump inside the manor. He dusted himself of invisible dirt before grinning at you, a hand bashfully waving.

“Hello, good morning,” he greeted and pointed at the opened window. “That’s what I said just now when I was outside.”

You peered off to the side before reluctantly responding with a nod. “Hey.”

“You can walk now. That’s great,” he said, gesturing to your feet.

He had been awake when the trio returned to the manor. The state you were in left him with a permanently opened jaw. He was part of the group that vetoed the plan to test for your power before bringing you to the manor, so he didn’t catch wind of the steps and procedures.

But, still, he didn’t think immobilizing you to that point had been part of the plan. Heeseung was meticulous and determined to get answers, but what happened to you was cruel.

He stayed to watch Niki pop your bones back in place, your head on Sunghoon’s lap so he could better keep you in a deep slumber. He had offered to carry you to the guest room and put you in bed, given that he thought Sunghoon looked exhausted, but the offer was turned down.

Jake didn’t think much of it. He assumed Sunghoon grew a brief attachment to you after having to access your mind to put you to sleep.

You glanced down at them, a bitter taste circling at the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t say you had been more bothered by the pain than the potential reason behind your legs breaking. You couldn’t recall exactly what happened, but you were certain you had begged for help.

“It wasn’t a good experience,” you commented.

“I figured that much!” he agreed before clearing his throat and shrinking into himself. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” you said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“True, but–“ he rubbed the nape of his neck and tipped his head side to side–“it is the fault of people I know.” It took him a second to register the sudden morph of caution among your features through how your lips twitched and your gaze hardened. He immediately extended his arms when you moved away, and then he held them up in surrender.

“No, no, no! Don’t be scared! We won’t hurt you from here on, I promise!” He put one hand down to his heart, drew a cross, and pointed up at the sky. “I cross my heart and hope to die.”

You felt a cold quiver along your skin—Heaven has received Jake’s oath to you. Still unused to the passives of your power, in which your body perks at human practices related to Heaven and Hell, you rubbed your arms to get rid of the goosebumps as you grimaced at Jake. “It’s not a good idea to swear to God before me.”

He raised his brows, his genuine grin returning gradually. “I know.”

“What?”

“I know,” he repeated. “You’re them, right? The baby who sent a down beam from Heaven and killed every infant in the NICU. We’ve been wondering about that.”

Your parents never spoke of that accident, and you were too young to understand what the continuous protests outside your apartment meant at that time. Minho hid it from you by omission, not intentionally, but because he didn’t feel it was something you needed to know.

Still, he explained everything when you asked about the whispers traveling between social workers. You have a gift, and it killed everyone around you. It was fortunate that it happened when you were just born. People would have been able to recognize you now if it happened later in your childhood.

“You–“ you trembled out a breath–“you knew?”

“Yeah, but we figured most of it on our own!” He nodded with a dismissive wave, his eyes rolling to the side. “The public doesn’t know about you too much, obviously. But imagine if they did! The government would have caught your ass so fast!”

You heaved a sigh and turned away from his big mouth, trying to block out his voice to prioritize your thoughts.

You cared about the infants you murdered more than ten years ago. You dug into their names and their families. You memorized everything about them and visited their graves periodically. You’ve done whatever you could as an attempt to repent, and you’ve come to terms with what you did as a newly born infant. It was on the news years ago.

Everyone has heard of it already. You’ve got no problem with that. The issue was that Jake knew the beam you cast down was from Heaven, unlike what the news broadcast assumed to be just a random light projection power.

A lot of dirt had to be dug through for anyone to deduce that your power is associated with Heaven and Hell (and Jake got some guts of steel if he already knew and still swore to Heaven in front of you). The boy who stole your necklace yesterday must be someone he knew, then? Given that he wasn’t lying to you.

What else? You have been stalked for a while now, or at least researched and checked. Was the whole point of yesterday night to bring you to this place? What of the man who put you to sleep? He couldn’t possibly be part of this devious plan!

“Hey, don’t stress about it! Everyone here has been through some horrible things!” Jake mused.

“It’s not that! Have you guys been–wait, no!” You scratched the back of your head. “How many people–ugh, what?” You’ve got many questions and didn’t know where to begin.

“We will explain everything at breakfast,” he interrupted your self-imposed struggle with a soft nudge to your elbow. He held onto your arm to pull you along with him. “I’m getting hungry. Come on!”

Your legs automatically followed him, walking down the hallway as he doused you in chit-chat.

Most of them, you answered with silence and an occasional hum, such as random incidents that happened prior to your arrival with a bunch of strangers’ names inserted between the stories.

Some of them, you felt the need to flash him a raised brow and give him an answer, namely when he enthusiastically asked if you were friends with the nation’s cosmic twins, whose power was similar to yours.

You were not, but you always thought if anyone in the world understood your relationship with a God, it would be them.

Initially unwilling to pay him any mind, you found his ability to talk nonstop a relatively comfortable aspect of him. He was soft-spoken and stuttered from time to time. Mixing his words with silly laughter made him the epitome of an unthreatening presence.

The man who crossed his heart and hoped to die at the promise that he would bring no harm to you from now on—your body gradually lowered its guard as he walked with you, understanding that if you needed to feel alert, he wasn’t the proper target.

“Jake,” you suddenly called. “Can I ask you something?”

He made a questioning noise from the back of his throat, immediately cutting himself off from what he was saying. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“What’s, um,” you slowly turned your head and met eyes with him. His smile made you look away briefly. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Oh!” He grinned, clapping his hands together. “Jay made traditional American breakfast. You know, with pancakes and syrup and everything.”

You nodded, your hands habitually flying up to your chest to grasp at nothing.

You’ve never had a traditional American breakfast before.

Sunghoon fidgeted with his fingers when he saw you enter the dining room with Jake. To occupy himself, he continued setting the table as Jay requested.

He was never big on talking about feelings, whether they be his or others. Ironically, he always felt the most in every room because of the nature of his power: to absorb emotions.

What originally started as a means to calm someone down slowly unraveled to be an ability to directly take away feelings. As he grew up, he learned that there were various consequences of doing that, and one of them was to induce sleep.

Before he put you into a deep sleep last night, he touched your head to take your emotions away. Once you became a blank sheet of paper, you blacked out.

He has been using his psychic power since he discovered it. Still, unfortunately, his understanding of it wasn’t advanced enough to reach its full potential.

Logically, since all the emotions he takes from others go inside him, he could just become a vacant vessel if he could also swallow his own. But he hasn’t adequately learned how to do that, so he’s been forced to experience every emotion he absorbs from others.

Your anxiety and anguish from last night—he would never say it, but he knew exactly how you felt.

“Good morning, everyone!” Jake mused once he neared the dining table. Turning his head left and right for a quick scan, he smiled despite the empty chairs. “Just a few of us, then.”

“Niki is not coming down for obvious reasons,” Jay commented as he went around the table to set a plate of hash browns and scrambled eggs down.

You gave Jake a quick glance at the casual drop of your name. He scrunched his nose and chuckled bashfully to dissolve the tension in the air, then he patted your shoulder, telling you to grab any seat as long as food was in front of it.

You licked your lower lip and rolled your eyes when he immediately left you after his voice dropped, running around the table to what you assumed would be his designated seat. Unfortunately, since you knew nobody else in this mansion, you thought your best choice was to sit next to Jake.

Turning to follow in his footsteps, you were abruptly greeted with a soft wall. Sunghoon put his hands up awkwardly when you stumbled backward to avoid bumping into his chest. He wanted to steady you, but he couldn’t force his arms to move.

All he wanted was to do a wellness check, but he didn’t expect you to turn to him at the same time he stepped close.

When you collected your composure to look up at him, you stilled in response to him wordlessly putting his hands on your head. You remembered his face, namely his quiet eyes. It took you a while to register how intently he was staring at you, and you deliberately looked at something else to avoid making prolonged eye contact.

Sunghoon’s palms cooled with gentle traces of air traveling along his veins. You were a little confused, but overall calm. There was a sliver of judgment, possibly because you noticed Jake’s pancakes were overly soaked with syrup.

He removed his hands in relief once he ensured you were doing well. He reached inside his hoodie pocket to pull out a pen and a stack of tiny notecards. He scribbled something on it before flipping the card over.

“How are your legs?”

“I am walking normally,” you replied with a nod and a pursed smile. Then, reluctantly, you gestured to your mouth. “You–um. You can’t talk?”

“I can. Just don’t want to,” he opened his mouth to say before haphazardly writing on a notecard again. He turned it over to you. “Sign language?”

You breathed in a short gasp and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll write,” he muttered before pointing at himself. “Sunghoon.”

“[Name],” you introduced, then your mouth folded into a sneer not particularly directed at him. “But you already knew that.”

“Hey, come sit down! The food is getting cold!” Jake hollered from his seat, finding it his sworn duty to ease any awkward tension in the air. Half his sentence was muffled by the cheeks full of food, but his distasteful glance and stretched-out yell told a more aggressive message than his words.

Sunghoon spared Jake a glance before complying. He side-stepped you, planning to go around the table to sit at his original seat. But, before he could make it around the corner, a soft yet distinctly clear voice halted his steps with a suggestion.

“Sunghoon, go sit next to [Name].”

Heeseung limped in slowly, putting most of his weight against his trusty cane. There were no signs of distress on his face or clothes, but the beaded wetness around the tips of his hair and the fact that he was walking with his cane told everyone in the dining room that his gout flared up again.

When he noticed Jay’s raised brow, silently asking about his well-being, he responded with a pursed smile.

It was nothing unusual, but if he could stop having them, he’d rather that.

Jake stacked your plate with all sorts of food after you sat down, occupying himself with other tasks so he could take a breather from swallowing the sweets.

You frowned at the unappealing formation he slathered your plate in: the syrup seeping under the scrambled egg, the pancakes soaked into a darker shade, and short strings of hash browns sprinkled atop three sad bacon pieces. You would have openly complained about how it looked if you weren't so hungry.

“How are you feeling?” Heeseung asked after he sat down with a suppressed groan. He set the cane against the table and pressed his hands together under it, looking at you expectantly. “Oh, and of course, my name is Heeseung.”

You nodded; through the process of elimination, you could pinpoint who Jay was. “I’m walking.”

“That’s wonderful,” Heeseung said, not particularly sounding like he was rejoiced to hear that. “But how are you feeling?”

Sunghoon lowered his utensils beside you and signed, “They’re feeling fine.”

“You made friends quick,” Heeseung mused as his eyes darted across Sunghoon, who answered a question directed toward you, and Jake, who he noticed dropped a mountain of food on your plate without being asked to.

The way Heeseung spoke was bothersome but not frighteningly so. Talking to him felt like talking to someone who wanted nothing to do with you yet was socially adept enough to maintain a regular conversation and trick you into thinking his disinterest was all in your head. Judging by how he motionlessly observed you, you thought you might be correct in believing it was all your imagination.

You shrugged. His low tone of voice made your agreeableness shrink. “I won’t necessarily call them that.”

“[Name]!” Jake gasped. When he saw your grimace, your face screaming at him that he couldn’t possibly think he’d made a friend on such short notice, he slumped and pouted down at his food. “Yeah, okay…”

His disappointment—mainly the unapologetic way he showed it—returned your sympathy that Heeseung unknowingly stole by putting you under strange pressure.

Your eyes softened, and your lips pulled themselves into a friendly smirk. You turned away from Jake before he could notice your demeanor change. Heeseung was still looking at you when your attention was on him again.

“I’m sure you have many questions,” Heeseung said. “I also have a few about you.”

You failed to stifle a groan. “I am the baby in the NICU.”

"We already figured that much. I appreciate the confirmation, nonetheless," he returned and leaned forward, putting his arms on the table. "We are more concerned about your power."

You didn’t want to overthink the situation and debate if this rich and fulfilling breakfast was only a disguise to trap you in an interrogation, but with the way Heeseung hadn’t even begun to pick up his utensils since he sat down at a table full of delicious-looking food, it was becoming more blatant that you were here to be accessed instead of enjoying your meal.

Tearing a fork through the hash browns, you plopped some into your mouth and chewed—either way, you would be enjoying the food.

“I can answer your questions about me,” you said after swallowing your food. “But you also have to answer mine.”

“That was the plan,” Heeseung said. He leaned back and gestured toward you with his hand before using the same one to reach over to the teapot set down in front of him. He leisurely poured himself a cup of hot tea. “You can go first.”

You exhaled quietly, the light in your eyes fading to light up the back of your head, where you have constructed an investigation board with barely any evidence and strings tying it together.

Your confusion regarding the situation was immense, from the purpose of your being here to the location itself, but when you were allowed to voice your concerns, you found it difficult to make sense of them. You didn’t know where to begin, but you didn’t want to let Heeseung take the rein either.

“You can start by introducing this place,” you said. “What’s up with the mansion?”

Heeseung huffed out an airy chuckle through his nose. He faintly turned his head to motion toward Jay, “I’ll let the owner start.”

“My name is Park Jongseong. You can call me Jay,” Jay said with a brief bow of his head, his hand pressed flat against his chest. “Don’t listen to Heeseung. I’m not the owner of this manor. It is my family that owns the estate.”

The house was not a mansion. It was a manor. Not that you could tell them apart; you only knew they have one thing in common: they’re both unaffordable.

Jay’s family rarely frequented the estate in the past. Still, now that he had become the last descendant of his generation for a reason he didn’t include in the introduction, he decided to move from the city and officially make the manor his home. Along with himself, he brought Jake, his orphaned childhood best friend.

The manor currently housed seven residents—Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Niki, who you had a terrible first encounter yesterday night, and a woman whose name you couldn't remember. Courtesy of Jay's incredible sum of inheritance money, none of them were required to pay a cent to stay here.

Jake laughed when he saw your eye twitch at the mention of free housing, and his laughter was not abruptly cut short by your deadpan stare. Besides that, you were hung on the fact that Jay humbly said he wasn't the owner of the estate when he technically has become so after the death of his parents. Annoying rich bastard.

“I do want to apologize on behalf of what Niki did yesterday,” Jay said after the brief introduction. “It wasn’t his intention to hurt you like that. I believe he panicked and made a terrible decision in the spur of the moment.”

“Great. I was going to talk about him next.” You squinted at him, dissatisfied. “But why are you apologizing for him?”

"He is the youngest out of us and the only child under this roof," Heeseung answered. "Niki came to live with us after his mother died a few years ago. We didn't have to look too far to figure out it was his father's doing, but he couldn't be prosecuted due to a lack of evidence."

That didn't make you less angry at him, but you felt sympathy where it was due. The fact that he was only a child made it easier to change your initially rigid impression of him.

You liked to think you would have never done anything of that sort back when you were his age. Still, given the assumption that he knew who you were and what you could do, perhaps he wasn't entirely wrong to panic for his life when you attacked him for your necklace.

“We couldn’t let him stay with his father, so we brought him here,” Jake said, dropping his fork on the table and animatedly gesturing with his hands. “You should have seen the state he was in after he went to avenge his mom. His father beat him to a pulp in public, like in front of his colleagues and everything! That man has no shame!”

There appeared to be a pattern, which you should have deduced when Jake mentioned that everyone living in this manor has been through horrible things. Jay’s family was no longer here, Jake was orphaned, and Niki’s parents lived unfortunate lives. You looked around the table curiously, brows furrowing at Heeseung and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was quite taken aback by your sudden attention, but after spending a few seconds accessing you, he looked up at his friends from across the table and signed.

Jay stifled a chuckle. “He wanted to tell you his parents are alive and well. They just abandoned him.”

“So, technically, another orphan.” You nodded in acknowledgment. “What about you?”

Heeseung looked down at his plate as if debating his response. You waited, surprised that he didn’t have anything witty to slam at you, anything about a lack of manners and asking about people’s personal trauma after having just met them. When he looked up again, he was smiling faintly. “Same situation.”

“Okay, so, what? This is one freaky family of orphans?” you said, sneering almost. “Is this a sympathy grab? You’re hoping I won’t press charges on a teenager?”

“I am a multi-millionaire,” Jay said. “Do you really believe I’ll be concerned with an assault charge?”

“But of course!” Jake slapped a hand to Jay’s face and pushed him backward. He leaned forward to stare at you with wide eyes. “Of course it would be great if you could spare our darling, poor, orphaned, abused–“

“I get it!” You clicked your tongue but wiped the glare off your face. You leaned against the back of the chair and crossed your arms, impatiently exhaling as you rubbed your brows. You were never planning on pressing charges anyway, especially now that Jake has dumped two strangling adjectives to describe Niki. All you needed was your necklace back.

“I don’t understand,” you muttered. “Why am I not at the hospital?”

“Everyone here takes part in vigilante work,” Heeseung started, wasting no time. “Although Jay’s inheritance money should last all of us for a long time, we thought it was best that we don’t rely too much on it, especially with the unpredictable state of the current economy and the–“ he widened his eyes–“crazy property tax we have to pay just for this plot of land.”

“Vigilante work?” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “We have law enforcement for a reason. The justice department just introduced an independent investigation team.”

"You and I both know the police force isn't helpful anymore. Those with insignificant powers want to feel special, so they join the police academy, forcing them to churn out mediocre policemen. Those with powers adequate enough to protect the public went ahead to do better things," Heeseung said.

"The investigation team neglects issues on a smaller scale. Even if they don't, they are ill-equipped to handle them. The twins alone were a walking natural hazard."

As much as you didn’t want to agree with Heeseung, he didn’t tell a single lie. Local law enforcement, indeed, hasn’t been as helpful as the collective effort of the citizens living in a specific area. A nosy neighborhood auntie could disarm a robber faster than the police could arrive at the crime scene.

And he was right that the investigation team was ill-equipped to handle regular tasks, as the collateral damage the team has caused the city has been reprehensible.

“I mean–“ You licked your lower lip and huffed displeasedly.

“Why are you upset?” Jake asked, playing with his fingers. “Do you not believe in justice?”

“I do,” you said. “I also believe it’s not our place to serve it.”

“Leave it to the vessel of a God to tell us that,” Heeseung snarked. He maintained eye contact when you snapped your head around to glare at him. He raised his brows, the tip of his tongue lightly poking against his inner cheek. “Don’t look at me like that. You know you are one.”

“Something like that.” You shifted on your seat but maintained eye contact with him. “Maybe not a vessel. Not exactly.”

"I'm not too concerned about its nomenclature. I just need to know if you still have that power," he cleared his throat, "because we would like to have you as part of the manor."

Unfortunately, that was not an unreasonable request. You still have your bone to pick with Niki for barging in and attempting to steal your necklace, and his motive became more baffling now that you knew he had little to no financial stress.

However, knowing your ability and the current state of your livelihood, it was not unrealistic for them to find you a convenient candidate to recruit.

“How do you guys work?” you asked.

“A popular website was created a while ago that allows people to post any suspicious individuals or activities they’ve witnessed. We have been picking interesting cases from there and starting our investigation,” Heeseung replied. “Once we figure out the logistics, we go in, catch the guy, and send them anonymously on their way to the station.”

“Uh-huh.” You lowered your head and asked in a humorous whisper, “Are you guys secretly trying to surpass the investigation unit?”

Heeseung’s lips stretched into an amused smile for the first time. He looked pointedly at you, his torso leaning forward as if he wanted to share a secret. “No, but it would be funny if we did that.”

“Whatever,” you scoffed. “But here’s what I want to know: why do you still need me?”

You haven't thoroughly explored the powers of everyone at the table yet, but you didn't think it was necessary to recruit more manpower. Your ability must be appealing, but it was not required under the eyes of someone on an equal footing. Niki could be a one-man army. How difficult could vigilantism really be with a nutcase like him on their side?

It wasn’t as if you were easy to handle, either. You may have the power of Godhood, but it has to be activated for you to reach your full potential, and once you reach your full potential, you will no longer exist to help them.

Not only that, the sentience of Enlightenment should be a threat to everyone around you. Would they be able to deal with who you’d become once you reach that point? Would they want to?

“We have been meaning to expand the scope of the cases we take,” Heeseung said. “Instead of scratching off online posts, we thought maybe it’s time to start taking orders for monetary gain. It’s always the more the merrier when it comes to those kinds of operation.”

“Right,” you muttered. “What’s in it for me?”

“You can quit all your jobs now and move in with us. It’s free housing, besides being sent to work on different cases occasionally. You can have your own room. We have a garden outside, a swimming pool at the back, a greenhouse. Whatever you can think of,” Heeseung listed casually. “If you’re uncomfortable asking for money, Jay can arrange to get you a card to use whenever you want.”

He had you at free housing and quitting your customer service jobs, but you let him finish because you didn't want to seem too desperate to be out of your current tax bracket. The vigilante work didn't bother you as much; it was a reasonable price to pay for everything else you would receive.

As for your impressions of the manor's residents—Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay were fine. The rest you were cautious about, but nothing being a little avoidance wouldn't solve.

This manor was huge. Seeing all of its residents must be an option.

“Okay,” you said.

Jake grinned, and Sunghoon visibly perked up at your agreement. But, before one of them could let out a celebratory holler, Heeseung waved his hands with an interrupting cough. He cleared his throat and settled down once again. It was great that you agreed to join the residence. However, he still needed to ensure your usefulness before offering you anything.

"We still have to make sure your ability is intact," he said. "We sent Niki to the shop yesterday to check for your power, but he didn't get an answer."

“If you’re looking for Godhood–um, huh?”

You heard Heeseung the first time. His words were clear as day and straightforward—Niki was at the sandwich store yesterday because they needed to check if you still have your power, not because he was a delinquent child looking to cause trouble. You understood that the first time he said it, but the depth of its connotation failed to hit you until a few beats later.

Niki was at the sandwich store yesterday. He tried to steal your necklace and riled you up. He broke your bones and triggered traumatic memories.

“Did you tell him to do that?” you asked. “He wasn’t just being a stupid teenager. You asked him to come into the shop and take my necklace?”

“Yes,” Heeseung confirmed. “As I said, we needed to find a way to see if your ability is still present.”

“You did all of that just to test out a theory?” you asked through a clenched jaw.

Jake slowly lowered his utensils once he noticed your fists trembling by your plate. His wide eyes darted between you and Heeseung, unsure how to break the mood this time.

“Well, not to test out a theory,” Heeseung replied. “It’s more to answer a ques–“

“You broke my limbs. I had a full-blown anxiety attack,” you gritted out, your hand flying up to your chest to touch for something no longer there. “Do you know how important that necklace is to me?”

It must all be so fascinating to them. The idea of Godhood, the absolute power of Heaven and Hell. To them, your power was an ascension, and Enlightenment was to be reached. But they would never understand.

The guilt of accidental murders, the stress of keeping a mental cage mature enough to defend yourself against a concept inherently yours, the loneliness of self-isolation, and the pain of becoming.

You've lost people and become alone. You've had people, but you were still alone. The road to the end was unforgiving, as was the destination you were cursed to tread.

Redness covered your eye, glitching and twitching to make itself show. You’ve had it, it seemed. Still, it was so fascinating to Heeseung that life and death did not trigger you enough. Could anger be the defining start instead of endangerment? Or were you just extremely good at controlling your emotions?

Everyone shot up from their seats when you pushed your way out of yours and bolted toward him. Your utensils slammed against each other when you pushed the table's edge, and the chair screeched against the floor as it got shoved.

Sunghoon reached out for you, but his fingertips brushed only the faint of your hair before you were out of reach. For the first time, he understood why Heeseung requested him to sit next to you. In the worst-case scenario, he can calm you down best.

Heeseung exhaled through his parted lips and stood up. His knee hurt, but he neglected his cane to walk to an open space. He watched you make your way to him, your intention to harm evident in your speed, but he did not respond with the same caliber. He faced you with a bland expression and dropped something from his hand before your fist could come in contact with his face.

A silver cross necklace dangled on his finger. You halted in recognition. Your pupils were so blown up that your eyes became red. It was precisely what he wanted to see.

"This does not belong to me. I'm sorry I took it from you," he said, gently reaching for your hand. He helped you lay out your palm and returned the necklace.

"I really do apologize for Niki's actions yesterday night. If you don't forgive the event, I hope you hold it against me instead of him, as he didn't agree to the test."

Your pupils twitched like camera lenses zooming in and out. Looking down at your palm, at the silver necklace, you thought you could smell the residue of blood that once stained it.

You held it and pretended you could access Minho's brain and know what he would do in this situation. If he would let go of his grievances and choose an easier life, or if he would hold a grudge for the sake of his dignity.

Colors returned steadily as you calmed at the mere construction of your thoughts, which was just a slow recollection of your conversations with Minho over the years. Your eyes returned normal, with a hint of sad rage.

Part of it was genuine when you told Niki it was a rusty, old necklace. The cross was never anything but a reminder that your dad was gone. You were never delusional enough, and Minho wasn't predictable enough for you to guess what would've done.

He wouldn’t have wanted you to do that anyway. You’ve grown older without his presence, but one lesson he taught you was that your decisions were always for you to make. And you say you wanted retaliation.

A loud smack echoed through the dining room. Jay looked down at the ground, his eyes meeting Jake’s widened ones on the way to ignore what he saw. You felt a sting on your hand, which you knew felt much worse on Heeseung’s cheek.

Heeseung closed his eyes to settle himself. He moved his jaw, clicking it as his hand moved up to touch where you’d slapped him. There was an unnoticeable quirk around the corner of his lips. “I deserved that.”

“Yes,” you whispered. You clutched the necklace in your hands. “It made me feel better.”

His chuckle was airy. The sudden beaming from your body, in contrast to how monotonous your voice sounded, was funny. “My pleasure.”

The dining room fell silent for a moment. You watched Heeseung’s smile fade after the exchange, and for the first time, you realized how delicate his features were.

Jake leaned his torso over the table to check if you two were still talking. He pouted when he saw that there’s only a bunch of standing involved in this silence, so he clapped his hands for attention and dropped them to his side.

He shrugged, his brows raised innocently. “Well, are they in now, then?”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, and he nodded.

#world one !#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #niki imagines #niki x reader #niki x you #niki x y/n #heeseung imagines #sunghoon imagines #jake sim imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #heeseung x yn #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x

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therobotsarestuckinmyhead · 2 days ago

Note

How do you think Starscream will begin plotting a betrayal against Megatron in Transformers One? Share your ideas! :]

○ [TFO] "BETRAYAL" Starscream HCs

OHHHHH I HAVE A LOT OF IDEAS FOR THIS ONE. like A LOT OF PERSONAL HCS IM HAPPY TO SHARE. this is a general one, no x-reader involved!

— Firstly, we would have to begin by explaining the dynamic between Megatron and Starscream in Transformers One.

— Now, as Megatron is much younger than Starscream in TFO and given Starscream has a lot of experience as Commander of the High Guard, I can imagine that Starscream plays a sort of mentor-role to Megatron which is something I actually like. Its a unique take on their relationship because it would make a lot more sense as to why Megatron would keep Starscream around.

— Starscream is not teaching him though, more like advising because Megatron's ego would not allow him to really consider Starscream as a teacher and Starscream wouldn't consider Megatron as a student either. Starscream is taking up this role of 'advisor' purely to keep his status in the newly formed Decepticon ranks.

— And despite everything, Starscream's advice and strategic skill on the battlefield is unparalleled even if he's somewhat cowardly because of this, I can definitely see why Megatron would make him his SIC.

— Starscream's betrayals would be subtle as well because in TFO, we learn how Starscream had command of the High Guard the entire time while Sentinel was off ruining Cybertron and Megatron accuses him of being a coward. Rather than fighting Sentinel head on, under Starscream, the High Guard would ambush and do hit-and-runs at best from what I understand.

— So I believe Starscream would do something similar to Megatron. Not really outright put himself into the spotlight and shoot Megatron but let's just say a stray shot from nowhere just so happens to conveniently hit an injured Megatron and hopefully critically damage him... Its a win-win for Starscream.

— Then if Megatron offlines, Starscream can take over since he's SIC and if by some stroke of luck or Soundwave's interference, Megatron does survive, Starscream wouldn't end up with his face against the barrel of his fusion cannon.

— Megatron would initially be unsuspecting of Starscream. Initially. But Megatron doesn't trust Starscream either. Considering Megatron has an ego, he knows that Starscream has an even bigger one and with the publicly humiliating beatdown Megatron gave him back when he was D-16, Megatron is entirely sure that Starscream wouldn't be able to move on from that.

— And he is right because Starscream, to his termination, will think of how he was humiliated by a miner bot who just got his T-Cog and seethe. The seeker will never get over it. So betraying Megatron to him is a little more than just personal, its vengeance.

— Another way I think Starscream would try to betray Megs is by giving his false advice which sometimes just so happens to lead Megatron into unfortunate predicaments. After all, Megatron, even though he doesn't like Starscream is technically reliant on Starscream because he has no experience with the military whatsoever.

— However, when Megatron does find out about Starscream's plots and schemes, he is obviously PISSED. But he refrains himself from outright terminating Starscream, Megatron would... let's just say, make an example out of him. After that, Soundwave would probably be kept as watch over Starscream and to verify Starscream's... 'advice'.

— He wouldn't outright murder Starscream only because Starscream, despite his cowardness and treachery, he is a respected amongst the Seekers. Starscream still has some influence within some of the old High Guard members, especially his Seekers and really, no one else can fly like he does so he is still a valuable asset to keep around for Megatron.

— One thing is for certain, this Starscream would be a lot more careful and plan accordingly. He's more of a scheming type and would definitely have more foresight than most iterations of Starscream. This one doesn't strike to me as someone who would take risks, TFO Starscream plays the long game.

— Only thing he approves about Megatron is his violence, other than that, Starscream thinks that Megatron is too emotionally charged and inexperienced to be a leader.

— To sum it up in Star Wars terms, their relationship is like Palpatine and Darth Vader except Vader is the Emperor and Palpatine is a bitch.

thank you for letting me rant abt this <3

#transformers #transformers one #tf one #tfo starscream #starscream tfo #tfo megatron #starscream being starscream #i can imagine this panning out like a medivial drama #heir to the throne having to deal with their absolutely devious uncle who needs him dead so that the uncle could rule #except the heir to the throne here is an absolute crash-out who'd eviscerate unc if he knew #so the uncle playing safe for his own good #zana ideas #general headcanons

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vanilabaebo · 23 hours ago

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𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄. [ pt 1. ]

inf: denki kaminari is your best friend and you've never thought of him as anything more than that. he's always been there for you when you need him, but now he needs your help. the more you help him out, the closer you two grow, and you can't keep denying your growing feelings. but does he feel the same?

cw: fluff. denki x afab!reader, lots of sass, reader has unnamed quirk.

“ughhh. i'm so bored. didn't i ask you last time to buy board games or a netflix subscription, y'know, like a normal person?”

your best friend, denki kaminari, is sprawled on your couch, golden blonde hair ruffled from his mussing it up one too many times, an annoyed expression on his face since the tv screen is black and your dorm room is basically empty. well.

“and what did i tell you?” you say, scowling because yes he did tell you to at least buy a set of cards so he’s not always bored as hell when he comes over. “i told you that if you want all that stuff, you can pay it yourself. i need to save up.”

denki tosses his head back and stares at the ceiling. “save up for what? just buy like, i don’t know, a chessboard or something.”

you laugh. “chess? I didn’t know you knew what that is.”

he throws a pillow your way. it’s not a secret denki has the lowest grades out of all your friends, even if he does manage to keep them above average. still, it’s the subject of most of your jokes; denki doesn’t seem to mind since even he laughs about it too.

“fine. i’ll buy you a set of cards. and then i can teach you how to play crazy 8’s, and uno, and poker and blackjack and—”

“denki. thank you, but it’s fine. i need to focus on studying, midterm exams are coming up.” you turn around, pulling out your phone to see what your grades are like. being a gifted scholarship student means tons of studying, or else the school might take away the scholarship money.

he frowns, chin down with a scowl and yellow eyes flashing with irritation. “fine, but you’re not gonna keep coming over to my dorm to watch kdramas, i’ll tell you that right now.”

you roll your eyes. okay, maybe a netflix subscription would be worth it.

≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽

the next day, the dorm building’s recreational room is basically empty, except for denki’s other friends, eijiro kirishima and hanta sero, who throws crumpled up tape-balls at the ceiling.

“hey guys,” you greet them, setting your backpack down on a round table and getting out your laptop to open up to the course you’d been struggling at—chemistry.

“hey, kami’s girl,” sero says teasingly, effortlessly catching a ball of tape that falls.

you frown. “i’m not his girl.”

“you wish you were, though,” says kirishima with a stupid wide smirk on his face.

“do not. i just help him study,” you reply, turning your back on them to sit down and press start on the four-part video course explaining the differences and details of covalent and ionic bonds. you reach in your messy, overcrowded backpack to pull out your chem binder.

“wanna play pool with us?” sero says. he and kirishima hold cue sticks and stand by the pool table, staring at you expectantly.

ignoring them would be rude, but you really need to understand these concepts or else you might fail the midterm. “i can’t, guys. sorry. this is really important.”

“laaameeee,” kirishima chants, sero agrees. “denki would’ve.”

you almost say, well, good thing he’s not here then, now is it? but as always, fate is against you — or, speak of the devil and he may appear, or whatever phrase describes this — because denki bursts into the room, a blur of yellow blonde and black leather jacket and sweat and dior sauvage all at once.

“denki!” sero and kirishima chirp. “play pool with us!”

you groan inwardly. now you’ll never get a chance to — wait, what did denki just say?

“sorry guys, i can’t. got those midterm exams coming in what, like, a month?” denki looks at you with a bright smile on his face. you want to dig a deep hole and die in it. no way in hell does denki of all people want to study. here. at this table. with you. in front of his friends.

sero smirks, but doesn’t say anything, while kirishima just calls him lame-o and they start playing; it’s then that you realize it’s a two-player game; how could you have possibly joined them? maybe it’s best not to question.

“hey,” denki says. “i brought you cards. what game do you wanna learn first?”

you cant help but frown. “denki, thanks, but i really do have to study. don’t you have to study too?” even though he doesn’t show it, you know he does get concerned about his grades. denki isn’t one to get good grades, but he does try.

he rolls his eyes. “come on, worry about something else for a change. like being beat at cards by me.”

you smirk. “yeah, right. hey, did you check your email? a couple professors sent out things for the exams. like, warnings and precautions and stuff.”

denki hesitates, then nods, a nervous hand running through his hair when he speaks. “uh, yeah, i checked a couple hours ago.” but there’s something in his eyes that tells you he didn’t just read over it, there’s something else to it, something he’s not saying.

“denki, what is it?” you ask. you can’t help but be concerned. after all, he is your best friend, and usually when you two worry about grades, you worry together.

but is this more than grades? you can’t tell, but the way that denki’s frown deepens when he opens his email and tilts it towards you is worrisome.

and then you see it.barely holding back your gasp, you bring one hand to your lips. “oh, denki. that’s bad. really bad.”

the email is from the school's vice principal, cc'ing the department of advisory and the school's counselling office. and what it reads frightens you to the core:

kaminari denki, your grade in the class of multivariable calculus is in danger of becoming too low to pass the class. please see the counseling office to discuss potential ways to assist you with the concepts you may be struggling with. please note: should you be unable to pass the class, you will need to retake it either the following year or over the course of the summer. thank you.

you glance at denki, whose normally carefree expression is frozen with embarrassment and hopelessness. basically, he's doomed.

a/n: should i make a part two? part 2 would be a little longer but would also move faster & there would be more fluff/suggestive moments. comment if i should, & if you have any requests just send an ask!

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saytrrose · 1 day ago

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do you ever think fount would just be having a nice moment with pv, and then all of a sudden his mind would flooded with the horrors that their relationship won’t last forever bc pv isn’t immortal like he is?

ABSOLUTELY !!

I have a fic idea I keep procrastinating on, but I’ll likely never write it because its so long so I’ll just be insane and ramble- it’s where the beasts actually get to choose the inheritor for half their souljam, to become immortal and to mentor and teach. All the beasts have selected their successors except for Fount, who is very conflicted.

The other beasts, or original ancient heroes, keep pestering him that he should really decide but the thing is, Fount is not close to anyone- and he does not form connections like the others seem to do. He has no idea who he trusts enough to even be compared to him, for him to put any trust in and to pass down such a responsibility.

So what he does, is go back to focusing on his academy with the decision to have his top student inherit it, obviously deemed the one with the most potential.

Hence, Vanilla comes along.

Thing is, Pure Vanilla is not his number one top student. He’s not even good with offensive magic at all, he’s very clumsy at it and isn’t doing good in that field at all in which Fount is looking for. But despite all these people desperate for his approval and praise and recognition in his courses, Vanilla is just. Kind. His heart is in the right place.

Over time the two of them grow closer, as Vanilla has noticed that Fount likes to escape to the courtyard after school hours and sit in the same spot, a place he’s claimed for himself to escape the chaos of decision making and his life. Vanilla starts sneaking over to sit with him and they talk. It becomes their thing that just feels like routine, something they always do. Fount even finds himself looking forward to it after some time.

Fount eventually has his students go through a few trials leading up to this decision of his, because he’s procrastinating so much. Each inch closer to the deadline he has set for himself is mentally exhausting him, he’s so unbelievably irritated and stressed, and he ends up spilling to Vanilla that perhaps he should try to enroll in said trials.

So he does, even if Vanilla was not the best in many of the fields. What stands out particularly is not how well Vanilla performs, but quite simply just his nature. His students breeze through, victory set on their minds, very ambitious and determined but Vanilla stops to help others, forgetting what his goal is to do completely just to run back and forth and make sure that every cookie can actually complete the course. It doesn’t matter about points or damage or skill or proving how capable he is in battle- nothing of the sort.

He’s that sort of person who when a team is running and someone falls, he runs back to scoop them up and carry them, and no other cookie is like that, desperate for this recognition and opportunity.

That, is what sparks Founts interest in him.

Originally this entire idea was not for a romantic ship Drabble but I think if someone wants to they absolutely can portray it!! I flip flop back and forth with it eheheheh.

Yes I do think Fount stresses a lot over Vanillas morality, but in my depiction of how they come to be later on- he finally makes his decision. To everyone’s shock/surprise, he offers half his soul jam to Pure Vanilla.

#AHHH I have like so many more scenes and little things about this idea in my head #I’m so insane thaank you for letting me go ballistic and rant #fount of knowledge #shadowvanilla #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie

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ruebossanova · 22 hours ago

Text

professor o'connell: the mini series - 14

college prof!billie x student!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension, quiet/shy reader

masterlist

----------------------------------------------------------------

monday morning came quiet.

the kind of quiet that wasn't peaceful—just stretched thin, like a rubber band pulled too far. like if anyone breathed wrong, something would snap.

liora walked the hallway alone, coffee cooling in her hand, boots silent against the tile. she didn't want to be early, but she also couldn't stand her room. not with how her thoughts kept circling, rewinding, pausing on things unsaid.

she was halfway to the classroom when the door ahead opened and billie stepped out.

no sunglasses. no bag. just her and a file folder pressed to her chest like a shield.

liora's breath caught.

billie glanced up.

their eyes met.

she gave the smallest nod.

no smile.

no words.

just that single, careful gesture.

then she walked past.

her sleeve brushed liora's as she passed.

that was it.

liora didn't turn around.

she wanted to.

but she didn't.

"god," a voice behind her said, chipper and amused. "you two should have your own soundtrack."

liora blinked. turned.

nova stood with a paper cup in one hand and a bag of almonds in the other, grinning like she'd just caught the best scene on camera.

"what?" liora asked.

nova stepped closer, peeling the lid off her coffee. "the tension. the eye contact. the unspoken longing. it's like a sapphic pride & prejudice, except she teaches and you brood."

"i don't brood."

"you absolutely do."

liora sighed and kept walking.

nova followed, breezy.

"how's your secret professor fantasy going, by the way?"

"stop calling it that."

"so it's still alive, then."

liora glanced at her, unimpressed.

nova laughed, genuine. "sorry. i'll stop. maybe."

they reached the classroom door.

liora hesitated before going in.

nova leaned closer, voice soft. "she looked at you like she wanted to say something."

"she didn't."

"yeah," nova said. "and that's the problem, isn't it?"

class hadn't started yet.

nova leaned sideways in her chair, one leg tucked up, almond bag rustling in her lap.

"so," she said casually. "tell me why you're pretending she doesn't wreck you every time she breathes."

liora kept her gaze on her notebook.

"i'm not pretending."

"right," nova said, nodding like she was listening but absolutely not buying it. "you're just... incredibly stoic for no reason."

liora sighed. "drop it."

"nope."

"nova."

"look, i'm just saying," nova continued, popping an almond into her mouth, "she watches you like you're a live wire. like if she touches you, she'll burn. and not in a bad way."

liora glanced at her, sharp. "you don't know her."

"neither do you," nova said, raising an eyebrow. "not really. not yet."

liora didn't respond.

didn't have to.

her silence was loud enough.

nova leaned in, grin softening. "have you ever kissed someone who made you feel like that?"

liora shook her head. "have you?"

"once," nova said. "but she didn't flinch every time i got close."

liora looked away.

nova shifted tactics.

"come to the open mic this week," she said suddenly. "thursday. campus café. i'm doing a thing."

"a thing."

"a piece. it's funny, kinda sad, very gay."

liora hesitated.

nova tilted her head, watching her.

"c'mon. it's off the record. no professors. no weird power dynamics. just people."

"and bad coffee."

"and worse lighting," nova agreed, grinning. "but good company. i promise."

liora considered it.

then nodded once.

nova bumped her knee. "hell yeah."

and the way she smiled—easy, unforced, like none of this was life or death—made liora exhale, just a little.

but in the back of her mind, billie's silence lingered.

like a song she didn't know the lyrics to, but couldn't stop humming.

the rehearsal room smelled like old speakers and burnt coffee.

liora sat on the floor with her notebook open, legs crossed, pencil tapping against her knee. billie leaned against the far wall, arms folded, posture too casual to be comfortable.

everything about the space between them felt like a line someone had drawn too sharp.

"your second stanza's off-tempo," billie said, not looking up from her notes. "the phrasing pulls attention away from the core image."

liora's eyes narrowed. "which line?"

"'i loved her in lowercase.'"

liora stiffened. "you don't think that works?"

"i think it's trying too hard."

silence.

thick.

"it's honest," liora said finally.

"so is pain. doesn't mean it always belongs in the verse."

liora closed her notebook harder than necessary. "you said honesty mattered more than polish."

"i said it had to be both," billie replied, still too calm. "truth only lands if the frame can hold it."

liora stood slowly.

"what's this really about?"

billie looked up. their eyes locked.

"your line doesn't work."

"no," liora said. "i mean this. us. you—snapping at me like i'm just another draft you can fix."

billie's jaw tensed. her fingers curled against her sleeve.

liora took a step closer.

billie didn't move.

didn't flinch.

just watched her with that unreadable quiet.

"you think i'm trying too hard," liora said, voice low. "but you're not trying at all."

billie's gaze flickered.

something cracked there — not anger. something closer to want. or guilt.

maybe both.

then—

"we should stop for today," billie said. not a request.

liora didn't argue.

she just packed up slow.

and didn't look back.

but her chest felt like static the whole way out.

the café was half-lit and humming.

string lights tangled above the windows. soft jazz looped under the chatter. someone had pushed the chairs into a makeshift half-circle around the mic, and every table was covered in mismatched candles and crumpled napkins.

liora sat near the back, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows, cup of cold tea forgotten beside her.

nova took the mic like she owned it.

no nerves. no script.

just swagger.

"hi," she said, grinning. "i'm nova. i write too much. flirt too loud. and i once fell in love with a girl who looked like a walking metaphor."

laughter.

liora smiled.

nova's voice turned theatrical. "she smelled like sarcasm and lavender, read books upside down, and never called anyone by their full name."

another laugh.

"i asked her once what she wanted," nova said, pacing a step. "she said, 'a piano that never goes out of tune, and a kiss that doesn't ask first.'"

soft murmurs now.

liora's arms crossed tighter.

"i wanted to write her a poem," nova said. "but she was one. all lowercase heartbreak and sideways glances. i don't think she ever noticed. or maybe she did, and she liked keeping the mystery."

a pause.

then nova's eyes — unmistakably — found hers.

"anyway," she added with a shrug, "it's fine. some people are just meant to be the song, not the singer."

applause.

loud.

nova bowed dramatically and handed off the mic.

she sat down near the front, sipping something dark and probably bitter.

liora's heart tapped against her ribs.

she didn't blush.

but she felt seen.

not in the way billie saw her — sharp and quiet.

this was different.

louder.

more public.

and it made her skin feel tight.

not bad.

just... itchy.

like the air had changed pressure.

and she wasn't sure what came next.

the mic crackled again. someone with a guitar was tuning up, murmuring about capo settings.

liora was still processing nova's words when the chair beside her shifted.

she turned.

billie.

jeans, leather jacket, hair damp from the mist outside.

she slid into the seat like it was the most natural thing in the world, then leaned back, legs casually crossed, arms resting on the chair's edges.

"you came," liora said, throat dry.

billie didn't look at her. just kept her eyes on the stage.

"open mic sounded interesting," she said. "i was curious."

liora raised an eyebrow. "you hate crowds."

billie's mouth tugged. "hate's a strong word."

"you used it last week. about brunch."

that got the smallest laugh.

then nova approached, holding two cups of something suspiciously green.

"look who decided to join the living," she said sweetly.

billie looked up.

"nova," she said, nodding once.

nova smiled, bright and toothy. "you staying for the closer?"

"if the vibe's good."

nova turned to liora, too casual. "this seat taken?"

liora hesitated — too long — and nova took the seat on her other side without waiting.

she leaned close, whispering, "your professor looks... unamused."

"she's not my—"

"sure she's not."

billie was watching them now.

expression blank.

but her hand gripped her armrest a little tighter.

nova leaned across liora slightly, gaze trained on billie. "hope we didn't make things awkward."

billie smiled, tight. "not at all."

liora stared at the table.

there was heat at her collarbone. a flicker of danger in the air.

like thunder thinking about starting.

"this song's for the girl in the third row," the guitarist announced on stage. "you know who you are."

nova grinned, turning her attention back forward.

billie didn't.

billie watched liora.

and liora felt it.

every glance.

every word unspoken.

every inch of space that suddenly wasn't enough.

nova peeled off after the final act, flashing a wink at liora and a polite, pointed smile at billie.

"later," she sang, grabbing her bag. "see you thursday, lowercase."

liora flushed.

billie watched her go, jaw tight.

they sat in silence for a beat.

then billie leaned closer.

close enough that liora could smell the faint trace of rain in her clothes.

"you're doing it on purpose now."

liora didn't move. "doing what?"

billie's voice dipped lower. "letting her flirt with you."

liora turned, slowly.

"you didn't seem interested in stopping it."

billie's mouth twitched. not quite a smile.

"that's not the point."

"what is the point?"

billie leaned back an inch, one hand curling over the back of liora's chair.

the contact wasn't touch.

but it was pressure.

"you're not mine," she said, steady. "but you feel like—"

she cut herself off.

liora waited.

then: "like what?"

billie's eyes flashed. "don't do that."

"what, ask for honesty?"

"push," billie corrected. "you push."

liora's voice stayed level, but her pulse didn't. "you pull away every time i get close."

"because i have to."

"no, you choose to."

they were too close.

too loud in a room full of murmurs.

billie's hand slipped a fraction down the back of the chair.

not touching.

still not touching.

but liora could feel the static.

billie's eyes softened, just barely.

"you think i don't want to?" she whispered. "you have no idea."

liora blinked.

then leaned in, her voice quiet and deadly.

"then show me."

billie froze.

one breath passed.

two.

and still—

she didn't move.

the parking lot was empty, mostly.

just two flickering overhead lights, and the soft sound of wind brushing the leaves along the sidewalk.

liora walked next to billie, quiet.

they didn't speak.

didn't need to.

their steps matched. billie's keys jingled faintly in her hand.

she stopped by a dark gray hatchback and clicked the lock.

the lights blinked.

still, she didn't get in.

she stood there, one hand on the door, back half-turned.

then—

"don't do that again," she said.

voice low.

rough.

liora tilted her head. "what?"

"with nova. with the mic. with the—" billie stopped herself. exhaled hard. "just don't."

liora stepped closer.

soft. deliberate.

"don't give me a reason to."

billie's fingers tightened around the handle.

"you don't play fair," she said.

"you don't play at all."

billie turned sharply.

their eyes locked.

the distance between them was small now.

invisible, almost.

liora's hand hovered — not quite reaching, not quite brave enough to touch her.

but billie's breath hitched.

they stood there.

close.

closer.

close enough that liora could see the different flecks of blue in billie's eyes. the way her jaw ticked. the tension in her throat.

billie didn't back away.

liora didn't move forward.

but their hands brushed.

once.

twice.

a third time.

billie's hand almost turned to hold.

almost.

but she didn't.

she just whispered, "i can't."

liora whispered back, "i know."

they didn't kiss.

not yet.

but the breath they shared in that moment — warm, close, not quite enough — was louder than any kiss could've been.

billie stepped back.

got in the car.

drove away.

and liora stood there, arms folded tight, breathing the silence she left behind.

⸻

tuesday smelled like overbrewed coffee and recycled air.

liora stood outside the creative arts office, one hand in her hoodie pocket, the other gripping a folded worksheet she didn't need. the hallway buzzed with too much fluorescent light and the echo of someone printing three floors up.

she hadn't meant to be there.

not exactly.

she could've emailed her question. waited until class.

but now she was standing in the exact spot where billie usually waited for her mail. and sure enough—

the door creaked open behind her.

liora didn't turn immediately.

but she felt the shift in the air.

soft leather boots. light footfall. the faintest brush of sandalwood.

billie.

they faced each other in the narrow hallway, three feet apart.

billie held a bundle of sealed manila envelopes. her jacket hung open over a navy sweater, and her hair was tied back in a loose braid that looked like it had survived two hours of second-guessing.

their eyes met.

billie nodded once.

brief.

polite.

liora nodded back.

no smile.

no hello.

no acknowledgement of the almost that had nearly happened two nights ago.

just... silence.

too formal.

too careful.

too much.

"wow," nova's voice broke the air like a thrown pebble into a still lake. "you could slice the tension in here with a retractable pen."

liora blinked. nova stepped in between them, holding a bag of chips and wearing a sweatshirt two sizes too big.

"professor eilish," nova said, nodding exaggeratedly. "always a pleasure."

billie gave her a tight smile. "jenkins."

nova turned to liora, dropped her voice: "you two fighting or is this just your natural vibe?"

"nova."

"just checking," she said sweetly. "because if someone looked at me the way she just did, i'd either cry or propose."

liora didn't look at billie.

she didn't need to.

she already knew billie was walking away.

quiet.

measured.

liora stared at the linoleum tile for a full ten seconds before nova crunched into her chips and said, "subtlety's overrated, you know."

the classroom felt colder than usual.

maybe it was the air conditioning.

maybe it was something else.

billie stood at the front with her laptop open and a marker in her hand, outlining next week's peer workshop schedule like her voice didn't tremble slightly when she said thursday.

liora sat second row, second seat, same as always.

nova was beside her, propped on one elbow, doodling a small galaxy in the margin of her syllabus.

"so," billie said, not looking at either of them, "you'll present a five-minute excerpt and give a short explanation of how your chosen song influenced the structure."

her tone was clipped. practiced. deliberate.

liora's pencil rested untouched beside her.

billie didn't glance her way.

not once.

nova leaned over, whispered, "someone's pretending last night didn't happen."

liora gave a tiny shake of her head. "drop it."

"oh no, i'm invested now."

liora didn't respond.

didn't need to.

the silence in her chest was loud enough.

billie turned toward the board. her handwriting was clean but slanted. the letters in "lyric logic" curved just like the ones on the post-it she'd once left inside liora's poetry book.

"the rest of today's yours," she said. "workshop quietly. or don't. just don't bother anyone else."

she sat on the edge of her desk. crossed one leg over the other.

didn't look up again.

liora stared at the blank page in front of her.

she didn't write a word.

but her pulse kept echoing.

like it was trying to remind her of something she hadn't decided yet.

the practice room felt smaller than it had last week.

billie sat cross-legged beside the upright piano, notebook open, sleeves pushed to her elbows. she looked tired—like she hadn't slept or had slept too much or hadn't decided which was worse.

liora sat opposite her, hunched over her own journal, pen cap in her mouth.

neither of them had said much since sitting down.

it was all logistics. key changes. rhyme pacing. where to place the pause in the third stanza.

but they were avoiding the center of it.

billie cleared her throat. "read the new one."

liora glanced up. "it's not finished."

"i don't care."

liora hesitated.

then flipped a page and read, voice low:

"you didn't kiss me but the air between us did. brushed my mouth like it missed me before it even met me."

billie's hand twitched on her notebook.

liora noticed.

said nothing.

but her voice was cooler when she added, "too honest?"

billie didn't answer right away.

then: "too close."

"same thing?"

billie closed her eyes for a moment, as if that would stop the room from feeling like it was spinning off-center.

liora pushed. "you keep pulling back."

"and you keep testing me."

"i just want to know why," liora said. "why you won't let it happen."

billie's jaw clenched.

her eyes opened, sharp and unblinking.

"because if i do—"

she stopped.

liora waited.

"—i won't stop."

those words landed like heat against bare skin.

liora didn't blink.

didn't move.

billie stood up slowly, hands shaking just slightly as she closed her notebook.

"that's enough for today."

liora stood too.

but didn't say goodbye.

she just let the space between them breathe for her.

the library's third floor smelled like dry paper and effort.

liora sat at one of the small round tables by the windows, notebook open, headphones in but not playing anything. she was mid-line—stuck on a transition—when someone dropped their bag loudly in the chair next to her.

nova.

"hey, lowercase."

liora glanced up, confused. "this isn't your floor."

"i'm diversifying," nova said, already pulling out a pen. "plus, i saw her coming in."

liora didn't have to ask who.

billie appeared five minutes later, dressed in a soft denim shirt and dark jeans, hair in a messy braid. she carried a small stack of folders and a coffee that looked like it had already lost its will to live.

she spotted them.

froze.

only for half a second.

then walked over.

"wasn't expecting company," she said evenly.

nova beamed. "we're productive."

liora gave a tiny shrug, noncommittal.

billie took the seat opposite them, opened her folder with more focus than necessary.

nova leaned over to liora and whispered—not quietly—"you smell like rain and tension."

liora coughed into her sleeve to hide a laugh.

billie didn't smile.

"we're supposed to be editing the final verse," she said, flipping to a marked page.

nova leaned in between them, practically in liora's lap. "mind if i listen?"

"you're not in this group," billie said.

"i'm observing. for science."

liora didn't stop her.

didn't shift.

nova grinned and read from the paper billie slid over. "oh wow. moody. seductive. very 'we almost kissed under the threat of emotional consequences.'"

billie exhaled slowly.

liora met her gaze across the table.

billie looked—

tired.

frustrated.

possessive.

but silent.

nova sat back, arms spread along the chair's edge, gaze bouncing between them like she was waiting for something to catch fire.

"you two write like you've already broken up," she said, light as air.

billie stood.

too fast.

"i'll email my notes."

she didn't wait for a reply.

just walked off.

nova watched her leave.

then turned to liora, mock-innocent. "was that too much?"

liora didn't answer.

but her pulse said yes.

and maybe.

and thank you.

all at once.

it was nearly midnight when liora passed the student union on her way back to her dorm.

she wasn't going to stop.

but something pulled at her — that odd instinct you only get when you know you're being thought about.

she turned into the building. walked past the vending machines and the empty lounge chairs and headed toward the mail slots.

hers was near the bottom.

she bent down, tired, annoyed at herself—

and found it.

a small folded sheet of notepad paper tucked inside her box. no envelope. no name. just clean handwriting she'd know anywhere.

billie's.

she pulled it out.

read:

"i was unfair. we can talk. or not. your call.

four lines.

ten seconds of reading.

ten minutes of standing still.

liora leaned against the wall, rereading it again and again.

her phone stayed in her pocket.

she didn't text.

she didn't write back.

she didn't even crumple the paper.

she just folded it again, slid it into the back pocket of her jeans, and walked back into the night with her hands in her hoodie and her heart all sideways.

the stairwell between the english and music buildings always echoed.

worse in the morning. worst when it was quiet.

liora was coming up two steps at a time, late for her second class, earbuds in but volume low.

that's when she saw her.

billie.

coming down.

soft black coat, thick scarf, thermos in one hand.

liora's breath hitched, but she didn't slow.

they passed on the third landing.

close enough to touch.

close enough to feel the heat radiating off the space where their hands used to hover, their words used to hum.

billie didn't look up.

didn't say a word.

their shoulders brushed.

not hard.

not intentional.

but enough.

enough to send a rush through liora's spine that she wasn't ready for.

liora stopped two steps past her, turned slightly—

but billie kept walking.

no glance back.

no break in stride.

just the fading click of her boots against tile.

liora stood there, caught in the hollow that followed.

jaw tight.

eyes narrowed.

then she turned and climbed the last steps like she was running from something she hadn't let herself name yet.

class ended late.

the air outside smelled like spring trying too hard — warm patches between gusts of cold wind.

liora was halfway across the quad when nova jogged up beside her.

"okay," nova said, no greeting, no lead-in. "i need to know."

liora didn't look over. "know what."

nova matched her pace. "you're in love with her, aren't you."

liora's jaw tightened. "nova—"

"not judging," she said, hands raised like a peace offering. "i just need to confirm before i waste another afternoon playing third wheel to sexual tension and unresolved poetry metaphors."

liora didn't respond.

didn't slow.

didn't nod.

but her silence was telling enough.

nova whistled. "okay. let me rephrase."

they stopped at the edge of the courtyard. nova turned to face her, arms crossed.

"do you want her to be the one who says it first?"

liora met her eyes.

quiet.

unguarded.

and still didn't speak.

nova didn't smile.

didn't tease.

she just said, "figured."

then walked off, leaving liora standing in the middle of a hundred blooming trees and one very loud silence.

----------------------------------------------------------------

tags; @bxllxebxtch @st0nerlesb0 @dousleepanymore @mxmsuki @billiescation @angellvk @bilswifee

#billie eilish #wlw #billie eilish smut #billie #bil #billieeilish #billie x reader #billie fanfiction #billie ellish lyrics #hit me hard and soft tour #hmhas #hmhas billie eilish #hit me hard and soft #eilish #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fan fic #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x reader #ruebossanova

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lsunstreakerl · 2 days ago

Text

I have a probably abandoned ficlet here, but it's 3k and I don't want to just delete it, so here it is if you would like to peruse :D

somewhat soul-eater AU, GP focused, hinted GP/bono

There is a box in Gianpiero's office.

This isn't uncommon, necessarily. He's the frequent recipient of oddities and abnormalities, from both peers and questioning meisters.

What is uncommon about the box is the size. Gianpiero works with smaller items, objects that have accidentally been imbued with soul energy or negative karma. He's known best for his cleansing skills, and while he's certified to work with weapons, it's not something he widely advertises.

He carefully shuts the solid oak door behind him, flicking on a lamp. There's rain pounding down in heavy sheets outside, lashing against the window, and the mug of tea in his hand is still hot, steam curling into his nose.

The box is relatively square, wrapped in fabric and twine, plastered with containment seals and protection wards. Gianpiero feels his mouth twitch just looking at— if whatever's inside really does require this much effort, he's not particularly pleased that it's just appeared in his office.

An explanation would be nice.

He crosses the room, setting his mug down with a dull thunk of ceramic against wood, lifting his sweater from the back of the chair and tugging it over his head. He'd come by today to get a head start on critiquing dissertations, not... this.

His briefcase gets settled into its desk drawer, and Gianpiero tugs on a pair of protection gloves, fabric tight against his hands. There's a few warding bracelets that slide easy enough on his wrists, and he's been wearing different assortments and variations of positive karma charms since he was little.

Cleansing runs in the family. He's been taught how to do it his entire life, and while he's never gone down the flashier military routes of his cousins, academia has suited him very well.

He slides on his glasses, skin buzzing as he settles them on his nose. There's enough energy on him now to form a full circuit, protecting him from whatever the box contains. Anything requiring physical paper seals in this day and age would honestly be better suited to a museum, or a specialist.

Although—

Gianpiero is a specialist. Just not a very loud one, and there's only so many people aware of his affinity for tough curses, for items so drenched in negative karma they make people sick. He's never been able to explain it, the deep satisfaction of the cleansing and healing process, watching his work take root.

Still, he doesn't often work with weapons. Their sentient nature can be volatile to work with, and if a weapon were to reach a degree of damage where Gianpiero's skills are necessary...

It's better to retire them, generally.

He's hoping it's not a weapon inside the box. He takes a slow sip from his mug, carefully analyzing the outside of it, noting with some surprise that the seals are hand drawn instead of pre-produced, the calligraphy messy and uneven.

It's possible that it's a battlefield find, something picked up by an unwitting soldier or a particularly stupid meister, and that its true nature hadn't been immediately visible. That could certainly explain the messy handwriting, the near panicked wrap job on the box.

He takes another long sip, breathing out slowly before nodding decisively. Whatever's inside, someone knew— or had been told— that Gianpiero was the best person to handle it.

He'll give it a try. It's certainly more exciting than grading papers, and it's not often that he interacts with new things. Usually he's pointing out things to students that he knows like the back of his hand, teaching lessons he could go over in his sleep.

He sets the mug back down, double checking that he still has a full protection circuit active before he reaches for the box, carefully untangling the seals and twine. The wards fall off easy, and he gets an itch in his nose, the kind he always gets when dealing with something heavily charged.

The last protection ward falls as he unravels the twice, pulling at the fabric gently. The box is wooden, clearly repurposed out of an old dresser drawer, and the negative karma seeping from it makes the backs of his teeth hurt.

There's a low buzz in his ears as he carefully lifts the lid.

It doesn't immediately explode, which is a good sign, but he does catch a metallic glint of silver that has him groaning internally, headache forming at the base of his skull.

It's a weapon. A damaged weapon, from the looks of it. It's fallen in the form of two knives, which is already a terrible start— prolonged severance of soul can lead to identity struggles and difficulty reforming.

On top of that, it's brutalized. There's chipped edges along the blades, scrawling cracks along the surface. The hilts are worn through, half rotted off and stained dark with blood.

It must be a battlefield find— maybe even a battlefield kill, if Gianpiero had to hazard a guess, but finding the distinction has never been part of his job. What he can tell is that the weapon is deeply wounded, clouded in a miasma of despair and failure. It's seeping negative karma, displaying as clearly as it can to not be used.

Whatever soul used to be inside of it, Gianpiero has a hard time believing it might still be present. A well kept weapon communicates with its meister— the best of them take physical forms when not in use, slightly unsettling human shapes while retaining their more lethal traits.

Weapons forced to be used in ways that the soul itself disagrees with... it never ends pretty, and Gianpiero has a feeling that's exactly what he's looking at.

He pulls out a notebook, flipping to a new page and starting an entry. It's important to note everything he's spotting now, the things he might not remember later, and if he can't find any clues about the weapon inside the box, he'll have to do some digging.

There's two pages worth of surface level observations before he sets his pen down, bracing himself as he carefully reaches inside.

The weapon is light in his hands— it almost feels fragile. He's gentle as he turns the knives, inspecting them carefully.

No hint to meister identity that he can see, although the hilts are so worn down it would be near impossible to tell anyways.

Most weapons have a response when they're handled— well kept weapons will sing, attuning themselves to their meisters. A damaged weapon may lash out, violent and uncomfortable to wield, in an attempt to preserve their souls until a better meister comes along.

This weapon, however, barely has a response at all. Gianpiero can feel a faint pulse if he truly focuses, a thready beat of resignation. A weapon this damaged, wielded so far from its Purpose— it should have been retired.

It still should be, in Gianpiero's opinion. It's not even trying to fight him, simply accepting the new ownership. There's no lingering trace of loyalty to a previous meister, not even a glimmer of curiosity. It's subdued.

Defeated.

He's still holding it carefully in his hands as he peers inside the box, surprised to find a singular scrap of paper shoved into the bottom. It's ripped off of what looks to have been a supply list, and the same panicked handwriting that had been on the seals is present.

He squints, eyes tracing the letters. It's short, scrawled heavily into the paper, pen pushing through and indenting into the other side.

MAX

He gingerly sets the weapon back in the box, careful to keep the knives in contact with each other, before returning back to the notebook.

A name isn't much to go off of, not at all, but—

It's something.

He continues writing, occasionally taking sips from his tea even as it goes cold. There's a dull throb at the back of his head, a byproduct of the miasma that's probably seeped into his office by now, and he makes a note to pause office hours until he can get it cleansed.

He rubs at the bridge of his nose, conflicted. Ethically... this weapon should be retired. It's on the brink already, barely receptive, Purpose so faint Gianpiero can't even tell what it is. At the same time, he's never been one to accept a lost cause— it's why so many objects end up on his desk, why he's a last resort for others within his own field.

If he can bring this weapon back, even just enough for it to tell him if it wants to be retired—

He can live with that. But the idea of retiring a weapon without its explicit consent or agreement, while there's still life inside... even on a technicality, it grates at him. Someone must have cared, cared enough to seal it up and cover it in seals, cared enough to write its name and track down Gianpiero.

The wards, the seals, the clumsy calligraphy— it reeks of desperation. Who is Gianpiero to thoughtlessly toss that aside?

He sighs, leaning back in his chair as he looks at the box again. There are sheaths in his home office, long unused, but he has a leather forearm brace that he can keep the knives in. He'll keep it on his left arm, his strong arm, closer to his heart. To attempt to rehabilitate a weapon like this may be a years long project, but he can't find it within himself to just retire it.

"Alright... Max. We've got some work to do."

------

It takes Gianpiero six hours to cleanse his office enough to be comfortable letting students back in. He's had to rearrange things as well, bringing in a warded case that he can lay the weapon in when he can't keep it with him, filled with spring water from nearby, infused with the necessary minerals for reconstruction.

If Max utilizes it.

He can faintly feel a buzz against his forearm, a pule so distant he's not entirely sure he isn't imagining it. He has the two blades pressed together, a naively hopeful attempt at preventing any further soul severance, and he carefully finishes tracing the cleansing seal onto the inside of the cover, clasping it securely over his arm.

He takes a slow sip at the last of his coffee, getting his mind back on track. He needs— communication, usually. Even if it makes him sound a little insane, talking to nothing.

The students have witnessed him do weirder to get positive results, so it's not something entirely new to them, although Gianpiero makes it a point to keep his... extracurricular activities out of the academia.

He can probably write a paper on this, if it works out, and he's been a professor long enough that most everybody is content to let him do his own thing.

He sets his empty mug down, resting his fingers across the brace.

"You ever been a teacher before, Max?"

Predictably, there's no response.

------

The students are curious, pestering him with questions that he doesn't have answers for. No, he doesn't know where it's from, no, he hasn't spoke to it, no, he's not a meister.

He's only lying a little bit on the last point. His lectures go quickly, although nothing seems to catch Max's interest— the pulse against his arm remains thin and ragged.

He waves out the last of the students, pulling his jacket back on as he grabs his briefcase. He'd found himself more often than not with his palm resting across the top of the brace, talking less with his hands than he usually does.

The walk through the rest of the academic building is quiet. It's monsoon season, and there's rain pattering down outside, hallways lit with lamps. Bono's office is on the sixth floor, two floors down from Gianpiero's classroom, and his office door is cracked when he gets there.

His knuckles knock against the wood gently.

"Pete, hey."

Bono looks up, glasses low on his nose. He's surrounded by weapon designs— regular weapons, from the smithy students. Some are... more unique than others. Gianpiero doesn't particularly envy his job.

"GP! This is a surprise."

He offers a half smile and shrug, delicately clearing a mace off of one of the seats in front of Bono's desk.

"I wanted to pick your brain about something, actually."

Bono quirks his head to the side, setting his pen down as he looks at Gianpiero intently. It's not often that their two specialities interact, despite running parallel to each other, and while this has never stopped them from being close friends, it does mean that they don't frequently talk shop.

"Hit me with it."

Gianpiero keeps his voice dry, amusement flickering in his chest.

"I'd rather not, if you wouldn't mind."

He grins as Bono's face twists at the bad joke, before unstrapping the cover over the sheaths braced against his forearm.

"I got a surprise package the other day— and I figured I'd just ask if you recognized a time period, instead of making myself miserable by guessing."

Bono leans forward, squinting.

"You're not usually a weapons handler, GP."

He rears back, nose wrinkling as he grabs a protection bracelet from a drawer.

"And I just realized why you have it and not anyone else— that miasma is thick. Wow."

Gianpiero winces, carefully angling his arm so that Bono can get a better look.

"Well, they look pretty old, honestly. Most of the schools in the last decade use the inverse grip style, so whoever this used to be was trained on the outdated style— it's worse for your thumbs. The leather wrapping is overlapping in a downwards pattern, so it's from this side of the hemisphere, and the actual straight blade style almost makes me think of the direct weapons training groups?"

Gianpiero frowns.

"Horner's kids?"

Bono nods.

"Yeah, the older ones. I mean, I don't personally agree with training kids to be sacrificial, but they are usually taught on more difficult styles— makes them more useful when they become weapons. It might be worth asking him, but if I had to guess, going just off of this, your weapon used to be human around thirty years ago."

That's... younger than Gianpiero had expected, considering how worn down the soul is. He sighs, carefully securing the cover back over them.

"Thank you, Pete. I appreciate it."

Bono grins, pointing a pen at him.

"Anytime, Lambiase. And hey— whenever you're finally through with those dissertations, let me know. We'll get dinner."

He pauses, pen wavering slightly.

"Or sooner, if you want some company while you work on your new project."

Gianpiero feels a small curdle of guilt. Bono is a good friend, and he hasn't spent enough time with him lately— he gets too wrapped up in his books, spends hours in his office while forgetting to eat.

He gives Bono a small smile, standing from the chair. His palm has found its way to curl across his forearm again.

"I'll let you get back to your grading. But I'll remember the offer about dinner, if you promise not to bring an experimental utensil with you."

Bono cringes.

"That was one time, and how else was I supposed to grade it?"

"By not letting it blow up in my kitchen."

He raps his knuckles against the exposed wood of Bono's desk lightly, grinning as he steps out. He's not going to try and visit Horner tonight— and it would just put him in a bad mood.

There's a brief flicker of something when he passes by the fountain in the courtyard, and it startles him so badly he nearly trips over his own feet. The rain is pattering down lightly around him, but Max—

Something about the fountain has caused Max to stir from the stupor he's been in.

He steps closer, trying to encourage it again, but Max has settled back down. It's brief enough that he wonders for a wild moment if he'd just imagined it, but he knows what he felt.

His thumb rubs across the leather. It'd been slight, barely anything at all, but it'd been something. Max isn't a lost cause.

Gianpiero won't allow it.

------

He puts off talking to Horner. It falls to the bottom of his priority list, between working through dissertations and teaching. He gets sent a few more odds and ends, working through the cleansing process with practiced ease. Max spends most of his office hours in the warded case, soaking in a mineral bath.

Gianpiero can't see any difference yet, but he's willing to be patient. He borrows a few books from Bono on some of the older weaponry the academy has produced, and eventually he'll get around to combing through old records, but he wants to see if Horner has any info for him first.

Probably not. He's not exactly optimistic about the memory recall of a man who spends most of his time teaching students how to kill others.

Besides, Horner's only been teaching for twenty six years, which is close enough to Bono's suspicions on weapon age, but too recent in memory to be one of Horner's kids— a weapon being lost track of like that is a big deal, and even Gianpiero would've heard about it.

Bono steals a noodle off of his plate, feet kicked up near Gianpiero's lap.

"It's possible that my count is off, and it's actually older."

He's musing, helping Gianpiero try and puzzle through what exactly he's committed himself to with this project. There's takeout on the table, and Gianpiero doesn't complain too much about the loss of his noodle— he's been stealing vegetables from Bono all evening.

"You think maybe they were one of the first people taught on the design?"

Bono shrugs.

"Or maybe running a prototype. I never worked with Professor Helmut personally, but I've heard some of his best students went over to Dietrich. After that— ah, GP, they're a locked vault over there. I'm not sure you'll get anything useful."

Gianpiero snorts, raising an eyebrow.

"From Horner? Not likely. I'm counting on him being so focused on telling me the wrong thing, that he accidentally points me in the direction of the right one."

He jabs at a noodle forcefully.

"Slimy cunt."

#abandoned ficlet #old man academic yaoi #gp/bono #soul eater au #academic setting

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twilightofthesandwiches · 2 days ago

Note

do you think ralsei should get to solo the chapter 5 superboss like susie with the HOJ

perhaps in there the superboss could [assuming this is the flower king darkworld] fill the room with caustic pollen that reduces all healing effects from consumables and heal prayer, while at the same time making green projectiles have more potent healing

and they expect ralsei to cast a firestorm as much as possible to turn him from a worriful child into a fatebreaker

also the pollen sets your soul mode to purple except now the lines aren't exclusively horizontal

This is a fun concept! We haven't had any Ralsei Solo Segments yet, have we? And I do like the imagery of Ralsei learning a Damage-Dealing Fire Spell as he's learning to break away from the prophecy.

Although maybe a bit too derivative of the Gerson Boss Fight? I mean, what made it feel so special is all the different little things that distinguished it from other Bonus Boss Fights so far. I feel like Ralsei deserves a Bonus Boss that's unique to him.

And the format of the Battle as a Lesson/Training Session was important to Susie's character specifically as someone who clearly constantly struggles in school and has internalized the idea of herself being a 'bad student'

It's important to her to finally meet a teacher who believes in her and finds the teaching method that helps her to learn and improve, even if it's an unusual one, while giving her all the tries she needs to do better.

(And especially with the context of it being Gerson, who was the high-school teacher in Hometown before Alphys. The implication being is that if he was still alive in the Light World he could've helped her do better in school as well, even if he probably couldn't teach her better spelling through a one-on-one duel.)

This was all tailor-fit for Susie, Ralsei being... well, a different person with different baggage means that I'm not sure if he needs the Battle-As-A-Lesson format. The point wasn't that it was the Best Way to Learn, is that it was the best way for Susie.

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aernx · 2 hours ago

Text

IT'S A WRAP ! ⌗ 이희승 ( oneshot ver. )

synopsis ⟢ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

◌ wordcount﹒ 13.1k

◌ pairing﹒ lee heeseung x fmr

◌ genre﹒ childhood enemies to lovers, hs au, takes place in their summer break, reader is taehyun’s (txt) older sister, tbh no srs hating js silly rivalry, crack , heeyn parents r silly

◌ featuring﹒ txt, chaewon lsrfm, enhypen, brief mentions of seventeen (ily joshua n hoshi)

◌ warnings﹒ profanities, harsh language, jealousy, heeyn hating eo, kissing, fluff, heeyn silly stuffs, denial, i think that's it, oh probably bad and inconsistent grammar at times, miscommunication (that shiii)

aerinotes ⟢ u guys don't know how much i giggled at the screen when i write this 😁 THIS FIC MEANS SOOO MUCH TO MEE I HOPE U GUYS GIVE IT SOME LOVE 💗💗💗 also MY FIRST EVER LONG FIC??? aerin long fic debut!!! so im sorry if there r lots of mistakes n it's kinda messyy n if the pacing is badd !! i'll improve next time guys TRUST‼️‼️

this was previously a smau but now the smau is discontinued. i can finally say goodbye peacefully to my heeyn 🙁 i’ll miss them <3 hope you guys enjoyed this! be sure to leave a like, comment n reblog to let me know watchu think abt it !! ENJOYYYY

"MOM YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT!?" It’s only been a week since you returned from your exchange student program in Japan yet your mom was quick to throw you a bucket of ice water on a hot summer evening.

“Which part of it is not clear, dear? Heeseung is going to start working in our dumpling shop this in this last month of summer and I want you to be his mentor tomorrow.” Excuse me what? Mentor?? “You know, teach him how to use the register, how to serve the customers, and later how to wrap the dumplings.”

No way there was no chance in hell that you were going to do this. Become Heeseung’s mentor? Hell no! You would rather give Taehyun your first born privileges.

Okay, maybe reasoning with her would opt her to change her decision. “Yes, I heard you for the first time but I can’t really place the reason why you want me to do this, mom. You know that we don’t…get along that well.”

Don’t get along that well? You scoffed internally at your choice of words, it was clearly an understatement, your mother knew that too.

You and Heeseung never got along. At all. Your mother and his mother were the best of friends so ultimately that means that he was there for good and you could not escape him. At first, mini-you was glad at the thought of having a childhood friend. Maybe you two could replicate the friendship of your mothers.

Yet at the age of five, where the two of you met for the first time and he stole your toy and decided to hide it from you, you knew from that moment that you would never get along. That first impression only triggered the competitiveness in you and it became a never ending game of chase. Of course, your mothers showed disappointment with the fact that their children did not enjoy each other’s presence, hoping that as they grow up, you and him would learn to overcome this little feud of yours.

Oh how they were wrong. Along the years that follow, your hatred towards each other only grew. Even though you both hated each other, he was still a big part of your childhood. And him being your neighbour didn't even help. You were so fucking bored of that face of his.

Eventually everyone got used to this relationship you shared with the boy and both parents didn’t try to do anything about it anymore. After all there was no point.

Although your feelings towards Heeseung were more on the negative side, you adored his parents, and your parents adored him too. Your families were close but you two weren’t. When you were younger, you would make it your life mission to get Heeseung to cry and he made it his to make you irritated. But as you both grew into adolescence your behaviour began shifting.

Now, instead of sitting by your side to provoke you, he would sit the farthest from you at the dinner table and you would do your best to ignore him at every family event. This never changed, even when you got into highschool. Both of you would try your hardest to let the other’s presence turn to ghosts, yet the tension around you remains haunting.

“Come on Yn, I know you don’t have the best relationship with Heeseung, as you guys are always fighting like cats and dogs,” Your mother muttered the last part quietly. “But I trust you with him, dear. Even though you both hate each other, you’re the one that knows him best there and I feel like he’ll focus more under your gaze instead of anyone else.”

Gosh why was your mother so persistent? “Mom, have you met us?” You can hear your mother’s snicker. “Then you should know that he won’t listen to me! There’s a reason why we don’t get along, mom. He’s gonna cause so much ruckus if I become his mentor. I find no problem with asking Taehyun to guide him instead.”

Your mother knew that you didn’t want to go forward with this. But it was really a last resort of sorts. And a little part of her wished that maybe this occasion would end your feud with him because she and Mrs. Lee always wanted their kids to get along well, just like them.

“Initially, I thought about that too. But Taehyun already has a lot of plans for tomorrow and you just went home like a week ago so you have lots of free time before your senior year starts.” She pointed out.

“Who knows maybe Heeseung changed these past six months without you. Maybe he even misses fighting with you everyday.” Chuckling, your mother gave you a knowing look as your face scrunched at the thought of that.

Hah! He? Missed you? There was no way. Heeseung was probably glad you were gone for six months. In fact he probably wished you were gone forever.

“Come on, my Yn. We’ll go shopping together with Aunty Lee and I’ll get you those concert tickets for that group you like so much. I’ll buy 4 for Chaewon, Yeonjun, and Soobin too. So you guys can watch it together.”

Your eyes lit up as her offer ringed your eardrums. One day of mentoring Heeseung for shopping sprees with your mom and Aunty Lee PLUS concert tickets for you and your friends?? Sounds like a fair deal.

“Ah…you know me so well, mother. You know I will never decline those.”

“You know it, darling.”

“You want me to-what?!” Disbelief, Heeseung stood from the couch and turned towards his mother who was currently sitting cross legged on her armchair.

“What did you expect?! I told you to stop sneaking around all the time and this is final! You are working in MANDU4U, Yn’s family dumpling shop tomorrow.”

Spending his summer break working? Are you fucking kidding?

“Bu-”

Mrs. Lee stood up from her chair, levelling her gaze with her son. “No buts! I already talked to your Aunty Kang and all you have to do is show your ass over there and work.” From the tone of her voice, Heeseung knew that he messed up. It was bad, like REAL bad. Maybe he should’ve listened to his friend's advice to NOT sneak out.

Mrs. Lee shrugged before continuing. “Think of this as a new experience. You’ll be learning new things and you’ll be earning money. I see nothing wrong with this. You don’t have any right to complain, young man.”

As much as Heeseung dreaded it, he knew no point in resisting. He was at fault and if it was in other circumstances he would stand his ground but he knew better. Oh well, at least she didn’t forbid him to hang with his boys.

And besides it’s not as if he’s going to meet her. He’s aware of the fact that she went back from that program a week ago. Of course he was, his family insisted that they also accompanied picking up Yn from the airport.

Did he come along? Yes. Did he have the option not to? Also yes. Did he know why he came along? Not really. Maybe he missed her and their fights just a little bit. Or maybe not. That question remained ominous as he himself didn’t even know the correct answer.

But was he glad with the fact that she was gone for the past six months? Of course he was! Well it was a bit more quiet than usual but hey! Quiet is good right? Yeah of course. Now that she’s back does he still hate her guts? For sure, yeah definitely.

“Also Yn will be your mentor and I want you to be on your BEST behaviour and do whatever she says.” Mrs.Lee abruptly added before striding out of the room trying her best to contain her smile.

“Mom WHAT?!”

You idly stood on the gazebo of your family’s shop, glancing back and forth towards your watch as the digital digits morphs into what seemed to be eight past twenty. Heeseung was supposed to be here at eight sharp but here you were, still waiting for his stupid ass to come.

It was only five minutes after that, the sight of Lee Heeseung appeared in your line of view. Fucking finally. “Heeseung, you’re late.” You aligned your body opposing his, blocking the entry of the door with your figure as he tried to brush himself through.

“Tch, it’s whatever. Let’s just get started.” His hand longed for the handles but you were quick to stop him. “Drop that attitude, Heeseung. I don’t want this as much as you do so you better not make this any harder on me.” Your grip on his hand opted him to fix his gaze with yours.

You tighten your grip on his wrist. Not caring whether it hurted him or not–which it probably didn’t. “Use that tone on me one more time and you’ll be scrubbing the bathroom floors instead of working behind the cash register.”

Heeseung clenched his fists in between your grasp on his wrist, a low attempt of wanting to break free. “You’re not my mother, you can’t tell me what to do.” He gritted as an annoyed expression washed over his features.

“You’re right, Seungie. I’m not. I’m your employer. And you-” Your point finger shoved his chest “-have to do exactly what I say."

Lee Heeseung hated it–hated this. That helpless feeling of not being in control. Especially when his arch enemy is the one stringing him like a puppet.

Kang Yn loved it–loved this. How couldn’t you when your arch nemesis had to grovel in submission for the sake of punishment from his mother. It’s fun really. It's like having a maid–you mean– personal assistant of your own.

“No Heeseung, that's not the right way!”

“Be more thorough when checking someone’s order!”

“Gosh this is tiring. Heeseung, get me a coffee.”

Ignoring some mistakes made, the first day of work went surprisingly fine. You taught him various things. Starting from how to work the register and basic manners to serve customers and he was actually going along with what you instructed. Gee, maybe your mom was right all along–you could be really intimidating sometimes.

“This is it for today.” You said, handing him a pen to sign his attendance. “Okay, Thanks.” He calmly received it before signing under his name. Along the string hours of work between you and Heeseung, the atmosphere remained tense. But much to your surprise (and a certain part-timer named Sunoo who went to your school) the both of you endured the entire shift without biting each other’s head off.

Sure there were some occasional fights here and there but the graph always dies down after, returning to its normal wavelength as the days progress. And you were quite happy with the outcome.

One; you did not let the intrusive thoughts win and slice his throat when he was on his break and two; you did not embarrass yourself in front of the customers by screaming frantically at him (although you did do it in private) You could say that this day was a success and you were proud of yourself. Ah you were finally free from him.

Or so you thought.

“So you’re telling me your mom told you that you’ll be mentoring Heeseung for the rest of the summer break?” Soobin questioned, making you groan against your pillows. You raised your head towards the window still, the sight of the moon greeted you in an instance, gracing your room with its incandescent glow.

"She made sure to leave that part the first time she mentioned, alright." You grumbled under your breath.

Chaewon patted your head as she noticed your current distress while Yeonjun and Soobin looked at you with sympathy laced upon their irises. It was currently near twilight in the nearing end of summer. From a distance, you can hear a few neighbours that stood up late making BBQ in their backyards, while some of the houses remained still and quiet.

The light on your window was like a singular lamp amidst a dark room to your unlit neighbourhood. It was summer break so your parents didn’t mind you staying up late. They even let your friends stay over with the exception of Soobin and Yeonjun sleeping on a spare mattress on the floor.

“Yn, I knew it was too suspicious that your mom was offering you THAT much just for one day of mentoring!” Yeonjun pointed out from his mattress below before joining everyone on your bed.

“At least you’re getting money out of this, am I right?” Chaewon said after smacking the poor boy with her elbows, triggering a laugh from Soobin as he saw Yeonjun’s current state.

“-Ouch! Gosh Chae that hurt!” He threw her a nasty glare and Chaewon stuck her tongue out in response. “Plus the fact that Mama Kang AND Mama Lee promised to take you shopping makes it too good to be true to just make that a one time thing.” Yeonjun shrugged before dodging another hit from Chaewon.

“Ugh I hate it when you’re smart sometimes, Junnie.”

“Don’t forget the fact that your mom promised to buy us all concert tickets!” Soobin reminded. “Work your ass off Ms.Kang. We would be thanking you for your services!” He stood from the bed, bowing 90 degrees to you causing the room to erupt in laughter.

“You all better be thanking me for this! I don’t know how I'm going to handle him for the rest of the summer! He’s literally my neighbour! I see him everyday. I can even see him across my window!” Once more, you buried your head on the pillows, gaze unconsciously averting to the blinds covering the glass panels.

“But you hadn’t seen him nor contacted him for six months right? Surely he changed.” Chaewon pondered earning a scoff from you. “Girl let me tell you, he did not.” You answered, emphasising the “not”.

Yeonjun laughed at your misery, opting you to throw a pillow at his face. The room had gone through its nth time of laughing fit before you all started to calm down.

As the room went down from its climax, Soobin’s question seemed to pique everyone's interest. “By the way if it’s okay to ask, how did you and heeseung hate each other like this? I mean the two of you never got along. Everyone knows that but like you both definitely seem more intense now like ever since you got offered to join the exchange student program.”

You sighed before answering. “Well it’s a long story but-”

“-I was supposed to get the offer to join the exchange student program.” Just a few meters from where you and your friend gathered, Heeseung and his friends were doing the exact same thing you were doing.

They all gathered on his mattress, sharing stories as the moon reaches its peak of serenity. “Ohh i get it, so from your point of view, it seemed as if she “stole” your future.” Jay nodded at his friend as the room was filled with collected hums and a few shocked faces.

“No lie I would’ve hated them too if someone did that to me.” Jake added, agreeing to his friend’s current situation."

Heeseung only shrugged and buried himself in the comfort of his pillows. “So what are you gonna do now, hyung?” The youngest of them questioned. “I don’t know. I mean there’s no point in defying my mom when she’s persistent. So I guess I’ll just go with it.”

“Do you still hate Yn because of it now? I mean it’s been six months.” Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “I…I don’t know. We’ve never gotten along since we were five so I don’t think our relationship changed a lot.” Heeseung raised himself from his pillows, now sitting upright.

“But it's not entirely her fault, is it? If you had been a better option for the program you would still be chosen regardless.” Jay knocked some sense into his friend.

“I guess I just blamed her for being better.” A strain smile settled on his lips.

“But to be honest I don’t really care about it anymore, you know? If i really did get that exchange student program, I would've missed so many moments with you guys, including how Niki literally got a girlfriend?? Earlier than me??” Their hearts warmed to Heeseung’s statement before laughing at his last.

The night on both sides of the window ended after crescent smiles and glee surrounding the atmosphere as the sun began to rise causing them to go to a much needed slumber.

“Hey, Noona. Looks like you're in a good mood.” You entered the shop with a smile as you greeted the smiling Sunoo. “Yes because you're the first person I see here, and not that brat.” You whispered the last part.

“Quite the charmer you are, Yn.” A familiar voice rang your eardrums. Speak of the devil. “Right, I was praying you would forget this whole thing and just go sulk in your room all summer.” You grumbled, not bothering to avert your gaze to align with your nemesis behind you.

You feel his presence drawing closer and closer before halting just a few inches from your back. Sunoo is long gone now, opting to prepare some stuff in the storage room.

“And make you look good, whereas I look like the rebel child? Keep dreaming, Kang.” He whispered, voice dripping with mirth.

You scoffed rolled your eyes in response, moving forward towards the register, leaving Heeseung to fend for himself at that moment.

This is going to be a long day.

One week has passed and you are now used to seeing Heeseung lurk around the area. Now that he’s already familiar with the register and serving people you have to go to the next step: teach him how to make dumplings.

At first, you were against the idea. But your mom insisted that Mrs.Lee wanted Heeseung to be more adapt than any other employee. Hence why he needed to master more than one skill to manage. So, you gave in.

Heeseung was ready to start his new routine. Coming to the shop everyday (excluding Sundays and Saturdays) at 8am and start preparing the register and other things before opening at 9am. He’ll be honest, the first few days, he was dreading it. But eventually, being surrounded with the busy yet calming atmosphere of the shop feels so comfortable? Or maybe because he was spending his summer productively.

But yesterday, Yn had messaged him to arrive at the shop an hour earlier than usual. Seven am?! That’s basically dawn in Summer! Heeseung dragged his feet towards the welcoming door, the sun greeted him with a morning glow as he slowly entered his demise.

“Morning, sunshine. Are you awake?” Sitting in one of the chairs, you chuckled, amused at his hunched silhouette.

“You’re crazy for forcing me to work this early on. This is basically child labor!” He sat opposing you, hands folded above the table as he buried his head in between his arms.

“Well your mother consented to this. Get up.” Your request was left hanging as Heeseung replied an audible “no”, prompting you to leave the boy behind.

Droplets of water trickled to the back of his neck, stirring him awake before he-hold on why was he wet? His fingers touched the source of coldness, his head jolted up meeting your gaze. ”You’re fucking crazy!”

“Thanks, baby. Awake now?” The smirk on your lips is evident and Heeseung swore that he was going to rip your face off.

“What are we doing?” Instead of answering, you hand a slightly-damp Heeseung an apron and ushered him to wash his hands before starting. “Just go wash your hands first.” He rolled his eyes before complying to your demands.

After finishing with such tasks he returned to his position beforehand. “All clean now.” He dangled his palms to align with your vision. Now that the two of you are clean it's time to start this mission. Wrapping dumplings.

Heeseung eyes lingered on the swift movement of your fingers. Quick hands easily wrap the ball of meat between a thin layer of dough. He shifted his attention elsewhere for a second and when he returned, you were already done with the process. The perfectly wrapped mandu sat in the heart of your palms, sitting proudly before him.

“That doesn’t look hard, let me do it.” The boy shrugged, earning an amused scoff from you. He took the initiative to try it for himself, but before he could reach the layers of thin dough, he felt a slight sting lingering on his arm. “Gosh! What was that for?!”

“Do you ever pay attention? Lace your hands with some flour before taking the dough so it’s not sticky, bambi.”

Bambi? Did you just refer to him as a Disney cartoon animal?! Well sucks to be you at least he was a Disney character. Not some meaningless being.

“Crazy bitch.”

“What did you say?!”

“I said I got the hitch!” Was hitch even a word? Probably. Or not. Heeseung grudgingly dipped his fingers into the bowl of flour before spreading a light amount in his palms. He then took a thin layer of dough and a little ball of minced meat mixed with onions and other dumpling stuffings(?). He placed the ball in the center of the surface before…before…uhm what was the next step again?

His hands froze mid air for a second. Should he ask for help? Oh and get roasted for not paying attention again? No thanks, his ego was too big for that. Right he’ll figure this out. This is Lee Heeseung we’re talking about. Lee Heeseung vs dumpling, let’s see who’ll win this game.

The tall boy recalled your hand movements, trying hard to remember the steps you did. Right it was uhm….take the left corner, then the right, unite them to the center? Yeah that right. Next is…squish the edges! He’s too smart and talented for this. Heeseung 1, dumpling 0.

The satisfied smile he wore was so apparent. The tips of his finger lightly pressed onto the dough in an attempt to link them together. Except it was not sticking. He kept on applying pressure, more and more as the seconds tick. Once he thought that it would hold, he settled the…ill-shaped dumpling on the table. With his hands on his hips, he turned to face your observing stance. Not bad for his first try. Or so he thought.

Five seconds of victory was cut short when the dumpling slowly–but surely–unwrapped itself from the shape Heeseung molded it to. Heeseung 0, dumpling 1.

The guise of his face showed it all–his mouth hung open, eyes deadpanning the dumpling like it was his sworn enemy–it was so hard not to erupt in laughter. You covered your mouth to contain your glee. This was too funny.

Your oddly timed coughing shifted Heeseung’s gaze to yours. At first the look in his eyes reeks of annoyance but the sound of your echoing laugh was enough to leave a ghost of a smile on his face. You didn’t get angry, that was a first.

Heeseung was shocked to see how calm you were after witnessing his failure. (except for the laughing part) “I would be a hypocrite if I got angry at you.” You started. “The first time mom taught me how to wrap these, I would always rip the dough.”

“Oh.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat. “Let me repeat the steps again, slowly this time.”

The clueless boy watched your movements distinctly. He noticed how eased you were as you did the task at hand, focused yet you were doing it so effortlessly. He also noticed how you poke your tongue slightly when your fingers pinched the perfectly folded dumplings’ little details, and the little specks of flour that landed on the tip of your nose. There was something about you today that he couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung looked at your current expression, and suddenly you both were five again. You were sitting in his living room with a crayon tucked in between your fingers, your tongue slightly stuck out as you avert your attention to your drawing as your mothers chatter dissipates in the back.

Twelve years have passed yet you still look the same to him. The first girl that entered his life other than his mother, the first girl he fought with, and the first girl he ever loved. Not that he was ever going to admit that. But perhaps just for today, he would forget your fuse with him and pretend that everything is okay

“That’s how you make a perfect dumpling.” The curve of your lips was so warm and inviting and he felt a suspiciously warm feeling slowly settling on his chest. Well that was new. Maybe because it was too early in the morning that’s why Heeseung felt so out of it today. “Ehem, okay. I should be able to do it now.”

“Mom, I’m back!” You enter the living room, goals set to lay comfortably down at the soft cushions of your couch. “In the kitchen, sweetie! Come Yn, Aunty Lee is here.”

The smell of homemade cooking dragged you to your mother. “Hi mom, hi Auntie Lee.” Eyes crinkled as you smiled widely at the two most important figures in your life.

“Hey, honey. Hope Hee hasn't given you a hard time.” Mrs. Lee softly smiled. “Do you really need to ask that to know, Auntie?” Your joke (not) prompts the two middle aged women to laugh. “Jokes aside, I guess he's tolerable when he shuts up.”

“Yn!”

“Kidding, mom!” Not really.

“Anyways, we owe you a shopping spree. Let's go this weekend. Your shift ends at noon right, darling? What do you say?” Your eyes lit up at the offer.

Who were you to refuse?

Smell of dumplings and busy chatters crowded the shop, sunlight beaming through glass tinted windows as customers took over the vacant seats available. “Here’s your freshly steamed mandu, Auntie Park.” Mrs. Park was a regular, don’t get me wrong, she was lovely, but she could be a little…nosy.

“You’ve gotten much more beautiful since coming home from Japan.” She smiled knowingly. “Tell me, have you found any Japanese boyfriend, dear?”

Your eyes widened–not expecting her direct question. “ I can assure you, auntie. No boyfriends here.” The curve of your mouth formed upwards. “Is that so?” She squinted her eyes in suspicion, eyes darting to follow Heeseung’s moving figure a few feet away. “I see that Ha-eun’s boy is here helping. Is that one your boyfriend?”

Heeseung? You boyfriend? You grimaced at the thought. You would rather eat a raw dumpling.

“Oh auntie, literally anyone but him. Besides, I’m too busy studying and helping with the shop while dad is busy planning on opening other branches.” You chuckled, denying her assumption.

“What a perfect daughter you are! I bet Ha-yoon and Ji-woo are proud to have you as their daughter.” You were about to leave before hearing her continue. “You know, I have a son your age. You should know him, he goes to Decelis too. Park Jeongsong, are you familiar? Maybe I should set you guys up.”

She lifted her point finger to her chin. “I think you guys are compatible, he's mature….”

Park Jeongsong. Of course you were familiar. He’s one of Heeseung’s close friends and the only one that you tolerate. To be honest you were quite tempted at her offer. Jay’s got it all. Perfect looks, ridiculously sharp jawline, and most importantly manners (one that Heeseung lacked for sure). You scoffed mentally at the thought. But unfortunately, you were not looking for anyone to date for the time being.

“I’m sure he’s great, auntie. I’m just focusing on myself right now.” You politely turned her down. “Enjoy your dumplings, please tell me if you need any assistance.”

“Yes, thank you dear. I hope I wasn’t being too nosy. I’m still working on that.”

“Don’t worry about it, auntie.”

Mrs. Lee and your mother promised to pick you up right after your shift ends. It’s been two weeks since Heeseung’s arrival and you notice that he’s becoming accustomed to the work before him. Given so, this was your first time leaving him alone in the shop. Even though there were other workers, you still hadn’t completely trusted the boy.

“Double check the orders, got it.”

“-And shut the blinds when closing.” He repeated after you.

“Honestly, why are you so anxious? I’m not going to bomb this place when you leave, Yn.” Heeseung crossed his arms. “Don’t trust me enough, flower?” His glint is mischievous, teasing apparent in his tone.

“First of all, don’t call me that.” You shudder at the nickname. “Second of all, no I don’t trust you. What if this place turns to ashes when I return.”

“Okay, flower.” He was playing with you, you knew that. “I’m not even in charge of the kitchens, I promise I won’t blow this place down.”

“Hmm, okay.” Your pupils shifted left and right–as if you were looking for someone. “Sunoo, watch over him for me when I’m gone.” You untie your apron from the nape of your neck before nearing the exit earning a nod from the young boy.

The shopping spree was fruitful, they really went all out on this one. Insisting on buying you dresses, cute tops, pants, shoes, as well as a few accessories. You were grateful–of course–but you would be lying if you said it wasn’t tiring. Though as tiring as it can be, you were having fun.

You entered your house with shopping bags occupying your upper limbs, the weight heavy on your arms. Your mother had a few of her own too and you wonder how she was carrying them with grace. You both dropped the bags on the floor before entering the empty living room. “Huh, I guess Tae and your father have gone to sleep.”

To be honest, any sane person would. It was almost twilight. The three of you found a night market on your way back, compelled by the mannequins and price tags, the two women dragged you out of the car to have a look around.

“So, Yn, now that we’re alone.” Your mother settled on the couch. “Tell me-”

“-how’s everything going on in the shop?” Lee Hae-in met her son still sitting in the lounge room upon her return, his eyes glued to the show on tv. But now, the dark screen reflected two figures sitting on the cushions, a mother with the son she grounded.

“It’s not that bad, I guess.” Heeseung started. “At first it was-”

“-dreadful. I hated mentoring him. He did everything wrong and would make annoying expressions everytime I corrected him. I felt like I wanted to pull his hair out!” Your hands went up to your head in frustration triggering a laugh from your mom.

“Is that so? Now that we’re basically halfway there,-

“-How do you think about her now? About all this, I mean.” The Lee woman questioned, ears perked as she listened contently to her son before her. “Uhm, I guess we’re getting along more? I mean we don’t fight that often anymore. A few insults are thrown now and then but that’s just how we always are at each other.”

“That’s good to hear.” A satisfied smile graced the older Lee. “How about the shop? Are you doing your tasks well, dear?”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

The two older women were happy at their children’s answers. Just two more weeks or so and maybe just maybe this will mark the end of awkward dinners and uneasy tension.

“Heeseung, honey, I know you were upset with Yn after she won the exchange program instead of you. However, you’re almost an adult now. I think this is bothering her as well, why don’t you two take some time to talk about it?”

Heeseung pondered before answering his mother. Even though the tension has resided between you two for the time being, it was mostly due to professionalism to maintain poise in front of other employees and customers. If he wanted this to remain forever (or at least longer than the summer break) he would have to clear the air.

“I’ll think about it, mom.”

“Heeseug, I told you to be gentle with that!”

“Yn, I’m doing it exactly like what you told me!”

Shuffling noise and exclamation marks were the first thing Taehyun heard as he entered the shop at the break of dawn. “Gosh it's six am, they better not be fucking.” He grumbled under his breath before going into the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing?” Body leaned at the doorway, Kang Taehyun watched his hyung and noona–who claimed they hated each other–wrapping dumplings (more like wrapping each other) in a very close proximity.

Ha! Two weeks in, and they’re already getting closer. He was right. Now mom and Auntie Lee owe him so much cash for this.

You were quick to add some space in between you. The blood rushed to your face resulting to a pinkish hue. “We’re just preparing the mandus for today.”

“Riight. I’ll be at the register if you need me. Which you probably won’t.” He turned his back from the seniors behind him, the smirk on his face widened as he imagined how much money he’ll receive upon winning the bet with his mom and Heeseung’s.

flashback (few weeks ago)

Rays of sunlight occupied each corner of the living room as the songbird sang its morning praises. It was a perfect day to relax. Lee Hae-in and Kang Ha-yoon sat amidst thick cushions as they waited for their steamed milk buns to cook.

“You know, that was cheeky of you when you suggested this summer activity for Heeseung.” Ha-yoon started earning a light giggle from her dearest friend. “I have the biggest opportunity laid bare in front of me! I couldn't resist even if I could help it.”

“How long will it take for them to warm up to each other?”

“Two weeks.”

A familiar voice urged them to snap their heads in its direction, only to find the youngest Kang standing with his hand crossed over his chest.

“How are you so sure, Taehyunnie?” His mother questioned. The Lee woman also looked reluctant. “They've been hating each other for years, Tae. I don't think they will get along in two weeks.”

“Are you willing to bet on it, Auntie Lee, Mom?” His challenging tone was inviting. Who were they to deny a bet? Without a second doubt, the two women nodded their heads and smirked. “You're so on.”

With a final click!, the shop was officially closed for the day. Heeseung handed the key to you before taking something from his bag. “Yn, hold on.” His hand is placed on your shoulder, urging you to turn towards his direction.

“Hm? What’s wrong? You tilted your head, confusion written all over your face. The boy released the light grip he had on you before lifting up his free hand and unfolding his wrapped fingers.

A gasp escaped your lips at the item he held before you. There it was, a small lego figurine sitting on the center of his palm. And it was not just any figurine, but it was your favorite back when you were five. Your eyes wander into his own, the small smile adorning his face along with the swirl of emotion pooling in his vision.

You remember the day you lost it. How the world seemed to crumple beneath your feet as you lost–no–Heeseung stole the main character of your ultimate favourite lego friends set.

“Missed her?” He nudged the figurine towards you, a sign for you to take it and you did just so. “So you did steal her, huh. You denied it so much back then, I still remember.” You bite your lip in effort to suppress the curve that was slowly creeping in, but seemingly failed as you examined the small toy in your hands.

The plastic was old and details were worn out due to aging but aside from that, all the parts remained intact and well kept. Heeseung did not break it nor ruined it like you thought he would. Instead he took great care of it. Why?

“I recall, it was the first time we met. We were at my housewarming party and I really wanted you to play with me and Tae, but you didn’t.” The raven haired boy reminisced, the smile still etched on his face. “You kept playing with this lego set without any bother in the world. I really wanted to play with you but all you do is ignore me.”

“So you stole the figurine to get my attention?” You raised your left eyebrow, an attempt to guess where he was going. A small chuckle rang through your ears. “Well, it worked I guess but not in the way that I hoped. After that I just–I don’t know–kept annoying you because that’s the only way you’ll ever pay attention.”

His words settled heavily on your heart. All this time, your feud growing up was just a matter of attention. Guilt crawled from the depths, slowly leaking through your eyes. Heeseung was quick to notice. “Yn, that was so long ago, no need to be guilty.” His hands went back to your shoulders. Somehow, the warmth radiating from him felt nice–comforting.

“We could’ve been those childhood friends.” You whispered, rewriting memories inside your head. Echoing a “what if” scenario if you got along from the beginning.

“We could be now, if you want.” Dozens of stars are reflected in the dark pupils of Heeseung’s doe eyes and you can’t bring yourself to look away, not even if you tried. Your gaze shifted to his lingering hand on your scapula before urging closer in his embrace. Arms wrapped itself around his body, your movement slow and careful, giving him space to walk away. But he didn’t. He enveloped you further into himself. Your face is pressed against his chest, eyes closed. No words are spoken but the gesture speaks volumes.

“I’m sorry, Yn.” Heeseung broke the silence between you. “For everything I did to you since we were five.” He whispered, fingers trailing the strands of your hair. “And more importantly, for taking out my anger on you when you got accepted to the exchange program instead of me.”

“I’m sorry too.” You replied, head turning up to meet his waiting gaze. “I joined the program to spite you. Didn’t think I would get it, but I somehow did and made everything worse.” You unwrap each other from the embrace, solemn looks embroidered on your faces. A gulf of harsh wind swept through you, your body shivered slightly at the impact, instantly missing the warmth from the previous action.

“You deserve it, Yn. I was jealous, I could admit that now. If I had been the better choice, I would still be chosen regardless.”

“Oh, Heeseung.” Your frown is evident, denting your features and the boy before you feels the urge to wipe it off so badly as if it had no right to tarnish your perfect face.

“It's all in the past now, flower. We're good now, right?” Heeseung smiled and after, you feel a hand slip itself into your own, relinquishing the comfort from the hug. You looked at your entwined hands before offering a small nod.

“It’s getting late. Let's walk home together, yeah?”

A week has gone by in a blur of routine. Summer break is ending and no amount of complaints is going to stop the time from running. Heeseung now stands right in front of your door, heart palpitating and hands sweaty. It's been 5 minutes now and he's still contemplating whether he should knock on your door or just leave at this point.

After that night, your relationship with him began to shift. As you arrive at your designated homes, you two meet again across the windows of your rooms. Exchanging waves and passing short notes through the glass barrier before bidding good night. It was like straight out of a Taylor Swift music video.

Heeseung caught a smile corrupting his features before closing his mouth in shock. Did he just smile at the memory of you?? What. The. Fuck. He shook his head abruptly from side to side, almost as if he had a goal to remove something from his mind.

Just as he was doing so, the door suddenly swung open. “Heeseung?” A voice called out, confusion lacing her tone. “Auntie Kang, Hi!” The boy offered a flashy smile, almost blinding the middle aged woman. “What are you doing here, Hee?” The woman smiled at the sight of him and raised her eyebrow in amusement at his…enthusiasm?

Heeseung was happy in the early morning. This was a first.

“Are you okay? Why do you seem so happy? Too happy maybe.” Her eyes squinted in suspicion. “Whaaat? Nothing, Auntie! Just excited because dad said I could use his motorcycle today.”

Your mother hummed in understanding. Muttering how kids these days are so funny before asking the bambi-eyed boy, “What are you doing here thou-”

“Hee, you're here!” An excited voice called out, prompting the two figures on the doorway to look your way.

So this is what it's about. Mrs.Kang bit her bottom lip to contain the smile from seeping through. Noting the interaction in her mind to tell Heeseung’s mother for their planned brunch in a few hours.

Your mother wasn't oblivious, something clearly changed between you too. Gone were the two kids that used to chase each other in the courtyard, sabotaging each other’s items for revenge. You’re all grown up now and Kang Hayoon almost felt a tear drop from her left eye.

Call her dramatic but hey, Heeseung is as much like her child as you are. Just like you are a daughter to the Lees. And these two children used to be muttering curse words why chasing each other.

Kang Hayoon felt a wave of surging proudness. While your father is busy taking care of building another branch for the restaurant, you offered to manage the current one for the summer so your mom could rest. Even with your position as Heeseung’s mentor, you still insist doing so with the excuse that Heeseung is already well adapted with everything now.

You reached the door, giving your mom a quick kiss on the cheek and a goodbye before leaving with the boy. “Bye mom, it’s almost eight. We’re going to the restaurant now!” You greeted her from the motorcycle seat. “Bye, Auntie! We’ll be careful, don't worry!” He smiled once more and with a final wave, the two sped away from the driveway leaving the smiling woman on her porch.

“Hae-in needs to hear about this.” Your mother giggled before calling Heeseung’s mom on dial and closing the door as she decided that she could not wait for brunch to tell her.

To say Sunoo was shocked was an understatement. He stood behind the register, preparing the cash for change as he was met with his boss (you) and the intern (heeseung) got out of a motorbike together. His eyes were like saucers and his jaw was wide open. He’s so used to seeing you both fight in the mornings that it felt so…weird seeing the two of you all smiley.

“Fuck, I owe Taehyun 5 bucks now.” He whispered lowly, silently cursing at the bet he lost. The boy smiled and greeted you as well as Heeseung before returning to his current task, not forgetting to make those classic Sunoo bewildered faces behind the register and away from your prying eyes.

Taehyun arrives later with some special premade dumplings made by your mother. Passing by Sunoo as he received the cash with a swift motion in triumph. You and Heeseung are both too easy. He thought, suppressing the singular curve forming on his lips.

The restaurant thrives under your management. You silently thank your dad for teaching you these skills since you were little. Heeseung is currently working as a waiter (because you think he is still wonky at wrapping dumplings), busy tending to curious aunties with his charm. After your little heart to heart, you start to see him in a different light. The way his smile deepens as he is asked about his interests, the politeness seeping through his crinkled eyes when he excused himself and moved closer to you-wait what??

“You think I wouldn't notice you staring, flower?” You grimaced at the decor beside you, finding any mistake palpable in your surroundings, and ignoring the way your stomach fluttered at the nickname he just called you. Heeseung chuckled at your antics, finding you adorable.

“Staring? Hah! You’re so full of yourself, Heeseung.” Your false laughter echoed through the restaurant, turning a few heads from other workers before you threw them a glare to go back to work. “That was Jay and Jake’s moms. They were wondering how I’m doing.” You scrunch your eyebrows at his explanation. “Okay? I didn’t ask what you were doing, Lee.”

“Back to last name basis? You wound me, baby.” The bambi-eyed boy placed his hand on his chest, feigning a hurt look on his face. You rolled your eyes at him (and that ridiculous petname) before shoving him lightly. “Go back to work, employee.”

“On it, boss.” He replied, not forgetting to throw a wink at you before opting back to work. Fuck, what was he doing to you?

You’re pacing back and forth across your room, hands on your hips, and hair all disheveled. Chaewon laid comfortable on your mattress, elbows supporting her upper body as she watched your distressed state with amusement. “Yn, you’re going crazy.”

Tonight was an overdue girls night, meaning Chae is over at your house for the weekend. This day also marks the second last week of summer. That means one more week ‘till you are back to textbooks and exams. You groaned at the thought (and at Chaewon) before inching towards the window. Your eyes subconsciously reached the house across yours, revealing your beloved neighbor–shirtless–his ridiculously sculpted figure standing there on the other side of his window for the whole world (you) to see as he held what looked like shirts on his left hand and his phone on the right pressed on his ear as if he was calling someone.

“Uhm Yn, you’re gawking.” Your best friend peered behind you. Her hands on your shoulders as she took a peek of the sight before you. You hurriedly closed the blinds in reflex. “Damn okay, you don’t want me looking at your man. I’ll be respectful.” A sheepish smile kissed Chaewon’s face before turning her back on you and jumping back into bed.

“Chae, something is wrong with me.” You fall face flat to your bed, right beside your girlfriend. “Everytime I see him, I feel this weird feeling in my chest–and no it’s not the urge to pull out his hair.” You murmured, flipping your body to align with the ceiling before continuing. “Which is really weird because I used to always feel that way.” You pointed out, index finger up to enhance your stance. “But now everytime I see his face I just want to-want to-”

“Kiss him?” Chaewon’s smirk is glowing in her features, fully dripping with mischief. You sat up at her reply before turning your head towards your best friend, your expression shaped in disbelief. “Chaewon, what the hell.” You grab your nearest plushie–one that you stole from Taehyun’s best friend, HeuningKai–before (affectionately) beating the brown-eyed girl with it.

The sound of laughter filled the room like oxygen. “Yn, you can hit me all you want but you can’t deny it.” The raven haired girl said between her fits of giggle. “After that little apology session, you just want to kiss him pretty.” The wiggle of Chae’s brows urged you to throw the plushie right at her face. Your friend groaned at the impact before recovering as if it was nothing.

Suddenly, everything comes crashing down like an airplane with a failing engine. You paused abruptly, a huge thought bubble forming above your head. Fuck did you like him? Like, like–like him?? No, you can’t. You can’t be catching feelings with the boy you just made amends with a week ago. The boy you swore to hate since you were toddlers.

Chaewon read the expression on your face like an openbook before opting to sit across from you. “Yn, for what’s worth, he’s a really nice person. And he’s practically already family.” Her hands made their way to your shoulders. The feeling is familiar but different. Chaewon’s arms are lighter and more poised in contrast to Heeseung’s warm touch. Your head darted to your covered window, curiosity pooling in your heart at what he was doing and what he would think of this–of you.

“Imagine telling your family that you and Heeseung are a thing.” Your best friend started. “Auntie Lee and Auntie Kang are going to start jumping in glee and start preparing for your wedding with an eight week honeymoon plan to the Bahamas.” You rolled your eyes at Chae’s daydream. Though deep down, your heart swelled at the thought, offering a silent prayer as hope for the future.

“Ever since that day, he’s been, I don’t know, different.” Distress is evident in your sigh, storms of doubt clouding your thoughts. “Maybe I’m getting attached to him, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m spending too much time with that guy.” You place two hands on Chaewon’s shoulders before shaking her. “Chae, baby, loml, cleanse me, like right now.” Chaewon nodded at the request like a diligent soldier before shaking you with much more intensity.

“All cleansed now?” She asked, before stopping the vast movement. Your head is spinning, figuratively and literally, and you raised both of your thumbs toward the raven haired girl. “Fuck, I like him. I like Lee Heeseung.” You confessed against a pillow you found beside you, banging your head at the soft cushion before muffling your exasperated scream as Chaewon sat behind and patted your back in reassurance.

What a way to start girls' night.

Heeseung thinks you’re acting weird. You’ve been avoiding him lately–more than usual. Was it because he’s not improving with his dumpling wrapping skills? Or was it because that stunt Jake convinced him to pull, ending with him shirtless before his opened window across your own as he pretended to call someone, looking all important, while it was Jake on the other end, fully assuring him that this plan is foolproof. That it will make you go all drooling on him and finally fall in love.

The bambi-eyed boy mentally cursed at Jake. His plan definitely made you think Heeseung was some weirdo. Fuck, he just ruined all his chances with you and it’s all because of that stupid Austrilian.

Heeseung came true to his feelings one random night in the middle of a night ride with you. You both just finished closing up the shop, bidding farewell to your other workers before logging off for the night.

The boy noticed your tired demeanor, immediately slipping your hand in his before leading you to his bike. “What's the hurry, Hee?” You giggled softly at his antics, the sound speeding his drumming heart ever so slightly.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” He unclasped your joint hand, and the warmth soon returned as he fixed your helmet on your head before adjusting his own.

Heeseung drives at a medium pace. Not too slow to bore you but also not too fast to risk your lives. The bambi-eyed boy passed your houses, earning a curious look from you. You watch as you exit the suburbs to a little road near the highway. The view from above was breathtaking, city lights cover the vast land like pieces of your lego city collection. You gasped at the beauty ahead of you. The dark haired boy stopped at the hook of the road, taking off his helmet and yours as his steps started inching towards the railings of the empty road.

You follow closely behind, basking on the beauty of the night. The city is still lively–it always is. A contrast to the sleeping stars that hung on the horizon, blinking in haze as humans are left to wonder from below.

Your hand is placed beside his on the railing. Gentle wind kissed the tip of your nose with grace, prompting you to close your eyes to enjoy the serene moment. “This is nice.” You whispered, releasing all the stress harboring on your shoulders and Heeseung hummed in agreement, his head turning in your direction.

The boy watched the sight before him with much intent. His focus shifted to the details of your skin, blurring the busy city’s whispers. Remnants of neon lights were reflected on your face below the moonlight. He noticed your lids fluttering before gazing at the stars above. “What a pretty view.”

Heeseung’s eyes remained on you, the city and sky distorted as he pinned his vision on you. “Yeah, it’s breathtaking.”

The two of you went home in comfortable silence. Your head slowly drowsing on his back before you fix your position to sit upright. Heeseung chuckled at your sleepy state before muttering, “You can sleep, flower. We’ll be home in no time.” His tone is soft on your ears and you hummed at him–too sleepy to voice a proper reply. And before you know it, two arms wrapped itself around Heeseung’s waist, prompting his heart to stop for a second before running at a faster pace. You settle comfortably behind him, your cheek pressed on his back as he drives with such carefulness and grace to your homes.

After returning to his own room, we wasted no time to call his closest friends, confiding to them about his newfound realization. He was in love with you, so badly.

Today was the day. The day where Heeseung is going to confront you. He’s tired of having to walk around eggshells around you, he wants to make things right, clear out any misunderstandings (and maybe confess if it all goes right). You texted him yesterday that you won't be needing a ride from him as you had to tend to other matters earlier than usual. As much as it disappointed him, he had no choice but to comply, not wanting to push past the boundaries you built.

Heeseung arrived at the restaurant much earlier than usual. He glanced at his watch, the time read 7:30. Seven fucking thirty. Gosh it was dawn for holiday mood Heeseung (even though it was 30 minutes earlier than his usual routine, BUT that was 30 minutes of sleeping wasted) The things he’d do for you. The boy sighed, fumbling with a copy of the key you gave him before.

He inserted the key towards the hole, turning it to the left in an attempt to unlock the door but failed in doing so. Heeseung paused before examining the handle, confusion glazing his features as his hand grabbed the knob before slowly pulling it down and opening the door with success.

What? Did you forget to lock the door before closing yesterday? No, he was sure you didn't. You were never that irresponsible. In fact you were probably never irresponsible at all. Did someone break in? There were no signs of force breaking in so that was not possible.

An echo of laughter rang through his ears, stopping Heeseung from his tracks. He peered his eyes at the sound that seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Slowly, the boy made his way towards the source, curiosity tugging his heart.

The kitchen light was on and through the window, Heeseung could perfectly see two people standing at the dumpling-making-table-thingy. His eyes widened at the revelation, there was you talking to another man beside you. He's seen him before, but he just can't quite place who. It’s one of those boys you hang around with. Soobin and Yeongjum? Whatever it was.

The boy squinted his eyes, trying to make out who exactly was this person beside you. A distraction to suppress the gnawing feeling pooling in his chest as another line of laughter escaped your lips.

His heart ached when your laugh settled on his mind. A pang of jealousy hit him across the face. You never laughed that much with him. Well maybe it was due to your past rivalry, but it's all gone now, right?

Well maybe he was wrong because your words proved him otherwise.

“By the way, Yn.” The man before you called out, prompting you to hum in reply. “How's everything, you know? With the Heeseung thing and all.”

“It's been really tiring. With school coming soon and everything, ugh.” You sighed, the crease in your eyebrows deepening and Heeseung felt the urge to kiss it away. Though he grounded himself at his position, still behind the walls as he listened to your conversation.

“I’ve been avoiding him lately, Junnie.” His ear perked up at your confession, subconsciously leaning in to hear you more clearly. Ah yeah, Yeonjun. That was his name.

“Why?” Yeonjun asked, confusion wrapping his tone as his hands skillfully wrapped the dumpling before him. Your lack of answer shifted Heeseung's focus to the ridiculously perfect dumpling sitting proudly on Yeonjun’s hand and how quickly he moves on to the next one, wrapping with such professionalism as if he's been folding dumplings since he was born.

Heeseung’s annoyance was cut short as he heard your answer. “I don't know. I just…don't want him to get the wrong idea.” Your voice is small, barely heard, but Heeseung could hear the words clearly.

You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. That was it, that was basically a rejection. You don't feel the same. The bambi eyed boy felt his heart sinking in his chest. The same organ weighs fifty thousand pounds heavier than it usually was, dragging him down with it.

“Anyway, you're driving to the concert, right?” You questioned, tone picking up ever so slightly.

Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows. Concert?

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He heard Yeonjun reply. “You've worked so hard to earn these tickets, we’ll have the best time there together, Ynnie.”

The boy behind the kitchen window resisted the urge to scoff. So that's it? You agreed to mentor him for a stupid concert date? Jealousy was a drug and Heeseung dwelled in it with no hesitation. He ignored the way his heart clenched at the thought of losing you. Well, you were never his in the first place.

They boy left the restaurant in the same manner he went in but with more passive aggression. Taking the keys with him before driving off back to his house. Fuck this stupid mentoring shit and Fuck these stupid frelings.

You remained unaware of the tragedy that happened outside as you continued to focus on preparing the delicacy. “Yn, you have to tell him.” Yeonjun’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You still, knowing exactly what he meant, while hands are still moving–folding the dough as if it ran an automatic program. “I don't know, Junnie. What if he doesn't reciprocate my feelings?”

“He would be stupid not to.”

Yeonjun was right, you had to be true to your feelings. Your friend left after he finished helping you with the dumplings, leaving you alone amidst your thoughts as the workers arrived one by one. You watch by the front door carefully, eyes focused to find a certain bambi-eyed boy. Concern clouded your mind, the clock strikes nine and Heeseung has yet to make his appearance.

This was weird, he was never late (save the first day). Well maybe because you’ve been going here together for the past few days, but he was never late even at the beginning. Did something happen to him? “Sunoo, have you seen Heeseung?” You turned your head towards Sunoo behind the register, eyebrows furrowed in question. The boy shook his head in response and you ignored the way your heart sank.

You grab your phone from your pocket, muscle memory automatically hovering towards his contact. These past few days you and Heeseung’s been texting more often, and though you hate to admit it, the feeling made you giddy to the heart. Your fingers typed on the keypad in a swift move, texting a quick “where r u it’s late” and a “r u okay?” right after.

The boy in question was laid in his bed. Back against the mattress as he wallows in heartbreak songs all morning. The ping from his phone urged him to open the screen, his chest heaved heavily upon seeing your messages. Why do you care? He scoffed after reading the message mentally. Just let that Yeonjun replace him or something. Heeseung suppressed his impulsive thought to type that in and settled with a lame excuse instead. “not feeling well, won’t come today. sry." Before turning up the volume as Mr. Loverman comes to play.

You frowned at his reply, a worried expression taking over your features. “oh no :( get well soon hee.” Your fingers moved before you could control them. “rest up. I’ll come over after my shift.”

Heeseung widened his eyes as he read your reply, clearly not expecting your last statement. He quickly sat up, thinking of yet another lame excuse to avoid you seeing him. Fuck this was bad, his plan surely backfired on him. “U CANT! Uhm it’s infectious, don’t come near me or u’ll get sick.”

Infectious? What? Is Heeseung okay? You spent the whole week maybe even month with him lately, and whatever it is he caught, there’s probably a big change you’ve caught it too. “Did u get covid or smthn?” You typed in, concerned for yourself too slowly creeping in. It’s been years since the pandemic, you were even surprised it was still a thing. “does it mean I cld have it too? Shld i get tested? Yk what imma get tested rn.”

“It’s not covid!” His reply made you pause on your tracks. “It’s nthn srs, u don’t have to come. Js focus on the shop.”

“Will u return tmrw?” You questioned, no effort in containing your curiosity. “Idk, we’ll see.”

Yeah right, “we’ll see.” Heeseeung scoffed at his own text. He’ll see if he recovered from heartbreak enough to be able to see your stupidly beautiful face. The boy locked his phone before opting to throw it to his bed as he continued to blast to a thousand more sad songs. Fuck you and your perfect self. Why don’t you just go take care of Yeonjun when he’s sick of something.

Friday comes in a flash. The sun has set twice since Heeseung’s disappearance and he thinks two days are enough time to sulk and return to his current summer disposition. It was his last day here anyways. After this, school will return and you both will just pretend the other doesn't exist as usual.

He makes his way past the front doors, mind unfocused as he ventures inside the restaurant. His tired eyes met yours, and for one second Heeseung forgets everything he eavesdropped that morning. “Heeseung.” You called out, surprise laced on your tone, clearly not expecting his return after disappearing from the face of earth. The boy resisted the desire in his heart to just run and hug you until you suffocate. But the remnants of your voice that haunted him till this day pulled him back. “I’ve been avoiding him, Junnie. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Right, you don’t like him that way. He has to remind himself of that and drill it onto his brain. “Heeseung?” You draw closer at his silence. Your hand slowly made its way to his arm, touching the skin slightly before the boy nudged back, avoiding your grasp.

Oh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, whatever. I’ll just go to work now.”

You don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know what’s wrong. His tone is indifferent, cold, and weaved with a harsh emotion you can’t quite place. The boy passed by you, accidentally bumping your shoulder before starting his usual routine. You could almost hear your heart breaking in your chest, the feeling dragging you down as rain started to pour, the clouds diminishing the ray of sunlight left in your eyes and the sky.

The rest of the day is filled with awkward tension and forced professionalism. Heeseung is aware of his status in the restaurant so he maintained his poise. Though he can’t help but steal glances of you, managing the schedule and tending the customers with such light in your eyes, contrast to his gloomy vision. The pain in his heart is subduable but he hates it. It was stupid of him to fall for you in the first place. You were always there, not even 200 meters away from him everyday, yet why do you still remain so out of reach?

Yellow hue dissipates into serene blue, the stars finally waking up to light the dark night. Heeseung waits behind, leaning on his motorcycle as you close up for the day. This was it, his last shift and probably his last one-on-one interaction with you.

As much as Heeseung wants to avoid you right now, he doesn’t have the heart to make you walk back alone. After all the past two days has been enough.

The ride back home was quiet, awkward silence cut through the tension like knife slicing though a piece of room temperature butter. The boy stops in front of your driveway, waiting for you to remove your helmet before parking the bike in his garage.

“Thank you.” Your whisper graced his ear, your gaze finding him like a pirate longing for her lost treasure. “For the ride…and for everything.” Was what you said before turning your back on him and reaching towards your front door.

Heeseung was quick to return home, not forgetting to wipe the strain tear that escaped his right eye as he reached the comfort of his room. Gosh was he stupid.

“Babe, do you think Hoshi is going to notice me if I use this top or the other?” Chaewon stands in front of the full length mirror, opting two tops each on her left and right hand. The question rang pass through your ears, your focus all poured towards your window, gaze stuck on the glass panels across your own, his midnight blue curtains covering the interior, screaming at you like it held a “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS” sign right on your face.

Your best friend turned her head towards you at your lack of reply, eyebrows furrowed as she noticed your current predicament. She was quick to move towards your window and closed the blinds, bursting the rain cloud forming above your head. “Yn, spill the beans.” Chaewon’s voice is serious and compelling, and just like that, words start spilling from your mouth. You told how gentle and considerate he’s become for the past week, the occasional night rides, the conversation that continued till midnight, the little notes you passed from your window, and the fact that he suddenly started to act cold and weird on you since Wednesday.

Chaewon listened with much intent, her hands moved quickly to wipe your damp cheeks as the tears fell without any warning. Well good thing you haven’t started your makeup. “You have to talk to him, baby.” She started, hands gentle on the crown of your head. “I’m going to beat him up for making you cry.” She whispered lowly, triggering a chuckle from your throat.

“How? All he does is avoid me. I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

The raven-haired girl hummed in response, the gears of her brain spinning. “Don't your families have a joint dinner together every last Sunday of the month?” You nodded slowly at her question, mind deliberately following where she was going. “That’s tomorrow, you’ll talk to him then. Steal him away after dinner or something.” She lifted up her arms to your shoulders before shaking them hard. “Let me cleanse you. For now, let's have fun, look at hot men dancing and doing fanservice. Forget ALL the drama.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as the light made its way back to your eyes. She’s right. Today you’re going to forget about Heeseung and that stupidly pretty face of his. Tonight you’re going to go to that SEVENTEEN concert and occupy your mind with Joshua Hong.

Family dinner is awkward as usual. Well for you and Heeseung, not for your parents and brother. Taehyun talking about something with your parents as you sat across the boy that’s been avoiding you. You dismissed the desire to look at his face because right now you are stuck in a perplexity. You don’t know if you want to punch him or you want to kiss him. Well you do know that you want to do it hard, either of the options doesn’t matter.

Your mothers left the dining room to prepare dessert and Heeseung excused himself to go to take something from his room. You took this as an opportunity, muttering “I need to go to the bathroom real quick.” before exiting the space to follow after him. Missing the way Taehun spoke to your dad and Heeseung’s. “50 bucks say that they’ll make out in his room.”

You sped towards the hall, taking his hand as you pulled him into his chambers. The bambi eyed boy felt like an intruder at his own living quarters, his eyes widened in shock, not expecting your actions. “Heeseung, let’s talk.” You start, voice sturdy and serious, cornering the boy before you with an arm beside his shoulder to block any escape route, his back pressing against the wooden door.

“What…what do you mean? Th-there’s nothing to talk about.” The boy grumbled, trying his best to not fluster under your gaze. Gosh why were you so close? Heeseung’s breath became shallow and quicker, the tips of his ears morphed into a crimson shade as he noticed your proximity.

Your eyes squinted at his sheepish reply. “Don’t act stupid, Lee. You’ve been avoiding me all of a sudden with like absolutely no reason!” A polished finger made its way to the dark-haired boy’s chest before he felt a light pressure at the contact. “You disappeared from the shop for two days–you’re welcome by the way for not telling our parents–and started acting like I don’t deserve your time or something.” You shove repeatedly at the same point, frustration swallowing you entirely and Heeseung? He just braced the impact like it was nothing to him.

Heeseung stilled as he waited for you to calm yourself, his gaze tenderly settled on you, in contrast to the emergency sirens that’s swarming his head like a busy ER hospital. Fuck, what was he gonna tell you? That he overheard you and Yeonjun and that he avoided you because he can’t handle a little jealousy and perhaps competition? Were you and Yeonjun even a thing? His mind is in scrambles and he can’t seem to get anything out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” You peer towards the floorboards, features flushing scarlet as guilt wraps the previous emotion away. Your finger is still on his chest and before you can lower it down, a warm hand enveloped your knuckles. Chocolate colored iris melt into your own letting a thousand emotions seeping through like an overflowing glass of water akin to an eternal fountain. “Yn, let me explain everything.”

So he did and you let him. Heart echoing in sync against your ribcage, his hand not leaving yours anytime soon as he rubs soft circles. You almost melt in his touch. Keyword: almost. Gosh Yn were you that touch starved? Or did you really miss him that badly?

“I overheard your conversation with Yeonjun last Wednesday morning.” He confessed, thumb caressing your skin in a gentle motion. You can hear the gears of your brain spinning before wondering, “Last Wednesday…Yeonjun…What? It was like half past seven, how were you there? You said you were sick.”

“Yeah, let me continue first.” You nodded at his statement. “I wanted to, uhm I don’t know, like surprise you by going there early?” Heeseung paused, silently questioning his past self. “Oh, I also got curious why you didn’t want to ride together that morning.” The boy spontaneously added. “First when I entered I was confused why was the door unlocked but then I heard laughs–your laugh from the inside and I guess I wanted to know who made you laugh like that.”

You soaked his words like a sponge’s first contact with running water. The pattern of his thumb movements is still softly caressing your epidermis, offering you a peace of mind as you sink in his explanation. “Then I saw you with Yeonjun all comfortable and I got jealous. I realise you never smiled at me like that or laughed that much with me around. I got so jealous that I just couldn’t see you or I’ll burst in frustration.”

He stopped stroking your palm and instead squeezed it firmly before fidgeting it with both hands. “I also heard about the concert date. So I found out you mentored me for a month to get a concert date with another man. He must be pretty special, huh.” His movements went to halt and you hate how your heart seemed to ache for more–more of his touch.

“Yeonjun and I are just friends.” Your whisper is gentle upon his ears, the implication of another statement relieved his whole body. You’re still single. “He was helping out because he lost a bet and well he was damn good at wrapping dumplings too.” You chuckled, mind drifting to that particular moment and as if on cue, Junnie’s wise words echoed through your mind. You have to tell him how you feel, Yn.

“Yn I-”

“Heeseung-”

You both started simultaneously startling each other with the synchronisation. “You go first, Hee.”

“Are you sure? You can go-”

“You look like you need to get something out that badly.” You attempted to joke, lifting up the heavy mood that surrounds you like a thick fog.

Heeseung took a deep breath as he stepped closer towards you. His back is not leaned against the door anymore and his gaze is stuck on yours. “Yn I…I like you. Fuck, I love you, even, probably, I don’t know.” The boy pulled your still joint hands, lifting it up before kissing the skin in a gentle manner, one that leaves you yearning for more.

“But I want to…figure it out. With you, if you don’t mind.” Your connecting gaze doesn’t break. You breathe in his confession like a drug, addicted to the true sound of his heart. The light in his eyes dimmed at your lack of reply. But before he could turn away, a force pulled him down from the nape of his neck as warm lips pressed against his own, soft but also fierce, not lacking of passion. Almost as if you’ve been waiting to do this.

The boy doesn’t wait to reciprocate, one of his hands slithered on your waist like it was meant to be there as the other cups your cheek, angling it sideways to deepen the kiss. You could feel it, all the raw emotion rushing through the action. And right now, this is all that matters. His lips are gentle on yours, moving with such care like you were the most precious thing in his possession. Years of tension and harbored feelings melted into the kiss, you pulled him even closer to you, like you can’t handle any remaining distance between you.

Heavy breaths echoed across the room as your faces deepened into five shades of maroon, your past actions finally settling into you. You couldn’t believe it. You just kissed Lee Heeseung. And he kissed you back. If you were to tell this moment to your five year old self, you swore she was gonna punch you in the face for having Heeseung’s cooties.

“So…uhm, I like you too?” You sheepishly smiled, still enveloped in his embrace. The warmth excluding him started to feel like home.

The boy before you mirrored your smile before quickly pecking your lips. You both laughed at the carefree moment. Finally after a decade and two years of constant fighting and suppressed feelings, you both came true to another.

“Come and give me another kiss, girlfriend.” Heeseung felt the corner of his mouth curling up, eyeing his love. The newfound status rolled out of his tongue like it was second nature, like he had practiced it a couple hundred times before.

The butterflies swarming your stomach still continued to linger and even increased tenfold. The tips of your ears showcasing the color of your favorite fruit–strawberries. But instead of melting into a mush (like you would prefer to tbh), you hummed in thought, leaning backwards with his hands wrapped on your waist supporting your back before replying, “Girlfriend?” Your eyebrow shot up. “Maybe after one date, then I’ll consider.”

Heeseung harbored no other emotion in his gaze rather than one reeking of amusement and love as he kissed the tip of your nose, amplifying the crimson shade of your facade.

"Okay, next Saturday, 7pm. Wear something nice, baby."

BONUS:

You and Heeseung made your way back to the dining table with flustered faces, (slightly) swollen lips, and a suspiciously good mood. Taehyun raised his eyebrows at the two older people before him, his gaze later shifted to the side, making eye contact with your dad and Hee’s before receiving two fifty bucks under the table.

Ah, what a good day. Now he just needs to collect the remaining money from Auntie Lee and your mom’s bet.

Kang Ha-yoon and Lee Hae-in watched as their children exchanged sheepish glances instead of muttering curses at the other, a surging proudness fills the air like oxygen, letting the two woman finally breathe in the air with no cut throat tension radiating from you and Heeseung.

They might’ve lost a hundred bucks and may or may not owe Taehyun a new PS5, but as awkward dinners turn into lively conversations (without any passive aggression lacing in your tones) the two women send knowing smiles to each other.

It seemed as if their plan had worked. A little too well maybe but hey, maybe they'll officially be family if this continues. After all, your mothers have always secretly fantasised about yours and Heeseung’s wedding without any knowledge that there is a bigger chance of it coming true.

The private pinterest board rotting in your mother’s account may be for good use after all.

Fin.

TAGLIST -> @jiwuu @xylatox @ttulixia @iboughtnjz @bubblytaetae @wintereals @manuosorioh @ddolleri

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