#[ngl his outfit rocks

[damadorias]

Woo! Some pride art of the doranverse deities

Look at them,,, they’re so,,,, I love them

[viatrixtravels-a]

Someday you should walk to Xiao in his own outfit

- https://images.app.goo.gl/UENLxeueP5wc6Shh6

"Hold on. If I'm wearing his clothes...What will he wear? ...Mine!?"

[sentofight]

" . . . oh."

translation: THERE'S A KITTY IN THE CUP!THERE'S A KITTY IN THE CUP!THERE'S A KITTY IN THE CUP!THERE'S A KITTY IN THE CUP!THERE'S A KITTY IN THE CUP!THERE'S A KITTY IN THE CUP!----!!!!!!

[hero-of-fortune]

here’s what i noticed in the NEW ZELDA GAME ANNOUNCEMENT WOOOOO

Sassy little guy. Also that sword…. Lokomo sword??? Could this be new hyrule?

idk. I’ve never played spirit tracks :(

Oh that mf is a ganon, probably not a ganondorf. Hmmm. Downfall timeline? Idk. It would be so funny if lu fandom decided to lump this one in with legend’s games. Guys… he doesn’t need anymore trauma

Let’s go! This was a fucking smart move homie link he’s already earned a spot in my heart as one of my genius scrunkies for shooting the crystal

YEAHHHHHHHH PLAYABLE ZELDAAAAA SHE LOOKS SO CUTEEEEE i know we’ve had ‘playable zelda’ before in spirit tracks and whatnot, but we’ve never had a ZELDA based game. (At least recently lmao)

(I see a bombable wall) and a really big castle! BIG CASTLE TOWN??? MINISH CAP CASTLE TOWN???? COME BACK TO ME BABY\

OKAY GUYS. Top right corner. Consider: kokiri village. if they bring the kokiri back i will scream so loud. I know it’s probably deku scrub houses because they’re also in the trailer, but let a boy dream

oh no :(((( he left his cloak behind poor baby

Okay so the triforce is back. Like really. And look at that little fairy what a scrunky duncky! I love her already

ZELDA IS WEARING LINK’S CLOAK. GUYS I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE IF I SHIP THEM. Look at herrrr also tri is massive. That is a head sized fairy.

Nothing to say but car on the roof. We got fuckin cats in zelda back. Please let us interact with them nintendooooo

THAT’S A GERUDO TOWNNNNN MASSIVE WINNNN!!!! Look at their houses they’re so cute

Um. Yeah. Ummm. @flarree predicted the ‘nice monsters that are on your side’ thing. (Go check out their au it’s really cool) i love this idea so much but i’m also a little sad… i hope they at least give zelda a bow

That is 100% a sheikah right there. Is that impa???? Please let impa be an old lady who kicks ass for her grandbaby. Also why is she fighting the soldiers lmao. Is this a alttp thing where the soldiers get brainwashed?

River and ocean zora. Yes babes im fed. You fed me nintendo it was good soup

Deku scrub selling potions. As he should. Im so glad theyre back it’s been too long babes. Give him his little hat though

GREAT DEKU TREEEE OUR FATHERRRR look at him <3 he looks a whole lot like oot gdt. Okay maybe it’s not adult timeline bc it looks nothing like wind waker gtd

Some sort of rock creature coming out of the ground? A boss? Idk we’ll see. Maybe he’s just a dude.

Other things: uhhh i don’t think we saw any mention of any sort of dungeons, which is kind of odd. Unless they slipped my mind. Huh. Maybe that last pic is a dungeon boss. I’m really excited for this one ngl. AND IT’S COMING OUT THIS YEAR????? THIS YEAR???? NINTENDO REALLY???? SEPTEMBER???? DUDE. Nintendo had officially fed me. Gooooood soup. Thanks

edit: yah there’s dungeons im blind lmaooo.

Also, i’m fairly certain it’s downfall timeline. The geography of hyrule, zelda’s dress, ganon’s design, link’s outfit, the presence of the triforce. I’m so glad the triforce is back after being absent in botw/totk!

[redr0sewrites]

Hazbin Hotel Characters with a Goth S/o

this is basically how some of ththe hazbin characters would support their goth s/o- as a goth person this is literally so self-indulgent lmao

🥀Pairing(s): lucifer x reader, velvette x reader, adam x reader, alastor x reader

🥀 Cw: fluff!

Lucifer

lucifer is a little confused and intimidated about your style at first, he definitely asks a lot of questions

VERY supportive once u explain it, hes very much the "okay dear" type

honestly i think he would find it super attractive, the way u express yourself is just so admirable to him

i feel like lucifer is very fidgety and is always losing focus, and one tjing that i do is that im ALWAYS fidgeting with thr chains and accessories on my outfits so like imagine him just standing super close to you and gently rearranging your chains and necklaces for you...

he would let you teach him how to do makeup and eyeliner and would definitely let you practice styles on him!

lucifer would also help you get ready too, always willing to offer some positive feedback or help with makeup and hair

i also think lucifer adores it when you give him music recommendations, and would get super into a lot of the bands that you like

i personally hc him as a siouxsie and the banshees fan bc i just feel like the elegant vibes fit him very well, but i also think he'd like strawberry switchblade too and just goth stuff like that

overall very supportive and super sweet and silly when it comes to your fashion

Velvette

gosh she needs more love

you both are fashion ICONS okay like even before you both become official she is blown away by your style and authenticity

she def designs special fashion items just for you, she makes a whole line of clothes based off of u and ur aesthetic

velvette LOVES matching with you and loves incorporating both of your individual styles into your matching outfits, whether youre more mallgoth or romantic goth or trad goth or anything in between, she is totally inspired by you and your fits and will always want to inspire you in return

def buys you things she seed and thinks you'd like or look good in, regardless of price. her gifts range from thrifted maxi dresses abd fishnets to priceless jewelry and makeup LIKEEEEE omg

velvette LOVES when u wear something she bought for u or designed for u as well

yall are always late for social events bc u HAVE to be the best dressed couple there i swear

also if u wear chunky boots or platforms and ur taller than her???? expect her to pull you down for kisses bc URGH seeing you sm taller than her does something to her

guys i have a type help

Adam

adam thinks your hot af if you're goth

hes the type to make big tiddy goth gf jokes im sorry💀

in all seriousness tho he would LOVE a goth s/o

adam def likes alternative/rock music and he would think it's awesome if you introduced him to some goth bands

he would LOVE the scary bitches, death grips, and also sisters of mercy too

i def think goth people would be much more rare in heaven than in hell, and he would get SO defensive on your behalf if anyone said anything about you or your fashion

honestly hes your number one fan and LOVES giving his input on your fits

honestly your closet doubles when you date him, adam loves seeing you wear his rings and punk jewelry and i def think he has a lot of old band shirts and stuff for his band, so he would love seeing you wear his oversized shirts

if u have piercings WOOWHEE bc adam asks SO MANY QUESTIONS

he thinks theyre so hot ngl, and i def think he has a few piercings and will buy u both matching jewelry

adam would learn to play songs you like on the guitar for you as well

i dont think hed be super keen on letting you put makeup on him but he'd fold after a little persuasion

i honestly think he'd like eyeliner and how he looks wearing it but doesn't want to admit it bc he doesn't want to seem too feminine (but u know ofc)

Alastor

before even meeting you he was fascinated by your style and boldness

alastor loves people who are unique, and someone who chooses to stand out so much definitely catches his eye

he'd find you very aesthetically appealing and would often find himself wanting to be around you more and learn more about you, your style, and goth culture in general

over this time period is probably when he started to develop feelings for you

alastor would def like the romantic/vampire goth look, that whole genre in general is just very elegant and classy while also nonconformist, which definitely speaks to him

when it comes to music alastor would probably be a little skeptical at first, especially when it comes to new technology, however if you (like me) have a record player and vinyl, i def think he would like listening to some of your fav goth bands on that

i dont really know why but i gen think he'd be a fan of the cure, sure its pretty basic but the vibe of some of the songs can be upbeat and kinda jazzy, and they just have that "old timey" vibe i think alastor would appreciate

alastor is fascinated with the process in which you get ready, and enjoys just sitting and watching in peaceful silence as uou do your makeup and pick out your outfit

if you (like most goths) are into creepy and unusual decor, he would LOVE to help you decorate your room

alastor has the strangest taste in interior design and loves sharing his unhinged ideas with you

overall alastor loves people with a lot of individuality and would definitely find a goth partner appealing because of that !!

THIS IS GETTING SO LONG HELP IM PROB GONNA MAKE A PT2 W MORE CHARACTERS HEHE- THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR ALASTOR AND VELVETTE I HOPE I DID THEM JUSTICE!!! WE NEED MORE LOVE FOR VELVETTE SHES SOOOOO AJSJDJD- anywaysssss hope yall enjoyed!!! feel free to req more, esp if u want a pt2 to this >:D

[elliesmainhoe]

Hey there vivi, I think your work is cool <33 Wanted to ask what you thought of Ellie and girlfriend having IVF with both their genetics/eggs so they both have a biological child together. Know it’s not possible yet but im thinking about a Ellie with biological kid. Tmi but im ovulating so this is what im thinking ab rn. Not asking you to do a little blurb if you don’t want to, but wanted to know if you like the idea of Ellie and her kidd, ngl i think is interesting and adorable. Much love!

omg I fucking love this idea!!!! she would be so silly , I wrote some headcanons for this so hope you like it!!!!

ELLIE WILLIAMS HEADCANONS: YOU HAVE A BABY WITH HER (biologically)

okay let's say- distant future, lesbians can now have biological babies (yay technology!)

when you tell her that your pregnant girlie is gobsmacked, even though you two were actively trying. (aka raw dogging every night)

goes through a crisis, buys baby books, pregnancy books, looks into a ton of birth and labour options

shes prepared for everything, goes to Joel to find advice about taking care of a pregnant woman and what to do with a newborn

GRANDPA JOEL????

stop that would be the most adorable shit ever, him sitting on his porch, yours and Ellie's babe on his chest, giving you two a break

stopppp 😭😭😭😭

anyways getting off topic-

she's literally so much more a doting loser than she usually is (which is a feat in itself)

gets you all your cravings, chocolate? done. pickles? done. chocolate AND pickles together? fuck it she'll try some too.

loves decorating the nursery in your house

PAINTS A DINOSAUR AND/OR SPACE MURAL IN THE ROOM???

the nerd indoctrination is already happening.

her and Joel make loads of custom furniture, adjustable crib, rocking/nursing chair, changing station.

the nursery ends up looking so cute, with loads of earthy tones and greens but also an array of rainbow toys.

OMG THEY MAKE YOUR BABY A ROCKING HORSE??

shed be so supportive during labour

whatever birth method you choose shes so supportive, makes you a little emergency bag just in case you go into labour

loves skin to skin

after the birth, you're exhausted of course, so you're sleeping and she's alone with a newborn baby???

honestly thinks that the baby looks a little funky

when babies come out they're squished, red and all silly looking

they're cute of course!!! but Ellie is still hoping your babe grows out of the squished tomato, potato phase?

skin to skin is her favorite thing

having the baby laid on her chest is genuinely the sweetest thing ever

she 100% cries when your baby grows out of their first onesie

she's so sentimental, keeps everything your kid does or has

old dummies (pacifiers if you're American), baby toys that the kid doesn't play with anymore, the umbilical cord? it's in a ziplock bag somewhere.

wears the baby in those baby back pack things (I can't remember the name LMAO)

when the baby starts teething she's always making jokes about how you've given birth to a feral baby.

jokingly scolds the baby when they start biting when you breastfeed them

dresses the kid up in the funnies outfits

the baby's dresser is basically a fancy dress box by now. dinosaur costumes, teddy bear costumes, pirate costume?

literally everything

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

I now have baby fever. kms.

not proofread

she's the best mum especially with a newborn

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Haitani Brothers Headcanons

♡ SFW & NSFW, Tenjiku and Bonten Timelines, AFAB Reader, tried to keep it gender neutral tho ♡

note: may or may not be ooc, this was longer than planned oops

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♕Tenjiku♕

♕ Rindou is extremely quiet and he unintentionally sneaks up on you a lot (he's used to walking on eggshells because of Ran's sleep schedule)

♕ Ran has a daily nap schedule he follows religiously

♕ Rindou learned how to braid just so he could do Ran's hair

♕ They match outfits all the time and they will make you match outfits with them whenever you go out

♕ Rindou takes bubble baths and does at home spa treatments (he's big on self-care and would take you and Ran on spa trips too)

♕ If you're dating one of them, you're besties with the other one, no debate fr

♕ Ran would let you choose what color he'll dye his hair next (Ran: If you pick an ugly color, I'm gonna rock you in your shit ♡)

♕ Ngl they'd be friends with Hanma, especially Ran (they'd get on Rindou and Kisaki's nerves all day)

♕ Rindou does gymnastics (self-taught king 🤭)

♕ Ran was surprisingly a decent student in school, he liked classes that delt with science the most

♕ They had their matching tattoos planned out even before they started involving themselves in gang activities

♕ Rindou is more responsible than Ran

♕ Rindou gets jealous of being in Ran's shadow/being seen as just the younger brother (that's why he pulls those crazy poses during fights, because he wants to be memorable for his opponents)

♕ Ran notices Rin's jealously and always reassures him that he's his own person and an awesome fighter and little brother

♕Bonten♕

♕ They chose to get the Bonten tats on their necks because they didn't want anymore torso tattoos (and Rindou refused to get a tattoo on his head like Koko did)

♕ Rindou teared up when he got his neck tat (Ran laughed at him, he comforted him later tho)

♕ Ran has a high pain tolerance, Rindou...not so much

♕ Rindou likes when you call him Rinnie or RinRin (he'll never admit it tho)

♕ You end up becoming friends with Sanzu because of them (Bonten trio headcanons when 👀)

♕ Rindou refers to Sanzu as the bubblegum man because of his hair (it's cool tho cause Sanzu calls him a jellyfish behind his back 💀)

♕ You called Ran and Rin the deadly duo as a joke once, but they lowkey liked it

♕ Ran is really blunt about his feelings, while Rindou is more closed off about his emotions

♕ They invite you to all the clubs they own (the VIP section is calling your name 🍾)

♕ Ran cut his hair because he got sick of spending hours in the bathroom on wash day

♕ Rindou almost cried when Ran came into work with his hair cut (Rindou: Ran...wtf did you do to your hair? 😭)

♕NSFW (with a dash of fluff)♕

♕ Ran's a busy man, but he still makes time to meet your needs (office quickies are a common occurrence)

♕ Rindou takes time off just to stay home with you all day (takes you out to a club he owns and ends up railing you in the VIP section)

♕ Rindou is undoubtedly an ass man, if he sees you in a nice outfit that compliments your "assets" he will pounce on you like a wild animal

♕ Ran likes leaving bite marks on your thighs (they're one of his favorite parts of you and he just wants to mark his territory)

♕ If you get their names tatted on you, they'll be putty in your hands 🙌

(Rindou: You got a tattoo..of my name? You're so lucky we're in public right now or else I'd be doing some unholy things to you.)

(Ran: Aww my pretty baby wanted my name on their body? Now everyone will really know you're all mine ♡)

♕ You sext Ran while he's at work (be prepared for him to be rough with you as soon as he gets home)

♕ Side note: Sanzu was peering over Ran's shoulder and saw the pics you sent him, prepare to be complimented by him the next time he sees you (Sanzu: Hey y/n, you looked really hot in *outfit you wore when you sent Ran the pic*)

♕ Rindou gets flustered when you two fuck, y'all have fucked plenty of times but he still always blushes when he sees you naked

♕ Lazy morning sex with Ran 🤭

♕ Rindou is the king of aftercare fr (he'd be super gentle and soft with you during sex too)

♕ Ran is rough and always leaves you sore (he cuddles you after tho)

♕ Ran would be more likely to get you pregnant (he's irresponsible asf, but he'd for sure be a great dad)

♕ Rindou is less likely to get you pregnant, but he wants a family more than Ran does (Rindou: Wouldn't it be great to have a bunch of mini versions of us running around?)

♕ Rindou put you in a mating press once and almost broke the bed 😭

♕ If you're sleeping with one brother, the other is off limits (they do like to make each other jealous sometimes tho, so expect some flirtation here and there)

♕ Pet names (no I won't elaborate 💜)

♕ Rindou has a choking kink (doesn't matter if he's doing the choking or the one being choked, he gets bricked)

♕ Ran loves when you leave nail marks down his back (Ran: Pain is pleasure ♡)

[dilvuc]

Can I request the HSR guys (whoever and however many you want, idc) with a male reader that crossdresses? It doesn't matter where they’re going or who will be there he just really enjoys wearing dresses and traditionally feminine clothing. Bonus points if he takes a dominant role in the relationship despite his style. Like initiating physical contact, being very flirtatious with his boyfriend, etc.

Hope this makes sense 😭

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: male

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: crossdressing

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: jing yuan + blade x crossdresser!reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

『note』 sorry if this isn't the best and sorry for taking too long

jing yuan

Even if you were a guy, he would still find you cute in any feminine outfit. He will support you even if you dress as a woman. No matter where you two go, he doesn't care what people might think of you. You're still his beloved.

"What do you think? Do you think this suits me?" You showed off your feminine outfit to Jing Yuan.

"..." The white haired male blushes as his eyes move from up to down your high stockings. He looks away, trying to avoid staring at your thighs.

"Heh? Were you staring at my thighs?" You teased the general. Jing Yuan blushes as you leaned forward with a flirtatious look. "If you want to touch my thighs then ask nicely."

"E-enough teasing…" Jing Yuan smiles timidly as you chuckled.

blade

He loves it, just won't admit it. Ever since Kafka started using you to test out the outfit she brought to see if it will look good on her, you become addicted to wearing women's clothing. Blade caught you 4k wearing women's clothing and he was holding it back.

"Seems like your boyfriend is rocking those clothes more than I do, Bladie." Kafka chuckled.

"Hm…"

"Should I wear stockings with this?" You asked Silver Wolf while showing off your outfit.

"Hm. You have great legs, ngl. It looks nice to sleep on. So I think—" Silver Wolf admitted. This statement caused Blade to use a nearby blanket and covered you up.

"Wha— Blade?"

"His thighs are mine." Blade scowled.

"I was joking."

rules

honkai masterlist

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Im back I choose Headcanons for yuuri boys with goth listeners

Goth Listener HC's

Since there's like eight boys to write for and I already did Charlie a while ago I'm gonna do this in sections. So if you want a pt 2 please request it! Alphonse, Seth, and Finn are in this one!

Also Auron was requested! So that leaves: Faust, Lucien, and Jack!

Alphonse:

He was shocked seeing a goth in this town bc there's no one with style here. It was only him sadly

Loves your makeup and outfits please dress him up, but I feel like he'd get a War flashback to Dark mode Alphonse era.

Finds it cute that new goths are called baby bat's!

He kinda doesn't know how to feel about the songs ngl but there's a few he likes!

There is so many sub genre's of goth he might try one of them.

He'd def rock Pastel goth since he likes his pink and bright colors! The couple pics yall get are couple goals.

Basically Morticia and Gomez Addams. He knows your aesthetic is looked down on in town so shopping is done every so often in the city.

Seth:

Personally I think he doesn't see the appeal of dressing in all black. Bc black holds heat and he runs hot </3

But loves it ok you and will help you find goth things in the little town. Will snap at someone in town if they say some shit.

Look at this bad ass goth I pulled being a cowboy. But he fr loves how you dress how you want too, not caring about others opinions on it.

Might try out western goth. But be warned the black clothing might cause him a heat stroke.

But the pics you get out of it are kinda worth it-

Doesn't get the songs but listens to then bc he wants to know more about your aesthetic!

Lowkey getting flashbacks to Al, but like that was kinda more emo than goth he thinks???

Finn:

Why are you so hot- but fr he folded so quickly seeing a goth baddie coming into the store.

Completing your outfits is a must for him, the makeup, clothing, jewlery, and hair he loves. Mf got heart eyes.

Def tries and makes a black flower bouquet for you! That and maybe with some roses too.

If you collect anything goth related he might try and get trinkets for you! (He's like a crow ngl)

Floral aesthetic x goth aesthetic goes hard ngl. Giggling when someone asks if he's w anyone and you see him point to the goth in the corner doing something.

Likes the soft spoken songs more than anything else ngl. Honestly serenade him with them. (He'd fall in love again ngl)

I can see him being like faerie goth or like a floral one. I think it'd be pretty cute getting pics of him like that!

[bougiebutchbitch]

NGL I do find it funny that the side of the fandom yelling “if you’re uncomfortable with the way Con showed up to a livestream with his whole bulge on prominent display you’re homophobic” is the same side of the fandom that was harboring multiple sexual predators lol throwback to the Canyon Kink Camp!! Anyway shoutout to the canyon for knowing how to be normal about people’s boundaries <3

I notice you sending this message to multiple people. On anon. Smells like teen cowardice.

So, first off -

You are lying through your teeth.

Victims of two sexual predators came forwards... and those sexual predators were immediately thrown out of the canyon. They were blocked/black-listed everywhere and deactivated! Explain to me how that is 'harbouring'?

Some weirdo also started harassing the victims because they were a friend of the perpetrators. They were...... also....... mass blocked and lost all their popularity, as far as I'm aware (I don't actually know that person, and am not on Twitter, etc.)???

Sexual predators will show up literally anywhere in society - including in your precious fandom spaces. Pretending that your half of the fandom is 'pure' and 'perfect' is, in fact, far more dangerous than acknowledging that there were predators, and dealing with them.

Especially when the antis were the ones crowing that people like me, who are abuse and rape survivors IRL, had 'no idea what abuse/rape looks like', and still are making claims like that in the tags - as well as sending asks accusing us of lying about our trauma.

All because we like a fictional character who you hate.

As for Con showing up in his underwear...

Literally nothing was showing.

You saw the SHAPE of a bulge. It was no more revealing than Tom Hiddleston's Loki outfit, and there have been uncensored gifs of that flying around willy-nilly (pun intended) for years without anyone being Shocked and Disgusted about it.

If you're not bothered by men being in underwear when you go to the beach and see guys rocking a budgie smuggler, but you're throwing a massive stink about a queer man being in his underwear on a ticketed show that was always marked as Explicit, and using it as an excuse to call him a sexual predator, I honestly don't know what to say to you.

Boundaries are real and important.

But if you went to an explicit stream and saw something mildly suggestive there, and proceed to accuse a queer man of being a sexual predator... You are the problem.

And yes, you are a homophobe.

Even if you are queer yourself, you are contributing to the dangerous rising current of accusing queer people of being 'degenerate' and 'perverse' for merely existing, because - oh, think of the children.

And that's without mentioning that Con is a vocal supporter of trans kids in the UK. We all know how queer people who dare to support trans people are unjustly painted as predators. It's happening on Tumblr, with the mass reporting and banning of trans men and women for 'inappropriate content' that is no more explicit than what cishet people have on their blogs. It's happening all over the world.

Hell, all profits from Con's livestream went to Mermaids (UK charity for trans folx) and true colours united (homeless lgbt youth charity).

Take a good long look at your argument. Take a good long look at the current political climate for queer people. Ask yourself who your insistence that Con is sexually inappropriate for... wearing underwear, is really helping.

If you feel this unsafe around even the vaguest suggestion of genitalia, the onus is on you to avoid any streams where you might encounter it. You're no different than people who read Explicit-marked work on AO3 and leave hatemail for the authors because you encountered smut.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Hcs for greasers with a GN!goth s/o who moved to town, and everyone, both greasers and socials are afraid of them, because everyone thinks they’re a “witch”

<twinning with @sadie-bug345 btw go check out her blog it’s amazinggggg here’s the link to her hc for this>

Ponyboy Curtis

-he was definitely afraid of you at first, and he 10/10 believed you could actually brew potions but also secretly thought you were cool and interesting

-he was SUPER intimidated by you

-but one day got enough courage to approach you when you were reading under a tree and found out that you were pretty chill and not yk a witch (he does ask tho, just it case)

-Y’all hit off and you showed him some of your music which he actually liked!

-eventually you guys started dating n stuff which was only surprising to those who didn’t know Pony that well

-you go on library/reading + music dates a lot

-Not a lot of Socs mess with him now that he’s always with his witch

-Fr no Socs mess with him he has such a scary dog privilege with you

-matching bandanas + belts

Johnny Cade

-he’s so in love with alt people honestly

-didn’t believe you were a witch and knew weirdos get a bad rap

-he wasn’t scared of you because he thought you were a witch, He was just scared to actually go up and talk to you

-he kind of always admired you from afar cuz yall had a similar vibe and you went to the lot a lot (hehe)

-One day after a long pep talk in the mirror he got the courage to go up and talk to you

-you guys really got along and started dating!

-when you first chatted he admired one of your best rings and you just gave it to him

-(he hasn’t taken it off since istg)

-you did his eyeliner one time and it looked SOOOO GOOD

-10/10 he does matching rings n belts and sometimes small makeup with you

-you guys are v cute together and honestly make so much sense, you’re also his scary dog privledge

Sodapop Curtis

-he saw you and was like ohhhh that’s why they call them a witch

-honestly surprised he liked you bc you aren’t usually his type but opposites attract yk

-he finds your style exotic and so different from his own it opens up his world

-you meet buying snacks at his gas station and he does his usual charming boy personality, suprised when you don’t respond to his flirtation and roll your eyes

-after lots of him flirting and you rejecting (more playfully over time) he finally manages to get you on a date with him

-you guys actually hit it off rlly well

-you guys are like golden retriever x black cat and compliment eachother soooo well

-tbh people saw it coming because yk opposites attract

-he tries to copy ur makeup one time and it did NOT end well 😭💅

-yall turn heads fr

Darry Curtis

-he didn’t necessarily wary of you because of the rumors, he’s just a traditionalist and not rlly used to seeing different people

-so when you come into town you rock his world

-one day your walking along just minding your own business when he grabs your arm and is like “wait” as if he isn’t stopping you from literally moving

-“so uh, what with the, uh, getup?”

“Idk man I just like to dress this way….”

-you guys start talking and actually become good friends

-after a few months he asks you out

-you guys are a pretty stable couple, and ponyboy definitely thinks of you as his rlly cool older sister

-I think yall are the most surprising

-he’s the most likely to change his wardrobe to match yours, def goes all out. Like not tooo far but he changes all his outfits to be vaguely goth

Dallas Winston

-was he a little (a lot) scared of you because of the rumors? Hell yes. Was he going to show that? Hell no.

-probs approached you on a dare or some shit 💀

-made a rude remark or joke so you slapped him and he was kinda surprised such a quiet thing could leave his face that red

-he was kinda in love with that ngl and loved your spunk

-he bothered you everyday after that

-back and fourth after much banter (enemies to lovers energy)

-he managed to actually get you to go on a date with him

-POWER COUPLE FR

-people are SO scared when they see yall walking down the streets yall are sooo intimidating together fr

-matching belts and rings

Two Bit Matthews

-you guys probs met in the back of the classroom

-he made some joke like “Damn, how’d you get out of your coffin this mornin’?!

-to which you responded with an eye roll and a chuckle

-you guys actually end up cracking jokes the whole period and laughing a little too loud

-he finally asks you out and you say yes

-you guys go out and make fun of Socs together and have a grand time

-you guys kind of started dating a bit immaturely, but you actually get to something that’s a lot more mature and have really deep conversations, you kind of ground him, and he kind of bring the humor out of you a bit

-he def takes advantage of the fact people are scared of you and you both jumpscare people and just have so much fun

-best Halloween couple fs

-overall pretty solid

-matching shirts

Steve Randle

-he probably heard the rumors and thought they were stupid and he was the least phased by your look

-I mean don’t get me wrong he liked it but he wasn’t gonna tell you that right away

-you don’t like eachother at first but after you start talking you start to appreciate eachother

-he asks you out and you say yes

-you guys are sooo cute n iconic

-you sometimes play music out loud when he fixes cars and just vibe together

-the EGO boost he gets from your compliments on his style

-he wears matching rings and shirts with you

[hwajin]

✞ 「 .✶۪ .° ✞ : 𝐇 𝐈 — 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 !! : a series

☆ — chapter two ; Cold Metal

✞ 「 .✶۪ : see series masterlist and warnings here

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter word count: 18.1k

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter warnings: suggestive tension, lotsss of angst, mentions of cheating!!!!

author's note: one of my weaker chapters tbh but i hope you still enjoy!!! i'm sooo so excited to post ch3 already ngl 🤭🤭🤭

The number of times your hand carded through your dyed black hair this class was abnormal, five times too much than it would seem natural, but you couldn’t quite care about it. It was soothing, your long nails massaging your scalp in the process calmed your nerves. You looked at Mr. Bahng, you looked at Mr. Bahng looking at you – and your hands were in your hair again, fixing it, or making it worse, you weren’t quite sure. You wore dark lipstick – the shade of red was close enough to be black though it wasn’t upon further inspection – which matched the colour around your eyes, dark and smoky, long, fake lashes making your irises pop. Your outfit was just appropriate enough for college, though you were almost uncomfortable about how revealing it was – lowcut dark tank top with a bedazzled star right on your chest, low-rise jeans which teasingly sat on the curve of your hips, revealing the subtle waistband of the dark red tanga you had decided to wear, with the only purpose for Mr. Bahng to see it. Your black boots made you taller by an inch, which made you carry yourself with the confidence you deemed to need today.

For the past week you had slept over your plan to seduce your teacher; now, a week later, the affair sounded far sillier than when you had first come up with it, when you had gotten over the initial shock of seeing the man, who, seemingly had rocked your pre-graduate mind. Though, now, a whole week later and after a lot of plotting and thinking, it felt far more realistic, too, something you could achieve if you acted smartly. Sure, it was still dumb and immature, and yes, you could get in trouble for it – you had thoroughly thought of Han’s words, and gathered that he, in fact, hadn’t been as wrong as you had thought – though trouble and problems would occur only if someone caught you, and only if you let the whole thing go on for too long, or got too involved in the process. You were simply supposed to keep your plan on the down-low, telling not a soul about it – that Han knew you didn’t deem as a risk; he was your second half, his secret was as much yours as yours was his – and you ought to end the instigation the moment Mr. Bahng left to let Professor Hwang teach again. That was, if Mr. Bahng would fall for you, in the first place. This factor wasn’t at all yet carved in stone, and it was the most important rule in the game you created; so, you’d decided to view your chances realistically. Surely, you had it all planned out, you had read through the entirety of the package insert and the risks that came with the plan – you were prepared, and said plan was nothing but manageable, if you only let the charm spark you believed you had. Everything after would be history.

Mr. Bahng had eyed you when you had entered the classroom this morning, for only a short moment, barely a second even, though you couldn’t have not noticed. His eyes had scanned you up and down before he had converted them to his pencils and notebooks on his desk, and his ears had painted red; you remembered having seen him flustered a week back, and the blush around his face was far more adorable now that it had been due to you, seemingly. He didn’t much pay you attention throughout the rest of the lesson; in contrary, Mr. Bahng seemed to be avoiding your piercing eyes altogether, seemed to only skim over you and your figure – your chest, too, which you put on display on full purpose – while holding the gazes of other students. Were you already crawling under his skin? Was one outfit and flirty eyes enough to weaken the teacher? You doubted it to be so very easy; though then his eyes scanned over you again for only a second, and his ears painted pink. Maybe it could be easy.

A cold can of Coca Cola stood before you, the freezing condensation of it having left a wet spot on the rough, old wood of the desk you were sitting at; you and Han had grabbed a drink before classes, though you’d lie saying it had felt like always. Ever since you had fought a week ago, Han had been acting strange, tense. You had realised that he was pretending to act normal, that he was trying to joke around as always and not let his eyes linger on you for too long, or tell you about his songwriting without growing flustered, or grab a drink with you without forcefully searching for possible subjects to talk about. He really was trying to be his usual self; but the endless years of friendship made you look right through him. There hadn’t been a day the past seven days when you hadn’t not noticed his clamminess around you, or how he suddenly started stuttering after every other sentence when talking to the others the moment you entered the studio, or his staring during practice or brainstorming or simply hanging, when he thought you weren’t looking. You never not noticed – and that was the worst of them all – Han’s inability to look into your eyes properly when you were talking to him, about anything. You hated the tension he created, you hated that the usual light-heartedness you felt in his presence, the utter and numbing familiarity usually around him had been so hard to achieve in the past week.

Above all, it angered you that you couldn’t understand the reason for his behaviour, nor were mature enough, apparently – or maybe too stubborn, simply – to talk of it, to try and resolve it. In retrospect, looking back at this very weekend years later, when you’d fondly remember your college years and your undeniable silliness, you would understand that you’d been scared, and therefore stayed quiet. You didn’t know why you were scared, exactly; but you knew Han’s reason of clamminess and seeming jealousy wouldn’t be an explanation you could possibly handle, nor wanted to hear, so as to not accept the reality of it. You hadn’t mentioned Mr. Bahng anymore to him, not after your fight. You had mustered up a plan all by yourself – you had, one fateful night, remembered that the teacher had been giving vocal lessons to students back when you went to high school, and you knew it was the perfect opportunity to get closer to him – but you hadn’t told your best friend anything of your excitement. Which was strange, keeping a secret from him, but you figured the tension didn’t need any more sensitivity, and you continued playing along with Han’s game of pretending, wordless and silent. Though you were doing a far better job at it, surely.

You had never apologized, either. Maybe that was part of the reason things were strange between the two of you. Though, if Han wanted an apology in the first place, then he wasn’t acting like it. He didn’t sulk around you, he didn’t give you the cold shoulder – he was strange, yes, but he didn’t seem to be upset, not anymore. Neither you nor he were people to hide anger, even if it was directed at the other; you could talk, had always been able to. Uncomfortable talks, sometimes, talks which bordered on fights, talks after fights; you weren’t afraid of any of them, and yet now, Han simply tried to sweep the entire thing under the rug. Sometimes this past week, though you didn’t know if your eyes fooled you – and you hoped they did – he seemed scared when looking at you, when talking to you. Not scared of you, you didn’t believe so, at least. He seemed scared of himself, almost; of the next words he’d speak to you, of his own clamminess, of his own stuttering.

Han also didn’t make a scene to apologize about the fight – now that a week had passed, you weren’t at all sure anymore if he was in the position to apologize, even; by now, you believed he wasn’t as much in the wrong as you had initially believed him to be – so you swept it under the rug with him, pretended as though the feisty conversation had never occurred in the first place. Not healthy, nor was it mature, and the sight effects were tangible, infuriating; though you forgot all about it when the class you were sitting in was nearing to an end, and Mr. Bahng was dismissing the students. He wore the same white button-down today, sleeves rolled up, though his pants were a dark navy this time around, and a loose tie adorned the thickness of his neck – it was far more attractive than last week’s outfit, you thought, and it got you giddy to go up and talk to him. You were nervous, though – you were painfully aware that your little plan resembled the plot of a bad romance movie, so you knew that the chances of your teacher falling for you were close to null. Mr. Bahng was a responsible adult, one who wore a gold band around his left ring finger, one who was a teacher – it didn’t get more responsible than that, and you knew your dark red tanga you wore specifically for him would probably be of little help when it came to seducing him. For all you knew, you were a mere student in his head, barely eighteen as he remembered you. Maybe you should fetch your best friend, and apologize to him, after all; it was obvious your stupidity and hormones had gotten the better of you.

With these thoughts on your mind, you waited for student after student to disappear while keeping the teacher pinned down with your gaze, despite your doubts; a plan was a plan, and you wanted your fun, you wanted to get laid; you would do what you needed to achieve it. This time around, different than a week ago, you were not pretending to be taking your time, nor were you making a scene of looking for something in your bag while waiting to be in lonesome with the teacher – you sat confidently, legs crossed beneath the table and arms beneath your chest, eye-fucking Mr. Bahng until the last, far too slow-paced person had finally abandoned the hot classroom, until you and him were the only two people left in it. He looked at you, shortly, his face unreadable – he did gift you a subtle smile, though, and only after he turned his attention back to his desk you started moving. Nervous, a tiny storm brewing in the pit of your stomach. The legs of your chair scratched uncomfortably against the linoleum floor as you pushed yourself off it, shooting goosebumps up your back, and your bag – a dark red handbag matching your nails and make-up, and a big contrast to your usual black, worn-out rucksack – rattling as you threw it over your shoulder, and made your way to your teachers’ desk.

You started walking, trying to appear as calm as humanly possible. You didn’t allow your hand to reach for your hair, or to your top to fix it, or to the hem of your jean to fiddle with it. You simply walked, slow, making use of your hips; and with every step you took, Han’s voice from a week ago increased in volume in your head, his words materializing as a cloud of uncertainty; ‘Are you insane? He’s your teacher. What’s in there for him, except the loss of his job?’. You shivered at that, despite the hot weather, despite the sweat that was forming in the back of your neck, beneath your waving hair. Were you so nervous because you knew Han was right, and the whole thing utterly wrong? Or was it Mr. Bahng who wouldn’t allow you to think straight, who got to you more than it was comfortable to admit? You walked, your thoughts and mind a mess, until you reached Mr. Bahng’s desk, until you stood hovering over him, until his eyes met you from below, until your knees grew wobbly, and your panties wet. Embarrassing.

“Hey.”

Your voice cool, airy. You were nervous, though you wouldn’t let it ruin your plan for you. You put on your best face, calm and collected, eyes hooded and lazy – the entire opposite from when you had first talked to him, or from the storm raging within you, your chest, the pit of your stomach, your core between your legs.

And Mr. Bahng looked like he’d noticed it, too. The change in demeanour within you; the change in attire. You saw how his eyes flinched to your chest, for only a second, how his head fell to his side barely noticeably, in curiosity. How his ears turned pink again; you loved seeing his ears turn pink, loved seeing him shy and flustered because of you.

“Y/N, hey. Do you… need help with something this week? Or… do you just- wanna talk again?”, he chuckled, softly, and it was your turn to blush now, to grow bashful. The sound of his giggles sent shivers down your back, and you granted him a smile. Nonchalant.

Han’s voice in your head again, louder than before; ‘He’s not gonna fuck you. You’re just a student.’ You inhaled once, deeply, exhaled in one blow, quickly.

“I do have a question, sort of… it’s probably stupid, though.” Blinking twice as much as usual, and you looked at him from beneath your lashes, upper arms pushing out your breasts subtly – you were twenty-two years old, and you were embarrassing yourself. And you were less shameful about it as you thought you would be. It’s been ages since someone has gotten you this wet, and you were merely allowed to look at him, yet; you couldn’t imagine your own bodily reactions when you would fuck him, eventually.

Mr. Bahng coughed at your words, adjusted in his seat; was he getting nervous? Maybe he would be easier to crack as you thought, initially. Maybe he was as attracted to you as you were to him. Or maybe he was highly uncomfortable. In that case you would simply and frankly skip music class, until Professor Hwang returned again.

“Oh, no, ask ahead. There’s no such a thing as a stupid question.” Such a teacher thing to say, and you would have chuckled if you didn’t commit so much to your act. So, you only smiled, eyes losing his, looking down where his hands lay on his desk, folded together professionally, before you looked up at him again, seductively, you hoped. Was it too much? Was he looking through you? He didn’t look like it; his eyes were curious, and his cheeks red. He didn’t look uncomfortable, either. Maybe it was working.

You hummed as though in thought before answering, took your time with it, let his words melt into your brain; letting two seconds pass, then another two, until Mr. Bahng furrowed his brows in most subtle manner, and his head cocked further to the side. You quirked his interest, and you shot your question. Your chance. Han’s words were playing in your head.

“I was thinking about you the past week…”, leaving a deliberate pause, not breaking the contact with his deep eyes you trembled under, watching him redden further upon your words, “and I remembered that you were giving vocal lessons, back when I was still in school.” Another pause in which you looked at him, expectantly, as though he was supposed to understand where your question was going. The pause stretched itself, and Mr. Bahng’s blush had travelled to his neck at this point; he leaned forward, white dress-shirt stretching over his muscles, hugging his body tightly. He cleared his throat with a low rasp, inhaled slowly. You needed him. So very badly.

“Uh, yeah, I was. I- I am. I’m still giving vocal lessons.” His voice wasn’t nervous, per se. It was professional, too much almost, for your liking; though it sounded forced, and you heard a shake in it, barely noticeable, but you were hyper-aware when it came to him. “Why do you ask?” Almost trembling, and you would have smiled to yourself under different circumstances. Han occupied your thoughts again.

‘He’s not gonna fuck you. You’re just a student.’

“You see…”, deliberate pause, and you wondered if he was getting sick of you, or if he was a fish caught on your hook by now, “the band I told you about… you remember, right?” You bashed your lashes at him, waited until he gave you an affirmative hum before you continued. The hum was followed by the clearing of his voice. You couldn’t read him. You couldn’t tell if it was nervousness, you didn’t know if the next words would be your downfall. “I’m the vocalist in that band, and… I could use some professional classes. I’m self-taught, you know… so I’m not really confident in my skills yet.” You dragged out your words, and you almost pouted at the man if you hadn’t found your senses early enough; you might be a little too deep into your own bit.

One moment passed, and another, without an answer from the teacher.

‘He’s not gonna fuck you. You’re just a student.’

He would say no, Han was right. He had no reason to agree to you, after all, had no reason to give you private lessons, no less because he would be gone in a matter of weeks. There was not one thing in the situation working to his advantage, so he would decline –

“Oh, you’re asking me for lessons?”, he looked at you, though not questioningly. He looked at you with certainty. Too much certainty; he would decline, and you would simply die of embarrassment, on the spot. What the hell were you doing, standing in front of him? What the hell were you doing not apologizing to your best friend of years, not having seen your own stupidity far earlier?  

“Sure, why not.”

Your heart sank a million oceans deep. A sentence only, merely three words, and your entire world seemed to have flipped upside down. Han had been wrong, and whether or not he wanted to speak about the entire subject, disregarding his – in your eyes, inappropriate discomfort – you would brag about this later. You didn’t care, you were selfish, and you were right. And you were one step closer to having the teacher the way you wanted him. You were sure Mr. Bahng could read your victory on your face, so you tried to keep composure, did your best in pretending to be entirely calm – though you were the opposite, the storms of doubts from before having cleared, instead allowing space for deafening and bright fireworks.

“Oh, yeah? I wouldn’t have expected you to agree… I thought you were really busy, you know, with your family.” Compassion; check. A path to trust; check. Showing clear interest; check. You were multiple steps further in your plan, and you were sure Han would be sensitive later, though you would gush about it all the same. There was no way you would keep this a secret. And maybe you wanted to rub it into his face.

Your teacher huffed out in feigned amusement, though his eyes stayed cold, humourless, the laugh not reaching that far. “Yeah, well… I’ll do anything to get out of the house for a bit, if I can be so honest.”

Your heart leaped, jumped left and right and down and up against its’ confines at the almost guilty confession he confronted you with. You were a sadist, after all. Or maybe heartless. Or maybe your underwear was so wet by now at the sheer sight of your teacher that any other coherent thought except his dick inside of you vanished entirely, forever. Whatever the reason was, you didn’t care. You needed him, and the stars stood in your luck. The chances weren’t only good; they were perfect, basically. You wouldn’t be shocked if by the same time next week you would stand pressed against this very desk, with Mr. Bahng’s hands groping at your body to his liking, with his face nuzzled in your neck and nibbling marks onto it for the others to tease about later.

“Oh… is it that bad? I’m sorry.” Puppy eyes, a bit more blinking; his ears were burning, his eyes searching for something other than you to look at. He cleared his throat for the third time today, before he stood suddenly, exhaling in an awkward chuckle, readjusting his shoulder, fixing his tie. You could jump at him now, eat him whole.

“Nah, don’t worry. I just… need distraction.”, his eyes flashed to your chest again before he locked eyes with you, bashfully; he would fuck you next week, guaranteed. You probably wouldn’t even need to work too hard for it.

“I’m ending class earlier next week anyways, actually – you can just stay right after, say for… half an hour? One hour? If you have some time.”

‘If you have some time.’ – what a silly thing to say. As if you wouldn’t make time, specifically for him, even if you were busy. Mr. Bahng looked at you expectantly, throwing his briefcase over his shoulder. You took your time with the answer; you hummed, as though trying to remember your non-existent schedule, thinking exaggeratedly. It was only seconds later before you answered.

“No, yeah, one hour should work. I’ll see you next week then, Mr. Bahng.”

At the sound of his own name the man tensed, the fist around the band of his briefcase tightening. He was easy prey, after all. It was almost adorable. Almost too easy.

“Yeah. See you next week.”

☆.☆.☆

15:09     meet me at the vending machine?

15:10     after class

You read Han’s text after you exited Mr. Bahng’s classroom – you leaned against the wall after having watched the teacher walk to his next lesson, and the cold of the tiles felt relaxing against your back; your skin was flushed, your cheeks burning, your entire body aflame. A smile has engraved itself onto your lips, one you couldn’t seem to get rid of, as stupid as you looked and as much as your jaw pained from it; you’d gotten so many steps further, far more than you had initially even dared to aspire, and you didn’t think you would survive the wait all until next week – you would cease to exist quite frankly, from excitement and anticipation and sheer impatience. You weren’t sure if your happiness was out of place, inappropriate; you remembered just what you were excited about, remembered Mr. Bahng’s wife, remembered Han’s negative stance towards the entirety of the affair – you didn’t ought to be so giddy. But then you remembered Mr. Bahng, in the classroom just ten minutes ago; the way he had looked at you, the way he had blushed. You remembered his tight dress-shirt, his dark blue tie, his strong arms laying exposed and heavy on his desk. You imagined those very hands on you, all over your, all over your body, discarding your clothes in the very classroom you’d just left one by one. You imagined to have him the way you had craved to for so long, to have his lips explore the entirety of your skin or devour your mouth in starving hunger, to card your fingers through his dark hair and let him push you against the upfront desk, to have him whisper sweet nothings into your ear before he’d bite down on –

Your phone buzzed again in your hand, and you jerked, having forgotten Han’s previous text entirely. You checked the new message while you tried to calm down; Han had sent you an image of two beverages – your Coke and his Root Beer – which he held in his hands, the old bench and the older weeping willow grazing the picture in the background. He had attached a short ‘my treat’ to it. You put a cool hand to your burning cheek, took three deep breaths before reacting to his message with a heart and made your way to the vending machine with knees wobblier than you would have liked to admit.

Han really did try. You almost felt bad about having to break whatever bubble the two of you found yourself in – one, that much was clear, that felt far too fragile, daring to burst if you as much as grazed it with a finger. The feeling was still strange; you couldn’t remember a single time where awkwardness like the current one has ebbed itself so deeply into your friendship. And to think it was because of a single, stupid argument – it hurt you, made you question just how strong your bond really was. It made you question, too, if there was an ulterior motive behind it; in fact, you were almost entirely sure that it could never be only the disagreement which had torn the crack in between you. Han had been acting far too strange for there to not be a buried reason, and you almost didn’t want to tell him any of the news about your teacher, the process you had made; almost didn’t want to rub your success under his nose after all, even though you’ve been so excited to before, especially after his words from a week ago, his accusations and doubts. Worries, even.

It did sound like he had been worried about you last week. Worried, and jealous, and almost unreasonably emotional. You didn’t want to hurt him. A big part of you didn’t want to hurt him. You would if you told him all about what happened just moments ago, remembering the feeling of his discomfort, his clamminess, and his giddiness around you, and it burned like poison in your veins. You despised it. You despised the fact that a smaller part of you, far smaller though it was there, did want to convince him of your victory; did want to hurt him, after all. You despised that you couldn’t despise yourself for not wanting to solve the argument, to resign after the fight, to get over the peril you had suddenly found yourself in – out of fear, you thought. You couldn’t know the reason for his jealousy. You knew there had to be one, a reason, why the small bickering had turned into something way too big. And maybe – and it scared you immensely – you knew all about it already; maybe you wouldn’t be able to bare the confirmation, simply. Han’s reason for his strange behaviour over the past week would maybe be the last poke against the bubble which your friendship still kept concealed before it burst open to let the both of you fall onto the ground of reality.

You made your way over to the vending machine; whatever it was, the reason for the sudden cleft between you, and no matter how long it would take to sew it back together, you decided to keep your mouth shut about Mr. Bahng, after all. It would be like gasoline to the fire the two of you had set, only a small flame now, but waiting to be ignited. You hadn’t found any water yet to put it out fully; so you’d be a fool if you didn’t choose silence.

The afternoon sun was scorching onto your skin, making it hotter than it was already, and little beads of sweat collected in the back of your neck. You should have taken a hair tie with you – your hair against your nape and down your shoulders drove you near crazy in the heat. The distance between the music building and the vending machine wasn’t all too big, so you could catch a glimpse of Han the moment you turned the corner and were walking right towards his seated figure beneath the big tree. His eyes were busy with his phone, mindlessly scrolling, as it seemed. His teeth constantly picked at his piercing – it wasn’t new, though he had never grown out of the habit, and you wondered how much longer he could keep it up before his teeth took serious damage. One of his legs moved in rhythm to the music that you imagined to be blasting in the earphones you saw dangling from his phone to somewhere behind his ashy hair – he needed a retouch, you just noticed. His roots had grown out quite a lot. You wondered when he’d ask you to help dye it – he never trusted himself with his hair.

When you were close enough Han’s body jerked, and his eyes found your figure; whether he heard you or saw your shadow hovering above him you weren’t sure, but you greeted him all the same.

“Oh, hey. You’re later than I thought.”

You sat down opposite from him, discarding your bag next to you. The rough wood of the bench beneath you was hot under your figure, though you basked in the shadow the weeping willow gifted. You couldn’t help catching the tone in Han’s voice as you looked at him with a greeting smile – cautious, though feigning carelessness. For some reason, you couldn’t stand him this moment. Couldn’t he just be calm around you? The way he’s always been; your best friend?

“Yeah, someone kept me. Notes… and stuff.”

You took the Coke Han slid over to you as silence fawned over you both, and you opened the can momentarily, mostly to be doing something, partially because you were dying of thirst – you had finished your first drink earlier, in Mr. Bahng’s class, though it was impossible to stay constantly refreshed in the heat – maybe you should simply switch to water. The sizzling of the fuzzy drink spilled over as it opened with a loud hiss, and it was satisfaction to your ears, anticipation to your dry mouth. You looked at Han, didn’t say a word anymore. You put the tinned can to your mouth, sipped away the spill before making your first gulp; refreshing as you had expected it, though you weren’t truly satisfied – for some reason, you couldn’t stand yourself this moment. You couldn’t stand not being able to talk to your friend; couldn’t stand that you were unable, even, to thank him for the drink – you couldn’t stand not knowing the reason behind your anger for his recent behaviour, and your cowardness of speaking about it. But you only continued drinking, nonchalantly, as though you bore no ill thought altogether. As though you and Han had always behaved this way around the other; sitting in uncomfortable silence, grasping at topics of conversation just to end the nerve wreck.

Han hummed at your words, far too late, but he did. As though he had expected further explanation; you could tell he didn’t believe you, but you didn’t care. You wouldn’t tell him anything. You couldn’t tell him about Mr. Bahng if you wanted this awkwardness to dissipate. And you were too stubborn, too scared to try and dissolve the weirdness; so you let it be, altogether. And it was torture – Han was the only person who knew you inside out, who was aware of all the thoughts you bore. Silence was equal to a dagger to the heart when it was with him.

You clicked your tongue, took another big gulp of your Coke. You would win the game of pretending. You could fake it, get over the feeling of utter coldishness until everything between you was back to normal. It had to work, you thought – if you pretended for long enough, if you kept shut about Mr. Bahng and anything regarding him, the argument from a week ago and Han’s strange motive of worry – and potential jealousy – would drive into the back of your minds, would dissipate itself… right? And it’s not like it was all bad; the problem occurred simply when you were in lonesome, anywhere else but the studio with the others. Only then it seemed like you two barely knew each other, only then uneasiness occupied your body almost to paralysis, sheer because it was so very unknown with him. You wouldn’t let it go as far as to rot away your friendship; that would be stupid. One fight against years of friendship; things just didn’t end like that.  

“So… did you finish the song?”

You leaned back against the backrest of the bench, legs crossed, relaxed; you could never go wrong talking about music, and you were relieved when you saw Han’s face light up at your question. Ever since Han had first told you about the new song he had planned to write for the band a week ago – the one he still claimed to be suited especially for you, the one he grew so shy about when he had first brought it up – he hadn’t stopped gushing over it. He had asked you to try singing melodies he experimented with, had asked your opinion on lyrics or the instrumental, had wanted your help in naming the song; Cold Metal is what you had settled on after you heard the finished text, and saying both of you were excited to practice the song with the band was an understatement. You’d argue it to be Han’s best work as of now, and you knew the others would love it.

You had been grateful for the song for the past week. It had worked as the only subject Han had talked to you about with no hesitation, no remorse; it was purified passion whenever he had proposed a name or decided to change up the chords or asked you to sing for him. You had been grateful that one thing had stayed the same, and bore hope that it always would – that with him, no matter the situation, music would stay unchanged, would always be the connector between your hearts, the invisible red string between you.

“I am done, actually, I was just finishing up last stuff before – we could show the others today, and start practicing it like, instantly. …if they like it, even.”

You snapped your eyes open – you had been sunbathing while you listened to him talk, had enjoyed the warmth on your skin, the faint sun on your face, hidden slightly behind the long, crying branches of the tree. Han had always been talented, and was never one to grow insecure about his work. Though he had been over this particular song, and you disliked it, immensely – it baffled you that he couldn’t agree with you on having written his best work as far as you were concerned, and you had made it your goal to convince him of it.

“They will like it – it’s your best song so far, I’m serious.”, you replied in a stern voice, making Han flush in his place. His eyes lost yours, and after a couple of seeming unsure moments, he grabbed his drink and took three big sips from it. When would it end? When would you understand why a simple fight – not even quite, a mere heated discussion, really – changed him so much, so drastically? When would he stop shying away from your gaze and be your best friend again, the one he’d always been?

You sighed, and Han gave you a hum after he placed his Root Beer back on the bench. It was a questioning hum almost, as though words hidden behind it, as though he was preparing to speak though wasn’t sure of what. You gave him time, sipped at your Coke. Han fiddled with his own drink, furrowed his brows; then he looked at you, suddenly, and hesitation was written all over his body. Yet he asked away.

“So… how was it with Mr. Bahng today? Did you talk to him?”

He brought it up. He asked himself – not confidently, and if you were honest the tone in his voice made you shiver. It wasn’t a genuine question, it was forced. He forced himself to be a good friend and ask, though it was obvious he didn’t want to hear the answer. Why didn’t he? And why did he, after all, yet force himself to ask? Because he wouldn’t hurt, you thought. Because he got over the whole thing, surely; he was still strange, though then again, you were still strange, too. None of you were known for your maturity; the awkwardness of the fight, the sudden heat over it a week ago simply hadn’t settled yet. You were people, and you bore emotions like any other, even if you were friends of years. Sometimes arguments simply took time to dissipate – yes, you were convinced. Han was over it. So you were, too. He couldn’t be hurt about news of your true happiness; he was your best friend. He was the closest person you had, he wouldn’t grow jealous anymore – for whatever reason he did in the first place. And maybe, you had misread him entirely. Maybe he was merely worried of the consequences; you couldn’t claim your little scheme of seducing your music teacher to be perfectly safe and without risk, and Han was simply too good of a friend to not be worried. His strangeness over the past week had been guilt, for having started a fight, for not having apologized after; similar to you, so you understood. It wasn’t jealousy, after all. He was worried. He would be excited, now, if you told him about the progress. He had to be excited. You needed him to be excited.

You had promised yourself not to talk about it, but if there was one thing you were worse at than keeping a secret from him, it was lying to Han. You couldn’t possibly; though you deemed him to be ready for your answer – otherwise he wouldn’t have brought it up. He wouldn’t have asked himself.

“He might…”, you started, though you needed to clear your throat before you could continue. You looked at him, and he reciprocated your gaze. His eyes were unreadable, and it made you shiver despite the scorching sun on your skin. You cleared your throat a second time, forced yourself to a grin; play along, play pretend, act as natural as always. “You might not like the news, but you were wrong last week – Mr. Bahng agreed to give me private lessons from next week on.”

You looked at him, and he reciprocated your gaze. His eyes sunk, his brows furrowed in the most subtle way though you couldn’t not have noticed at the way you were staring him down, and his beaten expression was far worse than the unreadable one before – it made your heart beat faster, it started scorching you from within, the sun cold now on your skin. Why did he look so… sad, so hopeless?

“So I made progress. He was eyeing me, too – I guarantee you he wanted to fuck me back there… I bet he will next week.”

You didn’t know why you said that. It wasn’t intended to hurt him, or maybe it was, and Han choked on the drink he had just placed on his lips – his coughs were daggers to your heart, and every further one made you regret your words. What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t wanted to tell him altogether, and now you told him too much for his own good – did you want to hurt him, after all? You thought back on the excitement that had found a home within you when Mr. Bahng had mentioned the rough patches with his wife, how utterly happy you were. Cold and heartless, sadistic. This moment, you couldn’t find any more fitting words for yourself.   

You looked at him as he calmed down from the swallowing up. He cleared his throat a couple of times, getting rid of the remaining sting his drink had caused before he looked at you. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes big, glassy; dark. It was his turn to speak, his turn to show enthusiasm, to be happy for you – you knew you were lying to yourself, were holding onto the last straw of meagre hope for the last couple of seconds it was possible before Han would cut it in half altogether. Though he looked clueless. His words were as though stuck in his throat – he was opening and closing his mouth like a fish without water, and no sound came out. The seconds of silence passed in torture; why wasn’t he excited for you? Why did you continue lying to yourself?

“I would have expected that you let go of the whole thing.”

Finally, after he had been quiet for far too long, Han spoke, and your heart sank in the process. It wasn’t his words that hurt you; it was the tone he used, the melody of his voice as he converted his eyes to his fiddling hands again, refusing to look at you, forbidding you to look through him. He was hiding from you. Why was he hiding from you? He had been building a wall the past week, you just realized; a wall intended just for you, a wall around his heart which was just high enough to keep you out of it. The realization was a sip of the strongest venom.

If someone asked you, you weren’t all too sure if you could have described what you’d heard in his timbre, what exactly sent the shiver down your spine in the sound of his voice. Was it the regret you heard, or the despair? It might have been the hopelessness – it could have been the sound of his heart breaking in half.

You wouldn’t provoke him any further. You’d stay silent about Mr. Bahng, until the moment the teacher left, just like you had promised it to yourself – whether you’d make any progress or not. You’d apologize to Han, you’d concentrate on the band, you’d go back to a week ago, before this strange awkwardness had created a gashing crevice between you; you would fix it.

“Why should I let go of the whole thing? Can’t I have some fun without you judging me for it?”

Stupid. How could you be so thoughtless, so immature? You despised yourself; you disgusted yourself. And then Han looked at you, and you could tell he was hurt – and you hated yourself even more.

“I’m not judging you. But you can have fun like, literally anywhere else… I just still don’t think fucking your teacher is the best idea you’ve had.”

He was right, and you hated that you knew that he was. You couldn’t be angry at him, you couldn’t be mad; you weren’t in the position to. The sooner you got over your pride the sooner you could be back to normal. You looked at him; you would simply apologize. You would forget Mr. Bahng, would tell him you couldn’t take private lessons after all, that your schedule was too busy and your band too important; you would fix it.

“Why the fuck are you so sensitive? It’s not like you’re in love with me, so get over it.”

Your words took form in the dampness outside before you realized, settled uncomfortably between your bodies, and the only thing you could do was look at each other. You, fearfully expectant; him, far too nervous for your own liking. Han’s cheeks were suddenly three shades darker, his blinking rapid, his eyes searching for something to focus on; something other than your scrutinizing gaze. His teeth bit into his silver piercing – the sound was uncomfortable, and you almost told him to stop; yet you didn’t tell him anything. You stayed silent, because though you had never despised yourself more than this very moment, when those words had left your mouth, you were far more cautious of his reaction. He wasn’t in love with you, so there was no reason for his sudden nervousness, his clamminess. Why wasn’t he laughing – why wasn’t he denying it? You wished he would deny it; you needed him to deny it.

Your brows furrowed with every passing second. He wasn’t denying it; he wasn’t doing anything, quite frankly. He wasn’t even looking at you, almost as though you hadn’t spoken to him at all. He was back to fiddle with his can of Root Beer, half empty already yet daring to spill with his movements. He placed it on his lips rapidly, the sun throwing golden rays and darker shadows against his face as he threw his head back and took a gulp, only to do something. He continued nibbling on his piercing; the clinking sound was still uncomfortable, cut through the excruciating silence like nails on a wall. The awkwardness was tangible, and it was impossible to bare; you hated it.

“Ji… what the fuck. Get over yourself. It was a joke – you’re not in love with me.”

You spoke, but your voice was trembling. He looked at you; wrong. He forced himself to look at you. There was fear in his eyes, one he tried to overplay with a sudden nervous chuckle. He cleared his throat, grabbed his Root Beer – a little too hard, deforming the tinned can in the process – to finish the drink, throwing back his head again as he let the last droplets run down his throat, and you watched the sun dance on his face again. You saw beats of sweat glistening in the light – you hoped it was due to the heat. You held your breath as you kept looking at him, continued to hold it while he stood, while he threw his rucksack over his shoulder. He was clumsy with it, tripping over his feet somewhat, though he didn’t let it seem as though it was bothering him.

“Hah, of course I’m not, just… I’m just worried about you… whatever. Let’s just go to practice.” You looked at him; you looked right past his feigned carelessness. He was giddy, too smiley all of a sudden. Was he believing his own words? It almost seemed as though his goal wasn’t convincing you, but himself. He looked at you; he tried his best to keep his composure. “The others are probably waiting already.” His voice was thin, though this too, he didn’t seem to let get to him. He was back to pretending, to playing a game that was so obviously gnawing at him; you weren’t all too sure anymore if you wanted to play along, or if you wanted to lay the cards on the table, open and honest.

Though he didn’t give you a chance. Han started to make his way to the studio, not waiting for your answer; not that you had one in mind. Was it possible? Was love the reason he behaved so strangely when it came to Mr. Bahng? The thought alone scared you, and you took hold of your bag quickly before following him; you didn’t want to think about it ever again. It wasn’t possible; it couldn’t be. Han was smarter than that, and your bond far too ancient. There hadn’t been a day in the past decade that you could point to where either you or he had felt more strongly about each other than regular friends did. There had to be a different reason for his strangeness – yet you weren’t sure why it still scared you to ask, to get behind said reason. However; love wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it be.

When you and Han arrived at the studio – you always five steps behind, not feeling brave enough to walk up to him on one level – Lino and Jeongin just grinded their cigarettes with the heavy soles of their boots, the stoned pavement crunching beneath them; Changbin’s bass was audible in the back already, the sound of his tuning occupying your senses and distracting you from your deafening thoughts, if only for a moment. Jeongin disappeared inside, Lino stayed to pet a stray cat which had been snaking around his legs; when he went into the studio eventually it followed him, and he let it. Han went in before you – he tried to ignore your stare he very much felt on his skin, tried to play it cool. What was wrong with him? He had known beforehand that you wouldn’t have let go of the whole fucking-your-teacher thing; yet he had hoped, nevertheless. He had very much noticed the way you had avoided to talk to him about Mr. Bahng, though he had been prepared for your gushing after music class had ended; why had he still felt as though you had shot him right through his heart, had pulled the last cables that had kept him alive?

You closed the door behind you when you entered the studio last, discarded your bag onto the sofa with a dangle, mindlessly. The room was filled with people, and it was filling with vibrations and tunes, faint melodies; it was Han’s favourite part of the day. Settling in, getting ready; he enjoyed nothing more than preparing to practice new songs. The sound of your humming, the sound of reserved warm-up notes, the sound of chattering getting quieter, because music was getting louder. Han put down his rucksack next to your bag, mindlessly too, listened to the static sounds of everyone plugging in their instruments, the purring of the cat that had followed Lino; felines weren’t forbidden in the studio. Lino had persisted on it when you had first started practicing together.

Jeongin and Changbin were chatting while they were getting ready, not loud, but obnoxious, almost. It seemed like they were continuing a conversation they had started when Han and you had been at the vending machine, but the point of exchange wasn’t hard to guess.

“Wait, I thought her name was like… what was it – ah! Nabi, no?”

Jeongin shook his head at Changbin’s words, putting the aux cable into its’ designated spot on the backside of the piano, and turning it on after. It gave a pleasant sound of feedback, and quiet, experimental chords filled the studio after.

“No, Nabi was the girl from the club; I broke it off with her like, ages ago. I met the other girl in the store; she just came up to me and I thought she needed help, but she asked for my number.”

Jeongin had a history of taking his dating life rather easily; too easily, some might say, but he wasn’t one to care much. Whenever he gave his number to women – or men, for that matter – he never intended to spend too much time on that person; and he always made it fashion to clarify it beforehand, so there hadn’t been many instances where people left with a broken heart. Funny enough, and all of you teased him about it far too much for his liking, the small grocery store right outside his and Changbin’s place he kept a part-time job in was the place most people came up to him – it surely couldn’t be the unflattering uniform he had to wear, so all of you wondered what it was about that particular store that brought in so many of his admirers.

Another thing you teased about was how very graphic he was when he told Changbin about a new person he met. How very… detailed. Not to brag, not even to tickle a reaction out of any of you; sex and intimacy, as you’ve learned, were simply subjects he wasn’t shy to talk about, not in the slightest. It came to him like talking of the weather – much to your and everyone else’s dismay. You weren’t often in the mood to get intricate detail on how exactly a girl had sucked his dick right before he came in to practice.

“Bro, she was insane. I’m so glad you slept at Jae's yesterday; she was so loud, I though she…”

Han tuned out the rest of the conversation, momentarily. He didn’t want to know anything about the girl Jeongin had banged the night before, nor wanted he to hear more about Changbin’s girlfriend he spent the night at. Was he jealous of them? He wasn’t sure. He only knew that their talk of intimacy and relationships and one-night stands reminded him of his own loneliness; and that reminded him of you; he wasn’t certain why, but it did. And that, again, reminded him of your – in his humble opinion, unhealthy – obsession with Mr. Bahng, and his own unhealthy weirdness about it. Or was it healthy? Was it reasonable? He wasn’t at all sure anymore. What he was sure of was that he hated being so weird about it. He wanted to be happy for you… didn’t he? He believed himself that he wanted to be, convinced himself of it. Besides the worry of the consequences you might get yourself into there wasn’t a single factor why Han should be so very against the entire affair – and since he had already expressed his worry, there was nothing more he could do, really. He should start being excited for you, if he thought about. It wasn’t his business to be jealous, now, was it? He didn’t have the right to be.

He looked over at you, watching you watch Jeongin and Changbin, listening to their conversation and pretending to gag occasionally whenever something rather repugnant left their mouths. When your eyes swayed his direction, he converted him to his guitar, continuing to tune it. He feared that if you looked into his eyes for only a second, you would read him, inside and out. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want it, because he didn’t understand the words written on his heart himself, in the first place. You couldn’t be the one to read them first; he needed to untangle their conundrum before he let anyone else near it; it was exhausting, excruciatingly frustrating.

Lino was sitting behind his plexiglass, silently, not adding anything to the conversation besides the occasional hum; though all of you doubted it was regarded to Jeongin’s new girl-toy, but rather towards the black cat that has found a home on his lap by now and was purring in full contentment. None of you really knew anything about his love life; he didn’t always sleep over at the shared apartment you and Han owned with him, though he had never brought anyone over, not in the three years you’d known him. You didn’t even know if he preferred nights with strangers; for all any of you knew, he could be having a serious relationship that none of you knew about. You didn’t know, either, that the man had been eyeing you the moment you and Han had come back from the vending machine. Lino was quiet, but he was attentive; he had noticed that you and Han hadn’t been talking before entering the studio, that you still weren’t. That Han’s eyes only found themselves on you when you weren’t looking at him; otherwise, they would flee somewhere else, suddenly busy with his guitar, or overly interested in his music stand and the apparently wrong height of it. Interesting.

“Quit the nasty talk – I have a new song I wanted to show you.”

Han’s voice cut through the studio almost uncomfortably; his voice was sterner than he had expected it to be, killing the fun in the room in an instant. All of you had a silent agreement that practice would be always taken seriously, though that has never meant that enjoyment wasn’t allowed. All of you had always been able to joke around plenty before locking in to rehearse with full concentration; so the strictness in Han’s voice was out of place, almost, and everyone else caught onto it; Jeongin and Changbin looked at each other questioningly, you cleared your throat and converted your eyes to Han – of course he wasn’t looking, but you pretended it to leave you cold.

“Sorry, just – let’s start with practice, okay? I have a lot planned, kinda.” Voice thinner now by a lot, and you looked at each other; Changbin and Jeongin on the verge of giggles while Han returned to his backpack to get the song sheets he had printed for everyone.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry – we forgot sex is like, a sensitive topic for you… since you’re not having it, you know.” Changbin’s chuckling voice in the studio, and you almost punched him.

“Yeah, right. Our condolences, for real.”, Jeongin jumped in, just the comedic duo you knew them to be.

Under different circumstances, you would have laughed at the two; but you watched Han’s reaction closely, noticed how he halted in his movements at the sound of his friends’ bickering, how his face sunk into further despair. How his eyes flickered over yours for barely a second before he continued handing out the sheets. How he flinched barely noticeably when his hand brushed your own while he gave you your paper.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just start.”

There was a storm brewing within him. A storm when he locked eyes with you, a storm when he touched you; a storm when the two friends made a comment that was all but unusual for them, though for some reason, he was sensitive to it today. If he was honest, Han would have walked right out of the studio; he couldn’t bare the eyes on him, the attention, he couldn’t stand the stuffiness suddenly, he hated Jeongin’s giggles, Changbin’s snickering, Lino’s silence; your presence. He didn’t normally mind any of this – but ever since he had talked with you under the weeping willow his mind has been running marathon after marathon, and he struggled concentrating on anything else. He could barely speak when he started to explain the plans for his new song, the division, the harmonies, details about it. He was stuttering at every other word, losing his thought entirely when he as much as passed you with his eyes; why was he so very incapable of holding his emotions in control? Emotions, feelings he wasn’t even certain of, to make matters worse.

The rest of you eyed him, but you didn’t say a word. You could see that Changbin and Jeongin almost did; they looked at each other with a mischievous flicker in their eyes, with an all-saying grin plastered onto their faces – they weren’t evil, and they were well able to read the room, though both of them were unaware of the rough patch the both of you were going through. Rough patch; what a strange thing. You wouldn’t have ever imagined associating Han with a rough patch. You looked at the two friends again, and your thoughts swept back to them; they would tease the poor boy to death any second if you didn’t save him from his misery.

“Ji…”, you called out, interrupting Han in his all but confident semi-presentation. At the sound of your voice he flinched; though he finally, for the first time since you’d both entered the studio, looked at you, properly. His eyes were deep, dark; you felt as though looking right past him, right into his soul he’d been trying to hide from you for the past week.

“Let’s just play it. I’ll sing.”

Gratefulness in his eyes, and he breathed deeply before he nodded at you. You got ready, snaking your hands around your guitar after prepping your microphone, and you waited for Han to get his own instrument ready. You looked back at him; you shivered at the glint in his eyes. He gave you another nod, and you counted in softly, before the studio filled with the sound of your guitars.

Though, and he was so very embarrassed by it, so deeply ashamed, his fingers suddenly forgot how to play, lost its’ place on his guitar when you started singing. The song was made for your voice, truly; you had never sounded prettier. And Han had never played worse. He could see you looking back at him, though he pretended to not notice it, pretended that his bad playing was somehow part of the song. Pretended to keep his cool; though the sight in his peripheral vision of Changbin’s and Jeongin’s confusion and your eyes on him drove him into a spiral, and the more he tried to gloss over his mistakes, the more he seemed not to bare the power to.

The music stopped, your voice dying out after you heard the insecure sound of Han’s guitar disappearing. Ear-scratching feedback echoed through the room, before that, too, dyed into nothingness, and painful silence filled the room. All of you looked at the guitarist, while he eyed the red burgundy carpet beneath him in all firmness. He was flushed, his cheeks as red as the carpet.

“Uh, sorry. Let’s start again.”

His voice was but a whisper, and all five of you could sense that tension, and Han was trembling under it. He didn’t dare lock gazes with anyone in the studio; it was a death sentence, quite simply. He would cease to exist, merely vanish if he had to see the look in any of his band mates’ eyes. Confusion, amusement, maybe; suspicion or understanding, which would be the worst of them all.

Han heard Changbin huff out in what supposedly should have sounded like amusement, though it didn’t quite; Han jerked internally at it, and the storm that had started brewing prior was now coming down on him in thunder and lighting. They knew… was it possible for them to know something he wasn’t even sure of himself? How could they; it wasn’t possible. He wasn’t confident, even, in his own feelings; how could any of the others know anything about them?

“Damn… didn’t know you were this sensitive to the whole sex thing.” Changbin was tone deaf, and you wished you could punch him. Han was almost relieved; Changbin, at least, did not know anything about the storm within him. Because sex – or the lack thereof – surely wasn’t the reason for it. Yet he almost feared his next words. He suddenly felt humiliated; he wasn’t one to overthink a joke, but today, he couldn’t bare it. “You know…”, the bassist started again after moments of silence as Han nothing but stared holes into the ground. He was about to lose it. He was about to burst into tears, or implode – worst of all, for the first time in many years, he felt like he wasn’t able to search for comfort in you. “I told you already, we can like, set you up with someone if want, no need to be so weird about the whole – “

Changbin didn’t get to finish his sentence. The harsh feedback of Han’s guitar sounded through the room, stinging in your ears as he threw the fabric band over his neck and placed the guitar on his stand, mindlessly, not as much as plugging it off. He was clumsy, tripped over the thick, dusty carpet while scurrying to grab his rucksack, before he disappeared out of the studio so quickly barely any of you noticed, simply leaving the rest of you behind with no explanation.

You looked at the door he had let open for several moments after he left. You had been excited to practice the new song, though he hadn’t given the chance to. You had been ready to play pretend for a little while longer, had prepared to never speak of Mr. Bahng again, not after his reaction under the weeping willow; yet Han seemed to be the first to have grown sick of it. He hadn’t been good at his own game the previous week, and it must have gotten to him now – what you feared, now, was the truth. You still weren’t quite sure what that was, in the first place. But you knew it was enough to tear Han up, to toy with your friendship, to make him behave like an entirely different person, almost. And it made you despise yourself. It made you a different person, too; a worse one, and you hadn’t been a saint to begin with. Would he talk in all honesty to you, now? Would he sleep over today and seek out a conversation with you, like two mature friends would? You hoped he would; and simultaneously, you feared it. The truth about his antics and behaviour, you thought, had doomed on you a week ago already; you simply didn’t want to confess it to yourself, you thought. So, you had avoided it, had continued hurting him instead of hurting yourself.

You had decided to shoot Han a text before you and the others wrapped up the rehearsal – not that you had played anything in the first place, it wasn’t of much use if a member was missing. You weren’t talking, not about Han, nor otherwise. You were deep in thought, zoning out Changbin’s and Jeongin’s conversation, not noticing Lino’s eyes on you. You kept checking your phone; your own words – hey, everything good? let’s talk when i’m home? – staring back at you mockingly, without a reply beneath it. You would talk to him. You would listen to the truth, whatever he was hiding whenever he avoided your eyes – but you feared it, with every fibre of your body.

☆.☆.☆

Your steps the next day were not as light as you had hoped them to be. You were on the way to class, to Mr. Bahng’s – you ought to be excited, you ought to be flying more than walking, yet your feet weighted heavily on the ground beneath you, and you couldn’t help but sink into your own body. The faint feeling of frenzy when you remembered Mr. Bahng’s class after waking this morning was not enough to conceal the misery over the text Han had yet not answered, or the fact he had been asleep – or, had pretended to be – when you’d reached home. You had left the prior day linger on you without redemption, and now it was pressing down on you with all its’ strength; it had gnawed into your brain, words you said and words you didn’t say, Han’s frustration, Changbin’s teasing, Lino’s silence, your silence, Han’s final outburst, his silence. It was all that occupied your mind, your thoughts, your sleepless night. That, and Mr. Bahng. And not in a negative way, either; you had been excited ever since you had set the date for private lessons. Were you that bad of a friend? Or had Mr. Bahng enamoured you so much that you clearly struggled to think straight? It baffled you how you could possibly stay eager, giddy, even – though admittedly, surely not as much as you would have been if the events of the prior day had never occurred – about something your best friend was so adamantly against, that was so very obviously the reason for the current coldness settling between you?

Maybe it was your stubbornness. It has always been one of your greater weaknesses, one of many reasons of miscommunication with your parents, or friends, or Han. Your stubbornness, and your defiance, a mixture of characteristics prone to immaturities. What everyone else hated you loved out of spite, what everyone else advised you against you were more excited over only for the sake of it; it was but a curse, brewing within you and out of your control. As though the crush on Mr. Bahng increased in volume with every objecting word Han spoke, as though your body was physically powerless to rationalize, slave to be left doing the very opposite of the righteous. Was it to piss people off, to mess with them? Or laid the problem deeper, someplace locked within you? A fear, maybe, of rejection and disappointment so you induced it yourself before others could. Fear of judgement, so you acted purposefully irrational to feign carelessness; were you maybe deeper damaged than you cared to admit? Or did you know Han’s secret, after all, and so were adamant to do everything in your power to stop him from ever admitting it?

The more you thought about it the more your head felt as though bursting. It was hurting, and the scorching sun in your eyes wasn’t much help to get rid of the headache, despite the dark sunglasses you were wearing. You couldn’t wait for summer to pass, for it to make room for colder temperatures and a cozier atmosphere. Fall had always been your favourite season, though, as you made your way over the sizzling, black asphalt, it seemed so very far away still. You sighed at the thought of it, hummed, then, when you finally entered the main hall of the music department. An artificial chill welcomed you, granted by stone and concrete, engulfing you in a familiar scent and a silence so sacred you almost grew embarrassed of your own footwear echoing through the building. You took off your shades, placed them on the top of your head to imitate a hair band, creating a wanted mess of your bangs, some falling in frames around your face, some tucked behind by your sunglasses. You passed classrooms, few people who greeted you politely, professors who you were familiar with from previous semesters; before you stood before Mr. Bahng’s classrooms. Professor Hwang’s classroom, to be precise – though you haven’t given latter man a thought in the past weeks altogether. Now that you remembered him again, you hoped he was fine, and on his way to well-being; then again you hoped he’d stay absent for a little while longer, for Mr. Bahng would vanish if he didn’t. Cruel, sick, and you couldn’t decide between being disgusted or confused with yourself. You chose both, before you knocked on the heavy wood of the entrance door, and entered Mr. Bahng’s classroom without waiting for an answer.

The plan had initially been a different one. You were supposed to meet next week, right after a shortened music class. Just before yesterday’s rehearsal you had wondered how you could possibly wait a whole week for private classes with the teacher you so badly wanted to fuck, had wanted to for the past five years; until said teacher had shot you an E-Mail that night, when you had reached home after the unsuccessful practice, proposing to meet the next day if you could make time, due to a busy schedule the entirety of the next two weeks. You had tried to dismiss the fact that the Mail had rolled in a little past midnight, had tried to dismiss the causality of its’ tone. Yet you had grown giddy, and had answered the very moment; you hadn’t cared to play hard to get. Your time with Mr. Bahng was limited, and you would use every second that was granted to you. You had texted that you could squeeze in an hour between your Uni classes and afternoon rehearsals, and Mr. Bahng had answered – momentarily – that he looked forward to tomorrow. He had attached a smiley face at the end of the sentence, and you had been a lost cause.

Now you stood before him, a day later, an hour from rehearsal, an hour away from seeing Han again, from speaking to him, from hopefully finding back normalcy. You stood before Mr. Bahng, clammy hand fisted around the strap of your dark handbag, the other forced to casually hang by the side of your body. Your bejewelled wrist clanked against the chains you had added onto your dark jeans, matching the silver around your neck. Your top – short, little, exposing far too much skin though it didn’t necessarily raise a question in the hot weather – was dark and simple, as though you hadn’t much thought about your outfit altogether, and had thrown together the first thing in your closet. As though you weren’t trying too hard. No one needed to know you had spent over an hour getting ready in the morning, for this moment alone.

“Hi, Yn.”

Every coherent thought you had formed up until this very moment, up until his greeting had been wiped with as little as two words, with the singsong of his voice. You feared to flush, to turn a dark shade of red at the sight of your teacher, feared to sweat profusely – lose, white dress-shirt, black pants. A watch adorning his right wrist, silver, matching the dainty necklace dangling on his chest. His chest, that he wore exposed, only enough, with two buttons of his dress-shirt kept open; what was it about him that made you revert to a hormonal teenage girl, needy for a man’s attention, giddy when he granted it? What was it about Mr. Bahng that made you lose all sense of moral, everything you stood for – what was it about him that made you lose yourself, entirely?

“Hi, Mr. Bahng.”

Your voice was stronger, more secure than you had expected – you feigned confidence while your body ran hot and cold all at once, while your knees dared to give out if you as much as moved an inch. But Mr. Bahng bought it, didn’t sense your nervosity; he gave you a smile, kind, welcoming, while he waited patiently for you to set down your things and take a seat by a table right in front of his own. You felt his eyes on you with every move you made, while you bend down to drop off your bag under the table, while you sat down and ran a hand through your hair. You felt his eyes on you even when you pretended to fix your attire, picking at your top and jeans – was it normal to look that much? Was he staring? You were surely reading too much into it.

And then you saw his eyes on you, when you finally, after having let him wait for a while, reciprocated his gaze; maybe it was normal to look that much, but you could swear to have seen Mr. Bahng’s cheeks redden only a taint when you locked his gaze with your own, from beneath your lashes, dark make-up sure to accentuate your piercing eyes. You weren’t seductive, you’d argue, not yet – though you were teasing. On the brink of seduction, though not quite there yet; letting him quiver, making him wait and wonder if he was the one reading too much into it. Into you.

The teacher cleared his throat, gave you another kind smile. “Alright, should we start?” A nod from you, and Mr. Bahng stepped from behind his desk to lean on it before you. You looked up at him, barely two meters away from him, face levelled with his core, his crotch, and a quiver made its’ presence in the pit of your stomach. Your thighs squeezed a little, and you wondered anew what it was exactly about him that made you lose all control over yourself.

“Tell me about your singing first. When did you start, where did you learn and so on.”, his voice was serious, just the teacher. Kind, but disciplined. “Oh, and… just call me Chris. We’re both adults, and I’m not your official teacher anymore. No need for formalities.” A smile, a grin almost, if you read too much into it, and it was then your entire world seemed to start spinning.

Tell me about your singing first. When did you start. – you could not, for the life of you, remember. Anything. About your singing, about the band, about Han. All memories wiped away in Mr. Bahng’s – in Chris’s – presence. In how casually he treated you. In how easy, you suddenly realized, it would be to wrap him around your finger. He wasn’t the unattainable man from five years ago anymore. He was here and present, having suggested dropping formalities, showing interest in you, spending time with you solely by his own wish, uncoerced. He was far realer now – and the realization hit you like a truck.

It was about twenty minutes later when you and him stood before a music stand, warm-up sheets presented before you. Talking with Chris had been easy, fun. He was a good teacher, a good listener. A good explainer. A good talker. A terrible flirt, though. You couldn’t possibly be any bolder, you thought. The fleeting touches all upon him – never inappropriate, but always surprising, once seemingly coincidentally passing his arm, or purposefully swatting his shoulder in light manner at a stupid joke he told, or standing so near to him it wasn’t all that necessary, but also not enough for him to back away – seemed to make him nervous, but you weren’t sure if he picked up the signs. He was flushing, ears red and glowing, the coughs stuck in his throat never seeming to end. It was adoring, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t yet what you wanted, wasn’t yet close to meeting your goal – though that was given. A married man wouldn’t jump at the first opportunity presented to him, if he bore even the faintest presence of a moral compass. It would take you far longer than a simple one-hour lesson to get the teacher exactly where you wanted him.

“Hm… I’m not feeling it… is this right?”

Chris stood in front of you, inches away, watching your hand hovering on your throat. He had told you to sing and to feel what exactly your vocal cords were doing – you weren’t even much sure what you should be feeling, what your vocal cords really should be doing while you sang the practice melodies on the sheet in front of you. Not that you weren’t listening to your teacher – techniques, as sorry as you felt for Chris, were of secondary importance to you today, though. You bashed your eyes at him, fluttering lashes, brows furrowed as though genuinely confused, fingers caressing your neck – you hoped you looked somewhat seductive instead of making a fool of yourself.

What you didn’t know, what you were blissfully unaware of – Chris was running laps in his mind, was sweating profusely. His dress pants, normally perfectly fitted to his body, had started to feel far too tight over the span of the last forty-five minutes. The lesson was coming to an end – and the teacher was almost thankful for it. You were a good student, adapting anything he explained quite quickly; though you always asked for a second explanation, one that, not seldom, required physicality. A hand on your jaw, or your shoulders to put you in a proper posture, or on your chest, to check your breathing. Touches and brushes of skin against skin not necessarily unusual for vocal lessons – but with you they felt too intimate, too close. But maybe Chris was reading far too much into it. You had been his student once; if not for long, and half a decade ago, and though he only barely remembered you – you had been his student. Should he feel disgust towards himself, at the feeling of his tightening pants rubbing against his core, with every further touch you granted upon his body? He couldn’t really be blamed though, he thought – you had grown into a woman, and he couldn’t as much as recall you as a teenager. He had barely recognized you, when he had spotted you in the universities’ classroom a week ago – he had spotted you and his body had gone up in flames, his limbs running hot at the sight of you; and only then he had noticed you had looked familiar. Only then he had been able to attach your face to the name he first read five years ago. And only then, only after initial attraction, after followed revelation, only after both embarrassment and bashfulness, but also a wave of desire had filled his every fibre he had remembered his wife, his kids; he had felt a horrible husband, are far more horrible father.

And now it wasn’t any different. The thought of his wife, his family, flashed through his mind only shortly, and only after having worried about every other possible thing – about whether it was wrong or not to feel the attraction he felt towards you, about whether the half-boner in his pants was at all appropriate or not, about whether his nervousness was your doing, even, your goal, or if it was his very own hunger for intimacy, his thirst for physicality which blinded him, lead him wrongly. If your flirting wasn’t flirting at all, only your persona, your nature. If he was the problem. Only then he thought about his wife, when Chris’s hand lay on your throat, to check for proper technique, on your warm, sweat-laced throat, bobbing with each gulp you swallowed, with each word your spoke, your piercing eyes through his own, your slow blinking, your slower licking of your lips, your hand then on his own, why he couldn’t quite make out, that he thought about his marriage. When his face was inches from your own, when you had stopped singing already, when your voice, strong and sure and rich, wasn’t echoing in his mind anymore, when it needed only a wrong move for your lips to meet, with his fingers still wrapped around your throat – that’s when he thought about his family. Only when it was almost too late. He thought about his wife, not having seen her in over a week, to get space, to clear both your minds’, and he thought he couldn’t really be blamed for his attraction to you – he hadn’t seen his wife in over a week. You were attractive, you were flirting, profusely so; and he suddenly felt a horrible husband again.

So, he didn’t act on it. He thought about his wife, Chris felt your breath on his skin, on his face, he remembered how he hadn’t been this close to his own wife in ages, how he hadn’t seen her in over a week; and he took a step back. His hand fell to his side, left your throat cold and empty – left you cold and empty. Left you with your hopes up, left you falling against concrete made of bitter rejection. He had been so close to you, so near – you had felt his breath against you, his tightening grip around your throat; and with the blink of an eye, it had been gone. A memory, a thought flashing past him and there was distance between you again; which was given. He was a married man, one carrying a moral compass – it would need you longer than this. More effort than this.

Chris cleared his throat – you lost count how often he had done this throughout the hour of your lesson. The room was hot, the sun scorching the old, dark wood. You could see dust particles dancing in the rays of light as Chris stepped behind his desk again, heaving his bag on top of it. you weren’t sure if you imagined the bulge in his pants, or if it was really there, but either way you grinned at it, internally. It needed several moments before Chris granted you a look, after checking the time on his wrist-watch – the hour was over, though you had hoped he wouldn’t have noticed.

“So… that was good for the beginning. You’re a good singer…”, he packed his bag, scattered stuff all around the desk which he stuffed hurriedly, though feigning calmness. You did the same, though much calmer than him, no need to fake it – you had gotten him nervous, you had gotten his exposed chest to be flush, even now, minutes after he had created physical space between your bodies. “We just need to work on details, stylistic choices, techniques. It’s obvious you’re self-taught, we’re gonna work on that-“, his bag was packed, and you stood with your own thrown over your shoulder, in front of him, calm as can be, satisfied, smirking. He looked at you, questioningly, “…same time next week?”

When you had stepped outside the classroom, bidding Chris goodbye and watching him set off to the exit, granting you one look back, bashful when he’d noticed your staring and shy over his own antics, you checked your phone – Han had answered your text from last night. Finally. An hour ago, when your classes with Chris had begun, asking if you’d be up to grab a drink. He couldn’t know of your classes with Chris – he had been asleep, or, at least in his darkened bedroom – when you had come home, and he had been out the door before you’d been awake that morning; you had never gotten the chance to tell him, though you wouldn’t have done so anyways, under different circumstances. You would have kept quiet about Chris, because Han’s sensitivity towards the matter still got to your head; though now, looking at his text, at the followed question mark fifteen minutes after the first message, you didn’t want to lie to him. You didn’t want to lie, and you didn’t want to hurt him, or upset him, or do whatever he thought you were doing any time Chris was the object of your conversation; you didn’t want any of it, didn’t want him strange and quiet and unknown to you, almost. Didn’t want him different. So you went with a half-truth as you made your way to the studio, shooting back a text that you were busy with lessons – it wouldn’t work on him. Han knew your schedule, and you knew his. The half-lie was only uttered to save time, to not leave him waiting on an answer any longer, to not shoot yourself into a position deserving of his condemnation once again, in a matter of seconds. The distance between you was enough as it was; the lack of shared dinner last night was nagging on you, the absence of a sweet Coke on your tastebuds suddenly strange. It wasn’t like you, the silence, the distance. And not even the high from ten minutes ago was vibrant enough to lull out the worry.

☆.☆.☆

Han sat on the shabby, sheeling sofa in the stuffy studio, staring at his phone, staring at your message. He wasn’t sure if you thought him dumb, or if your respect for him was finally reduced to null.

16:44     sorry, was busy with lessons. let’s grab a drink after practice ^^

Han wasn’t stupid. He was aware your schedule was supposed to be free now – he was aware your lessons had been probably private, and probably in presence of Mr. Bahng. He hated the guy. He hated you for liking him, for having this teenage crush on him that didn’t seem to leave you alone. And he wasn’t sure why. Han wasn’t sure about the reason his body seemed to set aflame whenever Mr. Bahng’s name occupied your mouth, the sound of it so repulsive it shivered within the boy, despite the flames set inside him. He wasn’t sure just why now, in the silence of the room, in its’ loneliness, only instruments and the faint, static sound of electrics granting him company, he couldn’t be at ease with the thought of you spending time alone with a teacher he despised – for seemingly no good reason. Why now, as he watched dust particles dance in the heat of the room, illuminated by the sun only for seconds before they grew invisible to human eye, only shortly shining in golden rays before they vanished, why his heart bled, had started bleeding when you had first told him of Mr. Bahng. Why since then, it hadn’t stopped bleeding. Why since then, whenever he looked at you, whenever his eyes met yours, or only your face, your figure, he saw someone else now; still you, but changed. Not the girl he grew up with, not the girl he taught the guitar, the girl he had spent endless nights laughing with, about nothing, careful to not wake parents. Suddenly, he wasn’t seeing that girl anymore, not a girl – he was seeing a woman. A woman who desired a man he didn’t like; was it brotherly protection? Was that the reason his heart was beating faster whenever you entered the room, any room, whenever you laid your eyes on him, soft, known, familiar? He never felt like a brother to you, though; closer than a best friend, though never a brother, not quite. Something in between, something linguists haven’t found a name for, yet. Something linguists couldn’t name, maybe, because it only existed between the two of you. Or something only he believed existed, and you were entirely unaware about.

Maybe his heart bled not because you desired a man altogether, but because you desired him. Mr. Bahng, who he simply couldn’t stand. Must there be a reason for his hatred, he thought? No one can like everyone – his ill feelings towards the teacher could be entirely unsolicited, random at their core. It wouldn’t make it more right, but it was possible. Han wasn’t obligated to like him, nor did he need a reason – though it only felt like an excuse, nowhere near the answer he was looking for.

The answer he was looking for – what, exactly, was he looking for? He stood from the sofa, turning off his phone and throwing it onto the cushions where it bounced two, three times before coming to a halt, denting into the old, brown leather. The others would arrive soon – he made his way over to his guitar, busying himself with tuning it, warming up. He would use the time he had working, instead of thinking – he had enough of the insides of his head, the very depths of his brain. Seemingly, it was useless to think, altogether; it’s not like he was aware of the purpose behind all the thinking, anyways. He knew only three things, and none of them were of much help: he hated the teacher you so much adored; he didn’t know where this hatred came from, didn’t know why his heart yearned, suddenly, for something he couldn’t name; and that he saw you in a different light, though you had never changed. He saw you as someone who desired, who loved. Who wasn’t only a best friend to him, the singer of his band, his entire childhood. He was aware, now, that both you and him had changed. That you could, but did not, did never, desire him, desire Han; someone between a best friend and a brother, someone unnameable, something previously unknown to Han.

The door to the studio opened, and you tore Han from his spiralling thoughts. Thankfully so, or not, he wasn’t sure. But you stood in the little college studio now, skin glistening from the sweat the summer sun had drowned you in, eyes careful, searching. For him, for a sign in him – what sign neither of you quite knew, but you doubted you found it, now as you looked at your friend. Your friend you barely recognized – when had he turned so different? When had he turned away from you? Was it when you had first mentioned Chris? If so, it was stupid – it didn’t make sense.

Han’s eyes weren’t flickering in excitement as you stepped closer to him, his mouth was silent, no words gushing out to tell you of mundanity which always meant the world if it was the two of you. He stood and looked at you, for a moment too long, only looking, before he went back to his guitar. His teeth fiddled with the ring around his lip, the silver chains around his neck sounding against each other as ever, his grown-out roots dark in contrast to his bleached, dry hair. He looked as always; yet he didn’t look the same.

It was you who needed to break the silence – you were scared that otherwise, if no one uttered a word, it would stay silent forever. That silence would swallow you forever. And you weren’t sure why. You didn’t know why this moment felt so fatal, so deadly if you as much as breathed the wrong way. That if you did, everything around you would crumble – you didn’t know why, within the four walls of the small studio, time seemed to be frozen, waiting for either the right or the wrong, before everything would shatter, or go back to normal.

“Hi.”

Your voice was hopeful, almost. Desperate, one might say. Desperate for normality, for Han to look at you, to return to himself. He halted in his movements of tuning his guitar at the sound of your voice. He did look at you, granted you a smile, not quite awkward, but something close to it. A smile you would greet a good friend with, or a class acquaintance you met outside of class for the first time – not a friend of decades. And all desperateness was gone, all hope. Every bad feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach vanished to give room for sudden anger. You looked at him, ever tuning his guitar, the sun only inches away from blinding him but instead choosing to illuminate his hands, to find home there, to make the red on his instrument shimmer, and he looked so peaceful in his uneasiness. Who was he to feel peaceful? While you were worrying about him, choosing the right words say and the right actions to do – lost for, of course, the wish to sleep with Mr. Bahng –, actually trying? Who was he to smile at you, almost awkwardly, without a word before going back to his fucking guitar? Anger in every fibre of your body, behind your lids, flames in the tips of your fingers.

“Why are you being weird.”

 The question wasn’t asked as a question at all, said like a statement instead. With a voice so stern it made Han face you momentarily. You hated your temper, you hated your stubbornness. You hated him. You hated yourself. He blinked, once, twice. He played a couple chords on his guitar, as though he hadn’t heard you at all – you hated his fucking guitar.

“I’m not being weird.” The tone in his voice undetectable, unsure what it meant.

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m no-“

“You are. Why aren’t you talking to me.”

Han looked at you again. You haven’t moved from your spot beside the door ever since you walked in, bag still thrown over your shoulder, your chest heaving in heavy breaths. Han trembled under your gaze. He trembled, and every thought he had been gnawing on before you had entered was suddenly forgotten about. He only saw you, your questioning eyes, awaiting eyes, as though desperate, clinging onto something he wasn’t aware of. He saw you, your frustration – and if it hadn’t been directed at him, this frustration, this anger, he would have found you beautiful. The revelation came like a tidal wave and almost drowned him entirely. You stood before him, and he felt as though unable to breath, looking at you. Actually, truly looking at you – he wasn’t sure if he ever has before. He had never believed you to be beautiful – he had never believed you to be ugly, but he had never paid enough attention to your exterior to have believed you to be either. The thought scared him, intimated him; you intimidated him, the way you were standing there, looking at him, expectantly, having taken only one step towards him. And he was quick to free himself from the waters that were you – was quick to join your anger, because it seemed to be the only thing holding the both of you afloat.

“You’re the one who was too busy fucking your teacher to answer my text, so…”

You knew he regretted his words the moment he uttered them. You weren’t sure why you knew, but you did – be it the years of friendship, be it intuition, be it whatever you wanted to call it. You looked at him, his eyes feigning steadiness yet laced with regret, and you fumed. Though not at him; at yourself. Because he was right, because you couldn’t blame him, not really.

You sighed, making your way to the guitar stand. You dropped your bag off along the way, it joined Han’s phone on the dirty sofa. The instrument felt heavy in your hands; heavier, for some reason, than you remembered, even after years of playing. Strange. Maybe it was your spirit that was weighing it down, the lack of motivation you usually only seldom felt before rehearsals.

“Don’t start with that again. Please.”

You threw the leather strap of your guitar over your shoulder, plugged in the aux, started tuning. Without a gaze to Han, but you heard the lack of notes from his own guitar. Maybe he was looking at you, maybe he wasn’t, maybe he was about to apologize. You didn’t really care; and yet you couldn’t possibly care more.

“Why?” His voice provoking, almost, and you weren’t in the mood to fight – but you would, if he wanted to. If his version of not being weird meant offence, you wouldn’t back away.

“How was it? Did you get Mr. Bahng…”, he spat the name, “…to cheat yet? Or is that still-“

“Shut up.” Your voice interrupted his, and it hadn’t needed much volume to. Despite his words, almost hateful, too hateful, unknown coming from him, there wasn’t much weight beneath them, no support. He didn’t mean what he was saying. Not a word of it. As though his mouth wasn’t part of him, saying the exact opposite of what he meant, only to bask in regret right after. He wasn’t able to control it, his mouth. He didn’t want to hurt you, not with a single word he uttered, but he did. Because maybe it was, after all, the only way to stop the tidal wave flooding him whole. Maybe it was the only way to forget that suddenly, he believed you to be beautiful. Why were you beautiful, so out of the blue? Had you always been?

“I don’t wanna talk about this. I fucking hate talking about Chris, it always leads to a fight.”

It was the use of Mr. Bahng’s first name which set Han off, which made his head cock in subtle disbelief. You called him by his first name – what had happened during your private lesson? And why did he care so much? You were grown, you could do whatever you desired to do – why was it bothering him so very much?

“Ohh, so it’s Chris already, huh.” Chris. The name tasted even sourer than the man’s surname. Han saw you roll your eyes at him, his words – he understood why. The comment was bitter, petty. It didn’t carry any meaning, anything. He would have rolled his eyes as well. He did, internally, at himself. But he couldn’t stop the pettiness. The fabric around his neck pulled on his skin, marring it red, and he saw that little strands of your hair tangled in your own leather band, the one around your neck. It was red, too, your skin, as you were tuning your instrument. It was pretty, your neck. The little hairs were, your eyes, though angry still, were too. You were pretty. Notes and unfinished melodies sounded against hurtful words, words not meant. Words not real.

“God, I’m fucking tired of you. What the fuck is this? You bash out yesterday fucking leaving me to worry about you, and you bash out now out of fucking nowhere? I haven’t even fucking mentioned Chris before you brought him up, because, guess what! I fucking notice how you become a fucking pussy every time I mention him, as if you’re fucking jealous.” Your voice loud, too loud. Your words real though now, so real you’re scared of them yourself.

“You’re not my fucking dad.”

A beat, a silence in which Han looked at you, disbelief crossing his features, shock, maybe. You had never screamed at him like this. Meaning everything you said. And being right, with every word, every letter spilling past your mouth in spit and wetness. Why did he think you to be beautiful, even now?

“Or my fucking boyfriend.”

Before Han could further dwell on those words, trying to make sense of the feeling they left within him, Changbin burst open the door, making his entrance known loud and clear. The other’s followed right behind him, Lino closing behind him with a heavy click. You and Han stayed silent, while the others greeted you, not yet picking up on the coldness icing the room, the storm brewing in the space between you and Han. Only Lino was curious, careful. He watched you both as he made his way behind his drum set, discarding his bag next to him – it was covered in small bits of cat fur. He watched you intently as both of you continued playing chords to warm up, not speaking a word – not even looking the same direction.

The small studio erupted in sounds of various instruments. The room smelled of heavy smoke, of leather, of sun. It was stuffy and sweaty bodies only made it stuffier, meaningless conversations made it smaller, tighter. Changbin and Jeongin, talking about classes they missed, notes they needed to borrow for an upcoming exam. Chatting with Lino, who was still more concerned about the pair of you, not about whatever Changbin was nagging him about – and then the bassists’ eyes found you and Han. You could see the wheels in his head rear and turn, work their way to a coherent thought, to make sense of the silence he wasn’t used to. He squinted his eyes, furrowed his brows, lay a finger upon his chin – a caricature of a man thinking.

“Yo, what’s up with you two lovebirds. You hadn’t said a word since we came here.”

Both of you shot him a look, both glistening with impatience, with frustration and regret and worry. Both of your gazes made the bassist take a step back. Rehearsals had never felt so dreadful, and the hour has barely even started.

“We’re fine.”

We. Even in times of distance, when you couldn’t seem to stand each other, it was you against the others. A united front, against all odds – against, even, yourselves. The thought made you melancholic.

Changbin glanced over at Lino, who wasn’t paying any attention to him – his gaze was fixated on you, questioning, brows furrowed. Though not in innocent curiosity, like Changbin; the older man was worried. After the few years he grew to know yours and Han’s friendship, neither of you had ever acted like this, not towards each other, especially. There would always be giggling and laughter, bickering conversation and banter in your corner of the studio. Always exchanging looks, always aware of something none other picked up. A secret language, a secret code. You barely fought, and if you did it never carried weight, and was forgotten within the hour. Lino lived with the two of you sometimes, too – the two of you were a synergy. He was never able to explain the relationship you seemed to carry; it has always felt deeper than the one you would describe best friends to have, though you always denied of being together, of being in love. Lino wasn’t so sure about that. He wasn’t so sure love and feelings had never been object in any of your hearts – but he wasn’t one to push, or to dip his toes into business not meant for him.

But the two of you were different now, that everyone noticed. Why, no one knew – but Jeongin, being him, applied the same theory to everything he crossed. “They probably fucked.”

Two sets of eyes met him, angry, fuming. Though wordless. You and Han looked at the youngest, unsure if to throw him out of the band or kill him altogether. He looked at you both, questioning, as though analysing. “And it was probably bad, so now they’re awkward.”

It was said with a chuckle; he wasn’t at all serious, teasing, as always. Though neither of you caught the tone – both of you took the words as personal offence, not less after your previous fight hadn’t yet cooled off your nerves. Both of you agitated, both of you ready to jump at the next thing which flashed before your eyes, which made a wrong move – and both of you not looking at the other, because that would be the worst of all. You denied Jeongin’s accusations in a choir, a simultaneous ‘No, we didn’t’ sounding through the room – against your words instruments, tapping of feet, the sun, suddenly, loud too. Too loud. Everything was making noise, and it was too loud. You even heard the damn dust particles dancing before you, tickling in your nose.

“Well, then maybe you should. Wouldn’t be so worked up all the time.”

It had only been a murmur. Jeongin might have not even meant the words, just said them to say them. To wash over the uncomfortable atmosphere you and Han had created. But Han heard every of his word, and with each further one his blood dared to boil. The temperature almost hot enough to make it run out and over, and his face reddened as he tried his best to shut his mouth, to stay silent against the speech which wanted to spill. He looked at you as you pretended to not have heard Jeongin, adjusting your microphone stand, getting comfortable behind it; not looking his direction. Pretending like he didn’t exist. And he couldn’t even blame you – he had been an asshole today. And, as it seemed, he would continue being one – because before he could restrain from it, words were bashing past his lips and into the hot, stuffy room, tight and small and clammy with hate and regret and judgement already, and he made matters worse. He filled the room further though there was no room, filled it with more dust and anger, ignited it to burn.

“Well, that’s gonna be hard for me to arrange. Yn likes to fuck older men who happen to be her professor.”

The room, having erupted in a variation of sounds before, fell silent now – entirely silent. You don’t think you’ve ever heard this studio so very quiet; but then again, within you, within your head, thoughts were screaming and roaring so you took into account only little of said silence. You looked at Han, and it was the only thing you noticed. Him, his eyes of regret. He didn’t mean it, you knew. Though it didn’t make it better. It didn’t mend the fact he had broken your trust; you were aware he wasn’t in peace with your crush on Chris, but you would have never believed him to blurt it out to the others. It had been a secret, never told as one and yet known to be a secret. No matter how angry he was, no matter if he meant it or not, the sight of him now, already begging for forgiveness, silently, only with his eyes, repulsed you. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know the man that stood before you. It surely wasn’t Han, not the best friend you knew and held so dearly.

Only out of your peripheral did you see the others faces – shock lacing it, and a fear of moving, of speaking. Everyone stayed silent; no one said a word. Changbin and Jeongin exchanged gazes, Lino’s was ever fixated on you and Han; trying to understand, trying to make sense of a situation so absurd it didn’t feel quite real.

And then the situation dissolved itself. As though unreal, after all. After moments of stagnation in which you held Han’s eyes with your own, hurt, laced with disbelief and drowned in betrayal, you took a step back, and when you looked away Han felt everything he was crumble. You got rid of the guitar around your neck, placed it onto the standee, fled to grab your bag.

“I’m not in the mood for practice today.”

Your voice quiet, but a whisper, though everyone heard you in the silence of the room.

Han, in his confusion, in his frustration, in his chaos of thoughts, knew only two things: he had hurt you deeply. So deep, he wasn’t sure he could repair it. Your friendship had survived worse, deeper bruises – but this one he had claffed open again and again, not having let it rest. And he wasn’t sure either of you were capable of mending the wound, deep and bloody and tearing you apart.

He only knew he hurt you; and he knew, now, that you were beautiful. Still, after storming out the studio, having left open the door – a stray cat found its’ way inside, and Lino pet it absentmindedly. The revelation yet felt surreal; you were beautiful, enticing, and he had written a song for you – a song he feared to never hear now. Because he had hurt you.

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh @chrizzztopherbang @qtieskz @rylea08 @miss-fallon @sikebishes @h0n3yj4y @lashaemorow

[rainydayz-nstuff]

Adventure Time

You can probably tell what I’m mostly going to be posting about 🫤 Anyways, this is briefly based on my own AT fanfic that I have.

So here is Finn x Ice Kings Kid! Reader (How you met)

Let’s start off with how you appeared since you’re human. Gunter found you while messing around in Ice King’s ‘research lab’

It was actually Simon’s old lab.

You, with very out dated clothes, were stuck in an Ice Pod where you’ve been asleep for many, many, years.

Ice King heard Gunter’s ‘wenks’ so he found both Gunter and a sleeping human

At first he asked Gunter if he had made a statue, then he opened the pod and you… nearly fell on your face.

Ice King caught you and realized you were still knocked out, and he kindly brought you to his bed and laid you down. He spent the next few hours pacing around the room and staring at you while he ate trail mix

When you woke up, he was chomping away and he was completely zoned out. Like, his pupils were huge.

You stared at him before blinking slowly. Finally, Ice King glanced down at you while letting out a hum. You locked eyes before he shrieked and started choking on his trail mix.

“Oh! Geeze, I’m sorry!” You instantly apologized.

Ice King recovered while taking deep breaths. You were now sitting up and he could tell you were kind of young.

Then, an idea hit him.

“I’m going to adopt you!”

“… You gonna what?

Ice king is now officially your dad (here you go people with daddy issues)

HES ACTUALLY A GOOD DAD NGL

He teaches you how to play the drums, the keyboard, writing fan fiction, ruling the kingdom, how he’s gonna kid nap possible wives-

You just let him rant on and on because he seems happy to talk with you

He’ll also offer to kidnap anybody you may be interested in, he doesn’t judge.

MAKES A CROWN FOR YOU! It never melts, and it looks like a mini version of his!

Cried the first time you wore it in front of him

Okay, onto the rest-

He set up a coronation to officially welcome you to the kingdom as his child.

Sends out posters, invitations, notes tied to rocks, and some people actually showed up (over half are kidnapped princesses because why not?)

Finn and Jake showed up because they found out about this coronation and thought it was a trick to lure in princesses or he kidnapped someone and was going to make them stay in his kingdom forever.

Right as the official Ice crown was to be placed on your head, they kicked the doors open and stopped the ceremony.

Ice King, like usual, got mad and instantly flew in the air to use his powers.

He flew up too quickly and knocked himself out when he hit the ceiling.

Before you could rush over to your dad, Finn grabbed your hand and whisked you away like a bride

He gave you a reassuring smile to try and convince you that you were now safe

It didn’t make you safe

“Hey! Put me down!” You struggled to get out of his grasp. “Seriously, who are you?!”

Finn stopped running before he sat you down. Your shimmery light blue, bordering white, outfit matched the icy floor. “My names Finn, and that was Jake.”

His toothy smile and heroic pose made you stare at him blankly before you turned around. “I’m going back to see my dad.”

Finn’s face fell and he tried to grab your arm. “Hey, wait! Don’t go back there, it’s dangerous!” He tried to warn you, but your brushed him off.

“Don’t care. My dad just got knocked out, and I don’t think Gunter knows how to use bandages.”

After marching back inside, you found your dad mumbling to himself. And Gunter was stuck in bandages.

After getting the little guy out, you helped your dad and picked him up to bring him to his bed.

All the guests had left after the ambush so you changed out of the ceremony attire, and then put on normal clothes only with the crown on this time.

Finn, very interested in who you are, spied on you and noted how… familiar you seemed.

You had never met before, but he felt like you were something he was missing.

Then he realized you were human.

He outed himself when he gasped before he also fell to the ground and made a loud crash.

You stood tall over him while he stared up at you. Your eyes glared down at his nervous form.

“Get out of here.” Your voice laced with venom, but oddly enough… he blushed.

Finn stuttered a bit while you raised an eyebrow. He then quickly got up, grabbed your hand, kissed it, then ran away

You never told your dad what happened, but you still didn’t comprehend what just happened.

[aeliem]

@zucchiyeni's dtiys

design credits: dust by @safwunsies nightmare by @justanidiotartist horror by @westaysilly killer by @zucchiyeni

timelapse & ramblings under the cut

i tried to put this in the tags but it was way too long so here are my.... ramblings? design notes? process? watever it is it's here now

killer is the one i changed the least, even the pose is pretty much the same i kept the asymetrical design from the dtiys (w/ one sleeve rolled up & only one shoulder w/ spikes) for the shoes i kinda went watever & put the spikes in the middle (i bet you it caused some of the holes in his jeans) i like to think he chose blue soles bc he did a collab w/ nightmare so that he's not the only one w/ cool colors his main color is still red, but i made the leather, t-shirt, metal & jeans blue-ish as a complementary color

for nightmare, i don't even know if his design is canon, but when i saw that the murder time trio did collabs w/ him i knew i had to draw it i didn't touch the base design itself but i switched the colors around a lot bc i really didn't know how to make it work w/ the rest of the characters i kept the base palette (blue/cyan, purple & pink) but had purple as a main & cyan as an accent color (pink itself is only there in the glitter) also yeah i put the glitter on his coat instead of his tentacles cuz i wanted to show his bones & tentacles are made/covered in the same goopy stuff, and the glitter kinda went in the way of that i like that his colors are really different from the other & you can tell he goes solo while they're in a band, but i think it's not too distracting

horror is my favorite, like he's just enjoying himself in the back its kinda sad i had to hide him behing both his drums & killer, i might post a version w/out it to show it off the drums were a pain in the ass ngl, i've never played them so i had to look at a lot of references in the end i just drew a basic drum set w/ the colors on the ref (red & gold), i added silver for the metal bits bc it's everywhere in the other's designs his design itself is unchanged, i just thought having him in red only felt boring so i added orange to his fur & shirt

i realized too late i couldn't show dust's head w/ the pose i drew T-T also drew his entire outfit then had to hide half of it because of his guitare this is why planning is important people his guitare rocks tho (pun intended) i tried to make him red & purple to match his eyes, but currently it's more of an orange salmon color w/ a dark grey pink eeeh the intent is there i guess i made his gloves fingerless cuz you can't tell me this dude plays guitare w/ full on gloves like i know they're skeletons but that's physically impossible i also added a strap to his guitare cuz unless he's using blue magic, he probably can't keep it up w/ only his right hand

[redr0sewrites]

HEY HEY HEY YOU LIKE GOTH TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR ALT SCENE HEAD CANONS

🥀A/n: AJSJSJSJSJSJSJSJSS YESS !!!! i could talk about this for hoursss ngl-

🥀all photos are from pinterest, credit to the original creators! i did not make these ♥️

Pandora Rosier:

in my head, i see her as like a lighter version of whimsigoth. definitely leaning more on the whimsical flowery fairy vibes heavier than the goth vibes, but still with alternative aspects! she definitely decorates her hair and braids with a TON of crystals and charms!!

purples and reds, flowy dresses, chunky rings, charm belts, layered crystal jewelry, cardigans, flowy sleeves, funky tights, etc

when it comes to music, she'd be a fan of The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Cocteau Twins, Kate Bush, and Strawberry Switchblade

Dorcas Meadows:

FAIRY/SOFT GRUNGE. HEAR ME OUTTTTT

a lot of forest greens and earthy tones, basically grunge with a bit of fairycore mixed in

lots of thrifted items, heavy earth tones, arm warmers, flower patterns, crystals, maxi skirts, doc martens + mary janes, dangly earrings, etc etc

when it comes to music, i think she'd listen to Kleenex, The Violent Femmes, Cheap Trick, Red Aunts, and The Raincoats

Barty Crouch Jr:

mix between metalhead punk and scene. like think punkrock mid 70's-early 80's crossed with early 2000's scene kid, and thats him

spikes, metal, leather, lots of oversized and ripped band shirts, stripes and heavy patterns, chains, chunky boots, fishnet/sheer tops, double statement belts, heavily dyed hair, liberty spikes, thin/mini brows and smudged eyeliner, etc

when it comes to music he is ALL over the place. think Nine Inch Nails, Rob Zombie, Paramore, Green Day, Soundgarden, Death Grips, etc. think like dad rock, but throw in a few early 2000's bands as well

sortaaa think like a cross between all these- finding a photo for him was SO hard lmfao neither of these r exactly whats in my head but close enough

Evan Rosier:

similar to Barty but less scene and more dad rock/metalhead and slightly toned down. definitely more earthy tones, less hot topic energy and more thrifted/handmade energy.

also wears a lot of jewelry and crystals in his hair, shares them w pandora!

not as many bright colors and patterns, heavy layers, earthy tones, cargo pants, converse, layered jewelry/crystals, chunky belts, statement baggy pants with decals, bleached shirts, torn aviator jackets, boots, bulky sweaters layered with band tees, etc

when it comes to music i think he'd listen to Nirvana, The Doors, Type O Negative, Specimen, and the Ramones

Regulus Black:

(twitching and convulsing he is my fav)

honestly i see him as either: victorian goth, or corporate goth

he either dresses like he's possessed by a small victorian child or ebeneazor scrooge and there is no in between

very masculine, lots of ruffles, detailed vests, cuffs and long sleeves, black trousers, heeled boots, loose flowy blouses, high collars, lots of grey, white, and black, long leather overcoats, heavy layers, rings, etc

finding photos for this was like a herculean task bro it was nearly impossible and this is about as close to what i see in my head as i could get but still... not perfect *sigh*

when it comes to music i think he'd listen to Veruca Salt, Talking Heads, Clan of Xymox (TRUST HE WOULD), Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Lebanon Hanover

Sirius Black:

i know everyone and their mother believes in punk Sirius, but hear me out- mall goth Sirius Black. PELPSLSPSLSPSLSPSLSS

i feel like he dresses both masculine and feminine a lot, his gender is very fluid and so are his outfits so he isn't strictly masculine or feminine

im thinking like early 2000's hot topic kid x mid/late 80's punk, definitely very mall goth inspired but a little more modern too

wide baggy pants with chains, chunky necklaces, mismatched earrings, skeleton gloves, leather jackets with studs and decals, sheer/fishnet tops, chunky boots and doc martens, chunky rings and bracelets, bracelets with studs/spikes, kandi or beads, trashy band or skater tees, thrifted cargo pants with patches, those specific red and black striped gloves/arm warmers that every mall goth person has, etc

when it comes to music i think he'd listen to The White Stripes, David Bowie, Bon Jovi, INXS, Meat Loaf, Three Days Grace, Green Day, and the Offspring

Remus Lupin:

grunge all the way. and i don't mean like tiktok grunge, i mean genuine early-mid 80's thrifted "fuck fast fashion" grunge. i also see him having a bit of the grunge/punk academia aesthetic, but overall very grunge centric style

in my head he doesn't wear a lot of jewelry, especially since silver burns him as a werewolf, so he'll wear the occasional ring or necklace but that's about it

grandpa sweaters, oversized hoodies, cargo pants, earthy tones, brown converse or loafers, faded band tees, jorts, greys and greens, collared shirts, chunky shoes, baggy trousers with patches, bleached clothing, aviator jackets, etc

when it comes to music i think he'd listen to David Bowie (duh), The Doors, Ramones, Talking Heads, Killing Joke, U2, Journey, INXS, Abba, The Calling, and Foo Fighters

Marlene Mckinnon:

RIOT GRRL. I KNOW IM RIGHT I KNOW IT I KNOW IT I WILL DEFEND THIS TILL THE DAY I DIE SHE IS SOOO RIOT GRRL

most of riotgrrl fashion is pretty much the more "feminine" version of punk, and shares some overlap with the "rockstar gf" aesthetic (which irritates me *just* a bit but thats a story for another time). in my head, i think of like a cross between misa amane, nana, and the mid-late 80's punk scene

think layered fishnets, leg warmers, micro mini skirts, lacy lingerie, graphic tank tops, feminist patches/pins, spikes and studs, lots of leather, chains, chunky boots, cross/pentagram motifs, bold animal prints, torn band tees, high heels, bright red lipstick, and basically anything that would serve as a great big "fuck you" to misogyny and beauty standards

i had the biggest riotgrrrl phase, so let me just say i am an EXPERT on the music. marlene would listen to Bikini Kill, Babes in Toyland, Veruca Salt, X Ray Spex, The Raincoats, Paramore, Kleenex, Hole, Dazey and the Scouts, Bratmobile, Slutever, Mommy Long Legs, Le Tigre, Destroy Boys, Cheap Perfume, and Lesbian Bed Death

Mary MacDonald:

GYARU!! i totally see Mary as a gyaru girlie, idk in my head i just see her rocking the makeup and lashes along w the style !!!

i sadly don't know too much about the Gyaru scene as there are many different types, but i did a little research and i feel like Mary would dress in the Ane Gyaru aesthetic- which is (PLEASE correct me if im wrong i am not an expert!!) an older, more "rebellious" and slightly darker version of Gyaru. Ane Gyaru is often mistaken with Onee Gyaru, but is different in a few ways. Ane is more rebellious and incorporates a darker color scheme, and overall has a more rough look. definitely more alternative than cutesy in comparison to other Gyaru styles, and i feel like it fits Mary well

think flashy animal prints, miniskirts, teased hair, long lashes, detailed hand bags, fluffy boots, furry leg warmers, silver jewelry, statement belts, lots of lace, leather and denim, and lots of makeup!

i genuinely do not know anythinggg about Gyaru music and i am sosoooosososos sorry 😭 if anyone has any ideas or recommendations for bands/gyaru music they think Mary would listen to, please lmk!!!

i will do a pt 2 so that i dont reach the photo limit but!!! hope u enjoyed!!!! PLSSS SEND IN MORE MARAUDERS ERA WRITING REQS YALL IVE BEEN OBSESSED- it could be x reader or just hcs like this whatever u want🧍

my two current hyperfixations in one post... someone sedate me...

[lahooozaherr]

Chick at a Rock Concert

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x Fem!Agent!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.8k

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNT WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: You’re a Kingsman agent and tag along for a mission at a music festival, looking for a distraction after the lingering loss of your fellow agents. Jack takes immediate notice of you, sparking a mutual attraction between the two of you. When he’s rejected by the “chick at a rock concert”, you take the opportunity to spend the day with him. That day leads into a night of even more fun.

Warnings: fem!reader, soft dom!Whiskey, age gap sorta (Age not specified for reader, Jack’s ego is just bruised), daddy kink if you squint (Jack refers to himself as it a few times, no hard feelings if you wanna just replace the word in your head because this isn’t a ddlg dynamic), praise kink, smut, oral (f receiving) p in v, soft turning into rough sex, cockwarming, dirty talk, pet names, no physical description of reader and “festival outfit” is left vague, smol amount of angst

A/N: I’m ngl this is pretty self indulgent. It’s been a brain rot simmering in my head for a few weeks. I just have a feeling Jack would go nuts over someone who tries to match his energy while wearing one of those sexy music festival outfits lol. Jack is one of my faves and I hope I’m able to do him justice. I’ve debated making this a one shot series or something to weave into the story of the movie but we’ll see lol. I did my best to keep the reader’s “backstory” vague. This is also my first smut, so kind-of practice for when I get to that point in my current Mando WIP. Also not beta read :D

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist

Read it on AO3

The mission was pretty simple, and you probably weren’t needed for it. But the previous days for you and your very few remaining Kingsman peers had been a disaster, to say the least. You volunteered to come along, knowing it was at a popular music festival. It was still work but it was also the small “break” you needed to have a moment away from the grief and sadness over losing so much. You just needed something, anything, to help forget for the time being.

You picked out a cheeky festival outfit, not uncommon for these kinds of events. Might as well try to blend in, you told yourself. Weaving through the crowd, you set to find Eggsy through the sea of eccentric festival goers.

—

Eggsy had too much on his mind and was reeling from the current realization of how this mission was about to go down. Agent Whiskey demonstrated with his fingers and a subtle explanation of how to plant the tracking device on the target.

“Where is that other agent of y’all’s?” Whiskey asks, an undertone of annoyance in his voice as he takes a swig of his flask.

Eggsy stops walking, “she should be meeting with us any minute now. She told me she’s here already.”

Whiskey and Eggsy, while looking for you, had also spotted the mission's target. A woman lounging at one of the many outdoor bars of the event. Eggsy’s heartbeat quickens, he’s dreading every minute of this. But this mission is too important and he knows that.

Jack scoffs, “takin’ her sweet time, our girl is right over there.”

“Ah! There she is!” Eggsy shuts Whiskey down. Before he can continue to complain, he looks up towards you. His jaw hangs a little after Eggsy points you out as you stride towards them.

This was your first time physically meeting Whiskey, despite technically being in the same room as the “meeting” with Statesman’s leader, Champ. But you didn’t have glasses at the time that would allow you to see a projection of him in his seat. You couldn’t help but stare back at him as you got closer to the two.

Ginger warned you about him when she helped you set up for this mission. Telling you he’s a huge flirt and will likely make a pass at you. You didn’t exactly mind though, you weren’t afraid of a flirtatious encounter. You requested to read his file and after doing so, you really felt for him. You wanted to see the good in others, to understand them. And based on his past you could tell he’s been through a lot, and it’s probably complicated. You could at least empathize with him.

Aside from that, what’s wrong with wanting to have some fun? Maybe you both could help each other forget, just a little bit.

He drank in the sight of you in the outfit you’d chosen, and suddenly you were not regretting it because you could tell. You found yourself doing the same to him. He’s attractive, broad shouldered and golden skinned. He wore a Stetson, white T-shirt, leather jacket and jeans that did a beautiful job of capturing the shape of his slender hips and legs. A sharp nose and jawline, clean shave save for pouty lips with a perfectly groomed mustache atop them.

Approaching them, you sigh, “so sorry to make you guys wait, this place is packed!”

Whiskey seemed to be momentarily frozen until Eggsy breaks the silence with a clearing of his throat. He introduces you to him by your code name and actual name.

“And uhm, this is Agent Whiskey-“

“Jack. Jack Daniels.” Cutting Eggsy off while taking a large step towards you, not hiding the way his eyes take a quick look at you, up and down. He holds his hand out for you and you take it with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Hearing you choose to use his actual name sends a thrill through him. A grin creeps across his lips, “darlin’, the pleasure is all mine.” He lifts your hand to his lips to leave a small, chaste kiss. You can’t help but giggle, both at the act and Eggsy giving a very exaggerated eye roll from behind him.

Jack’s eyes are a dark, chocolate brown and you don’t break the eye contact he maintains with you. They almost sparkle.

“Anyways, our target is right over there.” Eggsy interjects. Jack jerks upright and clears his throat, letting go of your hand.

Jack takes a swig of his flask, “watch and learn, buddy.” He puffs his chest and struts towards the bar.

————————————————————————-

Watching Jack get rejected like that was…rough, to say the least. You couldn’t help but quietly snicker, watching Eggsy so swiftly capture the attention of the woman away from Jack’s failed attempt at hitting on her.

He frowns deeply and glares, walking away. You decide it’s safe to let Eggsy take the reins and catch up to Jack.

“I’m not going to lie, that was a little hard to watch,” you say to him. He stops walking and looks at you, unamused. You shrug it off and continue, “that’s ok though. Why don’t we enjoy the festival?”

Jack lets out a deep sigh and turns his head, “darlin’, you don’t want to hang out with an ‘old man’ like me.” The way he says the words “old man” is a mocking echo of what Eggsy had called him in front of that woman. Dang, he took that pretty personally. You imagine you probably would too, if you were in his shoes.

You decided to take this opportunity to rekindle the flame on that brief “chemistry” you had with him earlier. You boldly insert one of your arms into his elbow.

With a lilt in your voice, batting your lashes at him you say, “I prefer men who are experienced, anyways.”

That seemed to do the trick of snapping him out of this small depressive slump. That sparkle returned to his eyes and his smile widened, revealing his perfect white teeth.

“Oh sugar, I can be that and more.” He wraps his free hand around yours in the crook of his elbow and you both continue on into the crowd.

—————————————————————————

At some point, after wandering for a bit, you both found a space in the grass field, a far distance out from one of the stages. Both of you are lounging and basking in the sun. Hours had passed before you had realized it, the two of you were too distracted by each other and your conversation to even notice.

Jack’s personality was provocative, fiery and passionate. His cheesy pick up lines worked on you, in a way. He took joy in sharing interesting stories he kept up his sleeve that hooked your attention. He described various close calls he’d had in the field, especially from when he was younger. You listened intently and never broke away from him.

He laid out on his back, arms braced behind himself in the grass. Next to him, you’d opted to rest on your front, propped up on your elbows and your legs kicked up behind you. The angle giving him a front row seat to your cleavage.

Here and there you’d notice the way he’d look you up and down, but you preened under his gaze. There was an obvious attraction between the two of you and neither of you tried to hide it.

When you were deep in telling your own story, one that caused you to shift into sitting on your bottom, he took one of your hands in both of his large hands. He rubbed his thumbs across your knuckles and carefully inspected your palm and fingers, absentmindedly, as you spoke.

You let out a deep sigh, “spending time with you today has been a breath of fresh air, thank you.” That might have come out more sentimental than you intended but life has been a wild ride lately. “I don’t know whether I’m going up or down anymore….”

Jack’s facial expression softens and he squeezes your hand in one of his, “anytime, darlin’. In some ways, I’ve been in your shoes before. It never gets easier.” His tone was even and more serious. You knew he understood. It comes with the type of job you’ve both found yourselves in.

“However,” you start, “I’m thankful we found the Statesmen. I don’t know what we’d be doing if it weren’t for you all. I don’t know if finding who did this will fill the hole in my heart but something has to be done.”

Jack sits up and leans towards you, “a hole in your heart, huh?”

Your face heats up, “I-I mean, that’s the best way I can describe it I guess.”

“No no, I understand. I’ve just never heard it put that way….” He pauses, his eyes briefly drift off and then come back to yours. His other hand reaching to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, a shiver runs up your spine. You’ve lost yourself in his eyes and never want to come back up for air.

“Don’t you worry, sugar. We will make things right.”

—————————————————————————

This mission ended up being pretty easy, at least for the two of you it did. You felt bad for Eggsy. Jack later explained how and WHERE the tracker had to be placed, and you could imagine the inner turmoil that that had caused. Or even worse, the possible relationship problems it could cause for him.

When Jack described to you what he had told Eggsy to do with the tracker, your face heats up. Jack on the other hand, winked and flashed a white toothed grin. He had assumed he would be the one doing the deed but it looked like the universe had other plans, and you certainly didn’t mind.

The bright, sunny day had started to fade into night. The sky progressed from a beautiful orange sunset into a deep purple. Some stars could be seen above the continuing hustle and bustle of the festival. You hadn’t heard from Eggsy since leaving him and you started to grow concerned. Standing off to the side of one of the festival's exits, you called him. Jack stood near you, hands on his hips as he waited.

Your call to Eggsy goes to voicemail and just as you’re about to hang up and try again, you get a text notification from him.

It’s done, I’ve let Ginger know. I’ll meet back up with both of you tomorrow.

You read this aloud so Jack could hear, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. You snicker, “are you really still bitter about him stealing your thunder?”

“Hey now….” He gently grabs your elbows and brings you close to him. Wrapping one hand around your waist and the other pinching your chin and stroking from your cheeks to your jawline. His eyes meet yours and they’re dark, reflecting his growing hunger. Whatever sass you were about to quip out immediately evaporates, leaving you a melting mess in his arms. Your own breath slowed and you returned his gaze under fluttering lashes.

His voice dips an octave and he stares deeply into your eyes, “Ol’ Jack never lost his thunder.” A shiver runs up your spine once again and you smile bashfully. Your eyes drifted to the side in an attempt to hide the flustered heat on your face. He hums, using his thumb and forefinger to delicately redirect your eyes back to his.

“Don’t hide from me.”

After a day full of flirting and building sexual tension, you make a snap decision. Bringing your arms up and draping them around his neck, chest against his. You hold his gaze a few seconds more while he adjusts his hands to sit on either side of your waist.

“Well then, Cowboy,” you say, echoing back the same low, husky tone. “Would you say ‘mission accomplished’?”

Jack hums in amusement, happy to see you rise to his challenge.

“Not yet, sugar. Still haven’t hooked up with a chick at a rock concert.”

It feels like a burst of butterflies in your stomach. Heat pooling in your stomach and thankful his hands are on you because otherwise you feel like you’d float away.

You flash him a sultry grin, “I think I can make that happen.” His face brightens as you shift your hands down from his shoulders to his firm pecs. His large hands explore up and down your back, his body is warm and inviting. You could smell the musk of his chosen cologne for today. Touching him like this after a day full of passive brushes and small gestures felt like finally drinking water in a parched desert.

“But on one condition,” you add, lowering your voice.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, “tell me, beautiful.”

Your eyes flick up to his hat and back down to him, his eyes following you. You maneuver yourself closer to his head, bringing your lips close to his ear.

“I want to wear your hat while I ride you,” you whisper.

The next thing you hear is a deep growl erupting from his chest. In one swift move he has one hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep kiss. You mutually feel like a dam has finally broken.

The kiss is long as you both exhale and hum into each other’s mouths. He licks into your mouth and in return you gently bite his bottom lip, almost sending him into a frenzy.

Jack, almost painfully unlatches himself from you. His eyes meet yours, dilated and blown out on lust. A dark chuckle escapes his mouth and he pins you close to him with both hands behind your neck, using his thumbs to balance your jaw. The act itself sends arousal coursing furiously through your veins. You’re going to be a puddle before you can even leave the festival.

Jack grabs your hand and leads you alongside him, back to his Bronco. You both run and giggle like teenagers in love trying to sneak around. When you approach his car, he opens his passenger side door and lets you in. He dashes to the driver's side and buckles in.

With one hand on the steering wheel, he uses the other to wrap around you and bring you close to him, buckling you into the middle seat. Then, with smooth precision, he reverses out of his space and makes his way out of the parking lot and towards his hotel.

—————————————————————————

Jack’s Bronco screeches to a halt in the driveway of the hotel. Within seconds he exits and is at the passenger side letting you out.

He wraps his arm around you and brings you close into his side as he walks towards the entrance. His hand gives the meat of your thigh a small grip and you yelp. Jack throws his keys to the valet boy and struts inside.

Once at the elevator, Jack scans a key that sends it to the private suite up top. Of course he would have a private, fancy suite you think to yourself. You both enter the elevator, his hand on the small of your back guiding you in.

Once the doors closed, you’re on each other. A flurry of gnashing teeth and grabbing hands. He pushes you against the corner of the elevator with both hands on your waist. You wrap both arms around his neck, one hand stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, using his body to balance you.

His hand trails upward to grip the back of your neck, threading through the hair that grows there. He breaks away from your lips, using his grip to carefully tilt your head back, exposing your neck. Trailing heated kisses up and down, murmuring in between each.

Jack’s going to treat you right, don’t you worry babydoll.

I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.

You had been thinking about this all day too, unashamedly.

You moan when feeling his pelvis grind up against you. He’s already very hard and the sounds he pulls from you only serve to excite him further. Just as he’s about to slip a hand underneath the hem of your shirt, the elevator dings and opens up into the suite.

The hotel suite is massive. A living room with a kitchen to the side. Further in is a doorway to the suite’s master bedroom. The trip there becomes a mix of kissing, groping, and removing articles of just your clothing one by one until you’re brought to the edge of the bed wearing only your bra and panties. Looking around the room you see it break off into an open, large bathroom with a claw foot tub and glass door shower.

The back of your knees hits the edge of the mattress, with Jack gently pushing into you as you sit. Your hands come up to undo his belt buckle, but his hands grab yours to stop you.

“Not yet, gorgeous,” he says with a husky tone. “Daddy’s going to have his way with you first.”

You’ve decided you will never get tired of the nicknames. They cause your heart to hammer in your chest and you love every second of it.

Your arms drop back to your sides on the bed. Jack licks his lower lip and leans over to reach behind you to unlatch your bra. Once it’s free, he slowly slips it off your shoulders and discards it to the side.

He proceeds to gently guide you to lay on the bed. His hands grab under your knees to bring your legs up, feet resting on the bed. Finally, he loops both forefingers into the sides of your panties and pulls them off, joining your bra on the floor. Following that is his leather jacket.

Standing up straight and resting one hand on each of your knees, he pauses. His eyes rake you over and he hums.

“Lemme get a good look ‘atcha.”

The sight of you beneath him, naked and vulnerable, is downright breathtaking to him. Your breathing is heavy, your eyes hooded and lips parted and swollen. He’s proud to have been able to rile you up like this. He grabs his Stetson off his head and sets it on the other corner of the mattress.

Watching him look you over sends a buzz through your body and centers on your core. However, you need his touch, right now.

“Jack, please….”

“Please, what?” Thumbs tracing the inner sides of your knees. “Tell me, gorgeous.”

“T-touch me…” You manage to stutter out. “Please touch me, right now.”

Immediately, Jack drops to his knees on the floor and grips your thighs to scoot your bottom to the edge of the bed. He leaves small kisses on your inner thighs making his way to your heat. He goes right into it, flattening his tongue and running it up your folds. One hand reaches up to massage your breast, rolling his thumb over your nipple. You bite your lip in response.

It feels like a shock to your system, sending slick to gather between your thighs. Back arching, soft pants as you send a hand down to card through his soft hair. You suddenly feel one of his fingers circle your opening and insert. You almost cry out but stop yourself by biting the knuckles of your other hand.

“Jack….Jack, oh my god….”

“Mmmm gorgeous, you taste better than I had even imagined.”

His finger slides in and out, rubbing your clenching walls. Not too long after, he inserts another finger, earning another loud moan from you. The fire at the base of your spine rapidly grows brighter and brighter, causing you to involuntarily begin to buck against his face. His tongue and lips expertly sucking, licking and laving on and around your sensitive bud. His free hand sliding up to cup your knee and keep your legs apart.

You cry out and whimper the closer you get to your limit, beginning to see stars. You were not prepared for how good he is at this. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs and squeeze, holding you steady while he rubs his face deeper.

“You going to cum for me, sugar? Come on baby, I got’cha,” Jack cooes.

That’s enough to send you over the edge, feeling you clench down on his fingers as you climax. Murmurs of That’s it, show Daddy what you got through your loud moans. Your vision fades to black, you reward his ministrations with cries of Yes, yes…oh my god Jack, yes!

After working you through your first orgasm, he stands up and rests his hands on either of your knees. He watches your panting, heaving chest. His hands shoot forward, tenderly grabbing both of your breasts in his hands. You make a small, strangled noise in response and then hum.

“That was…..amazing,” you say between small gasps, still regaining your breath.

Jack smiles wide and crooked, “that’s just the start, gorgeous.”

Jack finally starts to really let go of his restraint with you, moving to make quick work of removing his clothes. When you attempt to sit up, his hand immediately pushes you back down and wags his finger with a tut from his mouth. “So needy. But I’m going to take my time.”

His words cause something between a moan and giggle to come from you, biting your lip while you watch him undo his ridiculous belt buckle. He sees you eyeing it and quirks an eyebrow, “Should I use this on you? Wrap it around your pretty wrists?”

A light forms in your eyes and you shake your head yes, excitement building in your stomach and between your thighs. “I’d love that, Jack.”

“I’m sure you would, darlin’,” he says silkily.

The last thing to be stripped off is his underwear, cock springing forward red and heavy.

Jack positions himself between your thighs, arms caging your head and your upper bodies melding together. His lips meet yours in a fevered kiss while you stretch your arms out above your head to give easier access to you.

His tongue runs along your bottom lip and you grant him access, his tongue quickly overpowering yours and licking into your mouth. It’s almost difficult keeping up with his passionate kissing.

Your eyes open to meet him when he stops and his gaze is still dark and hungry. Those warm brown eyes only added to melt you into the trembling mess you're becoming at his expert fingertips.

Jack starts to trail down your body, nipping and kissing your jawline, moving down to gently scrape his teeth across your collarbone. Taking one breast in one hand while the other supports him above you. He takes your nipple in his mouth and you arch into him, sending electricity through your nerves. Arousal starts to build back up in between your thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” Jack says breathily. “I can wait much longer. Are you ready for me, gorgeous?”

Your eyes cast down to meet him as he continues to lap at your breasts, “Yes Jack, please. I need you.”

“Welll….” He drawls. “Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she needs?”

Taking his length in his hand, he lines himself up with your opening, sliding it through your slick folds and coating himself. Then slowly, but surely, he begins to insert. The stretch around him feels amazing and takes your breath right out of your lungs.

Jack almost loses himself doing this, and he’s not even all the way in. Jack has quite a length himself, he knows this. Hence the need to prepare you like he did. He lets out a low groan from his chest as he buries himself in your wet cunt.

His face is right above yours, lips brushing as you breath in each other's air while he adjusts himself. You widen your legs to give him more space to sink himself in, he rolls his hips to enter gradually. After a few rocks of his hips, he’s into the hilt.

You can’t help but cry out and the sound is music to his ears. His hips start a steady, rolling pace with each thrust increasing the volume of your wanton moans. You can feel every inch of him dragging against your walls.

He feels almost impossibly deep as he picks up his pace. You arch your back from his bed, your chest becoming flush with his. The feeling of your soft breasts against his chest elicits a deep moan from the back of his throat.

One of his hands cups your cheek as he lowers his face to your ear on the opposite side. Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take in any more different sensations, his hot breath fans over your skin while singing you praises.

Atta girl, that’s it, I’ve got you.

Oh you take me so well…so well.

Can you give me another? Come on gorgeous, I know you can.

The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens but you can’t seem to find the end of it. You open your mouth to say something but you’re not sure what. You just need more and more of him.

“Oh….I….” You can barely stutter out, your vision turning white. He nudges your temple with his nose then lays a sensual kiss.

“Do you need more? Tell Jack what you need.”

“Yes…yes please, I-I need more!” You finally manage to breathe out.

Jack’s eyes meet yours with a glint of mischief and a crooked grin to match. With one hand bracing above your head and the other snaking down to grip your lower back and waist.

“Hold on tight sugar and get ready to giddy-up!”

In a split second he stops thrusting, using his muscular body to swiftly roll over his side to his back while bringing you with him placing you on top. When adjusted, you allow yourself to sink down onto him, creating a whole new myriad of stimulation.

Jack marvels at the sight of you atop of him, puffing his chest in pride. Both of you breathily laugh as you adjust. A sheen of sweat has gathered across the soft skin of your body and shines in the lowlight of the bedroom.

At first you stay put, feeling the new depth of his cock inside of you. Conveniently, you remember what you told him earlier. You turn to find his hat still perched on the corner of the bed, stretching your arm out to grab it. He watches you carefully as you gently grab the top of his precious Stetson.

Turning back to look at him, flashing him a seductive look, you place his hat on top of your head. You lick your bottom lip and bite it, placing your hands on his chest to keep your balance. “Let’s go for a ride, cowboy.”

Jack grins back at you dangerously, “oh babydoll you’re going to be the death of me!”

He shifts and plants his legs into the bed, straightening his knees to give him leverage. He ruts his hips up into yours and sets a punishing pace, resulting in a loud, erotic moan erupting from your chest. Taking that as encouragement, he digs his fingers into your hips to keep you steady while the head of his cock strokes that spot deep inside of you.

The coil in your stomach starts to tighten again and you clench around him. You can feel your next orgasm start to barrel towards you. The sound of skin slapping and your mutual gasps and moans intertwining fills your ears. You haven’t broken eye contact with him and it only adds to the fire deep in his own abdomen.

Your legs start to shake as you cum hard around him, riding out the blissful shockwaves. His cock continuing to fuck up into you and giving the perfect amount of overstimulation for you to ride it out.

“Fuck! F-fuck, oh Jack-“

“Theeeere we go, that’s it, come on Sugar, you can take it!”

Jack takes one large hand and reaches out to rub his thumb against your clit, sending you over the cliff.

At the tail end of your explosive orgasm, you collapse onto his chest. He removes his hat to the side and wraps his arms around your torso, bringing his lips down to your ear to whisper again.

You did so good gorgeous.

Christ almighty girl, can you hear that? You’ve soaked me to the bone.

You begin to whimper and shake. Not sure what to do with your arms, you stretch them out behind you. Jack takes the opportunity to grab both wrists into one hand while the other is still wrapped around your back. Giving him just enough leverage to keep up with the pounding of his hips.

Jack’s own orgasm is very close, your overstimulated pussy fluttering around his length. His eyes roll to the back of his head, “I’m almost there sugar, w-where do you want me?”

You can barely speak while you dissolve into pleasure as you rest on his broad chest. You manage to spit out “inside…on pill….please, inside….”while burying yourself in the crook of his neck.

Jack’s position inside of you practically has his lower back hover above the bed with his legs keeping him up. He suddenly tenses up, hips stutter, and he finally crashes into his own orgasm. His thrusts begin to slow but ride out the pulsing of his cock as it shoots ropes into your tight, wet cunt.

With a loud, satisfied sigh, he relaxes onto the bed. Stretching his legs to rest on the plush mattress. You feel the deep rise and fall of his chest underneath your own. Lifting your head to see his eyes wrenching open to meet yours. He smiles, and you smile back, scooting up to kiss him. He welcomes your lips with a hum and molds his mouth around yours.

The two of you stay like this for a few moments, sated and content. You just know you’re going to be feeling him the next day and you’re sure he’ll love to know that.

Eventually his cock slips out of you as he rolls both of you to your sides, facing each other as closely as you can. He rubs his nose against yours and you giggle.

“Jack…that was phenomenal.”

“I know sugar, I was there,” he drawls, southern accent even more present.

You chuckle and playfully slap his shoulder, his hand reaches around to grab your ass cheek to bring you closer to him.

Jack brings his other arm up to wrap around you between the bed and your arm. He holds you close to him, planting a soft kiss atop your head.

“Thank you sugar,” he murmurs.

You rub your head into the crook of his neck, “thank you? For what?”

“For giving this ‘old man’ a chance.”

Your hand comes up to splay across his pectoral above his heart and you feel his quickened heartbeat underneath your palm. Your own heart is also rapidly beating in tandem. You then bring your hand up to caress his cheek, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“That girl has no idea what she missed out on,” you say, tenderly. “But I’m glad it ended up this way.”

Jack looks deep into your eyes and feels like his heart might burst. He didn’t mean to take the rejection so hard, but what he ended up with was far times better.

Be brings up the comforter on the bed to cover you as he slips out of it. You pout at him in protest, sitting up until he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, teasingly shushing you.

“Ssshh, sweet girl, just hold on tight for a minute.”

With a light kiss to your forehead as you lay back down, nestling yourself into the soft bed, he treks to the bathroom. You hear him rustling for a few minutes, the sink turning on and off and then the sound of the tub filling. He comes back with a cloth, you catch onto his intent and move the blanket to give him access. Softly, he cleans you up and then discards the cloth.

He offers you a hand and you accept it, letting him help lift you up from the bed to stand on shaky legs. You use both arms to grab him and he smirks, pleased with himself once again. Your legs feel like jello but you’re not complaining one bit.

He brings you to the tub, getting inside first and offering his hands to bring you in with him. You give a low hiss, feeling the hot water touch your skin as you sink into the water. You seat yourself between his legs and rest your back to his chest.

Both of you sigh in contentment, you rest your head back into his shoulder. His hand reaches to rest on your neck and rub his thumb along the hollow of it. He slowly places reverent kisses along your temple into your hairline.

Never, did you think this is how today would end up and you couldn’t be more thankful. Jack simultaneously excites and comforts you. Jack finds himself infatuated, you’ve possibly become the much needed balm for his aches.

“Oh shoot, we didn’t use your belt,” you laugh.

Jack smiles into your hair, “I was thinking we could use that next time…”

Your face falls, you turn your head slightly to face him. His eyes are affectionate and the corners of his lips turned up. You flutter your lashes and mirror back his expression, heart thumping harder in your chest. You didn’t mean to assume this was a one time thing but you’re thrilled to know he wants more of you. Will this lead somewhere interesting?

“I’d love that,” you whisper as he brings his lips down to yours, holding you in a long kiss. His thumb comes up to stroke your cheek and you deepen it. You turn your body towards his, sitting up and moving to straddle his hips. You break off the kiss to rest your hands on his shoulder as he rubs your back, pressing you tight against him.

Jack thought he might be scared to ever find love again. He’s not saying this is love, not yet exactly. But after years of one-night stands, not taking himself seriously and rejected flirting attempts, he’s tired. Ready for something fresh and new. He wonders how in the world your two worlds seemed to line up the way they did. Today might have started with a nearly instant sexual attraction, but it ended off with a full heart and ease he hasn’t experienced in a very, very long time.

Not since her.

And knowing you reciprocate that, enthusiastically, motivates him.