#AND THE JACKET THEATRICS TOO???

[heartsbyani]

𐔌 현진 .ᐟ ꒱ ── "i'm burning hot? damn right i am."ㅤ♡

HWANG HYUNJIN! ⓘ you come over to his place, only to find your boyfriend burning hot. literally and figuratively. . . ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏f!hyunjin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , crack ! 3IOOwc. ⎯⎯ Yᗩᑎi's ᒪIᗷᖇᗩᖇY ⟢ cw. nicknames , kisses , intimacy , fever. ┆ 🐇 ⋮ an original drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑖'𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ happy birthday to the squishiest dumpling! i wasn't sure if i'd be able to post on hyune day... but i did, thanks to the week i have off before my next exam! yn in this entire fic lowkey reminded me of my darling ishi, don't ask why >< also, dear fahrenheit users, please do not attack me. i'm a mere celsius huzz. happy reading <3

the sky outside was a dull slate gray, clouds hanging low and swollen with the promise of rain. city lights flickered through the haze, their reflections smudged against the apartment windows like forgotten brushstrokes. drops of water from the afternoon drizzle traced lazy paths down the glass, the rhythmic pattering mingling with the hum of distant traffic below.

inside, however, the atmosphere was far from serene.

the living room bore every sign of a day spent in restless sickness. a half-crumpled blanket, patterned with little stars, was tangled across the couch. an empty mug, rim stained with honeyed ginger tea, perched precariously on the coffee table next to an abandoned packet of cold medicine.

the air was tinged with the faint scent of eucalyptus and lemon, the lingering evidence of an essential oil diffuser doing its best to combat the stuffiness. the heater hummed low, emitting a warmth that made the space feel cocooned and sluggish.

but the most striking sight of all was hyunjin — sprawled across the bed like a fallen monarch, wrapped dramatically in a heap of ivory sheets. his buzzcut barely peeked from beneath the folds, and his cheeks were flushed a fevered pink.

the poor man had always been a little.. theatrical when sick, but this time? this time, he looked like he was moments from composing his own funeral hymn.

y/n nearly dropped her keys as she stepped inside.

“oh my god, hyunjin!” she kicked off her shoes hastily, the door slamming shut behind her. “you look like death.”

from the depths of the pillows, a low, pitiful groan emerged. “and yet, i’m still somehow the most handsome man alive.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but a smile twitched at her lips. “god,” she murmured, already shrugging off her jacket and abandoning her bag on the armchair.

the warmth of the apartment immediately clung to her, a contrast to the chilly air outside. she ran a hand through her slightly damp hair, droplets clinging to the strands from the drizzle she’d escaped.

hyunjin’s eyes fluttered open, though his movements were sluggish. they were glassy, dazed, but still sparkling with that familiar playful mischief. his lips, a little dry from the fever, curled into a weak grin.

“y/n,” he croaked, voice raspy from sleep and congestion. “you’re back.”

“of course, i’m back!” her brows knit together, as a frown graced her lips. “you didn’t answer any of my texts.” she was already approaching, hands on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “you could’ve told me you were dying.”

“i wasn’t dying,” hyunjin sniffled dramatically, though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed him. “i was simply… wilting. like a delicate flower.”

“oh, my poor rose,” she mocked, leaning down to press the back of her hand against his forehead. the second her skin touched his burning flesh, her brows furrowed. “jesus, hyun. you’re burning hot.”

his grin grew smug. “damn right i am.”

y/n shot him a glare, though her lips twitched with amusement. “unbelievable.”

she straightened, already scanning the room with purpose. the cluttered state of the apartment made it evident he’d been too miserable to bother tidying up. the comforter had been dragged halfway to the floor, the pillowcases crumpled and damp from sweat.

on the nightstand, a little mountain of used tissues teetered precariously. the sight alone was enough to make her sigh.

“i was going to get a kiss,” hyunjin whined weakly, watching her with puppy eyes as she disappeared into the bathroom. “where’s my ‘welcome home, my beloved’ smooch?”

y/n’s voice echoed from the tiled space. “not until i make sure you’re not actually on the verge of spontaneous combustion.”

“but i miss you,” he drawled, the dramatic edge returning. “it’s been hours. days. years, probably.”

“four hours, cuh.”

“still too long, cuh.”

when she returned, a damp towel in one hand and a thermometer in the other, hyunjin barely reacted — aside from the way his lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout.

his buzzed hair gleamed under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the sheen of sweat on his forehead making it shine.

y/n thought it was unfair, really, how he could still look so stupidly pretty while practically melting into the bed.

“come on, open up,” she instructed, holding the thermometer to his plush lips.

hyunjin obliged his lover without protest, though his eyes never left her. they followed her every move — the way her brows furrowed in worry, the soft parting of her lips as she focused.

her presence alone seemed to soothe him, like a cool breeze through a fevered haze.

after a moment, the thermometer beeped. y/n’s eyes narrowed.

“39.3 degrees,” she muttered, her heart sinking a little. “hyun, you’re literally a furnace.”

“that explains the unbearable hotness.”

“not the time.”

but even as she scolded, she couldn’t hide the tenderness in her voice. her fingers brushed over his buzzed scalp, tracing the warmth radiating from him.

the short hair suited him ridiculously well — made his sharp jawline and pretty features stand out even more. and yet, with his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, he looked more like a grumpy child than an idol adored by millions.

“i’m staying,” she declared firmly, already kicking off her socks and climbing onto the bed.

hyunjin blinked at her, eyes wide. “you don’t have to, baby. i’m fine.”

“oh sure, because i’m totally convinced by the fact that you look like a victorian orphan on his deathbed.”

“i’m merely delicate.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

but she was already tucking the blanket up to his chin, brushing damp strands of hair away from his forehead. hyunjin melted under her touch, nuzzling into the comforter with a content hum.

he was so terribly clingy when sick — and even now, his hands sought her out, fingers curling weakly around her wrist.

“you’re the best,” he murmured, voice slurred. “my beautiful nurse. my savior.”

“i’m your babysitter,” she deadpanned.

hyunjin grinned lazily. “hot babysitter.”

y/n snorted. “sleep for a bit, patient hwang.”

“whatever you say, doc.”

and with that, his eyes fluttered shut once more, the fevered haze pulling him back under. y/n stayed close, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along his buzzed scalp, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a comforting lull. outside, the rain had begun to fall steadily, a soothing patter against the windows.

the apartment smelled like lemon balm and warmth. and despite the fever, despite the mess, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

the apartment was quiet now, save for the rhythmic sound of hyunjin’s breathing. it came slow and steady, the fever finally pulling him into a much-needed rest.

y/n watched him for a moment longer, making sure he was truly asleep. his lashes, dark against the flush of his cheeks, didn’t so much as twitch. his lips, parted slightly, had softened from their usual dramatic pouts into something innocent, almost boyish.

his fingers, which had been curled loosely around the sleeve of her sweater, finally slackened their grip.

she exhaled softly.

gently, she peeled herself away from his warmth, slipping out of the bed with careful precision. the room was dimly lit by the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp, casting elongated shadows across the walls.

the rain outside had settled into a gentle drizzle, droplets streaking against the windows like ink on parchment. the air smelled faintly of eucalyptus, a relic of the essential oils she had turned on earlier to help clear hyunjin’s congestion.

her socks padded silently against the wooden floor as she made her way out, glancing over the apartment with a newfound awareness. hyunjin wasn’t usually messy—if anything, he was meticulous about keeping his space tidy, an artist who treated both his canvases and his home with careful reverence. but sickness had a way of unraveling even the most put-together people. and today, the apartment was evidence of his fevered unrest.

his paint supplies were scattered across the living room table—a wooden palette still smeared with dried strokes of cobalt blue and burnt sienna, paintbrushes left to dry on a paper towel that had since crumpled at the edges. a few unfinished sketches were abandoned on the couch, their graphite lines smudged in places where hyunjin had likely rubbed his tired eyes.

an empty glass sat next to a bottle of vitamin c tablets, along with a half-eaten granola bar he had probably forgotten about.

y/n sighed, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater. alright. time to fix this.

she started with the living room, carefully gathering the paintbrushes and rinsing them in the sink. cool water rushed over her fingers, the bristles softening as the leftover pigment bled away, swirling in delicate patterns down the drain. she arranged them neatly in a cup by the window, letting them dry properly this time.

next, she picked up the sketches. a small smile tugged at her lips as she recognized his latest works—quick portraits, some unfinished, some detailed enough to look like they might spring to life.

one was of a woman sitting by a windowsill, her expression contemplative, lost in thought. another was more abstract, a flurry of delicate brushstrokes forming something that looked like wings. and then, of course, there was one of her.

hyunjin had drawn her dozens of times before, but it never failed to warm her heart. this one was a loose sketch, probably something he had done absentmindedly while resting—her face turned slightly to the side, strands of her hair tucked behind her ear, a soft expression in her eyes. dork.

shaking her head fondly, she stacked the papers neatly on the side table before moving on.

the bedroom came next. the blankets were still tangled from when he had shifted around earlier, his fever making him restless. she smoothed them out carefully, tucking the edges so he wouldn’t get cold.

the used tissues on the nightstand were disposed of, the mug from his previous tea taken back to the kitchen. she fluffed his pillow, letting her fingers briefly brush over the soft linen before stepping back.

the scent of eucalyptus lingered in the air, blending with the faint traces of his cologne that clung to the fabric of the bed. something warm settled in her chest.

with the apartment finally back in order, she turned to the kitchen.

the overhead light cast a soft glow over the space, illuminating the sleek countertops and the small collection of ingredients she pulled out. the rain had picked up again, tapping gently against the windowpane, a soothing backdrop to the quiet hum of the refrigerator as she rummaged through it.

soup. that’s what he needed. something warm, nourishing.

she set a pot on the stove, the sound of sizzling garlic and onions filling the air as she started cooking. the fragrance curled around her, mingling with the hints of citrus and eucalyptus still present in the apartment.

as the broth simmered, she added vegetables—thinly sliced carrots, soft potatoes, leafy greens that wilted beautifully into the golden liquid. she shredded some chicken, letting it soak in the flavors, steam rising in gentle swirls as she stirred.

the soft clink of a spoon against the ceramic pot, the occasional bubbling of the broth—it all felt strangely peaceful. outside, the city continued on, neon lights blinking through the misty evening. but here, in the cozy warmth of hyunjin’s kitchen, time felt slower, more intimate.

while the soup finished cooking, she rummaged through the cupboards for medicine. there it was—a box of cold relief capsules, the kind hyunjin always complained tasted like chalk. she grabbed them anyway, along with a fresh bottle of water, setting everything neatly on the counter.

finally, she ladled the soup into a bowl, the aroma filling the kitchen like a quiet promise of comfort. the steam curled in delicate tendrils, rising into the dim light. it smelled of warmth, of care. of home.

y/n leaned against the counter for a moment, exhaling softly.

hyunjin was still asleep, oblivious to the quiet effort she had poured into tidying his space, making sure he’d have something warm to eat when he woke.

but she didn’t mind. of course she didn't. taking care of him wasn’t a chore—it was second nature, something as effortless as breathing.

she glanced at the clock. 19:45.

the rain continued its steady rhythm against the window. the apartment was clean again, the soup was ready, the medicine waiting. everything was in place.

now, all that was left was to wait for the sleeping beauty to wake up.

in the bedroom, hyunjin was still cocooned beneath the blankets, his buzzed head barely peeking out. his fevered flush had deepened, cheeks tinged a stubborn pink. the dampness of sweat clung to his forehead, strands of hair curling against his skin. but despite it all, there was something disarmingly soft about him — his sharp features relaxed in sleep, long lashes resting gently against his cheeks.

y/n stood at the edge of the bed, a bowl of steaming chicken soup balanced carefully in her hands. the broth gleamed golden, the steam curling like tendrils of silk. it was the perfect remedy — warmth in a bowl, made with far too much love. she shifted her weight, gazing down at her sickly boyfriend.

god, he’s lucky he’s pretty.

“hyune,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

nothing. not even a twitch.

she lowered herself onto the mattress, the blankets dipping slightly under her weight. her free hand reached out, brushing gently over his forehead. he was still warm, though not as alarmingly so. the fever wasn’t gone, but it had relented — for now.

“hyunjin,” she tried again, this time pressing a soft kiss to his temple. his skin was dewy beneath her lips, and even in his sleep, he made the smallest noise of contentment.

still, no sign of waking.

“oh my god,” she muttered, setting the soup carefully on the nightstand. “you’re actually impossible.”

she leaned down, her nose brushing lightly against his. “if you don’t wake up, i’m taking all the blankets. and the pillows. maybe even your skincare.”

that did it.

his lashes fluttered, and with a low groan, hyunjin cracked one eye open. “you wouldn’t dare.”

y/n grinned, already cupping his face between her hands. “i would. and i’d post your bare, moisturized face on instagram. hashtag ‘fever chic.’”

“evil,” he rasped, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. his voice was hoarse, deepened further by sleep and congestion. somehow, it still managed to sound ridiculously attractive.

“you sound like you’ve been chain-smoking for a decade.”

“i sound sexy.”

“you sound like a gremlin.”

he chuckled — a low, rough sound that only made him wince. “ouch.”

“that’s what you get for being cocky while half-dead.”

hyunjin hummed dramatically, letting his eyes flutter shut again. “fine. let me die beautifully.”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t miss the small, teasing smile playing on his lips. “not happening. you’re getting soup. and meds. and possibly a smack if you keep up with the theatrics.”

“i thought you loved my theatrics,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he burrowed further into the pillows.

“i tolerate them.” she carded her fingers gently through his buzzed hair, the short strands soft against her fingertips. “now come on. sit up for me, baby.”

with a dramatic groan — as though she’d asked him to scale mount everest — hyunjin finally shifted. his limbs were slow and heavy, the fever still anchoring him. y/n tucked an arm behind his back, guiding him carefully until he was propped against the pillows. the blankets pooled around his waist, the flush of his bare chest visible beneath the dim light. his skin gleamed slightly from the fever’s sheen, but the sight of him, even like this, still made her heart stumble.

“you’re staring,” he rasped, eyes half-lidded.

“i’m admiring, yes,” she corrected, fingers tracing lightly over his jawline. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“damn right i am.”

she swatted him lightly on the shoulder, earning a lazy grin. “stay put.”

reaching for the bowl of soup, she gave it one last stir before settling it in her lap. the steam curled up between them, the scent of garlic, ginger, and tender chicken filling the air.

“you cooked?” hyunjin asked, his eyes shining even through the fever haze.

“of course.” she blew gently on the spoonful of broth, then held it up. “i don’t trust you to eat without spilling it all over yourself.”

“i’m a grown man.”

“you’re a sick man.”

“same difference.”

but even as he whined, he parted his lips obediently, letting her feed him the first spoonful. the warmth of the broth seemed to melt into him instantly, his tense shoulders relaxing as the flavor settled. his eyes fluttered shut with a soft hum of approval.

“okay,” he mumbled. “that’s stupid good. you have god's hands.”

y/n grinned, scooping up another bite. “i know.”

and so it went. spoonful after spoonful, hyunjin accepting each bite with minimal complaint — though not without the occasional dramatic sigh, just to keep her on her toes. the warmth seeped into his bones, soothing the ache that had plagued him all day.

every so often, y/n’s fingers would brush against his skin, adjusting the blankets or tucking a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. each touch lingered, soft and reassuring.

“you’re the best,” he murmured between bites, his voice still low and gravelly.

“i know.”

“my angel.”

“mhm.”

“my goddess.”

“mhm..”

“my muse. my light. my—”

“i swear to god, if you say one more word, i’m mixing cough syrup into your soup.”

his eyes gleamed mischievously. “kinky.”

“says you.”

but she was laughing, her nose crinkling in that way that made hyunjin’s chest ache for entirely different reasons. she reached for a tissue, gently dabbing at the corner of his lips, and in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. the rain could pour, the city could buzz — but here, wrapped in warmth and laughter, nothing else mattered.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “for everything.”

y/n tilted her head, her fingers brushing along his jawline. “you’d do the same for me.”

“in a heartbeat.”

and with that, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers. the kiss was gentle, fevered warmth meeting cool tenderness. he tasted like salt and broth and something undeniably hyunjin — familiar, grounding, home.

“ew,” she muttered playfully, pulling away. “you taste like sick.”

“still hot though.”

“debatable.”

but her laughter filled the space, mingling with his, and as hyunjin curled back into the blankets, y/n tucked him in without a word. the fever would pass, the mess would return, and the city would wake again.

but tonight?

tonight, they had soup, kisses, and the soft hum of rain. and that was more than enough.

⤿ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝘵𝑒𝑟𝘵𝑎𝑔. @its-stayville-forever @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan @ashtxrie @minlixyaoi @shuuporanglinos — send in an ask, message or reply, to be added !! ✶

[star-writes-sometimes]

now i need tattooartist!thanos reacting to you getting a tattoo from someone he doesn’t like.. maybe player 333 or something

c/w - nothing really, fluff and tattoos

a/n - please please please send me requests for thanos and nam-gyu!! especially tattooartist!thanos!!!!!

tattooartist!thanos headcanons

—

“there’s my flower!” thanos yells out as he emerges from the back of the tattoo parlour. he throws his arms around you in a tight hug, swinging you from side to side.

you roll your eyes and smile, returning his hug, “hi thanos,” you say softly.

he pulls away from you but keeps his hands on your shoulders. “i haven’t seen you in forever!” he exclaims dramatically while rubbing his thumbs against your shoulders.

“it hasn’t even been two months,” you say, laughing a little.

“much too long,” he says with a grin. he lets go of you only to grab your wrist to drag you into his room.

this will be your fourth tattoo with him, so you know the routine. you sit down on the tattoo bench and take off your jacket while thanos sits on his rolling stool. he fiddles with a few things before he rolls in front of you and smiles up at you.

“so, gorgeous, left inner forearm, yeah?” he asks and looks at your arms.

“yeah, sort of in the middle but closer to my wrist,” you reply but thanos stays quiet. instead of grabbing your left arm and looking at the spot like he normally would, he holds your right arm. his thumb gently runs along the small tattoo that is inside your elbow crease.

it wasn’t there last time you saw him.

you got it about a month ago when you were at a friend's bachelorette party. it was early in the night when you were all just a little bit buzzed and decided to change what bar you were at. along the way you passed an almost empty tattoo shop that had a promotion going on, you would get a discount if two people got tattoos around the same size

your friend asked you to get a tattoo with her so the promotion would apply and you didn’t think much of it. but apparently thanos did.

“this is new,” he says quietly, his voice lacking its usual playful tone.

“yeah,” you say, not really understanding his shift in demeanour. sure you used him more than any other artist but it wasn’t like you had never gotten a tattoo from someone else before. this was just the first new one from a different artist since you started using thanos.

“i wish you would've gotten it from me,” he grumbles.

you have to hold back a laugh at the small pout that formed on his face, “i’m sorry it was an impulse decision and we were nowhere near here,” you say softly.

he pouts even more and looks closely at the tattoo, “where’d you get it? why’d you get it? who did it? was it done safely?” he asks rapidly.

you can’t hold back your laughs this time, “it was safe, don’t worry, i’m not dumb,” you giggle slightly, “my friend asked me to get one with her. it was some place downtown, bumblebee or something?”

his eyes widen and his grip on your arm tightens, “honeybee?”

“yeah that was it,” you say cautiously.

he groans dramatically and gets closer to you, “please tell me you didn’t get tattooed by myung-gi.”

you try not to smile at his theatrics, “that was him.”

he quickly spins on his stool away from you. you’re left sitting there confused as he grabs some aftercare cream and carefully applies it to the tattoo (which, of course, you had already been doing).

“what are you-” you start but he cuts you off.

“stupid asshole, he never knows how to treat a girl right,” he mutters. you can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself, “breaks my heart thinking of you sitting there all pretty for him while he gets to touch you.”

you smile at his protectiveness. you thought his clinginess was for everybody but this felt even more personal than usual. the way he was rubbing the cream into your arm as gently as possible, studying the tattoo like looking at it would tell him a secret you were holding back, it all felt so intimate.

“thanos,” you say gently and he looks up at you. his expression softens but he doesn’t smile he usually does whenever his eyes are on you.

he stands up suddenly and grabs your cheeks in one hand, squishing them together. he brings your face close to his and stares into your eyes with a deadly seriousness you didn’t think he was capable of. 

“never get a tattoo from him again.” he says firmly before scoffing slightly, “actually i’d like it if you never got tattoos from anyone except me ever again, but particularly him.”

you're surprised by his intensity and you nod, “okay, thanos. i’ll only get tattoos from you for now on. i promise.”

he let’s go of your cheeks and holds out one of his pinky fingers, “pinky promise?”

you laugh and link your pinky with his, “pinky promise.”

a wide grin spreads across his face and he kisses you cheek, “good. you’re my favourite, baby, i can’t have you cheating on me,” he ruffles your hair affectionately and walk away to where he keeps his stencil paper, “now how big did you want this one?”

you were grateful he didn't touch your cheeks again because you were sure they were burning after the kiss. butterflies were making a home in your stomach and you couldn't even register his question properly, “hmm?”

“how big, princess?” he asks, turning to you with a cheeky grin.

“oh, um, six centimetres long and four centimetres tall,” you say and offer him a small smile in return.

he prints the first stencil and sits in front of you once again, “don't worry, beautiful, i'll treat you so much better you'll forget all about that little rat.”

as he places the stencil on you can't help the way your heart speeds up slightly. especially when he offers his hand to help you stand up.

you take his hand and stand in front of the mirror. he stands behind you and hums as he inspects the blue ink on your skin, “what do you think, lovely?”

it looked great, as usual. you’ve only needed him to move a stencil once before. it was like he instinctively knew what you wanted before you had even worked it out for yourself.

“it’s perfect,” you say softly. for a fleeting second you think about myung-gi. how he had to redo the stencil six times because he wasn't listening to you and how annoyed he acted everytime you asked for it to move.

thanos wraps his arms around your waist and smiles. he kisses your temple, “only the best for my prettiest customer.”

you didn’t need any other artists when you had him.

—

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 10 (Final)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Goodbyes are always hard, but sometimes they’re necessary. Natasha understands that better than most.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: light angst, light fluff

Words: 2239

Natasha tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket, her boots making soft taps against the floor as she walks slow circles around the lone table in the small, stark visiting room.

On the surface of the table, Widow mirrors her movements, her tiny paws following her in smaller, deliberate circles as if mimicking her pacing.

From his spot near the door, Tony groans dramatically, his patience clearly worn thin. He throws his head back against the wall with a loud sigh.

“Oh my god, stop moving! You two are making me dizzy.”

Natasha pauses mid-step, turning to fix him with a flat, unimpressed stare.

Widow, as if in solidarity, halts her pacing and copies Natasha’s expression, letting out an annoyed yowl aimed directly at him.

Tony points a finger at the cat, his tone exasperated.

“Hey! Don’t you start with me, furball. Do you know how many strings I had to pull to even get you in here?”

At his gesture, Widow suddenly collapses onto her side with a pitiful meow, tilting her head to Natasha with what could only be described as a dramatic cry for help.

Natasha smirks at the feline’s theatrics, scooping her up and cradling her against her chest. She strokes her sleek fur, her voice soft but playful.

“Is Tony bullying you again?” she asks.

Widow chirps in response, nuzzling against Natasha’s arm.

Tony gasps, mock outrage written all over his face. 

“I didn’t even touch her!”

Widow lets out another exaggerated meow and burrows herself further into Natasha’s embrace.

Groaning, Tony throws his hands up in exasperation.

“You know what? I’ll just wait outside,” he grumbles, storming out of the room with a huff.

The metal door creaks closed behind him, leaving Natasha alone with the feline perched contentedly in her arms. The room falls quiet for only a moment before the other door on the opposite side creaks open.

Natasha’s breath catches as you step through, your eyes meeting hers the instant you lift your head.

The guard with you unlocks your cuffs before nodding curtly to Natasha and exiting, leaving the two of you alone.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence is heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable.

Finally, you break it, your voice soft.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Natasha replies, her tone matching yours.

Widow wriggles in Natasha’s arms, leaping to the floor and sprinting toward you with an excited chirp. She circles your legs a few times before hopping into your arms when you crouch to greet her.

“It’s good to see you too, Widow,” you murmur, running a hand over her fur as she purrs loudly in response.

You glance up at Natasha, an amused smile tugging at your lips. 

“They allow pets to visit criminals now?”

“After an extensive search, yes,” Natasha replies dryly, a playful glint in her eyes. “But in this case, technically, she’s not visiting a criminal anymore.”

Confusion flashes across your face as you stand, cradling Widow.

Natasha steps closer, pulling a folder from her jacket and handing it to you.

You open it, skimming the documents inside.

“It’s an updated ruling on your case,” Natasha explains. “Parole with the possibility to reduce your sentencing time.”

Your head snaps up, surprise written across your features. 

“How did you manage this?”

Natasha crosses her arms, leaning against the table.

“I told them how you helped me take down the weapons deals and explained how much of your recent actions were…influenced by someone else.”

Your expression tightens at the mention of Whitney, but you keep your gaze steady.

“She’s still causing trouble, isn’t she?”

“She’s under tight surveillance now,” Natasha assures. “Whatever connections she’s trying to pull to get her out of this, I’ll make sure they don’t reach you or Widow again.”

A small, grateful smile crosses your face as you stroke the cat absently.

“What about everything else I’ve done?”

Natasha shrugs lightly.

“Most of the victims dropped their charges. I guess they didn’t want to return the insurance money they got after you stole from them.”

“Typical,” you scoff, not surprised by the actions of the wealthy people you’ve always targeted. 

“And as for the facilities and buildings…” Natasha smirks faintly. “I may have convinced the owner to let it go.”

You laugh softly, the sound incredulous. 

“Well, I’m glad Stark’s not one to hold a grudge.”

“Oh, don’t mistake it for that,” Natasha says with a small chuckle. “His ego’s still bruised, but I think he’s impressed more than anything.”

The room falls silent once more, the only sound being Widow’s soft purring. The feline seems entirely at ease, her warmth a small comfort in the charged quiet.

You tilt your head slightly, studying Natasha with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“So…what’s the catch?” you finally ask, breaking the silence.

Natasha arches a brow. “Catch?”

You sigh softly, your voice cautious as you clarify.

“Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”

Understanding the weight behind your question, Natasha takes a step closer. Her posture relaxes, her gaze softening as she considers her response.

“A long time ago,” she begins, her voice quiet but firm, “when I thought there was no way out of the life I was living, someone gave me a second chance.”

She reaches out, her fingers brushing gently over Widow’s fur, the motion grounding her. Natasha’s eyes meet yours again, and a small, earnest smile graces her lips.

“So that’s all this is,” she continues, her voice steady and sincere. “Just a second chance. What you do with it is entirely up to you.”

For a moment, you simply watch her, the sincerity of her words settling heavily in the air between you. The faint tension in your shoulders eases as you realize she’s serious—no ulterior motive, no hidden agenda. 

Tilting your head with a faint smirk, you decide to challenge her words lightly. 

“And if I decide to go back to being a thief?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

Natasha’s lips twitch into a slight smirk of her own as she straightens her posture and crosses her arms.

“Then I’ll have to stop you,” she replies without missing a beat, her tone teasing but underpinned with a playful warning. “Being a hero and all.”

A quiet laugh escapes you at her response, soft and genuine, but the humor fades as your gaze drifts down to the cat in your arms. You run your fingers gently along Widow’s fur, your thoughts growing heavier. 

When you speak again, your voice is barely above a whisper.

“And if I decide to leave?” 

The question hangs in the air, the vulnerability in your tone pulling at something in Natasha’s chest. She hesitates for a brief moment, the thought of you leaving tugging painfully at her heart. 

But she steps closer, her hand reaching out to gently tilt your chin upward, lifting your gaze to meet hers. Her eyes are steady, unwavering, as she offers a reassuring smile. 

“Then I’ll always cherish the memory of the thief and her little black cat who stole my heart.”

Your breath catches at her words, her sincerity cutting through the lingering doubt.

For a moment, time seems to pause, and the world around you fades away, leaving only the undeniable connection between you.

A soft huff escapes you, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude. Shaking your head lightly, you murmur in admiration.

“You really are something else, Miss Black Widow.” 

Natasha’s smile lingers, soft and bittersweet, even as she watches you board the shuttle to leave the prison a short time later. 

Widow presses her tiny face against the glass, her golden eyes watching Natasha intently. In response, Natasha raises a hand in a small wave, her gaze lingering on you and the feline until the vehicle pulls away.

Even after the shuttle disappears from view, Natasha remains standing, her heart heavy yet resolute. She knows she’s done the right thing, giving you the freedom to choose your own path—even if it means you’re no longer in her life.

Tony’s arrival beside her breaks her reverie, his expression equal parts amused and curious. 

“I can’t believe, after all that, you didn’t get the girl,” he quips, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, Nat, next time you’ve got a crush, I’ll give you some tips. They’re foolproof.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes, brushing his hand off as she turns toward the car that’ll take them back to the compound.

“Let’s go,” she says, her tone firm but calm. “We’ve still got work to do.”

Tony follows her, grumbling under his breath, but Natasha doesn’t hear him. Her mind is already returning to a life of training and missions, even as the faint echo of your parting smile lingers in her thoughts.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The seasons have changed since that day months ago, the vibrant green giving way to winter’s icy embrace. Barren trees stand silent and still, their branches dusted with frost, while a fresh layer of snow blankets the ground.

The world moves on, but some things remain the same.

Natasha’s breaths puff visibly in the cold air as her steady footsteps crunch against the frozen trail. 

As usual, running and training is still her method of escape, a way to clear her mind and soothe her thoughts. 

Today, her pace slows as she nears a familiar spot.

She stops by the same tree she had stood beneath all those months ago, her hands resting on her hips as she catches her breath.

The world around her is silent except for the faint wind rustling through the branches above. The chill of the morning air feels sharper here, but it’s not enough to distract her from the wave of nostalgia washing over her.

Natasha glances upward toward the branches, her eyes scanning the limbs as if expecting to see a flash of black fur clinging precariously to one of them.

But like many times before, the branches are empty.

With a small sigh, she shakes her head, chiding herself for entertaining the idea.

It’s been months since she last saw or heard from you and Widow. You had both disappeared from her life after your release, and she told herself she shouldn’t dwell on what she couldn’t change. 

It was your decision.

Just as she’s about to move on and continue her run, she hears it—a soft, curious meow.

From below?

Natasha blinks, her head snapping downward to find a familiar pair of yellow eyes staring up at her from the base of the tree.

The cat sits neatly by her feet, tilting her head in that same inquisitive way Natasha remembered, her gold tag jingling at her collar as the inscribed name glints off the metal in the early light.

“Widow?” Natasha whispers, her voice laced with disbelief.

The cat meows again as if confirming her identity before turning her gaze to the tree behind her. Without hesitation, she leaps and latches onto the bark, her claws digging in as she prepares to climb.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Natasha mutters, quickly lunging forward. She catches Widow mid-climb, cradling the cat securely in her arms before she can get herself stuck again.

Widow lets out a protesting meow, swatting at Natasha’s chin in mock indignation.

Natasha laughs softly, the sound tinged with fondness as she holds the little troublemaker close.

“Some things never change,” she murmurs, stroking her fur gently.

A crunch of snow behind her breaks the peaceful moment.

Natasha turns, her heart skipping at the sight of you approaching.

You walk toward her with a small smile, your hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket.

Stopping a few feet away, you tilt your head, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“You have my cat,” you say, your tone light but familiar.

Natasha huffs a small laugh, shaking her head slightly as the familiarity of the moment settles between you.

“Your cat was about to get herself stuck in a tree again,” she replies, her voice laced with amusement. “I saved her.”

Widow, seemingly unfazed by the interaction, stretches lazily in Natasha’s arms before giving you an expectant chirp. 

You step closer, reaching out to scratch behind her ears. The cat purrs contentedly, leaning into your touch.

“Always the hero, aren’t you, Miss Black Widow?” you quip, your gaze flicking up to meet hers.

Natasha smirks, her eyes narrowing slightly as they drop pointedly to the black leather jacket you’re wearing.

“Well, I’m no thief,” she retorts, her voice dry but playful.

You grin unabashedly, tugging the jacket closer around yourself.

“Finders keepers,” you say with a casual shrug.

Natasha shakes her head in mock exasperation, though there’s no mistaking the warmth that spreads through her chest at your familiar banter.

“Mind if we join you?” you ask, your voice softening as you gesture toward the trail.

Natasha glances down at Widow, nestled comfortably in her arms, then back at you. Her lips curve into a genuine smile, her tone light as she responds.

“I’d like that,” she says before adding with a teasing lilt, “But Widow stays with me.”

A soft laugh escapes you as you step closer, falling into stride beside her.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply.

Together, the three of you continue down the trail, the cold morning air no longer biting as it’s replaced by the warmth of laughter, soft meows, and the unexpected connection brought together by a little black cat.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

a/n: First fic post of the new year on here, and it's the finale of a series 😅. Endings are always bittersweet to write, and this one was really sad to let go.

Thank you all for reading and following along with this series!

The responses to this story have been amazing considering this originally started with just a simple oneshot about Natasha becoming friends with a little black cat. It was fun having their relationship grow and develop so much further, and I'm glad you all enjoyed it.

So technically, the main plotline is complete, but I may still come back to this universe with little side stories in the future, just because I am fond of these characters, so in happier news, it may not be the completely last time we see them. 😁

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27, @waltermis, @scarlettbitchx, @self-indulgent-writer, @ashadash0904, @alowint, @littlyamadeus, @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic, @imthenatynat, @transparentflapfarmsludge, @natashasilverfox, @mousetheorist, @btay3115, @samfunko, @wandaromamoff69, @lost-in-the-ice, @ahsatanizgay, @stonemags, @karsonromanoff, @wandanatlov3r, @l1kepeps1cvla, @esposadejoyhuerta, @fxckmiup, @panickedbabygay, @esposadejoyhuerta, @azaleavolkova, @gay4wandanat, @escapereality4music, @caspianalexander007, @henkermen, @xxnaiaxx, @alyssa-bessse, @alianovnasposts, @mrsriovidal, @thelonewriter247, @azaleavolkova, @tiffthemarvelnerd

[yesihaveaobsession]

A Well- Tailored Affair

Alastor x female! reader

Summary: Being The Radio Demon's one and only personal tailor has it own perks.

A/N- Sorry I have been gone for quite some time!! But I'm back, I had NOOOOOO idea what to write and this thought came to me mid sleep at like 12am So anyways I hope you enjoy!

ALSO this was gonna proofread because I didn't have time and I missed yall so sorry if it sucks 💀

Being a tailor in Hell was no small feat, especially when your main client was none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. When you first took the job, you didn’t expect it to be much of a challenge working with his specific tastes. But over time, you came to know him like the back of your hand.

Today, he was scheduled for a fitting. He had dropped off a newer jacket last week but he said he had business to attend to and he'd come back next week and that was today. As always, the atmosphere of your small shop—which wasn’t far from the hotel—was calm and cozy. You were currently cross-stitching a dress for Rosie for some type of event in Cannibal Town when, suddenly, the bell above the door jingled. There he was. Alastor stepped inside with his signature grin, accompanied by the hum of radio static. The aura he carried was palpable. The moment he entered, you could feel the air shift.

"Ah, my favorite tailor!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide before resting his hands on the microphone in front of him. With a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Have you missed me?"

You chuckled softly, stepping away from your work and already reaching for the measuring tape. "You were here last week, Alastor. Hardly enough time to miss anyone." You smiled. His grin didn’t falter, though you didn’t notice how his crimson eyes lingered on you longer than usual. Truth be told, Alastor liked you. More than he should, and more than he realized. Part of it was the trust he placed in you to handle his precious suits, which were such a vital part of who he was. But it was also because you treated them with such grace. You knew what you were doing and were exceptional at it. Not to mention, you were one of the rare souls in Hell who wasn’t afraid of him. And lastly, you were undeniably pretty—he thought that too.

"Ah, but a week without your company is an eternity, my dear," Alastor replied. You brushed off his words with a smile. He often gave small, sweet compliments about your work and how he missed you, so this wasn’t anything new. Yet today, his words seemed to carry a different meaning.

You rolled your eyes playfully, motioning for him to step onto the fitting platform. In front of him was a large mirror—he loved checking his reflection to ensure he always looked impeccable. "Alright, charmer, let’s see what we’re working with today. Did you tear another sleeve during one of your dramatics?" you teased, looking from the sleeve up into his eyes.

He let out a melodic laugh. "Guilty as charged! I simply cannot help myself. Life—or afterlife, rather—demands a flair for the theatrical!"

As you worked, your hands expertly adjusted the fabric of his jacket. You noticed his gaze drifting to you frequently. At first, you thought he might be scrutinizing your technique, but no—this was different. His grin softened ever so slightly whenever he thought you weren’t looking. Watching your focused expression gave him an odd fluttering sensation, almost like butterflies in his stomach.

"You’re very precise," he remarked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Kind of comes with the job," you replied with a smile, pinning a sleeve in place. "Can’t have the Radio Demon walking around in anything less than perfection, right?"

"Indeed. And you, my dear, are perfection. I must confess, I’ve never trusted anyone else with my suits. You have an extraordinary talent."

You paused, caught off guard by the bold confession—especially coming from him. "Thank you, Alastor. That means a lot," you said, grabbing the needle and thread.

"And," he added, tilting his head as though studying a particularly fascinating piece of art, "it doesn’t hurt that you’re quite easy on the eyes." Was he kidding? He had to be, right? Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you nearly dropped the pin you were holding. "Oh! Uh, thanks."

He noticed your reaction and chuckled, clearly amused. "Did I fluster you? My, my, how delightful!" Alastor grinned, watching you through the mirror. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. "Stop moving," you muttered, focusing on adjusting the flaps on his suit. You finished stitching up the rip on his sleeve with a clean, neat stitch—it was a relatively easy fix.

The silence grew heavy until he broke it. "You’re one of the only few who doesn’t fear me, you know… It’s refreshing."

"Well, I figured if you were going to do something to me, you would’ve done it already," you replied with a smirk, stepping back to admire your work. Alastor’s grin widened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I find your company far too enjoyable to spoil."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Alright, smooth talker, you’re good to go. You can come and pick it up in 24 hours." You watched as he stepped down from the platform, adjusted his jacket, the one he came in with and turned to face you. "Splendid! I’ll be counting the seconds until I see your lovely presence again!" He started toward the door but paused, looking back over his shoulder with that ever-present grin. "Oh, and my dear, do save a moment for tea when I return. I’d like to enjoy more of your delightful company." You smiled, shaking your head. "You better not rip your coat on purpose in the next 24 hours!" you shouted after him.

You heard his laugh echo as he left, leaving you standing in the middle of your shop, flustered and smiling despite yourself. Maybe being Alastor’s tailor wasn’t so bad after all.

[unclewaynemunson]

If there is one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it's hyperfixating. He can spend hours upon hours wholly entranced by whatever it is that has his attention, whether it's a newly discovered band or a book series he's reading or some random new interest he likes to immerse himself in. It's something Steve, who himself has the attention span of a goldfish, will never really understand, but that's okay: even without understanding it, it's one of the things he loves about Eddie.

Some of Eddie's obsessions fade just as quickly as they appear, but others stay with him for years. So when he reaches a 1000-day streak on Duolingo learning Elvish, Steve has a surprise for him: two tickets for a Lord of the Rings convention in Chicago. The second ticket is not for Steve – they enjoy their own separate interests just fine without the other's involvement – but for Dustin, and the two of them wave goodbye to Steve with a suitcase filled with nerdy costumes and matching excited sparks in their eyes.

Eddie returns a few days later filled with stories about all that he and Dustin got up to.

'Guess who we met at the convention,' is one of the first things he tells Steve. He's bouncing around with excitement, too impatient to even wait for Steve's first guess. 'The guy who created the Elvish Duolingo course! And guess what? He lives in Indianapolis! I'm having lunch with him next week!'

And it's cool, Steve is happy that Eddie met his hero and made a new nerd friend out of him, he truly is – until Eddie shows him the picture that Dustin took of the two of them.

Here's the thing: Steve is not a jealous person. Not at all. He knows that jealousy is a gross thing to feel and he can't even imagine not trusting Eddie. But... he had not expected Eddie's lame nerd idol to have amazing hair, a lip piercing, and muscles in all the right places. The guy looks like a freaking model. And usually, that wouldn't bother Steve – he knows he's not exactly ugly himself – but usually he doesn't have to compete with guys who speak Elvish fluently.

'You should come with me, we can all hang out together,' Eddie suggests. 'I'm sure you'll love him.'

Steve is hesitant about it, but Eddie refuses to take no for an answer, and that's how Steve ends up at Vikram's house for lunch two weeks later.

Eddie gasps loudly when Vikram leads them into his living room, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest in true Eddie fashion. Steve knows it's not all theatrics, though: there's no way a room like this wouldn't genuinely impress Eddie. It's dark and filled with big leather furniture. Framed posters for various metal bands and horror movies hang on the walls. There are shelves filled with big fantasy books, and every corner of the room has a display cabinet filled with what seem to be collectors' items for various series.

If Steve had been hoping for Vikram to look more like a stereotypical nerd in real life, he would be severely disappointed: the guy looks amazing in a leather jacket that would fit perfectly in Eddie's own collection and black skinny jeans that show off a truly amazing pair of legs, making Steve feel oddly self-conscious about the couple of pounds he gained since he left his high school sports days behind him.

While they're having lunch – Vikram bakes his own bread and it's so good that Steve doesn't think he can ever stop eating – Eddie and Vikram enthusiastically talk each other's heads off about all things Tolkien. Steve, on the other hand, grows more quiet as time passes, not really following along and sure as hell not able to give any contributions to the topic at hand.

'Did you ever try to learn some Sindarin as well, Steve? Or are you more of a Quenya guy?' Vikram asks him in what is no doubt a well-meant attempt to include Steve in the conversation.

Steve hastily swallows a big mouthful of bread and feels his cheeks heat up.

'I never read those books,' he sheepishly confesses.

'Oh!' Vikram's eyes widen and Steve can practically see him think: You never bothered to show any interest in one of your boyfriend's favorite things?

'Well, I mean, I tried,' Steve rushes to explain himself. 'But I um, I couldn't really keep my attention to it. They're a bit difficult to read. For me.' Somehow, explaining it only makes him feel worse about it.

'Oh, yeah, I get it, man. Those books aren't for everyone.'

There is no meanness or hidden insult behind his words. But Steve only feels more like an outsider while Eddie asks Vikram some incomprehensible question that has Vikram giving an in-depth explanation about the difference between two words that literally sound the same to Steve's ears. And when Eddie laughs about a joke that goes way over Steve's head, then says something in that stupidly beautiful nerd language which prompts a laugh from Vikram in return, Steve is reminded in full force how ugly of an emotion jealousy is.

They say goodbye – Eddie says something in Elvish again and Steve has to watch Vikram laugh a joyous laugh about it again – and Steve is quiet during the drive back home.

'Is something wrong?' Eddie asks when they're home, perceptive as always.

'No,' Steve lies.

'Stevie, c'mon.' Eddie studies Steve's face intently, a frown between his eyebrows just barely hidden by his bangs. 'What's going on?' Something in his expression shifts. 'Wait. You didn't like Vikram, did you? Did you hate him?'

'No, I didn't hate him!' Steve is quick to say. 'He's awesome, Eddie, he's perfect and smart and funny and perfect.'

Eddie narrows his eyes like Steve said something weird.

'Why did you say he's perfect twice?'

Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. 'Just drop it, Eddie.'

'No, I'm not dropping it.' Eddie crosses his arms. 'What are you not telling me?'

Steve sighs. 'Okay, I didn't want to bother you with this, because it's my problem and not yours, and jealousy is an ugly emotion, but–'

'You're jealous of Vikram?'

'I mean, he's like, super hot, and he has this cool house, and he loves the same things as you, and you can speak your cool nerd language with him, while I'm too dumb to even read your cool nerd books and–'

'Steve,' Eddie interrupts him. 'You have no reason to be jealous.'

'I just...' Steve pauses, pinches the bridge of his nose. He finally manages to voice the thought that has been eating at him ever since he met Vikram. 'I don't want you to wake up someday and wish that you were with someone as smart as you are.'

The way Eddie's breath catches is barely noticeable. Then, he reaches out and gently places his hands on Steve's shoulders.

'I am with someone as smart as I am,' he says softly.

Steve scoffs.

'No, it's true,' Eddie presses on. 'Okay, so you don't enjoy reading Tolkien, and you don't speak Elvish. I don't care about that, man. I love the way you think. I love your inexhaustible knowledge of weird sports facts. I love how precise you are about weighing ingredients when you're baking something. I love your through-the-roof emotional and social intelligence.' He lifts one hand off of Steve's shoulder to pet his head, almost as if he's some kind of animal. 'You got a pretty big brain in there, no matter what you tell yourself, Stevie. And that's why I love you, more than anyone who speaks Elvish fluently.'

Steve tugs Eddie closer until their bodies are pressed against each other, his arms around Eddie's waist and his head resting on Eddie's shoulder.

'I don't think anyone has ever called me smart before,' he quietly admits.

'Well, I'll do it more often, then,' Eddie replies. 'Cause you are.'

(I wrote this because @undreaming-rambles has reached the unbelievable milestone of a 1000-day duolingo strike today. obviously that called for a silly fanfic celebration moment, congrats on your incredible perseverance aneta 💖 and credit where credit is due: this one was inspired by an episode of my beloved comfort show brooklyn 99)

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who's not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader

1.5k Words

You’re staring at him again from across the cafeteria. Eddie Munson is laughing loudly with his friends at their usual table near the windows. Your heart jumps into your chest every time you catch a snippet of their conversation. You aren’t trying to eavesdrop- okay maybe you are a little. But, they make it so easy! Eddie’s voice carries and you know that if people weren’t as judgemental then the drama department would be begging for his theatrics. 

Whatever they’re talking about over there, they look happy. Eddie was currently leaning over the table and was in one of his friends faces, but he was smiling maniacally as far as you could tell. You wanted to know so badly what they were saying, what it was that made Eddie smile so wide. Could you ever make him smile like that? 

Someone waves a hand in front of you and you snap out of it and look over at your friend, Stacy. 

“Are you gonna keep staring at him, or are you going to talk to him?” She asked, as she had at least once a week since the school year started. 

“Talk to who?” you replied, smiling at her. 

“You can’t keep pretending he doesn’t exist if you keep staring at him like the sun shines out of his ass.” She looked over at Eddie’s table where one of the freshmen had burped so loud even other tables were looking over. Eddie high fived the kid, and then discarded his jacket. 

He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt that looked almost new-ish. You wished that Eddie was anyone else. Literally anyone else. If he was you’d be able to walk over to him, strike up a conversation about the band, ask him what his favorite song was. Talking to people was easy, but according to Hawkin’s High, Eddie Munson was no person. 

“Oh I can, and I will.” you said, and quickly looked at Stacy as Eddie’s head suddenly swung in your direction. You didn’t even think he was looking at you but having him looking anywhere near your general vicinity was far too much to handle so you looked down at your lunch instead. Pathetic. 

Stacy frowned and looked at you. “Go talk to him.” she said. 

“No.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Absolutely not. What would I even say?” 

“You came up to me on the second day of school and started the conversation by asking if I’d rather fight a horse sized duck or a duck sized horse.” 

“It’s a good icebreaker!” 

Stacy all but shoved you out of your seat. “If I have to keep watching you make goo goo eyes at the freak, I’m going to barf. Just talk to him already!” 

You grabbed onto your sandwich wrapper in a feeble attempt to stop your ass from hitting the ground. It didn’t work. You groaned and stood up, glaring at your friend who shooed you off with her hands before returning to her own lunch. You flicked her off. She flicked you off back. 

You turned around and took a deep breath, clutching your trash so hard your knuckles almost turned white. Your brows furrowed and with shaking legs you started walking towards his table. That’s it, just one foot in front of the other. Just go over, say hi, tell him you like his shirt. 

It’s just small talk. It’s introducing yourself. It’s not like you’re about to go over and ask him on a date out of the blue! That’d be weird. You just had to walk the additional 30 steps to his table. 

You could hear his voice and you couldn’t tell if butterflies were fluttering around in your stomach or if you were going to be sick. Why, out of everyone in school, did you have to develop a crush on Eddie Munson? He was loud and chaotic and had a habit of getting into fights and rumor had it that he was in a shootout once, but no one could agree on the details. But he was also funny, and clearly so protective of his friends and his club, and you sat diagonally behind him in English and you practically swooned any time he was called to read because he was one of the few who would actually put in effort-

He was looking at you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Eddie Munson was looking directly at you as you walked towards his table. His brown eyes were curious but guarded, and becoming more guarded the closer you got to his table. 

You swerved around him and walked to the trash can that was stationed near the table and tossed your sandwich wrapper inside. You started walking back to your table, defeated, knowing that Stacy was going to just shake her head and talk about weekend plans instead. Maybe talking to him was too much to start with. Maybe a casual head nod or making purposeful eye contact would be better-

Someone grabbed your shirt as you passed by Eddie’s table making you jump and turn around in surprise. 

“Hey, sorry I forgot your name.” Zack, the kid in your science class quickly let go of your shirt, putting his hands up to show he didn’t mean any harm. 

You offered your hand and told him. “Can I help you...?”

“Oh yeah, I just got warned we have a pop quiz today.” He said. “You gave me that extra quarter last week when the phone ate mine. I figured I’d warn you.”

You felt yourself relaxing and you smiled. “Yeah, okay thanks.” you said genuinely. “I wasn’t exactly gonna leave you stranded over a quarter.”

“You saved my ass from having to walk home.” Zack sighed. “I still haven’t fixed my wheel on my board.” 

“Hope you get it fixed soon, and thanks for the heads up.” you said, and waved as you headed back to your table with Stacy. 

“How did I tell you ‘go talk to Eddie’ and you heard ‘make small talk with the skaters’?” she asked as you sat down. 

You groaned and shook your head. “I know, I know. I chickened out. He was looking at me, Stace. I panicked!”

“You’re hopeless.” she sighed. 

“You’re right.”

Henderson’s belch was the stuff of legends as Eddie cackled and high fived the kid. The sound had echoed through the cafeteria so loudly that other tables were looking at the freaks with either disgust or amusement. 

It had been a good day for Eddie so far, all things considered. Higgins hadn’t tried to pull him into the office, the jocks had been ignoring him, and he had actually turned in his homework today. Small victories, but victories nonetheless. 

But as the reverberations of Henderson’s belch faded, and the students around him lost interest, Eddie felt like someone was watching their table still. 

Gareth nudged him and jerked his head towards a smaller table a few yards away. Eddie swung his head over just in time to see you quickly look away to talk to Stacy. He should be used to people not liking him based on his reputation, but for some reason when it was you glaring at him, it bothered him more than normal. 

“She’s always staring at you like you’re some sort of bug she’s trying to study.” Gareth snorted. 

“Shut up.” Eddie snapped. “I guess it’s better than being looked at like a bug she wants to step on.” 

“Kinky.” muttered Jeff. 

Everyone laughed and Eddie shook off the weird feeling that always came when you were around. He was used to people not liking him for no reason, but it bugged the shit out of him why you didn’t like him. 

Gareth nudged him again, not even a minute later and Eddie looked over to see you walking straight towards them. Towards him. 

You looked pissed. Your brows were furrowed, and your fist was tight. Were you really about to come over and pick a fight with him? He found himself wishing you would so he could figure out what your deal was. You made eye contact with him for a solid five seconds before looking away and walking around him to throw something in the trash can behind him. 

That was... fucking weird. Bizarre even. Why the hell had you walked across the cafeteria to the can closest to them when there was one closer to where you had been sitting? 

“Okay, that time she wanted to step on you.” Gareth laughed. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Eddie shrugged. “She can get in line.” 

You didn’t return to your seat though. Eddie noticed that you stopped at a table to talk to one of the skater stoners. A few of them were regular clients of his, especially Zack, the guy with the dishwater blond hair you were now smiling at and talking to with ease. Even now, he looked high off his ass. 

But there you were, smiling at him and chatting with him like it was normal. 

It didn’t last long, maybe thirty seconds before you make your way back to your table and went back to your seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see your friend (Stephanie? Tracy?) looking annoyed. 

The whole thing was a stupid, nothing, non-interaction. Eddie was used to worse on a daily basis. 

So why was it that for the rest of the day, he couldn’t shake the way you were glaring at him out of his mind?

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Part 2

This was supposed to be longer but I ran out of brain juice. I might add more later if there's an interest, I just felt like posting something.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound.  You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit."  Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time.  You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful.  You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

[enhaflixer]

newly turned vampire! riki x 400 y/o vampire f!reader - VAMPIRE SUPPORT GROUP

pure crack. fluff. i def got an ask for this but rn i cant find it at all.

-

You've been dead for 400 years, but nothing has made you feel more alive than watching this disaster unfold.

The vampire support group meets in the basement of an abandoned church—cliché as fuck, but the rent is cheap. You're only here because eternity is boring and watching newly-turned vampires panic about their condition provides at least mild entertainment. Four centuries of existence have left you with few novel experiences.

Until him.

He slouches in fifteen minutes late, wearing sunglasses indoors, at night, in a basement. Riki Nishimura, according to the name tag he reluctantly sticks to his leather jacket (which still has the price tag partially visible underneath the collar).

"Sorry I'm late," he says, clearly not sorry at all. "Had some, you know, vampire business to take care of." He flicks an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulder.

The support group leader—Gary, turned in 1983, still wearing the same outdated suit—gestures to an empty folding chair. "Welcome, Riki. Would you like to share your turning story with the group?"

Riki slides into the chair like he's auditioning for a yakuza film. "It's whatever. Got bit last week. No big deal." He shrugs with such calculated casualness that you have to press your lips together to keep from laughing.

"The transition can be traumatic," Gary offers. "It's okay to have feelings about it."

"I don't really do feelings," Riki says, adjusting his sunglasses. They slip down his nose, revealing eyes that are very obviously bloodshot from crying. He pushes them back up with his middle finger, trying to make it look intentional.

You've watched newly-turned vampires react in every possible way: the screamers, the deniers, the embracers, the religious crisis-havers. But you've never seen someone trying so desperately to seem unaffected while clearly being a complete internal mess.

"So what can you do?" asks another newbie vampire, Emma, turned three months ago. "Can you transform into a bat yet?"

Riki scoffs. "Transformation is for vampires with something to prove. I'm secure enough not to need to show off."

You know—everyone knows—he can't transform. Most new vampires can't. But his absolute commitment to this façade is fascinating.

"What about blood?" asks Gary. "Have you adjusted to your new diet?"

Riki pulls out a thermos with skull stickers on it. "It's fine. I'm on this special blend. Very exclusive." He takes a sip and visibly gags, then pretends he was just clearing his throat. "Smooth," he comments, voice strained.

It's too much. A small laugh escapes you.

His head whips toward you, noticing you for the first time. You, with your simple black turtleneck and jeans—no need for gothic theatrics when you've been dead since the Edo period.

The moment his eyes land on you, he chokes on his blood drink. Like, actually chokes. He spends a good ten seconds coughing into his elbow while trying to look like he's just thoughtfully clearing his throat.

"You okay there?" you ask, deadpan.

"Yeah, totally fine. Just, uh—" he straightens up, runs a hand through his hair, and somehow manages to make it worse. "Just giving my professional assessment of the, uh, acoustics in here. Good echo. Very... echo-y."

"Fascinating analysis," you reply, face completely blank.

He stares at you for a beat too long, then realizes and quickly averts his gaze, pretending to be deeply interested in a water stain on the ceiling. A faint reddish tint creeps across his pale cheeks—he must have fed recently for that to be possible.

"And you are...?" Gary prompts.

"Riki. I said that already," he mumbles.

"I meant her name," Gary clarifies with infinite patience.

"Oh." Riki's eyes dart back to you, then away again, like he's afraid looking directly at you might turn him to stone. Which is ironic, considering the whole vampire thing.

You don't volunteer your name. Names have power, and you've learned to be selective with yours over the centuries. But something about his painfully obvious awkwardness makes you say, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeats, like he's testing how it feels in his mouth. "Cool name. Very... name-like."

"Jesus fucking christ," mutters Emma under her breath.

The group moves on to discussing practical matters—how to get blood legally, avoiding sunlight, explaining to family why you can't do brunch anymore. Riki interjects occasionally with comments like "Sunlight? I think it adds character to just power through the burning" and "Family? I'm a lone wolf. Always have been." This last comment is immediately undermined by his phone lighting up with a text that clearly reads "MOM: Don't forget to call Grandma tomorrow, she's making your favorite cookies."

He hurriedly flips the phone over, then glances at you to see if you noticed. You maintain your perfect poker face, honed over centuries of watching humans make fools of themselves.

Throughout the meeting, you catch him stealing glances at you approximately seventy-three times. When you make eye contact, he either pretends to be looking at something else or gives you what he clearly thinks is a cool, aloof nod. It's like watching a middle schooler with his first crush, except this middle schooler has fangs.

"Before we conclude," Gary says, checking his notes, "a reminder that Councilwoman Bathory will be conducting inspections next week. All newly-turned vampires must register with the Council to receive their blood ration cards."

Riki perks up. "The Council? Like, vampire government? That's a real thing?"

You roll your eyes. "Of course it's real. Who did you think keeps humans from finding out about us? Pure luck?"

"I figured it was just, like, an understanding," he says, waving his hand vaguely. "Nobody talks about it because it's cooler that way."

"Yes," you deadpan. "Vampire society has survived for millennia on vibes alone."

Emma snorts. Gary shoots her a look.

"The Council is very real," Gary explains patiently. "And very serious about registration. Unregistered vampires are considered rogue and... well, it doesn't end well."

Riki's attempt at looking unimpressed falters slightly. "What happens to them?"

"They get staked," you say bluntly. "Or worse."

"What's worse than getting staked?" he asks, sunglasses slipping down his nose again.

You just stare at him flatly. "Use your imagination."

When the meeting ends, you find yourself lingering. He's trying to look disinterested, scrolling through his phone, but his thumb isn't moving. He's just staring at a black screen while casting furtive glances your way.

"First meetings are the worst," you say, approaching him.

He jumps like you've shocked him, then tries to play it cool by leaning against the wall. He misses the wall entirely and has to quickly readjust. "Nah, it was cool. Good to know there are other vampires out there, I guess. Not that I need, like, community or whatever."

"Of course not," you agree flatly. "You strike me as someone who has it all figured out."

"Exactly," he says, missing your sarcasm entirely. He runs a hand through his carefully disheveled hair. "So... you come to these things often?" He immediately winces at his own cliché.

"Only when I'm bored. Which is frequently, after a few centuries."

His eyebrows shoot up above his sunglasses. "Centuries? Holy shit—I mean, that's, uh, cool. Very cool. You don't look a day over..." he falters, realizing he doesn't know how to age you.

"Four hundred and twelve," you supply.

"Right. I was gonna say that."

"You know," you say, your lips curving into a slight smirk, "technically that makes me the ultimate cougar. I've got about four centuries on you."

His mouth falls open slightly before he catches himself. "I, uh—I mean—"

"I've literally known shoes that lasted longer than your entire existence," you continue, enjoying his flustered reaction. "I was drinking blood when your ancestors were still figuring out indoor plumbing."

"That's..." he swallows hard. "Actually kind of hot?"

Now it's your turn to be surprised, though you mask it better than he does. "Interesting response."

He shrugs, a hint of genuine Riki breaking through the cool façade. "What can I say? I've always been into older women. Though usually the age gap is more like five years, not five hundred."

"Four hundred," you correct.

"My bad. That makes all the difference."

For the first time in decades, you laugh—a real, unguarded sound. His eyes widen at it, like he's witnessing some rare astronomical event.

"You know," you say, "the sunglasses at night thing is very 1980s. If you want to seem current, you might want to update your 'cool vampire' aesthetic."

He whips them off so fast you're surprised they don't break. "These old things? I don't even like them. Just, you know, had eye surgery. Laser. Very... futuristic."

Without his shield, his eyes are a warm brown, currently dilated from the darkness and from staring at you like you're the last blood bag in a famine. They're surprisingly gentle for someone trying so hard to seem tough.

"There's a night market that caters to our kind a few blocks from here," you say. "They sell blood that actually tastes decent, unlike whatever you've got in that thermos."

"It's not that bad," he lies, clutching the thermos defensively.

"It's pig blood cut with iron supplements and probably hot sauce to mask the taste."

He stares at you. "How did you—"

"Four hundred years, remember? I've seen every trick." You turn toward the exit. "Coming?"

"With you? I mean—yeah, sure, whatever. I'm not doing anything else tonight. So yeah. Cool. Let's do it. The night market. Together. Walking. Side by side. Cool." He's nodding way too much.

"Or I could just go alone," you deadpan.

"No!" He clears his throat, lowers his voice. "I mean, no, I'll come. It's fine. I'm fine."

As you lead him up the basement stairs, you catch him frantically checking his reflection in his phone screen. Except, of course, there is no reflection—a fact he seems to have momentarily forgotten in his panic. He pockets his phone with a muttered "fuck."

-

The night market exists in a dimensional pocket beneath an ordinary-looking pawn shop. To human eyes, it appears closed, with dusty guitars and outdated electronics visible through grimy windows. To supernatural eyes, the neon sign reading "OPEN 24/7 FOR THE ETERNALLY DAMNED" is unmissable.

"No way," Riki breathes as you lead him toward the entrance. "I must have walked past this place a hundred times."

"That's the point," you say, pushing open the door. A bell jingles, but instead of the cheerful tone humans would hear, it emits a low, ominous toll.

The shop owner—a wizened, ancient vampire named Ichiro who came to Japan even before you did—looks up from his newspaper. "Y/N," he nods respectfully. His eyes slide to Riki. "New pet?"

"New community member," you correct, though you're amused by how Riki puffs up indignantly at being called a pet.

"I'm nobody's pet," he mutters, trying to appear intimidating. On a scale of one to threatening, he ranks somewhere around 'disgruntled kitten.'

Ichiro snorts. "Of course not." He turns back to you. "The usual?"

You nod. "And something palatable for the newborn. He's drinking pig swill."

"I told you, it's a special blend—" Riki starts, but Ichiro is already laughing.

"Follow me," the old vampire says, lifting a section of the counter. "And don't touch anything unless you can afford to replace it. Some items are older than your entire bloodline."

As you browse the market, Riki trying desperately to look unimpressed while clearly fascinated, you become aware of Council enforcers moving through the crowd. They're looking for unregistered newborns—apparently there's been trouble with newly-turned vampires killing humans.

"We should go," you murmur to Riki, whose face has gone even paler than vampire-standard. "Now."

You guide him through the back of the stalls, taking a circuitous route to a secondary exit you know from centuries of visiting the market. Once outside, in a quiet alley behind the pawn shop, you explain the situation.

"So there's killer newborns out there?" he asks, genuinely concerned.

"Seems like it," you reply. "Which means you should lie low for a while. Go straight home, stay inside, don't talk to vampires you don't know."

"But I barely know any vampires," he points out. "Except you. And Gary, I guess, but he's—"

"Riki," you interrupt, "I'm serious. This could be dangerous. Someone might be targeting new vampires."

He studies your face, seeing the genuine concern there. "You're actually worried. About me."

"I'm worried about the situation," you correct.

"Right." He doesn't look convinced. "So, this is goodnight then?"

You nod. "Go home. Stay safe."

"You too," he says, then adds awkwardly, "I mean, obviously you can take care of yourself. Being super old and all. Not that you look old. You look great. For someone born when people still thought the plague was caused by bad smells."

"Miasma theory," you provide.

"What?"

"That's what it was called. The theory that disease was caused by bad air."

"Cool. Very cool scientific fact." He shifts from one foot to the other. "So, uh, will I see you again? At the next meeting maybe?"

You consider him for a moment. There's something oddly endearing about his transparent attempt to seem aloof while being so obviously eager. It's been a long time since anyone looked at you the way he does—like you're the most fascinating thing they've ever seen.

"Probably," you say noncommittally. "If you don't get yourself staked before then."

He tries to look offended, but can't quite hide the smile tugging at his lips. "As if. I'm very stakeable. I mean un-stakeable. Fuck."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "Goodnight, Riki."

You turn to leave, but his voice stops you.

"Y/N?"

When you look back, he's closer than you expected—he must have moved toward you without your noticing, which is unusual given your heightened senses. There's an intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, a momentary break in his carefully constructed cool-guy persona.

"Thanks," he says simply. "For helping me tonight. For not laughing at me. Well, not laughing too much."

The sincerity catches you off guard. "You're welcome."

He nods, then seems to gather his courage. "Can I ask you something? Why did you help me? I mean, I'm nobody to you. Just some random newborn vampire you met at a support group."

You consider how to answer. The truth is, you're not entirely sure yourself. Maybe it's boredom. Maybe it's curiosity. Maybe it's the way he looks at you, like you're something special rather than just another ancient creature going through the motions of immortality.

"Let's just say you're more interesting than most," you finally reply.

"Interesting?" he repeats, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I'll take it."

There's a moment of silence between you, charged with something unexpected. His eyes drop to your lips, then back up to your eyes, a question in them.

"I should go," you say, but you don't move.

"Yeah," he agrees, but takes a step closer instead.

You can smell the blood on his breath—Jin's special blend, rich and complex. His pupils are dilated, whether from the darkness or from looking at you, you're not sure. Probably both.

"This is a bad idea," you murmur, even as you find yourself leaning slightly toward him.

"Probably," he agrees. "But I'm full of bad ideas lately. Becoming a vampire. Wearing sunglasses at night. Crushing on someone who was alive during the Spanish Inquisition."

"I was in Japan during the Spanish Inquisition," you correct, your voice softer than intended.

"Right." He's close enough now that if either of you still breathed, you'd feel it. "Still a bad idea though?"

"The worst," you whisper, and then close the distance between you.

The kiss is electric—literally, a small spark of supernatural energy passing between you. His lips are cooler than a human's would be, but still impossibly soft. He makes a small, surprised sound against your mouth, like he wasn't actually expecting you to kiss him, before responding with unexpected intensity.

For someone so awkward in conversation, he's surprisingly confident in this. His hand comes up to cup your face, touch gentle but certain. When his tongue traces the seam of your lips, you grant him access, and the kiss deepens.

You can taste the blood he's consumed, feel the newborn vampire energy thrumming through him—wild and untamed compared to your carefully controlled power. It's intoxicating, this blend of inexperience and eagerness. His fangs accidentally graze your lower lip, drawing a drop of your ancient blood.

The taste hits him like a drug. He groans, a deep, primal sound that resonates through you. His hands tighten on you reflexively, pulling you closer.

"Fuck," he breathes against your lips. "You taste like...I don't even have words."

"Four hundred years gives the blood a certain complexity," you murmur, slightly dazed yourself. It's been decades since you've allowed anyone to taste you.

He stares at you, wonder and desire naked on his face. All pretense of coolness has evaporated. "Can I—"

"No," you cut him off, regaining your composure. "One taste is all you get. For now."

His eyes widen at the implication of 'for now.' "Right. Cool. Very cool. I can work with that."

You step back, creating some distance between you. The kiss was more intense than you'd anticipated, and you need a moment to collect yourself. Four centuries of existence, and you're rattled by a kiss from a week-old vampire with a cool-guy complex and a price tag still visible on his jacket.

Pathetic.

And yet.

"Go home, Riki," you say, your voice steadier than you feel. "Stay safe."

He nods, still looking slightly dazed. "Yeah. Home. Safety. Got it."

You turn to leave, using your vampire speed to put some distance between you before you do something even more foolish.

"Y/N!" he calls after you.

You pause, looking back over your shoulder.

He's standing there, hair mussed from your fingers, lips slightly swollen from your kiss, looking simultaneously like the disaster he is and something unexpectedly precious.

"Just so you know," he says, a genuine smile breaking through his usual smirk, "I'm totally cool with the age gap. I've always said age is just a number."

"In my case, it's a pretty big number," you call back.

"More to love!" he retorts, then immediately looks mortified at his own words. "I mean, not love. Obviously. Just a figure of speech. Very casual figure of speech."

You laugh despite yourself. "Goodnight, Riki."

"Goodnight, ancient one," he replies with a mock bow.

As you disappear into the night, you hear him whisper, "Holy fucking shit" to himself, and then a triumphant "YES!" followed by what sounds suspiciously like a victory dance.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

And yet, for the first time in centuries, you find yourself genuinely looking forward to next week's support group meeting.

Maybe immortality isn't complete bullshit after all.

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[jnnul]

ric flair drip

a/n: oh my god. it's finished. i've finally written all of her. i genuinely don't know how to explain the relief i feel right now. it feels strange writing this after writing and healing myself through writing this. i hope that anyone in college who's feeling the way y/n or jaehyun did knows that you can and will grow from it. heartbreak is inevitable and so is growth. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 20k

tags: college au!, frat boy!jaehyun x girlboss!y/n, honestly it just a dissertation about modern love and how people nowadays love each other, there's a lot of soul searching in this one, i poured my heart and soul into this please love her the way i do warnings: mentions of sex, underage drinking, and general college shenanigans! also explicit mentions of oral sex, uhhh foreplay and sex

HONESTLY, NOTHING ABOUT JUNG JAEHYUN IS REMOTELY APPEALING TO YOU. you hate the perfect boy act he puts on, you hate his need to impress everyone and everything, and you really fucking hated his dick.

because if it wasn't for his dick, which you were sure is just as perfect as the rest of his stupid self, you wouldn't be awake at inhumane hours, listening to your friend recount their sexcapades.

"oh my god, and then he did this thing with his tongue and i swear, i'm literally never going to be able to have oral again. he's fucking ruined me. i'm genuinely going to just make every guy i fuck put a jaehyun mask on from now onwards just to recreate it," sia yoo, unfortunately one of your best friends, quips dreamily. she yelps when roseanne park, your roommate and singular other voice of reason, throws a pillow at her.

"you sound like a fucking psycho. as in needs to be checked to a mental facility psycho. as in if i hadn't heard worse when you got with johnny suh, i'd be calling the cops right now psycho," roseanne says and easily ducks when sia winds up to throw the pillow back at her. fatima khan, sia's roommate and mother friend extraordinaire, pouts sympathetically with sia as the two of them turn to you as if you would fall on their side.

"sia, baby, honey, love and light of my life - i'm really sorry but i'm with rosie on this one," you say and sia puts on the most theatrical frown you she possibly could before she cocks her head curiously.

"rosie's got a reason for judging jaehyun since she doesn't even like men all that much. what's your excuse, y/n? you like men, judging by the way you were getting railed to next week by that freshie park seonghwa. you've never gotten dicked down by jaehyun."

you're half-tempted so tell sia that it's not fucking weird that you got with seonghwa, considering the fact that you're only a sophomore yourself but you're even more tempted to remind her that even though you were no stranger to a good time, you never recount your stories.

in fact, the only reason why the other three (well, you suppose rosie would know regardless given that you literally live with her) know about your sex life is because you choose to tell them whenever you felt like it. and usually, it was more than three days after the encounter.

you loved your friends, you really did - and sia was notorious for getting into one night stand rehash sessions at ungodly hours, so this was nothing new - but for some reason, every time jaehyun's name came up in the conversation, your skin would prickle with irritation.

maybe it was the fact that every single person around you seemed to be infatuated with him. or the fact that he was just so effortlessly good at capturing the attention of everyone in the room, no matter where he was.

or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you knew that if you looked too closely into the deep end, you'd fall right in with no life jacket. and jaehyun was an endless ocean.

+++

maybe you had given jaehyun too much credit, you lament. maybe jung jaehyun's as deep as a fucking kiddie pool. you know you're wrong because you were in the same english literature class and the man had been published because the professor liked his prose so much, she had submitted it to a literary journal.

and they had accepted it.

but as you stare at him across the lecture hall, burning holes into the poor guy's skull, you sure think he's stupid. because there was no way in fresh hell that jung jaehyun was in an introduction to east asia class. as a south korean.

people begin settling into their seats as you mull over the possibility that jaehyun had fucked so much, his brain had fallen out through his dick. from the stories of his more than above average size, it was definitely not out of the realm of possibility.

just as you're send a very judgmental text to fatima, who was supposed to be taking the class with you but had had to switch last minute when one of her major required classes opened up, jaehyun gets out of his seat to stand at the front of the room, next to the professor.

you realize belatedly that the people jaehyun had been so animatedly speaking to were none other than bambam and ten - two people who most definitely were in this class. and of course, they had chosen this class over all the others because oh my god, jung jaehyun is the uta for this class.

in hindsight, it makes sense, given that jaehyun is a east asian studies minor and a stellar fucking student. but it doesn't make the text you were about to send fatima any less humiliating as you realize your attempts to undermine his character were desperately failing. you try to backtrack on your phone, deleting the winding paragraph you were about to send her when your thumb slips, accidentally sending a half written message.

you: jaehyun is fucking

you're sure the statement will be true within the next couple hours (the jung bed at the nct frat never seemed to stay empty for too long - and that was just from orientation week last week) but it felt almost blasphemous that you would send a text so crude to your friend when you insisted that you couldn't stand his guts.

or what lay between them, really.

three gray dots appear on your screen as you half-heartedly listen to your professor drone on about how he went to china, became a changed man, and now taught about the wonders of east asia and its exoticism. his name was paul but the class could refer to him by his 'enlightened name' - lao ma. even jaehyun rolls his eyes behind the professor's back as all of the asian kids in the classroom begin to eye each other warily.

if this class wasn't so easy, you're sure the population would've shrunk to a quarter its size based on the weirdness of the professor on its own. or maybe not, if it meant that people got to stare at jaehyun's gorgeous face for an hour and a half every monday morning.

mommy tima 🤍: honey, i think whatever sia's got going is contagious. mommy tima 🤍: aren't you the one who hates him? mommy tima 🤍: he really lives in your mind rent free, huh.

you scoff under your breath as you type furiously, vaguely registering that you definitely need to check the syllabus for this class later because you have not been listening to a word the professor has said this whole time.

you: first sia's got cooties or a raging std that's what she's got going you: second he's my fucking uta you: as in i am going to be forced to see his face for an entire semester mommy tima 🤍: drop the class then, babe. you: can't this is too good for my gpa & the prof's a freak you: it's a gpa cushion and a circus in one go

you tuck your phone away when you see that jaehyun is coming up the aisle on your side with a packet while the professor is on the other aisle on the other side with the same packet to hand out. jaehyun probably wouldn't care that you had your phone out during lecture (syllabus week was just an excuse for college kids to get drunk during school days anyway) but it was the principle of the thing.

"here you go - oh, it's stuck together," jaehyun says as he stops at where you're sitting. his tongue slips out as he thumbs at the packet to give you one instead of three and suddenly, your treacherous brain takes you back to sia's rambling the night before.

and then he did this thing with his tongue...

you're shaken back to reality when you realize that you're staring at a blank wall, with a pink packet in front of you, and jaehyun has already reached the back of the classroom.

fuck. shit. bitch.

jaehyun had seen you stare at his stupidly handsome face and then some. he was your ta. oh my god, what if he docked points on some test because he thought you were the creepy stalker type.

damn you, sia yoo, you curse in your head.

+++

"damn you, sia yoo!" you yell over the blaring music that's so loud, you can feel the vibrations in your skull. there absolutely no reason you should be caught dead in a frat on the friday of syllabus week but sia had made it her mission to make sure you had a going out rate of at least 80% this school year, given that you were prone to trying to skip out on weekends out last year.

not that you didn't like going out - you actually really liked going out with your friends. you just took a little more inertia to get to the energy levels of actually going on.

sia just nods at you lazily as she bounces to the beat of another shitty remix of 'what you came for' by calvin harris and rihanna. you never understood why frats always found the worst remixes of classic party bangers but anything flew after you had enough alcohol in your system so the music would recede to the depths of your mind in a couple cups of whatever the fuck this drink was.

especially since you were a full sunshine drunk; whenever you were drunk, you became the life of the party and would always be found in the center of the room, regardless of the music. sia was a flirty drunk and you really couldn't remember the last time sia actually spent the entire weekend in her own bed. props to her stamina, honestly.

rosie was a mix of you and sia in that she would become so much more bubbly but the second she found someone she wanted to spend the night with, she went after them with no hesitation.

fatima usually played the role of sober mommy when you all went out. although she was never one to miss out on a good time, when she did get drunk, she much preferred it to be within the confines of the four walls that she shared with her roommate and the people she trusted the most - you, rosie, and sia.

which is why when rosie abandons you for her on again, off again fuck buddy (miyeon cho) and her fuck buddy (yugyeom kim), you're not surprised at all.

"that's going to be an interesting story in the morning," you say, nodding to where rosie, miyeon, and yugyeom are all heading upstairs together. fatima nudges you to look at sia, where she's pressed up against none other than johnny suh (or the love of her life, prior to jaehyun, apparently).

"that's going to be an interesting story in the afternoon," fatima counters. you turn to her with furrowed eyebrows, as if to question the timing. "i don't think i've ever heard of a girl leaving johnny's bed before 3 o'clock the next afternoon."

your jaw hangs in shock as you watch your friend wrap her arms around the tall man's neck, whispering something into his ear when he bends down to kiss her collarbone.

"are all of the nct boys secretly porn stars or something? how can they all be that good in bed?" you gape, waving at sia when she turns around to wink at you and fatima as her and johnny are bustling out of the door, undoubtedly to the nct frat house.

"they test us as part of rushing," says a low, velvety voice behind you. a hot rush of shame runs up your spine for two reasons: a) you were able to recognize jung jaehyun just from his voice and b) he heard you gossiping about his frat brothers' sexual prowess.

you exchange a look with fatima before whipping around to meet jaehyun eye to eye. he's wearing a plain black t-shirt and lightwash distressed jeans but he might as well be wearing designer trash bags for all you care. what you do care about, unfortunately, is the almost slutty way his v-neck dips to show off the beginnings of the planes of his chest.

you feel no better than a victorian man and it takes fatima a poorly concealed cough to break you out of your thoughts. fuck, you'd done it again. you really needed to stop getting caught up in jung jaehyun's pretty face. and body. and that stupid smile.

"haha. very funny. sounds like something straight out of a cheesy porno sponsored by viagra or something," you say, rolling your eyes. smooth. very smooth. normally, you like to think that you're proficient in the witty banter department but something about this boy made you almost feel dumb about your comebacks.

jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, and you're distinctly made aware that even with platform sneakers on, jaehyun is a good head taller than you when you have to look upwards to notice the motion. "you seem to be well versed, y/n. you make it a habit to stay up to date?"

you flush at the thinly veiled euphemism at your x-rated movie watching habits before clearing your throat. "i'm more of a fan of practical study, really. i am a scientist, after all."

you're aware that fatima has slipped away from you to talk to another friend, park jeonghwa, and also the fact that you are slowly beginning your descent into drunkenness but you can't seem to bring yourself to find the caution in it all. it's just jaehyun, after all.

jaehyun hums, bringing the solo cup in his hand to his lips to take a swig. "you're a biomedical engineering major, aren't you?"

you balk at that. "wait, wait. you know my name and my major?"

jaehyun nods slowly, seemingly stumbling for a moment before he gains his self-confidence once more. "you don't know mine?"

"you're literally my ta. i know you're an east asian studies minor and your name because you told the class," you say, recovering quickly. it was a really good thing you were a quick thinker because you were lying through your teeth.

you knew jaehyun's name, minor, and even major (computer science) because of his notorious reputation, not because he was your ta. but the last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of asserting his popularity on campus.

"anyway. what was that you were saying about 'practical study'?" jaehyun's eyes twinkle in the dim lighting of the cramped basement you were in and you had a feeling that if you were any more inebriated, you'd be diving headfirst into jung jaehyun's bed as long as he looked at you like that.

but fortunately (unfortunately?) you're sober enough to make mostly intelligent decisions - which just means that you're not going to jump headfirst. maybe feet first but not headfirst.

"wouldn't you like to know," you sing-song, leaning into jaehyun's body enough to smell the mix of woody pine, fresh water, and vodka that seems to emanate from him. jaehyun watches you as you lean over him to grab another solo cup from the assortment that some lower ranked frat brother had been forced into bartending.

you down the entire drink in two swigs, patting away the stray stream of alcohol that had dripped down onto your chest. you don't notice the way jaehyun's eyes follow your hand down its descent to your chest. but you finally feel like your element, and in a moment of sheer idiocy and liquid courage, you enter the growing throng of bodies behind you, beckoning jaehyun to follow you.

you're not 100% sure what you want from him, honestly. you want to have a good time, and you're sure you'll have one with or without him. but something about the way jaehyun follows you like a puppy into the mess of people makes you feel like a zap of electricity has hit your body.

and if you're being completely honest with yourself (as you usually only are with ethanol in your system), you really didn't hate jaehyun. you had no qualms with him as a person, even if you hated the consequences that came with a night with him.

it's when you're in the middle of the crowd, with jaehyun looking at you with those hooded eyes and hands tucked into his pockets when you realize what you want from jaehyun jung.

you want him to desire you the way that his mere presence makes people desire him.

so you do what you do best and just let go. it's ric flair drip by metro boomin that's playing - a song that's definitely not the one to get down to. but the bass fills you up in a way that never hits the same outside of a sweaty frat basement so you can't even bring yourself to care.

"i'm tryna fuck you and your bestie," you sing along with the near hundred people surrounding you. jaehyun is still looking at you with an eyebrow sitting higher and an appraising expression; something that somehow manages to get under your skin.

in a moment of passion, you manage to hook your fingers into one of jaehyun's belt loops, pulling him closer to you. you're aware that you've painted yourself to be jaehyun's next conquest if the way that the girls next to you look upset means anything, but you couldn't care less.

especially when you're this close to the bane of your existence. the song switches to something a little more what you need (under the influence by chris brown) and you look up at jaehyun through your lashes and in that moment, jaehyun knows what you're offering him through your gaze.

a challenge.

+++

jaehyun never really meant to take on the role of nct's resident whore. in fact, jaehyun had been planning on doing the exact opposite when he came to college.

although it was unbelievable now, jaehyun jung had originally just been a very strange, nerdy, and sweet boy. he never got up to much trouble, kept to himself most of the time, and was known for...nothing, really. he was sweet and bubbly but he wasn't exactly running with the popular crowd.

in fact, jaehyun was kinda forgotten all throughout his schooling. it was easy to forget about jaehyun, as though he were some visage in a dream that everyone shared.

it hurt.

so when jaehyun finally hit his growth spurt in senior year, started going to the gym, and his voice no longer cracked every other sentence, he felt like a whole new person. like he was finally the main character in his own life.

it felt so fucking good to look at the same girls who had smiled at him pitifully and have them melting under a single wink. the summer between high school and college had been wild, with more stories than jaehyun could really even care to keep track of.

but when college began, jaehyun was fully intending to return to flying under the radar with his new upgrade in personality, appearance, and wardrobe. with a face like his, however, doing so was about as easy as trying to pass professor yoon's intro to bio class - nearly impossible.

slowly but surely, jaehyun morphed back into the personality he had adopted that summer and surprisingly, it wasn't as foreign as he thought. he was still a good student and wasn't a stranger to having to skip out on hanging out with his friends to study.

but having a new girl in his bed every other day? that was definitely new. a new revelation, but a welcome one nonetheless.

and in that, jaehyun was used to people using all sorts of tactics to get with him. playing hard to get, with coy smiles and flirtatious winks. or the bold ones, who told him straight up that they wanted to spend the night with him. even the downright horrifying ones who tried to pretend like they were blackout drunk in hopes that that would 'attract' him. spoiler alert? it didn't.

jaehyun originally thought you were of the 'hard to get' caliber. the type of girl to say that she wasn't like other girls and that's why he should get with her instead. so initially, when he approached you at the party after seeing you in his class, he was mentally preparing himself for the whole pick me speech.

but it was something about the way you looked at him.

it was like two halves of your mind were battling against each other. on one hand, you looked like you wanted to fax jaehyun straight into the fiery pits of hell with high speed shipping. on the other, it also seemed like you wanted nothing more than to ride him until the sun came up. mixed with a little bit of curiosity, confusion, and downright anger with yourself for all the emotions, you looked like the perfect cocktail of firebrand that jaehyun couldn't help but become intrigued by.

so when you were laughingly talking to your best friend (jaehyun's frat brother kun was half in love with fatima, which meant that jaehyun was more than well acquainted with her) about him and frat brothers, he took it to be the opportunity he needed.

and when you're looking at him like this, daring him to make a move, almost as if to make your mind fall one way or another about drawing a conclusion on him, what is jaehyun to do but to make good on the challenge you've offered?

he watches you for a moment more, trying to commit the memory of what you look like when you're this carefree and happy, before taking the micro-step it takes to get so close he can smell the citrus and apple cider that you seem to always smell like.

"i promise you i can fuck you better than johnny," jaehyun says, a corner of his lips tilted up as your eyes flutter the closer he draws.

"johnny's your 'bestie'?" you say, and jaehyun can tell that the last threads of your resolve are starting to snap by the way that your hand is now pressed against his chest.

"that's what you're curious about right now? the dynamics of the nct frat brothers?" jaehyun asks but he knows that this back and forth is exactly you need right now; the time to decide if you can take the plunge. or if jaehyun's worth your time tonight.

"as i mentioned, i'm a scientist," you say, and even as your voice stays stable, your fingers seem to leave burning trails against jaehyun's skin as they dip and feed into crevices of jaehyun's body that he didn't even know existed.

"hmm," jaehyun manages to eke out when your fingers lace into his hair. he's not sure how you manage to find every single sensitive spot he has but he's fairly impressed by the way you catch his breath hitching as you work your other hand up as well.

"hmm? cat got your tongue, jaehyun?" you say, making sure that jaehyun looks straight into your eyes as you lean impossibly closer. "you know that sia's with johnny right now, right? girls talk - especially with your best friends. which means that if you can't make good on your promise, i will find out."

jaehyun feels like he's sweating like a pig but thankfully, you don't notice, too busy making him sweat. he clears his throat once, and then twice to make sure that his voice doesn't give out.

"that right?" he says, and you roll your eyes, letting go of him and stepping back. you seem to appraise him for a moment (and jaehyun is unnaturally nervous about what you will decide) before grabbing his hand and leading him to the door. you only pause to flag down fatima, who takes one look at your intertwined hands, and waves the two of you away.

jaehyun blushes like a schoolgirl at the way fatima flashes him a catty smile.

"i swear to god, jaehyun, if you're all talk and no game - or if you're gonna sit still and look pretty the whole time - i will literally blue ball you. i don't do pillow princes," you throw over your shoulder as the two of you make your way to the nct frat. jaehyun knows for a fact that the nct frat will not be a quiet place tonight by the number of dresses and pants he sees in the foyer and leading the way up the stairs.

he says nothing, even as you're quite nearly storming up the stairs with a certain level of urgency, almost as though if you were to slow down and think about just exactly what you're doing, you'd turn around and leave right now.

jaehyun definitely can't let that happen.

so the second that he gets you into his bedroom (he had to rock, paper, scissors with doyoung to get the room tonight), he shuts the door and locks it behind him. he turns around to see you looking between the two beds, as if trying to guess which one was jaehyun's.

he mentally pats himself on the back when he sees the fresh sheets on the bed. reaching where you stand in less than a stride, jaehyun turns you so that you're facing his bed, and you squirm to turn to meet his eyes even as his hands are on your waist.

"what is with your hands?" you ask harshly and jaehyun blinks as he looks down.

"what do you mean? they're on your waist," jaehyun says softly, and once again, he's hit with a wave of citrus and apple cider. you simper at him, grabbing his wrist and moving it incriminatingly downwards.

"what am i? a virgin? put them somewhere useful." you whisper the last part and it's as though jaehyun has just woken up.

"you know," jaehyun begins, sliding his other hand downwards to sit comfortably on the curve of your ass. "if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were trying to rile me up. i wonder..."

he doesn't finish his thought, instead pulling you close so that your hips are pressed against his. he can hear the gasp that you're desperately trying to conceal, coughing uselessly to the side. a devilish smirk grows on jaehyun's lips and for the first time in a long time, you're sure you're going to be up all night.

+++

you were, in fact, trying to rile him up. you had heard all the rumors about jaehyun and johnny, about how one night with them was like one night in heaven. hell, you'd had first hand accounts from sia yoo about exactly what it's like to be in bed with either of them - multiple times.

so when jaehyun had fronted with such a cautious attitude when he realized what you wanted, you were almost offended. if you wanted to take control and fuck a man's brains out, you could do that with anyone. why would you fight against your own mind this much to get with him?

but seonghwa park. changkyun im. even kun qian, before you discovered he was head over heels for fatima. jung jaehyun.

these were all people who put you in your place. the way you wanted to be. it just seemed as though jaehyun might've needed a little more persuasion to get there.

so yes, you were riling him up. was that such a crime?

by the way jaehyun's looking at you right now, his breath hot and heavy on your neck and his eyes dark with a feeling that you can't describe but resonates with you on a deeper, more primal level.

"you know, after you got with kun, he wouldn't shut up about it for a week," jaehyun says, pressing kisses down your neck, pausing when he reaches your breastbone. he eyes your corset top with a discerning eye before reaching behind you to pull the lace strings that were precariously holding your top for a week.

"yeah?" you ask, threading your fingers through jaehyun's thick hair as he makes quick work of your top, leaving it pooled on the floor as his lips find your chest as though he couldn't be physically parted from it.

"yeah. even after he met fatima, he said that you were the best he's ever had - that's a big reputation to live up to when you're in nct," jaehyun says, his voice breathy and deep as he walks you backwards so that the back of your knees hit the frame of his bed.

"hmm. what can i say? i know what i want and what i want is usually lots of fun," you say, letting jaehyun unzip your jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off when jaehyun moves too slowly.

"i know. god, after knowing that you and kun were going at it, i swear everyone was jerking off in their room for an hour. even winwin wanted to go for you today. you're an unpredictable woman; no one knows where and when you're going to show up to one of the parties so everyone has to take their chances when they get them," jaehyun says, tugging his shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind him carelessly.

you nearly melt when you see jaehyun's uncovered top, eyeing each and every hard ridge of his body, reaching out to touch him. his chest is almost soothingly warm as your fingers memorize each and every aspect of the planes of his chest, almost worried that they might disappear if you let go.

jaehyun looks at you amusingly as he lets your fingers dance across his body, focusing on tugging your panties off to discard them where he's sure he's going to have to search for them later on.

you pout when you see the difference in clothing but jaehyun just gently pushes you backwards so that your back is against his bed, leaving your pussy exposed in away that makes you feel absolutely mortified. you move to gain some level of privacy back but jaehyun is too fast, gripping onto your thighs incriminatingly as he raises an eyebrow.

"don't think that i'm soft just because i'm being nice to you now, pretty girl. i know you don't like to listen but don't hide from me. i will not let you have any fun if you try to hide from me," jaehyun says, his voice dropping a full octave. you suppress the shiver that runs through your body (and that simultaneously delights jaehyun) as you nod softly.

he seems satisfied by the way your body melts and rewards you for your submission by licking a wet strip up your pussy, one hand snaking up to touch your nipple while the other one keeps your thighs open.

jaehyun is slow at first, exploring each and every hidden crevice of your body but as he feels you get wetter and wetter, he can't seem to stay soft for too long. he continues to press his lips against yours but the moment you try to grind your hips against his lips, he pulls away, his tongue darting out to taste your essence on him.

you almost whine at the loss of his hot mouth on your pussy, and you're embarrassed to realize that in front of jaehyun jung, you are no better than your best friend in falling in love with the way he moves.

"you're not going to cum from my tongue, baby," jaehyun says, practically ripping the belt out from where it was caging his jeans. "especially when i know that your pussy is magic."

"you say that, jaehyun, but you're being so fucking soft. if i didn't know any better, i'd think you're in love with me," you snort, trying to catch your breath. jaehyun freezes from where his boxers are hanging so low on his hips, you can see the muscles in his pelvis tense angrily as he looks at you dangerously.

"my fucking bad for making sure you're wet enough to take me," jaehyun whispers, pulling close to you. his eyes turn even darker than usual and a small spark of excitement ignites in your chest when you realize that you've finally reached it - jaehyun's breaking point.

"sounds like you're scared, jaehyun. you know what? you know why kun was so good? because he wasn't scared. he wasn't scared to fuck me like he was trying to break the bed," you retort, and saying kun's name is when jaehyun finally snaps. he tears his boxers off as he pushes you so that you're further up on his bed.

"y/n, i'm not fucking joking around. if you want me to stop, say it now. just say the word, and i'll pretend like this never happened. because i swear to every god in existence, if you let me, i'll ruin every other man for you," jaehyun says and his knuckles turn white from how hard his clenching his fingers to keep himself from pouncing. the thought is almost cute if you weren't desperate to be fucked into next week.

"if i wanted you to stop, i wouldn't have said kun's name, would i?"

that's all it takes. no sooner do the words leave your mouth, jaehyun's on top of you, every inch of his body fighting to claim yours. he's not sure what it is about being with a bratty girl but every time a girl tries to challenge him, jaehyun can feel his excitement grow as his mind runs wild with ways to prove you wrong.

and with a girl as beautiful and sexy as you? he was going to have the time of his life.

time of his life he does.

+++

when jaehyun wakes up, he's almost happy. almost because he has bruises on his hips from how hard he had pounded into you, a litter of hickeys across his chest, and freshly washed hair from when you had enticed him into taking a shower with you.

inevitably, it led to another hour in the shower that jaehyun had spent having his soul sucked out from his dick, eating you out under the shower, and seeing you cum twice just from his tongue.

if only he had woken up with you still in his bed, jaehyun would've actually been happy.

realistically, jaehyun had no clue what he was expecting. after taking a shower, it had taken you a total of five minutes to fall asleep in his arms, wearing nothing but jaehyun's oversized t-shirt and your panties.

there was no pillowtalk, no heart to hearts, nothing. no discussions of having whatever happened last night happening again. no trying to get to know each other better.

not that you had ever been obligated to do so. if anything, jaehyun was far more obligated to do so, after practically declaring that he had wanted to get with you since last semester - which he had been completely serious about.

but with his reputation, regardless of what he had said last night, jaehyun's almost 100% sure that you would've disappeared by the morning.

he's so caught up in his thoughts that he almost misses the bright pink post-it note on his neatly folded shirt on his desk in the corner of the room.

9.5/10. if you see sia, tell her she was right about your tongue. see you in intro to east asia on monday.

jaehyun's half disappointed and half happy. disappointed because you'd never left your number or anything and happy because at least he knew that you weren't going to completely avoid him whenever you ran into each other next.

he shakes his head as he folds the post-it note and throws it in the trash can next to his desk.

jaehyun jung may not have started college with the intention of becoming the resident fuckboy but he still had a reputation to maintain. he had fucked countless women over his time at sm university and he had no intention of falling for any of them.

he was not about to get soft-hearted or soft-dicked by a girl he was with once.

even if she was really good in bed. like really really good. like good enough to make him think about the other boys she's been with and if they'd made you feel as good as he did.

fuck. her. which jaehyun had already done. which meant that he needed to move onto the next step of the day before his head exploded with all of the implications flying around in his mind about their relation to each other (nonexistent) and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking of you (you weren't).

he pads out of his room, passing doyoung on the way out, who claps him on the back and says, "you finally got with y/n?" jaehyun doesn't know how doyoung knows but it strikes him that neither of you are very subtle people and you had caused quite the scene leaving with him last night.

similar reactions are offered to him by everyone he passes. he's not really sure how many of the boys you've been with but jaehyun can feel his street cred go up by at least a decameter with the way some of these pledges are looking at him.

in fact, everyone is looking at him with a new look of respect in their eyes until he reaches the kitchen, where yoo sia and johnny are sitting, practically eye-fucking.

jaehyun was very used to seeing johnny's friends in the kitchen the next day, neither of them ready to really say goodbye each other yet but for some reason, knowing that sia was your best friend and seeing her with johnny sets jaehyun's stomach into a series of knots that he was sure he was going to have to unravel when he had his head on straight.

"she already left?" sia says, finally breaking her stare from johnny's. jaehyun shrugs, digging around the fridge to see if they had any coffee. they didn't (none that wasn't expired anyway) so he has to settle for a caprisun.

"she had somewhere to be," jaehyun says. he wants to ask sia if it's normal for you to leave that early. it can't be if sia seems surprised that you'd left before the clock struck ten. what did that mean? what does that say about jaehyun? oh god. what if you hated it. what if you hated it so much that you didn't want to spend a second longer with jaehyun.

he cringes as he locks eyes with another shiny eyed pledge (jaehyun thinks his name is jungwoo) and tries to shake his head to clear any and all thoughts of you. he was pussydrunk. that was the only explanation. he just needed to dick down someone else and then he would get over whatever little infatuation thing he had going on.

"really? hmm..." sia says finally. jaehyun turns to see her looking right at him and suddenly, he's transported back to the previous weekend, when sia had been wrapped up in his sheets.

+++

"why did you start fucking around like this?" sia had asked, her chest still heaving from their previous illicit activities as she wraps herself tighter in jaehyun's sheets. jaehyun pauses for a moment as he catches his breath, pulling on his boxers as he thinks. he throws the shirt that sia's grabbing at, still not sure how to piece together his thoughts.

or why he wants to tell sia the truth. maybe it's because no one's ever asked about it before, but jaehyun feels strangely vulnerable as sia watches as he clambers back into his bed, her expression pensive and uncharacteristically wise.

"i don't know," jaehyun says honestly, laying over the covers as he feels his face grow hotter under sia's unrelenting stare. "i think it's because i wanted to know what it felt like. to know what it felt like to be wanted for a night instead of just being in the sidelines as the guy with the potential. just the guy that people brought along as the friend of the hot guys that kept him around."

sia doesn't say anything, instead turning so that she was lying on her back. jaehyun turns to look at her, to see if he could decipher some level of understanding from her silence. really, he knows that he should feel embarrassed about confessing his insecurities to a girl that he's hooked up with two or three times but he can't bring himself to for some reason.

maybe it's because he knows that she wouldn't say anything about it to anyone. or because he knows that she's head over heels for johnny, whether she'd admit it or not. or maybe it's just because for the first time, someone had asked something about jaehyun just to get to know him as a person, rather than trying to get him in their bed.

not that he really minded that - it just made him feel like it was all a lot more transactional than he was used to. he had been a romantic once upon a time. when you grew up with the nickname of 'valentine boy', it would have been stranger if he didn't have some sense of romance.

but jaehyun's penchant for romance disappeared almost just as soon as he realized that no one else was yearning for a pure type of love like he was.

and yet, it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. turns out that jaehyun's a very adaptable man. if he wouldn't find love in this decade, then perhaps it would be lust that he would have to settle for.

"then again," he begins, gaze darting over to where sia had slipped on his t-shirt as she tiredly begins to settle down in his bed once more. "isn't that what everyone is doing nowadays? looking for a warm body for the night, instead of a genuine connection?"

sia snorts at that, turning so that she was facing jaehyun now. "don't tell me that you're one of the boomer types. the ones who always go around peacocking about how they were born in the wrong generation and that they're one of the 'good guys'. i might actually leave right now if you are."

"no, no i'm not. well. maybe a little bit. but i don't know why that's so bad to be honest," jaehyun acquiesces finally. sia rolls her eyes, but even she goes quiet for a moment. once again, jaehyun's reminded that this is sia yoo - a girl who routinely wakes up in someone else's sheets every saturday (although it was johnny's more often than not) and as sexist as it was, someone who carried a reputation for it. even jaehyun was surprised to find that she was such a deep conversationalist.

of course, he mentally berates himself soon after but he can't help the thought. for him, sia was just the girl he would get with a couple times. a good time. the fact that that's the only role she fulfilled in his mind made him feel disgusting inside out as he waits for her response, vowing that he would work to change his mindset. or maybe just change personalities altogether. ick.

"you know one of my best friends? y/n? the one who got with kun before he decided to go clean for fatima?" sia says with a careful tone. jaehyun nods, not trusting that he wouldn't say something dumb after his sudden realization of his flawed thinking.

"this is something she always says but it's honestly pretty simple: love is however you want to define it. humans spend so much trying to find labels and definitions for things that just might not have or need them. for such an advanced species, we spend so much time concerned about how to put a feeling into a box or how to classify a thought instead of rejoicing in the fact that we had such a beautiful feeling in the first place."

"for people in this generation, the old school love is hard to find because they've got so many other types of love that weren't allowed back when old school love was big. it's a different type of freedom to love someone on the weekends but never to fall in love with them. maybe we're just romanticizing hookup culture but who's to say that we can't? maybe we're all more romantic than we want to admit. maybe when we fall into the sheets with someone we barely know, we're looking for a fragment of love to satiate our heart in ways we didn't know it needed."

jaehyun doesn't know what to say to that so he just pulls her closer to him and she lets him, throwing her leg over his as they fall asleep, closer to each other than they had ever been.

+++

you're not sure what had compelled you to leave so quickly that morning. you usually like to get the boys who sleep with to at least cook you breakfast before you left (for compensation of being terrible in bed, if the situation so called for it) but for some reason, every instinct in your body had pulled you to leave.

you had waken up at nearly 5 in the morning, a mere two and a half hours after the two of you had fallen asleep, gathered your clothes, and were about to leave when you turn to look at jaehyun, still snoring away peacefully, his arm crossing his body to rest on the empty space next to him that you had occupied previously.

you had a feeling that you're going to lament leaving this early after psychoanalyzing why you were leaving so early later in the day but for now, if your gut was telling you to leave, you were going to heed the precautions.

but even as you're about to leave, you find yourself turning to jaehyun's desk, sparse but somehow still a little messy as you rummage for a post-it note and a pen to write with. you grin to yourself when you find yourself successful (and endearing somehow that jaehyun has bright pink post-it notes).

you pass a brother on the way out (undoubtedly a freshman who had received the short stick of the duties tonight) but you wave him off when he offers to walk you home. dangerous? most definitely. but you really needed the time and space to yourself and the short, almost ten minute walk back to your apartment would offer some enlightenment.

spoiler alert: it didn't. no matter how hard you wracked your brain to come up with some version of a logical explanation, you realized that there was just simply no way to do so.

and something about that frustrated you. you knew it wasn't a big deal. jaehyun was just a hook-up. a one night stand. and yet...something wasn't fitting right in your mind. so you start to think in the only way you know how, collecting all of the pieces of information you did have.

a) you just had sex - mind-blowing sex with jaehyun. he was everything you expected and more when it came to a sexual partner. b) you didn't develop feelings for him. sex comes fifth on the list of things you subconsciously (or now consciously, since you've spoken it into existence) have when looking for a potential boyfriend. first comes personality, then intelligence, then ambition, then looks, and then sex. you didn't even have a conversation long enough to figure out if jaehyun had more than three brain cells to piece together. c) jaehyun jung had confessed that he had wanted to get with you since last semester. did he mean with you-r body or with you?

you shake your head as if to physically shake the irrational thoughts in your mind out and press your id against the scanner at the entrance of your apartment building, rubbing your fingers against your temples as you get into the elevator to reach your apartment.

unlocking the door to your (empty) apartment, you decide to shelf the thoughts for some time when your head wasn't pounding and collapse on your bed, thanking the lords you'd had the sense to take a shower at jaehyun's.

and the last thing you remember is the smell of jaehyun's shampoo in your hair as you drift into blissful, dreamless sleep.

+++

you're not surprised to feel a weight on your bed when you wake up the next morning. you blearily open your eyes to make out sia's general figure, rosie and fatima undoubtedly chatting quietly in the kitchen.

you vaguely piece together something about fatima having kun over but him sleeping on the couch and you try to push down the guilt that creeps up into your brain as you realize that you had left fatima alone at the party. a party where all of you knew a lot of people (and the outcome was just as everyone had thought it would be) but the principle of the matter stung nonetheless.

you push aside the thought - along with the idea that you should probably apologize to fatima when the cottony feeling in your mouth started to subside - in favor of looking at sia, who is strangely quiet as she watches you gather yourself. for her boisterous personality, sia yoo could see through anyone to the extent of theorized telepathy so you don't even bother trying to hide anything from her.

although, it really is hard to take her seriously when she's got hickey's littered across her neck. well. you suppose you don't look much better at the moment.

"you left before 10 o'clock," sia says simply. you don't pretend to not understand what she means as you nod, pushing yourself up on your bed as fatima and rosie also enter, rosie handing you a glass of water.

"i know," you say softly. "but i want to hear about everyone else's nights right now. i just don't know that i'm in the right headspace to think about why i left so early - i'm not even sure i know why i left so early."

sia says nothing for a moment, watching your face, almost as if she were trying to read your very essence. but she relents, reaching out to hold your hand briefly before completely switching up, speaking animatedly about her very adventurous night, leaving you to simmer in your thoughts.

had sia always been this smart? probably. who's to say that she wasn't, after all?

turns out that sia and johnny were actually going to go on a date on wednesday, after realizing that their chemistry extended further out of the bedroom than either of them had expected. sia was through the roof, obviously, given that she had been thirsting over johnny (although more in a sexual sense than anything else) for so long.

rosie, miyeon, and yugyeom also worked a lot better than any of them had thought so you were sure that you were going to lose your roommate to the other '97 liners more often for the foreseeable future.

fatima was the only one who had a pg night, with kun coming over to her apartment and just chilling together the whole night, eventually having him sleep over since he was too tired to walk back to the apartment that he lived out (it was on the other side of campus, given that he moved out of the nct house pretty late into the semester last year).

"speaking of kun, when are you guys gonna make it official? i mean after this year, you guys are going to only have one year together before you guys graduate," you say, bunching your comforter before letting go. it felt weird saying that. especially in regards to your friends. theoretically, you had all the time in the world together.

but all the time in the world wasn't enough when it came to these girls.

fatima sighs before getting up, wringing her hands together as she thinks. "i don't know. i mean kun's graduating a year early so i really only have this year left. i - i know how much he likes me. i know that he wants to do this right way. go the whole nine yards."

"but...?" rosie says, elongating the syllables as you and sia look at her patiently. fatima shakes her head, getting up to walk around the room, six paces enough to take her from one side of your room to the other.

"i just don't know. kun's great and honestly, i really think that's the one. or at least one of the ones for me. but i just don't know if my parents would be okay with it. i mean my parents are great! they give me so much freedom and honestly, i'm really thankful that my parents allowed me to find religious and spiritual freedom on my own, without ever trying to shove it down my throat."

"but at the same time...how can i betray their trust in me by dating someone who is so far from my religion? like. kun is a great guy but he's not muslim. and sure, i don't follow a lot of the stricter things in islam but i - i have god in my heart. and i don't know that god would want me to start a family that doesn't follow islam. especially since i can see that in my future with kun and kun - i don't know that i could ask kun to convert to another religion for me."

the room is silent for a little bit after fatima finishes, with her collapsing in your bed next to you. rosie and sia exchange a look with each other, and then you, as they both decide to leave the room, leaving you to console fatima.

you were always the most philosophical one out of the bunch anyway.

"look, fatima, i can't pretend to know what it's like to have that kind of mental burden and i really can't understand what it's like to think about the future and be concerned about the impact on the world you might create. i read about something the other day though - did you know that kun means 'manifesting' or 'believing' in arabic?" fatima looks at you with disbelief written all over her face, shaking her head.

"how did you know that?" she asks and you just shrug, nodding at the 'islam for dummies' book you had bought in hopes of understanding a little bit more about one of your closest friend's religion.

"that's not the point. but fatima, you are the single kindest, most beautiful person i know. and i have faith that you will choose what's right for you, not what's right for the people around you because you know better than everyone that the only person who can judge you is god. and no one - no one - on this earth has the right to take that peace away from you."

fatima is silent before wrapping you in her arms, the soft material of her hoodie comforting you and lulling you back into a sleep that's dreamless and calm.

+++

jaehyun doesn't know what to expect when he walks into intro to east asia on monday. should he say hi? wave? start a conversation? should he acknowledge that he spent the better part of his weekend wondering if he would lose his fuckboy status if someone realized just how down bad he was for you?

probably anything but the last one was a good idea.

jaehyun was not in a good state of mind. he was a hot 19 year old man with a near perfect gpa (a whopping 3.98 only because he got a singular a-), a not so terrible set of dimples, and a killer body. and yet he was walking around like how he had been prior to his enlightening summer.

it's almost freeing but also humiliating to think that one night in bed was enough to make him start an entire philosophy but that was where jaehyun was at so who was he to question anything, really?

in fact, jaehyun is so caught up in what he would name his new branch of philosophy (loserism, with a lot of inspiration from zeno) that he doesn't even realize that you've already walked past him and taken your seat.

third row, first seat. you're putting your bag down next to your chair, pulling out your laptop, tossing your hair over your shoulder when it falls in your face. jaehyun tears his eyes away, knowing that this was not a good look for him.

if jaehyun really wanted to pursue you, which he was sure was where all of his jumbled emotions were eventually going to lead him anyway, he knew for a fact that you weren't going to be interested in having to take the lead. especially if jaehyun wasn't even sure that you were interested in the possibility.

but that's a struggle for another day. what was it that stephanie laurens said? that all women want sometimes is a little old-fashioned loving?

that was, in fact, the opposite of what sia had said you were really into but jaehyun had a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn't mind handing the reigns over in the decision making process portion of a relationship, or the courtship, if your time together this weekend alluded to anything.

jaehyun almost misses the beginning of the lecture, where professor ma (no one actually calls him that besides himself) was going into some of his favorite places to stay during his time in china. and while missing any portion of professor ma's lecture was of no crime, he also almost misses the way that you're looking straight at him, faking a yawn when jaehyun finally locks eyes with you.

professor ma was known for giving stellar recommendation letters (which was why johnny had coerced jaehyun into ta'ing for his class in the first place) but he was such a pain in the ass.

jaehyun has to keep from laughing out loud when he sees your exaggerated gestures to show how boring you were finding the professor's lecture to be, pulling himself together in time for him to finally be able to take a seat in the back of the classroom, professor ma having asked him to take attendance for the some two hundred students in the classroom. by hand.

he almost drops the piece of paper that you slide into his hand, subtly slipping it into the pocket of his basketball shorts as makes his way up the flight of stairs to the tenth row, dropping his backpack on the floor next to him, in a rush to open the delicate piece of paper in his hands.

there's only three words on the piece of paper and a series of dashes and yet jaehyun knows that this is all he needs. this is all the signal he needs to know that he wasn't imagining the chemistry or the tension between the two of you. and fuck what anyone said about his 'reputation'; it was jaehyun's turn - the old jaehyun's turn - to get the chance to experience the relationship he had always been dreaming of.

he rereads the little piece of paper before smiling and tucking it into his pocket again.

earn the rest. 9__-___-____.

+++

johnny suh is getting whiplash from his best friend's actions.

one day, he's asking sia yoo if her best friend usually leaves her one night stands by the time they wake up. then he's throwing said one night stand's notes into the trash can before leaving for some frat meeting or another.

the next day, he's carrying another note from the same one night stand he can't seem to get out of his head.

jaehyun doesn't tell johnny anything. he really doesn't need to at this point. johnny suh is a senior in college and he's pretty much seen it all. he's also the vice president of a frat - which means that even if he didn't have all the experience that he did just because of his seniority, he definitely seen it because of the sheer number of stupid decisions frat brothers will find themselves making when they think they're going to either a) get drunk b) get high c) get their dick wet.

johnny knows it's all in good fun (fun that he's definitely not opposed to) but jaehyun's always been a little bit of an enigma when it came to all of it. he was good at the drinking and alright at the getting high and absolutely fan-fucking-tastic at the getting his dick wet.

it was the goddamn dimples. everyone always fell for the dimples.

and sure, while jaehyun had had crushes before (johnny could read his little like no other), they'd always been fueled by the hormonal rush of adrenaline and testosterone pumping through his veins. in fact, johnny's not sure that jaehyun had had a proper crush on anyone at college after getting fucked over in high school, where johnny had also gone to with jaehyun.

not that johnny had really known jaehyun. he was quieter and kept to himself more then. didn't really hang out in the same crowd as johnny.

he knows that's not necessarily true. johnny had, truthfully, just completely overlooked jaehyun. like a lot of girls had until jaehyun had finally started to grow into his features.

but johnny knows jaehyun now and he also knows that if jaehyun had never met gianna lee, jaehyun wouldn't have ever dove headfirst into the deep end of shitfuckery and sleeping around with every breathing body in sight.

cliché story of course. college boy becomes a fuckboy after having his heart broken by a girl in high school. johnny's almost 100% positive that sia's shoved at least two or three novels like those in johnny's face, with the same exact plot.

but what is life but a series of clichés after all. and honestly, did it even matter? it was real. it happened to jaehyun. that was all. end of story.

so johnny doesn't even say a word when he sees the post-it note in jaehyun's trash can. he's silent as he watches sia and jaehyun talk and jaehyun fall into a period of overthinking (and jaehyun knows he's overthinking too because johnny can see him shake his head even as he continues to stare at the 'people' tab of intro to east asia).

and johnny finally decides to break his silence when he sees jaehyun with a new post-it note, although this time it was a much more tame blue post-it, and a pensive look.

jaehyun slips it to johnny to read as they're sitting at the local starbucks, with johnny filling out some paperwork for the job he was signed on for as soon as the school year ended and jaehyun studying for the organic chemistry exam he had coming up the next week.

he doesn't say anything when he passes the note but johnny can see him sideye-ing him to catch his reaction and it's all he can do to keep from letting a little smile slip through.

he hands the piece of paper back, watching as jaehyun immediately stuffs it into his backpack, and for some reason, he's really not sure what to say. if sia were here, she would know exactly what to say, and how to say it. she had a way of saying things that were a little too straightforward to feel good but also obviously coming from a generally good place.

it was one of the reasons why johnny had thought it would be a good idea to make it official with her. sia yoo was nothing like what johnny had thought - and the thought simultaneously frightens him and comforts him.

"you plan on asking her out on a date?" johnny says lightly, sliding his laptop over to pretend to look at his phone casually. in actuality, he's typing furiously to sia (one of the few people that johnny trusted or consulted when it came to advice giving) about what was happening.

johnny is not very surprised when sia's gray bubble appears, disappears, and then appears again only to say, "yeah, i know."

he waits for a more elaborate response. or even a more sia-like response but the more that he talks to her, the more johnny is learning that sia is more unpredictable than she really seems to be.

and sia yoo seems to be completely out of the box.

johnny shakes his head, as if to physically get rid of the thoughts of her from his head, unsure why he was thinking of her when he was supposed to be helping out one of his boys.

"yeah. i think so? i don't know. i mean we had a good time and we definitely have chemistry. but we literally just had one night in bed and that's it." jaehyun furrows his eyebrows as he realizes that's not just it. "well, there is the fact that kun was walking around singing her praises. and i know that fatima wouldn't be friends with kun or y/n if she wasn't sure they're both good people. not to mention the fact that i've always thought she's kinda hot. but it's always been superficial. even us spending the night together was really nothing more than finding each other hot or trying to figure out if the talk around town was real or not."

johnny takes a sip of his americano as he lets jaehyun's words sink into his own mind. jaehyun rests his heads on his arms crossed in front of him and johnny knows exactly the set of thoughts that's running through jaehyun's mind because they were the same as johnny's when he had decided to ask sia out on a date.

is it worth it? is it worth possibly getting my heart strung up on someone again just to face the possibility of breaking it again?

so johnny offers the only advice that he really has.

"talk to roseanne. girls' fiercest protectors are their friends and something tells me that talking to her will make you fall on one side or the other."

+++

the next time that jaehyun sees roseanne is a complete coincidence. he really only meant to say hi to one of his homies, yugyeom, on the way out of the library and hadn't expected to run into roseanne or miyeon at all. especially not a singular day after johnny had suggested that he seek her out in the first place.

he watches as yugyeom thumbs the rip in miyeon's jeans as he continues to talk to jaehyun about something jeongguk had done the previous weekend. and then he sees miyeon press a kiss to roseanne's cheek as she gets up to fill up her water bottle.

jaehyun didn't think he would understand that dynamic at all but whatever floated their boat. who was he to judge? he had watched the barbie movie and was still having a crisis about his masculinity and was actively searching out his one night stand's (were you still just his one night stand?) roommate and best friend to fix it. to be fair, he didn't really fully understand the barbie movie, to the chagrin of doyoung's girlfriend nairobi but that was besides the point.

yeah. jaehyun was really in no position to speak. wow he had a lot of things to work on internally. the more he talked to the women in his life, the more he was realizing this. again. not the point.

roseanne takes one look at his face and then exchanges a look with miyeon and then yugyeom before standing up and walking towards the exit, looking at jaehyun questioningly when she realizes that jaehyun hasn't moved an inch. jaehyun hurriedly bids yugyeom and miyeon goodbye as he rushes after her.

the two of them linger outside of the library and roseanne just raises an eyebrow as she appraises jaehyun. and for some reason, jaehyun stands up straighter, and she just sighs, a small smile playing on her lips.

"let me guess. 'who makes people work for their number? what is this? sprinkle sprinkle type of stuff?' or maybe 'this is kinda cringey, isn't it?' or just a sweet and simple 'what the actual fuck?'" roseanne says nonchalantly, listing out each possible question jaehyun could have come to ask.

"would it make me a bad man if i said yes to all of the above?" jaehyun asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. roseanne shrugs, crossing her arms across her chest.

"not really. i don't think so at least. it's a fair set of questions that even i asked her the first time a guy came up to me asking who the fuck my roommate thought she was," roseanne says. she takes sees the look of confusion on jaehyun's face as she continues, "you're definitely not the first person to ask me that but you are of a selective few. y/n usually doesn't let people get this far in the first place. and secondly, she doesn't really tell us much about people she's interested in until much later."

"she's a strange person, if i'm being honest with you. there's just something about her that makes her so captivating and invisible at the same time. she'll capture the attention of everyone in the room but if you talk to her, she'll make you feel like her best friend. she seems like an open book, and an even more open friend. and you feel so close to her within a conversation and then you end the conversation, you realize that even as she spoke, she revealed nothing about herself."

"i'm her best friend and i could tell you very confidently that i didn't know a single thing about her truly until recently. it made me frustrated at first. like i was a shitty friend or something. but the closer to her i got, the more i realized that she's always been a great friend but no one's been a great friend to her. she's very selective with the people she associates with - not just people she lets herself be seen with but people she confides in."

"this whole thing is a defense mechanism. she'd be caught dead before she'd ever admit it but she just hasn't been loved in the way that she's loved and now she's more guarded for it. i'll tell you this jaehyun, but if you want to give up, do it now. she says she's just going to give you her number if you earn it but once you get all 10 digits, know that she's gonna give you her heart."

"it seems like i'm violating girl code by telling you all this but like i said, even if you were to ask y/n, she would say the same thing. not in so many words but still. like i said. she's an open book and a closed heart. she knows you're gonna ask me and so she only tells me something that she would be okay with you hearing."

jaehyun, who had been listening quietly and patiently the whole time, cuts in with a quiet voice. "isn't it exhausting to live like that?"

roseanne looks at him strangely, as though she was truly seeing him for the first time. jaehyun doesn't know if he's offended or relieved that she'd done what he'd done to sia - made assumptions based on his appearance. he lands on neutral. it's human nature, to try and make proper guesses about who's gonna act like what.

the ancient art of preventing heartbreak, jaehyun supposes.

"maybe. i don't think so though. it's gotta be a different level of relief knowing that no one's gonna talk shit about you because a) no one knows you well enough to do that or b) because you're so careful with who you trust that you know they'd never betray you or even c) they can only talk about what you put out into the world. it's why censorship is so effective. people can only talk about what they know. there's few people who will ignore what they see to find what they can't see tangibly."

"are all of y/n's friends secretly poets or something? why the hell are you guys all speaking cryptically like you're all freemasons or some shit like that. i can't tell if i find it cringey or cool," jaehyun says, cocking his head.

roseanne lets out a real, full bellied laugh at that, clutching her stomach as chuckles escape her. jaehyun's not sure what he's said that's so funny but he knows for a fact that she's not laughing with him, but at him.

"why is it cringey, jaehyun? why would it be cool? it's just what it is. we're just girls. you'll see us at the party next weekend, drinking our weight in alcohol. we'll have the conversations about makeup and dresses and having fun and our future and our past. there's nothing like freemasonry, i promise. it's just so amusing to see men get alarmed by the thoughts that girls have been wrestling with since they've been twelve. the duality of man, i guess," roseanne says finally, once she's caught her breath.

jaehyun doesn't know how to respond to that so he elects to save the remaining tatters of his dignity by just not responding at all. if there's one thing he's learned about you, it's that you surround yourself by women who are not hesitant about putting him in his place. and he's oddly thankful for it.

"i have one last question. well, two last questions, actually," jaehyun says when he sees roseanne turning around to head back inside, still wiping the tears from her eyes from laughing too hard.

roseanne turns, a knowing glint in her eyes even before jaehyun asks his question.

"how many guys have talked to you? and what's the highest number anyone's ever gotten to?"

roseanne is silent and just as the silence begins to turn awkward, she promptly turns on her heel and begins to walk away. she opens the door to the library before she seemingly changes her mind and looks back at jaehyun.

"two guys have talked to me. you're gonna have to ask fatima about the second question though. and jaehyun? the next number is 6."

96_-___-____.

+++

jaehyun finds fatima not soon after his conversation with roseanne. he's sitting in the nct house, watching johnny pace back and forth in his room, trying to figure out if what he was wearing was too casual for a date to a bowling alley.

it was way too formal, in jaehyun's opinion. but he was just going to wait for johnny to finish panicking (even if he would never admit that he was, in fact, panicking) to figure that out on his own. seriously though, who wore a button down and slacks to a bowling alley?

then again, he was going on a date with sia yoo so really, anything was fairplay when it came to that girl. she was a whirlwind of literally everything that could possibly go into a human being. she was a maximalist to the fullest, seizing every opportunity she could to make good memories, pressing forward with a sense of perfect clarity and sobriety that most people would be scared of.

the type of girl who was the main character of any story that she would feature in. sia was the type of person that people who trip and fall over themselves trying to have a good time with that she practically promised. she walked around with fairy dust in her fingers and a strange sense of wisdom that felt like she could read you like a book within a singular meeting with her.

jaehyun knows that she's the most intimidating out of all of the girls. out of you, roseanne, fatima, and sia, she was hands down the most frightening because even though she could read everyone else, no one could really read her.

then there was roseanne. she was the wet dream of every girl alive - the reason why straight girls lamented that they were straight and still falling a little bit in love with her. she was hot, flirtatious to the extent of making everyone wonder what they were when she gave them even a split second of attention, and so incredibly full of life. it doesn't surprise jaehyun that she had become exclusive with miyeon and yugyeom. for some reason, he feels like she just wouldn't have been able to settle for liking one person at once.

she was a little too much for just one person to be able to handle. she was like the human personification of a leather jacket wearing, motorcycle driving, woody cologne smelling wattpad trope. jaehyun understands her appeal all too well.

and then there was fatima. she was kind, sweet, kept to herself, and always offered a helping hand to those around her. jaehyun understood why kun had fallen so hard for her within two minutes of meeting her. she had an air about her that made you feel like she was someone who truly cared about you, even if you didn't know her and she didn't know you all that well. she was the type of girl who was always forgotten in the novels about warriors and princesses. the girl who was often reduced to nothing more than the main character's best friend.

until you met a girl like her in real life. fatima was still a little forgotten, and jaehyun knew that. guys often overlooked her in favor of her 'hotter' or 'wilder' friends, which is admittedly what jaehyun had thought at first. but she was just so genuine and clearheaded. she protected her peace in a way that was so unusual for young, college-going students. not to say that sia, roseanne, or you weren't genuine or anything like that. but fatima was the type of girl that jaehyun knew was perfect for kun. the girl that he could go home and know that no matter what he had done in his past, she would love him all the same.

and there was you. smart, strangely private, and a series of contradictions housed within one heart. jaehyun wracks his brain, trying to gather everything that he knew about you and yet, he comes up empty.

frustratingly empty.

jaehyun vaguely registers the fact that johnny has finally changed and is getting ready to go. he knows that he should say something about how johnny should just be himself and that sia liking him is completely up to her, regardless of what johnny were to do. but when he locks eyes with johnny, he realizes that johnny already knows.

so jaehyun just claps him on the back as he heads back to his room, his mind spinning as he tries to think of everything that he knows about you. and he draws a blank every fucking time.

he knows superficial things about you. maybe it's because he doesn't know you like he knows your friends. he hasn't talked to you as much as he's talked to them. but how does he not know you? he's been wanting to get with you for so long. he wanted more than just your body. he wanted your charm and your appeal.

was it just your body? is that all it was? is that all jaehyun wanted? somehow, jaehyun doesn't want to believe that. he doesn't want that for himself. logically, he knows that gianna's impact on his life shouldn't be extending this far. he knows that he shouldn't want or have to fight himself this hard but you're not making it much easier for him.

when was the last time jaehyun wanted to get to know such an enigma of a girl? gianna lee. and he wants nothing to do with a girl like that ever again.

and yet, here he is. falling into the same trap all over again.

jaehyun's so caught up in his own thoughts, feeling himself starting to spiral when he bumps in fatima and kun, who are equally caught up in a conversation with each other.

"oh, my bad," jaehyun mumbles, ready for fatima to brush past him but she doesn't, looking at jaehyun and then kun.

"hey man, we're headed back to my place. why don't you come back with us?" kun offers, and jaehyun just nods blankly, as he starts to follow them out of the nct house. kun stops at the entrance where he picks up a textbook from yuta, who had been borrowing it for the last week, before the three of them make their way out.

"how are you, jaehyun?" fatima asks with a sweet smile as they pile into kun's car. somehow, jaehyun doesn't want to give her a generic, insincere answer.

"i'm...okay. i'm just okay. confused but okay," jaehyun says and fatima seems alright with this answer. kun pulls out of the 'driveway' of the frat house, exchanging in a quiet conversation with fatima about what they were planning on eating for the night, leaving jaehyun to simmer in his thoughts.

gianna lee. there was a name that he thought about almost every day and never all at the same time. the girl who had made him and broke him. the girl that jaehyun had trusted with his heart and made him regret ever doing that.

the girl who had been the first love of his life.

+++

gianna was a year younger than him. smart, so incredibly sweet, and yet someone that no one could confidently say that they knew. she was the type of girl who could slip under the radar as easily as her friends seemed to always stay on top of.

she ran in the same circle as jaehyun had in senior year, right when jaehyun was beginning to blossom into the man that he was today. she had always been kind to him, if not a little withdrawn, even when he was a skinny boy with proportions that absolutely did not seem to match each other.

jaehyun didn't even know her well enough for her to break his heart, honestly. jaehyun had liked her even before having a proper conversation with her. he knew how left out she felt in her own body. even though he couldn't imagine a more gorgeous girl, he knew that she didn't feel that way about herself.

he knew that she always compared herself to her friends. her well-accomplished, 'main character' best friends who were the talk of the school. and her. no matter how intelligent or kind or put together she was, no one really looked at her the way that jaehyun did. she knew it.

even jaehyun couldn't place why he liked her so much. maybe it was the fact that he was somehow comforted that a girl with so much beauty could feel the same way as him. maybe it was the fact that she had always held the same smile for him, regardless of what he looked like. or maybe it was even the fact that one time, she had held his hand as she pulled him across the street, running to catch up with their friends who had already crossed.

jaehyun just remembers looking at her dyed cherry red hair falling into her eyes as she laughs, pulling him forward to where the rest of their friends were standing. and as he breathes in the smoke in the air and the raspberry scent of her perfume, he just knows that he really, truly likes gianna lee.

gianna lee doesn't like him the way that he likes her. he knows that. logically, jaehyun knows that his feelings are truly unfounded. he really has no reason to like gianna the way that he does. and yet, there's a part of him that holds onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she'll turn around with those big eyes and upturned lips and say that she likes him the way that he likes her.

so he continues to look at her first when he makes the friend group laugh. he always slips her a napkin when he's getting one for himself when they're out getting milkshakes. he offers to help her with apush when she's stressing about a test the next week.

the closer he gets to her, the more jaehyun realizes that really, she was nothing like the image of her he had conjured in his head. she was every bit sweet as he had thought but she was argumentative, competitive, and all too obsessed with perfection. she always needed to be right in an argument, always had to win, and always had to make sure that she looked flawless doing so.

jaehyun doesn't realize it, of course. he's so obsessed with his glazed over façade of her that he just continues to let her win the arguments even when he knows that she's wrong. and she lets him wrap his arms around her when she gets an 89% on her test.

he lets her walk all over him and she lets him act on his feelings.

it was a toxic, parasitic relationship that neither of them were truly happy in. when gianna asked him out, jaehyun hadn't felt like fireworks were going off in his stomach. he felt like he had won a prize at a marathon. like he'd won a medal.

gianna wasn't a medal. she was a flawed, beautiful human being - every bit gorgeous and horrible as jaehyun and every other human being was. but jaehyun had won, hadn't he?

he hadn't. and it took so long for him to realize that by the time he'd realized that gianna had really only taken to him out of pity, he was so far in his own head that he didn't know how to leave her.

eventually, the summer before college rolled around and gianna had taken it upon herself to do the nasty deed of breaking up with him. it had been an amicable split, as far as their friends were concerned.

but none of them had ever truly either of their friends. so what did they know?

what did they know about gianna finding comfort in her ex's arms? what did they know about her grades slipping at the end of the school year? what did they know about her having to excuse herself at a meeting for her internship to sob in the bathroom as she realized the true fallacy in the way she had acted? what did they know about the way she had to reconstruct herself bottom up? nothing.

what did they know about jaehyun spending every other night with a different girl, trying to ease the ache in his heart? what did they know about the obscene number of hours at the gym, not sure how to combat the sudden numbness after girl after girl? what did they know about the fact that jaehyun could not physically stand the smell of raspberries anymore? absolutely nothing.

no one knew anything until jaehyun had finally come to college. it was once he joined the frat and met guys who were so alike and different from him at the same time that he finally opened up about gianna.

only to doyoung, kun, and johnny but people nonetheless. everyone had gone through something similar - while for some it happened at college or back home, they all knew the pain. some of them were more in the fault than others but pain is pain and a paper cut bleeds the same red as a gunshot wound.

which is why when kun sits him down on the couch and fatima hands him a cup of iced tea to save them all from the sweltering heat as august makes a last stand against september's winds, jaehyun spills everything.

gianna. his past. his insecurities. everything. he knows he shouldn't. logically, fatima had nothing stopping her from going and telling everything that jaehyun had told her to you, but for some reason, jaehyun thinks that she won't.

she doesn't.

+++

fatima knows that jaehyun was going to talk to her about something like this. it seemed that all of the nct boys came with some level of trauma like this. she wasn't sure what it was about every single boy she had met in college (although, granted, they were either her friends' conquests or kun's friends - a very interesting group of very intertwined boys) having their hearts getting ripped to shreds. sometimes it was of their own volition but they all seemed to be some level of hurt either way.

so when jaehyun spills his heart out on kun's carpeted floors, she's ready with a well-rehearsed speech. he's one of six boys she'd already had this same exact conversation with (kun has a bad habit of picking up strays) but when he looks at her with such raw anguish in his eyes, she falters.

she looks to kun, who's looking at her with the same question that she knows jaehyun is asking.

"how do you know when to choose between your head and your heart? because my heart is so fucking scared of getting attached to someone again. but my head knows that i can't push everyone away because i'm scared."

fatima is quiet, searching for the right words. she's about to say something when kun speaks up, looking determinedly at fatima.

"you learn to choose you. instead of choosing between your head and your heart, just choose yourself. at the end of the day, you and y/n are good people who aren't trying to hurt each other. you're both trying not to get hurt. and honestly, maybe you'll realize that you both are better off as friends along the way. maybe you just realize that you don't want to be with someone right now. or maybe you find someone who makes you feel like you're safe and loved when you're around them, whether you're in love with them or not." fatima looks at kun with a soft smile, reaching out to hold his hand gently.

"you have to choose yourself, jaehyun. trust me. the more you start thinking about what is best for the people around you instead of thinking for yourself, you'll look back fifteen, twenty years down the road and see everyone but yourself in your life. don't do something because gianna and how she made you feel. don't let your past define your future," fatima says, and jaehyun can feel the tears prick his eyes. he blinks determinedly, trying to make them disappear but when kun sits on one side of him and fatima on the other, he starts losing his battle against his emotions, finally letting himself mourn the innocence he had once had.

he buries his head into fatima's shoulder and for some reason, he feels as though kun and fatima would be amazing parents. because jaehyun doesn't remember the last time that he had felt this safe in an embrace.

"and jaehyun? the furthest anyone has ever gotten is five numbers. you're at three. it's your call from here. do what you want, not what you think you need to do." fatima taps his shoulder gently and lets him cry for as long as he needs to.

963-___-____.

+++

jaehyun gets the next number from you. after his conversation with fatima, he's sure that if he wants to go any further than this, he needed to talk to you first.

it's strange. he's earning your number but it feels like jaehyun's somehow earning himself back. and when he finds you again, he knows that you can tell.

even johnny could tell. when he had come back from his (successful) date with sia, the first thing he had said was, "wow. you look so...light."

jaehyun hadn't said anything but 'thank you' but it was enough.

johnny had just smiled at him and recounted the date, stating that he was going to ask her to go on another date this saturday night. jaehyun doesn't mention the fact that nct is throwing that night because johnny already knows.

and honestly, sia is a junior and johnny is a senior. they've been to their fair share of parties. one party being missed wouldn't be life changing for them. but skipping a party as the vice president of a frat and a girl who was sought after as a sweetheart for six frats meant something nonetheless.

he hadn't expected that they were to get that serious that quickly but it was a refreshing change. even fatima and kun were starting about talking about talking to fatima's parents to get their blessing for their relationship. her dilemma was no secret and it seemed that the conversation between the three of them had served to help them through their own issues as well.

there was just something in the air, jaehyun had supposed. august turned to september in the week that jaehyun had wrestled with himself, eventually leading to seeking you out.

it had been at the nct party, actually. you were standing with some of your acquaintances, all of your friends having dispersed to do what they were going to do. jaehyun had been on the other side of the room, convincing bambam that it was most definitely not a good idea to try and pursue soyeon jeon if he wanted to make sure that he woke up with all his limbs intact the next morning.

you had met his eye, raising an eyebrow before continuing your conversation, all thoughts of him seemingly out of your mind. jaehyun looks between bambam (who has gone from trying to get with soyeon to jumping into the pool) (that pool had not been cleaned in a full six months) and you. he just finds jungwoo, one of the pledges, and hands him a very drunk bambam.

"do not let him do anything dumb. i'm counting on you pledge," jaehyun called out over his shoulder as he weaves through people to get to you.

"jaehyun! hey! long time no see," hailey whitfield says, throwing herself in jaehyun's arms. jaehyun looks at you, where you're staring straight at where hailey's body ends and his arms begin. jaehyun tries to push her off of him. once upon a time, jaehyun would've been behind happy about getting with her again - she was so good with her mouth. but now, he has no intentions of giving you the wrong impression.

at least until he has a proper conversation with you so that you knew where he stood with you. and where you stood with him.

"hey hailey, sorry i've gotta get to my friend," he says, not even looking at her as he pushes off of her, resuming his threading through the crowd to where you're standing. you look at him, unimpressed, but jaehyun knows you well enough to know that three numbers are enough to make you feel a certain way if jaehyun was fooling around with other girls.

which he hasn't been. not a single night. jaehyun jung's bed has been empty for an entire two weeks, something that doyoung and nairobi have been taking full advantage of.

even some of jaehyun's friends had started asking if he was having problems or something but he had brushed them off. he definitely wasn't having problems, if hailey whitfield was any indication. but he felt like it would be doing you dirty if he had someone in his bed while he was talking to your friends about you.

so he hadn't.

he knows you know. he knows that you know he's talked to sia, roseanne, and fatima. he'd figured that you'd find out either through them or just by him. he can tell by the look in your eyes that you've read him thoroughly.

so he really doesn't feel bad about pulling you away from your friends, taking you upstairs to his room. finally, doyoung had promised that they would go back to nairobi's place on the condition that jaehyun made sure that no one would try to fuck on his bed. he promised, knowing that the only person who'd be coming up here would be him. he needed to talk to you tonight. if he knew anything it was that.

but once you're sitting on his bed, watching him pace back and forward, he's lost everything he's been wanting to say. where does he even start? with gianna? with the questions he has for you? with the number? where does he begin?

jaehyun looks at you, where you're watching him with a small smile on your face and suddenly, it doesn't matter where he begins. you'll listen to it all. he knows that much.

"why do you want me to work for your number?" jaehyun asks. you look at him curiously, tilting your head as you piece together an answer.

"are you sure you don't know the answer to that question?" you say, folding your legs so that you're sitting criss cross on the navy covers.

"i do. but i want to hear it from you, y/n. you know what all your friends say about you? that they didn't properly know you until a full year of friendship with you. but they said that you never lie. so i want you to tell me," jaehyun says, chest heaving by the end of his ramble. his eyes turn soft as he watches you become more and more solemn and he steps forward, sitting down on his desk chair and swiveling it over so that he was sitting directly across from you.

you pause for a moment, searching for the words before saying anything. "i've never been in a relationship before. so i don't have the trauma that could come from something like that. but i know what it's like to lose your heart to someone. and i know that it hurts. i want to be loved in the way that i never thought i could be. so the number thing is just an excuse for me to get to the point where i won't feel guilty about liking someone."

you shrug, smiling but not allowing the smile to reach your eyes. "it's a good way to make sure that the guy knows what he's getting into either way."

jaehyun nods at that. he knew that much. it feels different hearing it from you though. when you're the one saying it, jaehyun knows that it's real. raw. not coming from people trying to protect you because they know that you're far too soft to truly come at him guns blazing.

somehow, he likes it. he likes that you're much softer than you seem. that you're a lot more vulnerable than you come off as. and for some reason, jaehyun hopes that you never perfect the art of becoming standoffish.

"hmm. you've never been in a relationship before?" jaehyun says finally and you nod, shrugging once more. a shadow of bittersweet nostalgia crosses your face before you're back to your soft smile and guarded yet curious eyes.

"nope. part of it was on me; i've got high standards, if you can't tell. and the other part was that i've always wanted someone who fascinates me. of course, i wasn't all that appealing to men because i spent so much time trying to beat them at the only thing they were good at - ego-boosting themselves but they weren't interesting. none of them were people i really wanted to get to know," you say, unfolding your legs.

jaehyun likes the fact that the tips of your toes are the only part of your feet that touch the ground from how far back you're sitting on the bed. in an act of boldness, jaehyun moves forward to sit next to you, right where you're sitting. his feet are flat on the floor, he realizes.

he doesn't know why he's noticing things like this but he is and something about that frustrates him, frightens him, and tugs at his heartstrings altogether.

"you're heartbroken, aren't you? boys like you always seem to be a little hurt," you say, tossing the words into the air like rose petals. they're recklessly thrown but they're somehow beautiful in the way that blackened roses are always beautiful.

"yeah. i was. i think i will always mourn who i was before that. i was so naïve. but i'm not him anymore. and i think i'm realizing that i'm actually okay with that." jaehyun says the words just as carelessly as you do but once they're out in the open, he realizes that he's being completely honest. he turns to you with a strange look though.

"boys like me?"

you smile and nod at him. "boys like you."

you stand up, walking to where jaehyun has a corkboard with a shitload of scraps and photos from the past two years. you don't mention the fact that none of the memories that he has on the board date from before senior year. you don't need to.

"boys like you who've never been loved completely. boys who think that they need to listen to what the world says about how they should be acting or thinking. boys who are hopeless romantics but what would the world say if they knew that these boys just wanted a little bit of love? what would they say if they were looking for warmth in an empty and cold bed?"

jaehyun hates that you're right. it's the college boy tragedy. condemned to never be able to completely heal from one bad experience and then always breaking hearts to collect enough pieces to build themselves a new one.

he didn't want to end like that. even if it wasn't with you, he was ready to grow past it. he didn't want to end as a heartbreaker.

"boys like me...and you like a boy like me?" jaehyun asks. he doesn't know why he does. this is the first proper conversation you've had with him when both of you are decidedly sober. you want to deflect the question but if he's being honest, that's a sign for you to be just as honest.

"i don't know. from what my friends say, and what i know about you as a person in class, i know you mean well. and honestly, i've always just been the type of person to like someone past things like the books they read or the way they dress," you say, still looking at the memories jaehyun's pieced together over the years on this board. "i feel something around you. and i don't know you well enough to know that i like you as someone more than a friend but i'd like to at least have the chance to get that far."

that's all jaehyun needs. he gets another number that night.

+++

jaehyun waits for you outside of intro to east asia, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to make it out of the classroom. you're the last one to leave, knowing that technically, you and jaehyun weren't allowed to see each other while he was your ta.

jaehyun had never really pegged you as someone with so much respect for the rules but you had argued that it was mostly about the principle.

he'd learned a lot about you that last weekend. you and him had stayed up all night, talking about nothing and everything under the sun until the sun itself rose, eventually falling asleep in a tangled mess of limbs and conversations.

he learned that while you didn't like the rules, you often followed them as long as they followed your own moral code. that you would die for your friends and that had landed you in many bad friendships when people would use that to their advantage before you'd met your friends in college. he learned that you were super close with your family, and that they were quite literally the best friends that you could always rely on.

and he learned that you wanted to see him again. on a date. sometime soon. so with no real way of communicating with you outside of social media (and he somehow felt like sliding into your dm's was corny and somewhat of a copout), here he was. waiting outside of the classroom like he was ripped straight from a 1950's romance movie. he even had the letterman jacket on to boot.

"oh my god, you scared me," you say, pressing a hand to your chest as you quite nearly bump into jaehyun. he smiles, readjusting his backpack on his shoulders as the two of you start walking.

"you knew i was waiting for you outside, didn't you?" he says, pushing the side door open to walk towards the parking lot, where he's convinced kun to let him borrow his car for the day.

"yeah but i didn't think you would be literally outside the door," you murmur, checking your phone to see the rest of your day's schedule. you had purposefully blocked off three hours of your schedule to hang out with jaehyun, which you were sure to regret later on when your organic chemistry class kicked your ass. but that was a later issue.

"well, i couldn't text you where i was so i figured i'd wait in plain sight," jaehyun retorts, opening the passenger door for you without a word. huh. that was the first time a man has ever done that for you. and jaehyun did it as though it were second nature - like it was a given.

you don't know why something so small means so much to you but you're alright with it. you're alright with just appreciating it.

"that's fair," you say. another number's on the tip of your tongue as you watch him get into the driver's seat but jaehyun beats you to the punch.

"don't give me a number. not yet," jaehyun says. "not that i don't want one. but i just...me waiting outside your classroom or opening your door isn't enough for a number. even if i don't get all ten, you've got to up your standards."

you don't know what to say to that so you don't say anything, turning on the music and letting the melody of chemtrails under the country club by lana del ray fill the rainy september afternoon sky.

+++

when jaehyun pulls up to a run down diner, you're pleasantly surprised. although you're not much of a sucker for romantic places, the fact that jaehyun is somehow makes you happy. it makes you happy that he still sees the beauty in places like these. and when you look over at him, dimples threatening to show as he breathes in the air of misty fog and the smell of milkshakes and burgers, you're so tempted to kiss him.

so you lean over, looking at him with a twinkle in your eyes once jaehyun has parked.

"can i kiss you?" you ask, mere inches from his lips. jaehyun just looks at you, and from this close, you realize just how beautiful his eyes are. they're dark, darker than anyone else's that you know. and yet, it feels like you could fall in and never regret it.

"please."

it's all you need. and it's all he needs because as soon as word slips from his lips, he's pressing forward, his lips against yours. he's soft, you register vaguely. nothing like last time. nothing like how he'd kissed you like he could think of nothing but absolutely ruining you.

jaehyun is soft. like the feeling of slipping a cold hand into someone's warm jacket pocket. he kisses you like he's scared of ruining you. ruining this. and you're absolutely addicted to the feeling.

the feeling of knowing that he could just claim you instead of trying his best to claim your heart. no matter how fucked up it was that you were even thinking that someone could 'claim' you. he wasn't like that and you could work with that.

he pulls away from you, eyes still closed as he sits against the drivers seat, his head against the headrest. you watch him, a silly and childish smile on your face - although you're not really sure why it's there in the first place. but who are you to knock anything?

there aren't many words to exchange as the two of you make your way into the diner. jaehyun had opened your car door again. this time, you just offer him your hand and you're strangely alright with just how safe you feel with his hand locked in yours.

the diner seems as though time has frozen still here.

and everything about the date seems the same. it feels as though time has frozen still - almost as though the two of you are in a little bubble with no one but each other. it's a feeling you haven't experienced in a while. a feeling you don't think you've ever had because of a boy.

it feels...almost scarily comfortable. it doesn't feel as though there are fireworks exploding for every word that jaehyun says. but it does feel as though that there's a hot mug of cocoa that's been handed to you on a cold winter night. and that feeling, the feeling of warmth spreading through every corner of your body, is the feeling that you know is good for you.

so you listen to him, watch him speak animatedly about basketball or a book he read, chin resting in your palm as you find yourself falling deeper and deeper.

jaehyun gets two numbers that day.

+++

it doesn't take much longer for jaehyun to get the rest of the numbers. soon enough, you're more than happy just to spend time with him the way that you spend time with your friends. you feel as though you've made a good friend out of someone you'd thought that you wouldn't even be able to get along with.

"you know, when i first met you, even before i knew you, i really didn't like you," you say, taking a sip out of your latte. the seasons have changed, fall giving way to winter. the november air bites your skin every time someone opens the door to the tiny café the two of you were sitting in.

jaehyun smiles, nodding as he leans back in his chair. "i know. i could tell by the look in your eyes."

"the look in my eyes?"

"yeah. the one that said that you wanted to get to know me. to figure out my deal even if you didn't necessarily want to find out for sure. kind of like you wanted to be the one that said 'aha!' at the end of a movie, even though you weren't sure of the ending at all."

you look at jaehyun for a moment before laughing, shaking your head as you laugh. "you're even starting to talk like me now."

jaehyun pauses before he nods, smiling with you. "yeah, i know. you've rubbed off on me in a lot of ways."

"i've improved your music taste, that's for sure," you snort, taking another sip out of your latte. "i still can't believe you didn't like ric flair drip when we met."

"it's not that i didn't like it and it's still not that i like it now. but i guess i just have a good memory associated with it now so it's growing on me," jaehyun says. your eyebrows furrow as you try to recollect what good memory he could possibly be referring to.

"oh my god. the night that we met! i was trying to get in your pants with ric flair drip," you say incredulously, shivering when someone opens and closes the door once more. jaehyun hands you his hoodie, leaving his arm extended silently when you protest.

you don't know why you still bother trying to protest with him when you knew you were going to lose. you put the sweater on as jaehyun starts talking, letting the scent of clean water and pine trees swaddle you softly.

"honestly, i think i was more than you that night," jaehyun says, as he looks at you with an incriminating twinkle in his eyes. "that was around the time that even taeyong said that he wanted to see if kun's vivid descriptions were true or not. and i wasn't about to let him get the opportunity to get to you before i did. i don't know why. i felt almost protective over you. but not in a good way. in the type of way where i wanted to show you how good i could make you feel - more than anyone could even begin to think of making you feel."

the previously cold café begins to become a lot hotter than you were feeling before, clearing your throat as you try to let the moment pass.

"how did we even get here?" you say, fanning yourself delicately. the move only serves to work against you when you fan yourself so that the scent of his cologne on his hoodie only gets stronger in your mind.

jaehyun leans back, letting you switch the conversation. he'd bring it up to you later in the night, anyway. besides, for someone who puts on such a strong front, it's honestly a little fun to see you squirm at the slightest implications from jaehyun.

"but, uh, jaehyun. i've been meaning to ask you something for a while," you begin, fidgeting with the wrapper of the straw in front of you. jaehyun tilts his head as if to question what you have to say as he waits patiently.

"what are we?"

now jaehyun is truly confused. was the past month of going on dates not clear enough? jaehyun wasn't going on dates with anyone else. oh my god. were you going on dates with other men? is that why you're asking.

"i thought we were dating?" jaehyun says, phrasing his sentence more like a question than a statement. "i mean i'm not talking to anyone else and i kinda assumed that since i'd gotten all ten numbers, neither were you."

you hum, unable to stop the silly smile on your face.

"good. that's just what i was thinking too."

+++

honestly, everything about jaehyun jung is appealing to you. from the way that he engulfs you in a hug when you're up late studying. or the way that he convinces you that you have a virus on your laptop just so that he could spend more time with you 'fixing' your laptop for you. or the way that he sits with you and your friends, patiently listening and offering advice wherever he can (or honestly, is just allowed to speak).

you're so glad to see him like this. as your boyfriend of four and a half months (you hadn't let him make it official until he was no longer your ta), you've seen him grow in ways that you'd never thought. jaehyun was every inch the stupid, naïve fuckboy you'd thought him to be in the beginning. and he was also every inch the hopeless romantic with a little too much love to give for a scarred heart.

so you heal together. you help each other when you quite literally can't handle the pain and together, you grow. he's more confident. not just in the way that he looks - but the way that he speaks around people. the way that he educates himself. the way that he communicates how he feels.

and he helps you everyday. he shows you what it feels like to be loved the way you love others. he shows you that you are worth the princess treatment. and most importantly for you, he loves the people around you the way you love the people around you.

kun and fatima find their happy ending. fatima had spoken to her parents and while they took some time to warm up to kun, his soft demeanor and the way that he loved fatima so completely and sincerely eventually won them over. fatima even met kun's parents with equal success, although kun's mother kept asking when fatima and kun would get married.

(their wedding was already in the works by both fatima's mother and kun's mother. you were beyond elated to go to both the traditional muslim ceremony and the traditional chinese ceremonies.)

johnny and sia ended up going out on a couple more dates before realizing that they probably just weren't meant to be a couple. they loved each other as friends and were probably always going to hold a special place in each other's lives but it just wouldn't be as each other's significant others. johnny was already starting to retreat from the frat boy lifestyle after meeting a girl at the library one day. and sia had finally met someone who could handle her crazy personality with a sweet smile, bringing her back down to reality whenever she went a little...too lively. you're looking forward to meeting him over summer, where the four of you and your friends were going on a vacation together.

roseanne, yugyeom, and miyeon still haven't put a label on their relationship. but you've caught roseanne falling asleep in yugyeom's arms more than once (one too many times than rosie cares to admit) so you figure that it's a good thing that they've all found each other. as unconventional as their relationship might be, they all mesh together so well that you can't even find it in yourself to question it. all's fair in love and war.

jaehyun and you frequent the diner as a favorite date night spot to visit, although you're upset to hear that they're remodeling the entire establishment for favor of a new, more 'modern' atmosphere. although how modern a diner could get was a little bit of a strange notion. but as people change, so do the winds.

and when you walk into the diner the next semester, hand in hand with jaehyun, you're a little comforted to see that diner is now a speakeasy (in true 1970s fashion) with three words written in blinding rhinestones against the velvet background. of course.

ric flair drip.

[ariays]

What makes Minho a unique teen romance male lead:

1. He’s the “Mean but Not Malicious” Type

A lot of teen series have the classic bad boy male lead who’s brooding, mysterious, and sometimes outright toxic (cough Nate Jacobs from Euphoria or Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl). But Minho? He’s different.

Yes, he starts off snarky and arrogant, but he’s never cruel. His “mean” moments are more about sass, self-confidence, and playful teasing rather than being manipulative or emotionally unavailable. He’s that guy who thinks he’s all that—but is actually really soft underneath it all.

2. He’s a Himbo, But a Smart One

Minho gives off major himbo energy—he’s rich, ridiculously good-looking, and very aware of it. But unlike a lot of stereotypical “dumb jocks” in teen dramas (think Reggie from Riverdale), Minho actually has depth. He has goals, he cares about his friends, and despite his superficial exterior, he’s pretty emotionally perceptive—especially when it comes to Kitty.

3. His Character Growth Feels Earned

Some male leads in teen series tend to change too quickly once they develop feelings for the female lead. (Looking at you, Hardin from After). But Minho’s growth is gradual and believable. He doesn’t just flip a switch from “annoying rich boy” to “perfect boyfriend material.” Instead, his feelings for Kitty creep up on him, and you can see the shift in how he interacts with her.

He still teases her, but it becomes more affectionate. He still acts cocky, but you start noticing those small, vulnerable moments—like the Chuseok kitchen scene—where he actually lets his guard down.

4. He’s Unapologetically Dramatic

Minho is extra in a way that most teen drama male leads aren’t. He’s not just confident—he’s theatrical. From his grand entrances to his over-the-top reactions, he brings a comedic flair that makes him entertaining without making him a joke.

A lot of teen drama male leads tend to be serious, broody, or deeply angsty. Minho, on the other hand, brings comedic energy while still being emotionally compelling.

5. He’s Stylish & Unapologetically Metrosexual

Unlike the usual rugged, broody, or athletic male leads in teen series (think Nate from Euphoria or Conrad from The Summer I Turned Pretty), Minho embraces fashion, skincare, and self-care in a way that isn’t played off as a joke.

A lot of male leads in Western teen dramas either: ✔ Stick to basic, "masculine" fashion (hoodies, leather jackets, plain tees) ✔ Look effortlessly disheveled (the whole ‘hot but doesn’t care’ aesthetic) ✔ Avoid anything remotely “feminine” to maintain their "tough" image

Minho, on the other hand, is deliberately put together. He’s well-groomed, he cares about his appearance, and he fully owns it. From his tailored fits to his expensive skincare routine, he has a level of self-awareness and confidence that makes him unique. Instead of needing to be macho, he leans into a softer masculinity, which is refreshing.

6. He’s Not the Broody, Emotionally-Closed-Off Male Lead

Most classic teen romance male leads fall into one of these categories:

The dark, brooding, emotionally unavailable love interest (Conrad from TSITP, Hardin from After)

The soft, nerdy best friend who secretly loves the female lead (Ben from Never Have I Ever)

The overprotective, jock-type boyfriend (Noah from The Kissing Booth)

Minho doesn’t fit into any of these boxes. Yes, he starts off as a bit of a snarky, rich-boy, but he’s not emotionally closed-off. He expresses himself, he reacts dramatically, and he’s not afraid to show his feelings, whether it’s through humor, frustration, or genuine care.

His emotional openness, combined with his flair for the dramatic, makes him feel more alive compared to brooding, silent male leads who struggle to express affection.

7. He Exudes Non-Traditional Masculinity

Most male leads in teen dramas stick to a traditionally masculine aesthetic—either super muscular (Noah from The Kissing Booth) or effortlessly scruffy and rebellious (JJ from Outer Banks). Even the ones who are more “soft boy” (like Josh from To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before) tend to be written in a way that contrasts them against a tougher male lead.

Minho, however, balances both masculine and non-masculine traits in a way that makes him unique: ✔ He’s confident, but not aggressively dominant. ✔ He’s fashionable and expressive, but not reduced to a stereotype. ✔ He’s attractive, but not in the rugged bad boy way—his appeal comes from his charisma, playfulness, and charm.

His character doesn’t need to be hyper-masculine to be desirable, which is a refreshing departure from traditional male leads. He’s proof that a guy can be well-dressed, expressive, and a little flamboyant while still being a compelling love interest.

8. He’s Secure in Himself (Without Trying to Prove Anything)

Minho never tries to “prove” his masculinity. A lot of teen male leads are obsessed with dominance—whether it’s through fighting, being emotionally unavailable, or acting like they don’t care about anything.

But Minho? He doesn’t need to do that. He’s secure in himself. He knows he’s attractive. He knows he’s stylish. And he owns it. He can be extra, dramatic, and funny, but it doesn’t make him any less confident or appealing.

This is what makes him stand out from the usual teen romance male lead—he doesn’t fall into outdated ideas of what it means to be a man. He’s just him, and that’s enough.

[beansprean]

When We Met In The Shadows...

More of the post-canon slowburn based on When Harry Met Sally? It's more in character than you think.

Original Scene

Also in this series: Nandermo watch Casablanca

Support me on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot, night, a paved walkway in a park lined by trees filled with autumn leaves. Nandor and Guillermo walk along it side by side, the latter with hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and the former looking over at him with interest. Guillermo says, "Basically, it's the same one I've been having since I was twelve." 1b. Eyes up of Guillermo in the foreground as he reddens and turns away, Nandor popping up over his shoulder with a leering grin. Nandor goads him, "Yeees? Go on..." Guillermo replies, "No, it's way too embarrassing." 1c. Chest up of them both from the front, Nandor straightening back up as they continue to walk. Nandor arches his brows and looks away in an aloof manner, saying, "Fine. I thought we were friends, but..." Guillermo furrows his brow, eyes fixed elsewhere and mouth screwed up in indecision. 1d. Repeat. Nandor purses his lips nonchalantly and rolls his gaze upward, waiting. Guillermo gets increasingly red and sweaty in the silence. 1e. Repeat. Guillermo throws up his hands and bursts out "Okay, so there's this guy." Nandor flicks his eyes over with a satisfied grin. 1f. Zoom out to waist up. Nandor giddily strikes a pose, one hand on his hip and the other regally stroking his chin, and asks expectantly, "What does he look like?" Guillermo grimaces and replies "I dunno, just kinda faceless?" He waves a vague hand in front of his face to demonstrate. 1g. Repeat. Nandor slumps and sighs, rolling his eyes in disappointment as Guillermo nervously eyes him, still red in the face. Nandor mumbles, "Faceless...alright... And what does the faceless man do?"

2a. Repeat. Guillermo faces forward and theatrically announces "He rips off my clothes," miming the action with both hands yanking invisible shirt open over his chest. Nandor perks up in excitement, both hands gathering in fists over his chest as he grins over at Guillermo, suddenly enthralled. He encourages, "Then what?!" 2b. Repeat. Guillermo pauses and looks over at Nandor, fists still half-raised in their ripping motion. He replies, "That's it." Nandor's expression drops into one of irritated disbelief. "That's it??" he parrots. 2c. Guillermo's profile in close up in the foreground, Nandor knees up in the background. Nandor pulls a wide-eyed incredulous expression, one hand gesturing wildly while the other seems to be shaking in an effort not to strangle something. Nandor summarizes, "A faceless man rips your clothes off and does nothing further, and this is the only sex dream you have had since childhood? Exactly the same every time?!" Guillermo furrows his brow, red-faced and looking at the ground, mumbling back, "Well, sometimes I vary it a little!" Nandor shoots back, "Which part?" 2d. Waist up of Guillermo as he continues to walk forward, grimacing as he scratches his cheek and replies, "What I'm wearing." Nandor freezes in place, falling a few steps behind as a depressive shock his system reboots from the shock of disbelief and disappointment. 2e. Waist up of Guillermo as Nandor catches up and leans over his side, knocking a heavy hand down on his shoulder. Nandor's expression is soft and deeply disappointed - maybe even a bit concerned - as he says "That is very, very sad, Guillermo. Please start having better ones." Guillermo blushes and looks up at him in confusion, stuttering out "Oh...kay?" /end ID

[uchizana]

CHORDS OF LOVE

synopsis: during an unexpected storm that traps you and karina, the talented guitarist of aespa, alone in the studio, she decides it’s time to stop hiding her heart. with the rest of the band away seeking dinner, the atmosphere crackles with the potential for confession. as the wind howls outside, will karina's brave revelation about her long-standing crush bring the two of you closer, or will fear of breaking the band’s sacred harmony send her heart spiraling into uncertainty?

pairing: rockstar!karina x bandmate!fem reader

warnings: kissing, none more that I know of

word count: 2.7k

— english isn't my first language so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes.

aespa masterlist.

jimin lets out a sigh of frustration, letting the pen fall free from the grip of her fingers, landing on the worn leather of the notebook. the pages are overwhelmed with half-formed lyrics, doodles of hearts and stars, and errant thoughts. it’s all a chaotic testament to her inner turmoil, a reflection of the pressure she feels to deliver yet another brilliant album. she drops her body abruptly onto the swivel chair, causing her to squeal at the sudden force, a sound that slices through the silence of the studio.

what was going on? well, jimin was trying to write a song for the next album of the rock band she was in—the band you were also a part of, and not just a member, but the very heart of its musical identity. it was complicated enough that the last few weeks had seen her pacing frantically when she wasn’t teetering on the edge of frustration.

the impossible task looms larger every moment, each hollow space on the page amplifying her every doubt. twelve songs, twelve distinct messages, and she still has nothing but crossed out words and half-formed melodies that refuse to budge from the intricacies of her mind

“hey! you okay?” comes a voice from behind her.

it’s aeri, her sandy-blonde hair falling over her face as she leans against the door frame, followed closely by minjeong and yizhuo, both of whom wear playful smiles. they giggle like schoolgirls as they watch her theatrical outburst, a wave of warmth washing over jimin despite her frustration.

“what was that for?” yizhuo laughs, her eyes sparkling.

“just trying to summon some creativity over here,” jimin groans, throwing her head back dramatically.

just then, a deep rumble of thunder rolls through the air, pulling her from her reverie. she jumps slightly in her seat, feeling the giggles of her bandmates filter into the little bubble of her frustration. aeri, with her ever-gleeful spirit; minjeong, always the pragmatist; and yizhuo, who somehow always finds the light in the chaos. they share a laugh at her expense, teasing her about how a mere thunderclap was enough to shatter her precious concentration. the light-heartedness brings a slight grin to her face, easing the tight knot forming in her chest.

“jimin,” aeri says playfully, “you look like the world’s weight is on your shoulders. relax a little. we have plenty of time before we need to head into the studio to record anyway.” the sincerity in her voice softens the ribbing, a reminder to jimin that she doesn’t have to shoulder this burden alone.

the thunder doesn’t just signal a storm outside; it mirrors the tempest within her. “i swear, these lyrics are just not coming together,” she admits, the words creeping out reluctantly. they mean more than just her struggles with songwriting—they seep into her personal thoughts.

“we didn't realize we were dealing with a diva here!” yizhuo jumps in, her voice light and cheerful as she shimmies her thin jacket over her shoulders. “relax, jimin. you’re going to burn yourself out. we have time before any of it matters.”

jimin scowls playfully but the laughter helps buoy her spirits. “you’re all just lucky i didn’t throw something at you,” she retorts with mock irritation.

“seriously though, don’t stress too much,” aeri advises, her expression more earnest now. “we have plenty of time before recordings. you don’t want to wear yourself out before we even get to the fun part!”

they all know how much it means to her—the thrill of performing together, the rush of being in front of their fans, the electricity in the air during their concerts. but right now, it’s hard to remember that. right now, it’s just the empty pages and the untamed notes swirling in her mind.

as the three of them discuss dinner plans, jimin shifts her gaze back to her notebook. the messy letters seem to mock her. she stares at the crossed-out lines, the hints of torn pages—a chaotic representation of her tangled thoughts. then she hears the unmistakable sound of jackets being zipped up, and her heart beats faster.

“what are you doing?” jimin asks, a hint of desperation threading through her tone as her eyes dart between them.

"we’re going out for dinner! we can’t just live on snacks while we’re working in the studio," yizhuo said, rolling her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing.

“we’re off to grab something to eat. something good, and then we’ll come back and keep working,” aeri ads, and you can see the kindness shining in her eyes. “you need a break, jimin. fresh air and a good meal might be just what you need.”

jimin watches as they exchange conspiratorial glances. just then, her eyes drift across the room and land on you, nestled comfortably in the corner of the couch. you haven’t moved to grab your coat despite the playful teasing. you’re her bandmate, the composer who has been behind the production of all the band’s musical hits, and the group’s guitarist—a presence that sends both comfort and confusion coursing through her.

your brow is furrowed slightly as you focus on your guitar. the twilight light reflects in your eyes, making it impossible for jimin to ignore the way her heart leaps just at the sight of you. there is something captivating, magnetic, in the way you lose yourself in the music, translating emotions into notes as you’ve always done.

and that’s the problem. over time, that admiration has turned into something else—something more profound. a crush that runs deeper than a passing fling or a drunken kiss. it’s the kind of affection that makes her chest ache when you smile, the kind that sets her pulse racing whenever you laugh.

“hey, you coming with us?” minjeong asks, breaking her reverie.

you look up from your guitar, a faint smile revealing a tenderness that tugs at jimin’s heartstrings. “i’ve got a few more things to work on, so I’ll stay here for now,” you say, your voice low and soothing.

jimin feels a rush of disappointment. she wants to invite you to join them, to share a meal and a moment outside this studio bubble that has kept them all locked in a creative frenzy.

“are you sure?” she asks, an urge swallowing her hesitation. “we could really use more brains. i mean, the sky might just help us to stir some creativity, right? plus, i’ve decided to try a new place that serves the best pasta in town!”

you chuckle softly, a sound she could listen to forever. “pasta sounds good, but i really need to sort out these lyrics before i can think of anything else.” your eyes dart back to the guitar strings in a way that makes her want to scream in frustration.

she watches you for a moment, the weight of her feelings hovering between them. the unspoken connection thickens in the air, but it’s the fog of uncertainty that keeps her immobile. how would you react if she confessed that her admiration had blossomed into something stronger? that every fleeting touch during practice ignited sparks that lingered for far too long?

“alright then, we’ll be back soon,” aeri interjects, clapping her hands together. “when we come back, you better be done with that song, or i’ll be taking that guitar from you!”

as the door swings shut behind them, silence envelops the room, leaving you alone with the sound of the rain trickling against the window, the storm still raging outside.

and then—there it is—this longing that has previously felt muted begins to pulse stronger. jimin's focus on her songs often distracts her from what lies just beneath the surface, a connection built on years of shared laughter, tears, and unspoken words. watching her struggle, you decide to take a risk, to bridge the gap widening between you both.

you rise from the couch, guitar in hand, and move toward her desk. the sight of the crumpled notes makes your heart ache for her, knowing she isn’t just creating music; she’s trying to carve out her place in the world.

jimin rubs her forehead and sighs, an audible sound of frustration escaping her lips. the tension in the room grows thicker; the air feels electric, charged with unspoken words and lingering glances.

“can't seem to get the right words out,” she mutters, her pen tapping against the page in irritation. you’ve been cooped up in this studio all afternoon, trying to piece together something worthwhile for the next album, but every sentence that flows from her pen seems to vanish into the void of her mind.

“ugh, i can’t think of anything!” she finally exclaims, tossing the pencil aside in frustration. it clatters to the floor, breaking the spell of quiet. leaning back on the chair, she tilts her head, exposing her delicate neck. the curve of her jaw catches the light just so, and for a moment, you forget about the music.

“why not try writing something about desire?” you suggest, your voice steady despite the flutter that ignites in your chest. it’s an idea that’s been bubbling in your mind since the last time you two shared that knowing glance, that electric chemistry lurking just under the surface. “you know, something forbidden?”

“desire…” she repeats, rolling the word across her tongue like a sweet melody. “that could be something.”

you nod, emboldened by the thought of igniting that spark. “yeah. something raw, something real—like secrets we keep or...”

“or that lingering touch we dare not explore?” jimin finishes for you, her gaze piercing through the dim light. there's a challenging tone in her voice, teasing and serious all at once, stirring something primal inside you.

“exactly,” you say, your heart pounding in rhythm with the notes you play. the tempo quickens, matching the beat of your thoughts. you’re both living in a world of unspoken possibilities, and suddenly, it feels like the walls of the studio are closing in, trapping you in this moment.

you set your guitar aside, the faint sound of strings vibrating mingling with the quietness of the room. the soft sound echoes like a heartbeat between you, creating a momentary pause where the world outside fades away.

“what do you know about desire?” she challenges playfully, a teasing smile breaking her earlier frustration. it’s a question that feels loaded as your chest tightens; you’ve known her long enough to recognize the weight behind her words. you can tell she’s not merely asking about the general concept.

“oh, i know a thing or two,” you reply, forcing a chuckle, though the truth is that you’re acutely aware of your own frustrations—of the yearning that’s been building each time you share a moment with her. each chord you strum, every late-night practice, has only made you more aware of how intoxicating she is, how your affection for her swells when you least expect it.

“like what?” she asks, leaning back the chair, her body subconsciously inching closer as if drawn to you. the light dimming, stripping away the outside world, leaves only the two of you.

you shrug, trying to mask the magnetic pull you feel toward her. “desire is…” you start, and the words spill forth unbidden. “it’s wanting something that feels out of reach, something you can’t have. it stirs up excitement and fear all at once.”

you take a breath and lean forward, resting the guitar on your knee, your fingers practically itching for more than just strings. “what if we wrote a song about—” you hesitate, the weight of your words anchoring the air around you, “—about the tension between... two people who want more than what they’re allowed to have?”

jimin's eyes shine with a spark that mirrors your own feelings. “you mean like us?” her voice is barely above a whisper, the question hanging uncomfortably yet intoxicatingly between you.

a pulse of vulnerability courses through your veins, and you search her face for signs, for permission, for something you hope desperately isn’t just a figment of your imagination. “maybe,” you manage, your throat dry as sand.

with a slight tilt of her head, jimin's expression morphs, shifting from playful to something softer, more sincere. “what if...” she trails off, glancing down at her notebook, biting her lip. “what if we expressed that desire? what if we were brave enough to put it into words?”

the silence stretches, thick with anticipation. you both know the unvoiced truth as well as you know every chord on your guitar. you’re no longer just bandmates; you’re two souls on the precipice of deeper connection, caught between friendship and something intoxicatingly new, dangerously thrilling.

“then we should be brave,” you say softly, inching closer on the carpet. the air thickens, charged with an energy you can almost taste. “just like the music we create.”

the silence that follows is charged, both of you holding your breath while the world spins outside your bubble. you can’t help but notice how her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, a magnetic pull mirrored in your own gaze as you take in every feature that makes her jimin—her tousled hair, the glint of determination in her eyes, those lips that seem to provoke a longing you didn’t know was possible.

you lean forward instinctively, drawn like gravity. “what if we…” you murmur, but you don’t quite finish the sentence. instead, your heart races ahead of your mind, and you find yourself inching closer, the distance collapsing between you.

just then, jimin's breath quickens; she takes a sharp inhale that slices through the electrically charged atmosphere. her eyes widen a fraction, and in her gaze, you see an invitation strung between confusion and that intoxicating desire.

slowly, jimin leans forward, eyes locking onto yours. there’s a shift in the atmosphere, an understanding that dances in the silence—an unbreakable thread tethering you to this moment. and then, in a heartbeat, the distance collapses.

your lips meet, tentative and ignited by the electricity pulsing between you. the kiss is soft at first, exploratory, as if you are both testing the waters of this new territory. it’s warm and lingering, sending shockwaves through your body. there’s a hunger, a desperate need to explore the intimacy that’s always been lurking beneath the surface of your friendship.

as you deepen the kiss, time seems to lose all meaning. the world outside the studio fades away; it’s just you and jimin—everything you’ve ever wanted. every secret glance shared during practice, every lingering touch of fingers in an accidental brush, all the pent-up emotions spill over. her hands find their way to your hair as yours cradle her face, and the kiss transforms, blooming into something fierce and intoxicating.

the kiss feels forbidden, electric—a culmination of all the moments you’ve shared, the chemistry that had always clouded your interactions. everything that had remained unspoken now dances into the open, painting the walls of the studio with a vivid hue of realization.

moments stretch into infinity, lost in the rhythm of each other’s breathing and the distant echo of the life outside the studio. when you finally pull away, foreheads resting together, both of you are breathless, hearts racing as you hold onto this fragile moment of truth.

“wow,” she breathes, laughter bubbling at the edges of her words. there’s a mix of disbelief and wonder in her gaze, and you can’t help but smile.

“i guess that’s one way to write a song about desire,” you murmur, teasing as you catch your breath.

jimin chuckles, her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the weight of the world falls away, leaving only lightness and possibility. “let’s make it a good one then,” she agrees, eyes sparkling, and you both know that this is just the beginning.

as you sink back into the rhythm ,,,,,,,of creativity, the lines of your collaboration shift and blend. this time, though, it’s filled with a beautiful new tension, a music born from uncharted desires that will carry you through the creation of a masterpiece—together. and maybe, just maybe, what started in this studio would reverberate far beyond the notes, echoing through the very hearts of your songs to come.

[jmkjournalblog]

Dark library

Pairings: Wednesday x F!Reader

Summary: When Wednesday needs help retrieving a forbidden book from the library's restricted section, she enlists Y/n for a midnight mission. Things take an unexpected turn.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes:/

The night was quiet, save for the rustling leaves and the faint chirp of crickets outside Nevermore’s tall, gothic windows. Y/n lounged in the common room, her gaze focused on the faint shadows that danced on the ceiling, when Wednesday’s familiar, quiet footsteps echoed from the hall.

“There you are,” Wednesday said, her voice as steady as ever, but her eyes held a glint of urgency. “I need you for something.”

Y/n’s lips curled into a grin. “You sure you don’t just want me for something?” she teased, standing up and brushing the dust from her jacket. She let her gaze linger on Wednesday a little longer than necessary, just to enjoy the way Wednesday’s expression barely shifted.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, unfazed. “I need a book from the restricted section of the library. It contains records on past incidents at Nevermore that could prove useful to my current investigation. You’ll help me retrieve it.”

“Wow, how romantic.” Y/n smirked, leaning closer to her. “Most people would settle for dinner before dragging me into a dark library at night, but I guess this works too.”

Wednesday gave her a sidelong look. “If you’re quite finished with your verbal theatrics…”

Y/n chuckled and threw up her hands. “Alright, alright, lead the way. You know I love a good thrill.” She winked and followed Wednesday out into the corridor.

They moved quietly through the shadowed halls, Wednesday’s gaze sharp and alert, Y/n walking beside her with an easy confidence. She kept glancing at Wednesday, amused by her serious focus.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re looking for an excuse to spend time with me,” Y/n whispered, grinning.

Wednesday shot her a glare. “If I were, you’d be the last to know.”

“Ouch.” Y/n held a hand to her chest, feigning injury. “You wound me, Addams. But hey, if it gets me a midnight adventure with you, I’ll take it.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but a tiny smirk slipped through. She paused at the corner leading to the library doors, turning to Y/n. “You’ll need to keep quiet once we’re inside,” she instructed, her voice a low whisper. “The restricted section is guarded by a sensor. The last thing we need is for someone to come investigating.”

Y/n’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, I’ll be as quiet as a grave.” She tilted her head, watching Wednesday with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Although if we do get caught, I’d be more than happy to take the fall for you. I’ll tell them I couldn’t resist the thrill of sneaking into a dark library with Nevermore’s finest.”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “You’re insufferable.”

“Admit it, you love it.” Y/n winked and gestured for her to lead the way.

Wednesday pushed the heavy door open just enough for them to slip inside. The library was vast and dimly lit, rows of ancient bookshelves stretching up into shadows. The restricted section was tucked away at the back, behind a wrought-iron gate marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” Wednesday stepped confidently through the aisles, with Y/n right beside her, her eyes darting around as if savoring the thrill of breaking the rules.

“Tell me, Wednesday,” Y/n murmured, her voice soft yet playful in the quiet. “Why risk getting caught? What’s so special about this book?”

“It contains details of past incidents that were erased from the school records,” Wednesday replied, her tone as steady as ever. “Disturbances that the administration deemed too dangerous for the general student body to know about.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, leaning in. “Dangerous, huh? You know how to pick a page-turner. I’m intrigued.”

“Good,” Wednesday replied without a hint of a smile, moving ahead and scanning the shelves with a precise gaze. She motioned to a shelf near the top, where a dusty, ancient-looking book was wedged between two thick tomes. “That’s the one.”

Y/n gave a mock sigh, looking up at the book. “Conveniently placed just out of reach. I don’t suppose you’d let me lift you up there, would you?”

Wednesday’s lips pressed together, giving Y/n a deadpan look. “I’ll pass. I trust you’re capable of retrieving it yourself.”

With a grin, Y/n reached up, stretching to grasp the spine of the book, which was heavier than it looked. She handed it down to Wednesday, who began inspecting the cover with fascination.

“Can’t wait to see what secrets you find in there,” Y/n whispered, leaning close enough for her shoulder to brush against Wednesday’s.

Wednesday glanced sideways at her. “Stay focused. We’re not out of here yet.”

But as if on cue, the sound of footsteps approached. A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, and the library door creaked open. Wednesday’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the telltale click of Thornhill’s heels echoing through the library.

“Perfect timing,” Y/n muttered, her voice tense but tinged with amusement. “I guess we didn’t make it out in time.”

Wednesday looked around quickly, her gaze steely. “We can’t let her see us with this book. Hide it, quickly.”

Y/n’s mind raced, and then, in a flash of reckless inspiration, she slid the book beneath her jacket and turned to Wednesday with a glint in her eye.

“Trust me,” she whispered. And before Wednesday could protest, Y/n stepped in close, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.

For a second, Wednesday went completely still, her dark eyes wide in shock. But then, against all reason, she let herself fall into it, her lips pressing back with an intensity that surprised them both. Y/n’s fingers traced along Wednesday’s jaw, tilting her head gently as they moved even closer. It was magnetic, a stolen moment hidden in the shadows—and as the flashlight swept over them, Thornhill stopped, her silhouette freezing in the doorway.

The teacher cleared her throat, and Y/n reluctantly broke the kiss, glancing over with a look of feigned guilt. “Oh, Miss Thornhill,” she said, trying not to laugh. “I—I didn’t think anyone would be here at this hour…”

Thornhill sighed, her face unreadable in the dim light. “The library is closed. You know the rules. Both of you, out. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/n said, reaching for Wednesday’s hand and pulling her quickly toward the door. As soon as they were out of Thornhill’s sight, she burst into quiet laughter, the thrill of the moment still making her pulse race.

“Well, that was one way to keep us from getting caught,” Wednesday muttered, eyeing her with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

Y/n smirked, her voice low and teasing. “Admit it, you didn’t hate it.”

Y/n still had that mischievous glint in her eye as they hurried down the hall, her fingers entwined with Wednesday’s for a moment longer than necessary before she let go. The book was still safely tucked under her jacket, but all she could think about was the kiss. She couldn’t help but glance over at Wednesday, her smirk deepening when she noticed a slight flush on Wednesday’s usually unflappable face.

“Looks like I’ve found a new way to keep you quiet,” Y/n murmured, teasing.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “Enjoy your moment of amusement while it lasts. Next time, there are far less…invasive ways to avoid getting caught.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Y/n whispered, her voice soft and dangerous. But before Wednesday could respond, they turned the corner into the common room, where Enid and Yoko sat on the couch, deep in conversation. Both girls looked up as they entered, their expressions quickly turning to curiosity as they took in Y/n’s and Wednesday’s flushed faces.

“Um…what exactly were you two doing?” Enid asked, eyebrows raised as she took in the sight of the two slightly disheveled girls.

Yoko smirked, her red-tinted glasses slipping down her nose as she eyed them. “Yeah, you two look…intense.”

Y/n, still slightly out of breath, let out a laugh, shrugging her jacket to adjust the hidden book and stretching her arms over her head with an easy, casual confidence. “Oh, you know, just breaking into the library, dodging Thornhill, making out in the shadows…” She shot Wednesday a teasing glance, savoring the way Wednesday’s expression stayed carefully neutral.

Enid’s jaw dropped, her eyes going wide as she looked between the two of them. “Wait—what? You’re kidding, right? Y/n, please tell me you’re joking.”

Yoko chuckled, clearly amused. “Oh, I’d believe it. They’ve got that ‘just made out and got away with it’ look.”

Wednesday, finally breaking her silence, fixed them both with her signature deadpan stare. “Believe what you want. Y/n has a…vivid imagination.”

“Oh, come on, Wednesday, don’t be modest,” Y/n interrupted, grinning. She leaned casually against the wall, looking perfectly unbothered by their friends’ disbelief. “I think Enid just doesn’t want to believe her best friend is such a good kisser.”

Enid blushed, clearly flustered, and Yoko snickered. “I’m calling it—Y/n’s telling the truth.”

Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes catching Wednesday’s in a playful, lingering stare. “Guess it’ll just stay between the two of us, then.” And with a satisfied grin, she strolled to her room, leaving Wednesday, Enid, and Yoko to process what exactly had happened.

[magical-reid]

Shadows and Sparks

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Prompts: 11: “I’ve never felt this way before, and truthfully it scares me. But, the idea of never trying scares me even more.”

20: “I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I’ve met.” 

Summary: When the eldest Malfoy sibling forms an unlikely bond with Fred Weasley, she finds herself questioning the life she was raised to uphold. Amid late-night confessions and quiet moments of honesty, the two navigate a fragile but undeniable connection that defies family expectations.

The air was sharp with cold as you pulled your cloak tighter around your shoulders, your gaze fixed on the dark expanse of the Forbidden Forest far below. The Astronomy Tower was the perfect refuge, away from the expectations and whispers that followed you as a Malfoy. But tonight, it wasn’t the solitude that brought you here—it was him.

Fred appeared like clockwork, his messy red hair a beacon in the moonlight. He was late, as usual, but his grin was so boyish and carefree that it chipped away at your irritation before you could even speak.

“You’re late,” you said, arching an eyebrow as he strode toward you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jacket.

Fred shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in that insufferably charming way. “I wanted to give you some time to miss me properly.”

You scoffed, but the warmth spreading through your chest betrayed you. “Arrogant prat,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the vast space of the tower. “Ah, come on, you know you’ve missed me.”

You didn’t respond, but your lips quirked involuntarily. There was something about him, something that made it hard to stay angry. It wasn’t just his humor or his careless charm, though that was certainly part of it—it was the way he seemed to see you for who you were, not for who you were supposed to be.

He didn’t push you for an answer, instead settling beside you with uncharacteristic silence. It was one of the things you’d come to appreciate about Fred—the way he knew when to let his usual theatrics fall away, leaving space for the quieter, more vulnerable moments you were still learning to share. There were no jokes or jabs tonight, just him sitting there, looking out at the stars.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent.

You hesitated, your fingers curling around the edge of your cloak as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. “I’ve never felt this way before,” you admitted softly. The confession caught you off guard, and you had to swallow hard to push past the tightness in your throat. “And truthfully, it scares me. But the idea of never trying…” You paused, your voice faltering. “It scares me even more.”

Fred tilted his head, his gaze fixed on you, the playful spark in his brown eyes dimmed to something deeper. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, like he could feel the weight of your words.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared too,” he said, his voice low. “But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s you. You’re worth it, Y/N.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Fred’s Perspective

Fred had never been one for fate. He believed in the here and now, in the chaos of life, the messy, unpredictable moments that made everything feel real. But standing there with you, watching the moonlight filter through the tower’s windows, he couldn't help but feel like something bigger than coincidence had brought him to this point.

“I could see the worst parts of you and still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve met,” he said, before he could stop himself.

You turned to him with wide eyes, your expression caught between disbelief and something else—something he didn’t want to name just yet.

“You don’t mean that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a faint tremor betraying the calm front you tried to maintain.

“I do,” he said firmly, his hand brushing against yours as if to prove his sincerity. “I’ve seen you angry, I’ve seen you guarded, and I’ve seen the way you soften when you think no one’s looking. And none of it—none of it—has made me feel anything less than this.”

His words hung between you like an unspoken truth, one that shifted the very air in the tower. Fred wasn’t just talking about attraction or infatuation; there was something much more honest, much more enduring in his gaze. He didn’t care about the icy walls you’d put up, or the reputation that clung to you like a shadow. He saw something real beneath it all.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The years you’d spent building up the walls, keeping everyone at arm’s length, seemed so fragile now. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but there was no bite to the words, only a tentative fondness that you weren’t quite ready to admit.

Fred smirked, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand, a silent promise in the soft touch. “And yet, here you are.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Reader’s Perspective

The words hung in the air, thick with emotion. You had spent your entire life being the perfect Malfoy—poised, unyielding, untouchable. The Malfoy legacy had always loomed large, a constant weight on your shoulders. You’d been raised to uphold a reputation of power, to walk the line between cruelty and grace, to be untouchable. But with Fred, none of that mattered.

He didn’t see you as a Malfoy. He didn’t see you as a Slytherin, or Draco’s older sister, or the heir to a family steeped in dark history and expectations. He saw you for who you were, a girl with fears and doubts, someone just trying to find her way in a world that had already decided who she should be. And it terrified you.

For once, you felt as though the person you were at this very moment—stripped of the masks, the judgments, the bloodline—was enough. Fred didn’t look at you with the disdain you had grown used to, the questioning glances, the whispers in the halls.

He was steady. Unshaken. And, somehow, it made you want to believe in something you hadn’t allowed yourself to believe in for a long time.

“I’ve spent so much of my life pretending to be someone I’m not,” you admitted quietly, voice catching on the words. “But when I’m with you, Fred… I don’t have to pretend.”

Fred’s expression softened, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no sarcastic remarks. Just him, holding your gaze, his thumb tracing slow circles on your hand. “Then stop pretending,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Be who you are. Whoever that is. With me, it’s more than enough.”

You couldn’t help the soft sigh that left your lips, the vulnerability you tried so hard to hide spilling out without warning. “Alright,” you said, your voice a whisper now. “Let’s try.”

Fred’s grin widened, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. “Brilliant,” he said, squeezing your hand. “But just so we’re clear—when you inevitably fall madly in love with me, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so.’”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, the smile that tugged at your lips was undeniable. Your heart was racing, but for the first time, it wasn’t out of fear—it was out of something new. Something thrilling.

“We’ll see about that, Weasley,” you said, the words playful but the meaning beneath them real, unguarded.

Fred’s laughter filled the air, warm and unrestrained, as the weight of everything you’d carried for so long seemed to lift, just a little, under the glow of the stars above. Deep down, you knew he was right. Maybe you would fall for him, in spite of everything. And maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to stop fighting it.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t mind losing. You were willing to let yourself be found.

[andy-wm]

I have thoughts on Jimin's SGMB

It's the gayest thing I've ever seen.

And by that I mean it's joyous, light-hearted, bright, and fun.

We can all agree, I think, that this is a happy and totally harmless song. Who could criticise Jimin for declaring his love in such a sweet and innocent way?

Of course not everyone will like it, and that's fine. You don't have to like everything he does - or everything BTS does - you are an individual with thoughts and feelings of your own - I hope. But putting that aside you'd have to be a troubled person indeed to take offence at anything here.

So, it is definitely a fan song, right? Jimin is singing to his fans... isn't he?

Maybe.

But if it is (I and I'm not convinced) it's not just a fan song.

It's sweet, so sweet, but....

Maybe it's a little too sweet?

We know Jimin is CUTIE SEXY LOVELY and LOVELY LOVELY LOVELY, but let's be honest, he's also a grown man. And Army are not children (mostly). In fact we have had many many conversations about how ARMY are not children.

But this whole production is pushing the sweet and innocent barrow so hard that I can't help wanting to look underneath and behind and inside to see what's really going on because it's so sweet it's hurting my teeth.

Compare the sophistication and self awareness of FACE to the bouncy, bright and child-like song-and-dance in the SGMB music video. They are WORLDS apart and we were told very specifically that the albums were linked.

"Following his first solo album, “FACE,” where he sought to explore his true identity, “MUSE” documents his journey in search of the source of his inspiration." said the Weverse notification.

So what's really going on here?

What are you doing Jiminie?

And more importantly, why are you doing it?

You could call it a pageant, or a carnival, or a circus - with Jimin as the ringmaster.

But my view is:

This a pantomime. And it's very clever.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, a pantomime is "A dramatic entertainment,  originating in Roman mime, in which  performers express meaning through  gestures  accompanied by music." Yes, that describes it.

Merriam-Webster tells us "[A pantomime] is an ancient Roman dramatic performance featuring a solo dancer and a narrative chorus" That also makes sense.

Oxford also specified that it's a modern BRITISH tradition. "a theatrical entertainment, mainly for children, which involves music, topical jokes, and slapstick comedy." It's a perfect fit.

The British link is already there - Jimin clearly told us he's influenced by The Beatles' Sergeant Peppers Album. There's also the styling of his suit. The stovepipe pants, narrow tie, and fitted jacket are very 1960s (and 1980s) British pop.

There's something old-school about a pantomime. It harks back to childhood, and to the nostalgia of holidays. And the styling of the MV is in keeping with that nostalgic feel too - from the Mountain scene with the vintage film title, to the intertitles - or title cards , to the circular frame of the opening scene.

But back to the Pantomime itself...

A quick google search told me the following are important elements of pantomime. And we have most, if not all of them in this production.

Gender role reversal - TICK

Slapstick comedy - TICK

Colourful costumes - TICK

Audience participation - TICK (the children ARE the audience)

Exaggerated facial expressions - TICK

Take another look at the music video - it's all there.

Wikipedia tells us that pantomimes traditional told fairy tales or folk tales - often love stories - and that the primary role in a Pantomime was:

The 'Principal boy', a hero or charismatic rogue, traditionally played by a young woman in men's clothing.

Smart, very smart. With all the other conversations we've been having a round gender this is totally on the money.

Wikipedia goes on to say "Another pantomime tradition is to engage celebrity guest stars... Contemporary pantomime productions are often adapted to allow the star to showcase their well-known act.... If the star enters into the spirit of the entertainment, he or she likely adds to its overall effect"

Welcome, Loco.

(yes, I know collabs are de rigueur, but that doesn't change the fact that it fits - celeb guests are an established practice in Panto.)

So if this IS a Pantomime (and I'm not saying it definitely is but it looks like one to me), then it's intended to be a sung-story, told as much through dance and gestures as through words.

If it's a pantomime, what is it about?

I'm glad you asked! This little charade is the story of a young person called Jimin who is looking for love. He finds romance easily enough...

but real love takes a little longer.

Fortunately for our hero, he's brave (he will confess to his lover) and he is patient (he encourages them to do so too).

In between, there are shenanigans and goofing...

But our Charismatic Rogue is charming (if devilish) and wins the hearts of the audience - and his lover.

Let's take a closer look at how the story unfolds...

At the start of the MV, as the initial credits appear, Jimin is on stage vibing with his band. Loco is chilling on a rock like a lizard in the sun.

We get the ye olde intertitles, welcoming the audience and introducing.... SMERALDO Garden Marching Band

It's not Smeraldo Garden - Marching Band. It's Smeraldo *pause* Garden Marching Band. Smeraldo (secrets) has the emphasis.

After the intertitles, the scene opens on a group of children - they are ostensibly the audience of the band. They're playing paper-scissors-rock to see who will call for Jimin's attention.

The children run over to him and the tale begins.

Jimin, the main character of this story, immediately launches into song.

He starts off singing about Bangtan - mentioning their harmony (song and personal I think), he shows the Bangtan hand gesture we all know so well, and he sings "we gift happiness every day".

But he mentions June 12th.

Why June 12th?

Why not 13th, their debut day?

BECAUSE THIS IS NOT A SONG for ARMY. He's making it clear that at this point he's referring to Bangtan specifically, not the whole juggernaut of the fandom and fame. June 12th precedes ARMY.

He's made it clear from the start - this is NOT ABOUT ARMY.

Then he leans in and whispers to the children - and the camera -"lets talk about us".

Look at the kids' faces - they're miming shock. Ooooohhh! This is a big secret he's about to tell them - and us.

Look at Jimin's expression - he's just a tad smug. This is not a shocking secret to him, this is a fun secret.

Yes, he is indeed the charismatic rogue of this story.

He sings:

"All the things we couldn't say before

And your hidden feelings too (just for you)

Don't you worry anymore

Since we're together now**

Let's be a little more honest."

So it seems our main character has a LOVER. Someone who couldn't be revealed and who hid their feelings.

<Wow, I have no idea who this could be...>

Hang on, what's happening in the MV??

On his journey, it seems our young hero has a few short-lived romances. And if you look carefully, they are all with men.

He accepts the rose from a man, and plants himself on the bench right up close to .... a man. He jumps up unperturbed, and gifts the rose to (you guessed it) another man.

Jimin manages to sidestep (or completely ignore) all the women except one, who he sends graciously into the arms of a random man before continuing on his journey.

Wait one moment... his romantic partners were ALL MEN??

ALL MEN??

ALL MEN?!!!!!

Yes darling, all men. Let's continue.

So, it seems none of Jimin's previous romances grew into anything more, but he takes his own advice with his mysterious lover and confesses first.

He smirks. He flicks his jacket with pizzazz. He's ready.

He sings:

"Ooooh I love you babe,

I'll come closer to you

I want to hold your hand,

I want you babe (yessir)

Please note the hand gesture in this choreo - it's another one we've seen many times.

The dance ends and Jimin scans the surroundings and spots his old friend...

[Enter stage left: Loco]

Oh look, the friend is a rapper a few years older than Jimin. They seem to have a lot of fun together, Jimin and his rapper friend. There are ZERO romantic overtones here. This guy happily goes along with all the goofing and silliness even though he looks a tiny bit mortified. Either they are both very good actors, or a lot of the time, Loco was holding in his laughter. And Jimin seems incredibly amused by that.

They hang out together until.... something in the atmosphere changes:

The colours become richer, light become warmer, and oh look....

It's *The Golden Hour*

I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP, PEOPLE. HE REALLY DID THIS.

Jimin leaves Loco, chasing the golden light as he sings about "the dazzling sky." Golden confetti (champagne, anyone?) falls all around him and then ...

fucking sunflowers bloom.

SUN FLOWERS.

BLOOM.

FOR HIM.

<I need to lie down and process this>

SUNflowers...

Remind me again what sunflowers are known for? Oh yes, they are symbolic of the sun. Guess what else? They turn to face the sun.

Yup, the sunflowers all turn their faces toward the camera. I'm not crazy, okay?! I'm not.

SMH... let's move on.

Jimin re-joins his band, and the sunflowers do their sunflower thing, and Jimin sings:

"So tell me how you feel,

let whatever you feel

wash over you"

Then he sings

"I love you babe, (yessir)

I'll come closer to you

I want to hold your hand,

I want you babe (yessir)

Please note the hand gesture again

👉 👈

The bridge is next, and Jimin takes us back to Bangtan. As all the stars appear (that ocean of purple light that surrounds them at concerts) and everyone takes their place on stage, they turn up the music. <Are my eyes watering? Perhaps>

"I think we're ready now

<NGL I may have shed a tear here>

Lets begin 1, 2

<Ok fuck, I bawled at this point. Goddammit Jimin!>

Put your hands up"

*cute wiggle-dance commences* and Jimin spots his good friend the rapper again, hiding on the sidelines. He pulls him into the chorus line and they do more silliness and everyone is having a great time.

Confetti- flower petals fall, there's laughter and happiness all around, and they bow and bid us good bye.

The show is over.

*THE END*

But wait, I am not done.

A few more things bear mentioning here:

I saw quite a few comments saying this song is for ARMY.

It is categorically NOT for ARMY. Besides the fact that we already have Closer Than This - a fan song - on this album, Jimin specifically chose a date before debut - before ARMY existed - to place in this song. No mention of ARMY at all. Accept it graciously, this is not for you.

I wanna hold your hand

This lyric is a reference not only to the Beatles song "I Want to Hold Your Hand", It's also a common theme with Jimin and Jungkook. We see them finding any feeble excuse to hold hands, shake hands, touch hands. Yes, we see you two...

I am you, You are me

The gesture used in the choreo when Jimin is singing his confession - I failed miserably to catch it in my screengrab but there's no doubt it's their "I am you, You are me" gesture. Take a look for yourself.

All Jimin's romantic moments happened with men.

I'm not saying in his life, I am saying in this MV. All of them. The only interaction he has with a woman is one brief moment where he grabs her wrist as she passes by and he swings her into the path of a guy behind him. He even scoots around the women and sidesteps them. That can't be accidental. He's making a point.

The addition of 'yessir' in the lyrics makes it clear that he's confessing to a man.

I cannot see any reasonable way to refute this. The BH subtitles include it even though you have to listen carefully to catch it. THAT IS A CHOICE, NOT AN ACCIDENT.

"Even though we're together now"

These lyrics could mean theyre an established, committed couple. But if we think a little broader than that, and a little more literally, who is he together with right now?

It's strategically brilliant.

This is his 'tell all expose' but he has built in a rock solid escape clause by using the panto format. Staging the whole love story - including the prior boyfriends and the man he's now in love with - as an over the top comedy show makes it easily dismissible as pure fiction. By including the fantasy/magical elements he just makes it more so. Deniers will be able to come up with a dozen reasons to reject this... 'It's a fantasy story', 'not all songs are autobiographical', 'he's making a point', 'he's raising LGBTQIA+ awareness'... all true maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that this is HIS song, about HIS muse. If you've been paying attention (and even if you haven't) you will know this is certainly not pure fiction.

AND FINALLY....

The most important one, I left till last. I actually want to scream this, in all caps, in the biggest font possible. But I will restrain myself.

The song is bookended by references to BTS.

That is hugely important. For those who may not be aware, this is a literary device. Bookending a story provides a start and end reference point. Here, the Bangtan bookends provide context for the rest of the lyrics - they frame the lyrics within them. That means the events happening in the song, happen within the context of Bangtan. Reading between the lines, the person he is singing to/about is within Bangtan.

This is not reaching. This is like mixing blue paint and yellow paint together. You will get green paint.

💛+💙=💚

So yes, this song is the gayest thing I've ever seen.

And I DO mean it's joyous, light-hearted, bright, and fun.

But yes, it's also absolutely and totally really really GAY

🏳️‍🌈🐥🦄🌈🏳️‍⚧️🌻🐰☀️🏳️‍🌈

Thank you Jiminie